“Wait a second.Wait.”The stranger finished examining hisfeet.To Priddy’s consternation, the exploratory touch climbed backthe way it had come—calves, knees, and finally—unashamed;lean-muscled thighs spread wide—long handsome cock, which waseither slightly erect or remarkably big, and either way should havebeen much less impressive in weather like this.“Oh, wow.ExternalJohn Thomas!Gonna have to be careful of that.”
The windhowled.Hailstones began to lash out of the west, bringing the seato a boil.Priddy wrapped his strange catch in the blanket, drawingit round the broad shoulders as best he could.“Right, mate,” hesaid, raising his voice above the gale.“I dunno who you are, orhow you survived that wreck, but you’re either off your face orhypothermic.You don’t have to tell me what happened to your vesseland your crew, but...”He paused, listening.Far off in thedistance, the storm was breaking up into the throb of helicopterblades.Lights appeared over the cliffs.“...you will have to tellsearch-and-rescue.For God’s sake let’s get youindoors.”
“Absolutely.Name’s Merouac, by the way.Like Kerouac,only...”
“With an M.”Priddy stepped round behind him, ready to hoisthim up.Those armpits were lovely and warm now, as if the weirdbastard had flicked on some instant central heating.“I getit.”
“Wait.Has Kerouac happened yet?”
This guywas confused even by Priddy’s broad standards.“Happened, asin...”
“Lived.Existed.Written.”
“Yeah, he’s happened.Come on—up you get.”
“Yes.You are going to have to help me, I’m afraid.I haven’tused this pair before.”
Drunk,high, hypothermic or plain nuts.Priddy checked off thepossibilities as he dragged Merouac, Kerouac-with-an-M, back up therockface and onto the great foundation cube of the lighthouse.Noneof the labels quite fit.For one thing, although the variousquestions and pronouncements were wild, they were articulate,crisply formed in a beautiful vibrant bass that sent a thrillthrough Priddy’s marrow.For another, whatever had been wrong withthe guy was wearing off rapidly.With every step he was taking moreof his own weight.Halfway up the steps, he dispensed with Priddy’ssupport and began to spring ahead of him, an astounding bloodysight, stark naked in the sweeps of the lighthouse beam, blanketdraped dashingly over one shoulder.Priddy, who was flagging bythis time and losing strength as fast as his companion found it,struggled not to stare at the mesmerising arse-crack as he moved.“Yes!”Merouac yelled, attaining the top step and reaching to hoistPriddy up the last few.“Got it now.It’s been such a long time.But it’s just one, two, one, two, isn’t it?Left, right.Do youwant to go dancing?Do you have a horse?”
“What?”Priddy stumbled, and was grateful when a strong handstopped him from measuring his length on the concrete.Gone werethe days when he could leap into the sea on a rescue mission andcome out unscathed.He was much better, but he’d dropped so muchweight and muscle, and the doctors had said he might never regainthe coordinating circuitry he’d fried in the Penzance club.“No, Idon’t have a horse.”
Merouac held him by the shoulders and looked him oversympathetically.“Oh dear.Are youverypoor?”
“Poor enough, but I’d be poorer still if I had a horse...Ihave a car, if that helps.Do you need to be somewhere?”
“Acar?”Merouac sank his hands into his hair—rich brown-black hair,delicately feathering over his brow, and weirdly already dry—inwhat looked like a rush of delight.“I’d forgotten about the cars.No, I don’t have to be anywhere.But you look freezing.We’d betterget you inside.”
Chapter Four
In thetop room of the tower, a grizzled search-and-rescue flightlieutenant studied Merouac closely.The copilot was still out inthe chopper, keeping her engines warm in the clifftop field whereshe’d landed.Priddy, having been helped back into his ownlighthouse and courteously aided up the stairs—an endless process,it had felt like, and utterly surreal, Merouac no more concerned byhis nakedness indoors than out—had decided to keep a low profile.The officer was fully occupied with the rescued sailor, filling outa form on a tough-packed iPad.“So, Mr...Merouac, isit?”
“Oh, just Merouac.Please.”
Thekettle finished its boil.Priddy took mugs out of the cupboard andspooned instant coffee into them, one for his guest and one forFlight Lieutenant Trewin, who looked puzzled as well as exhausted,oilskins dripping onto the lino.Merouac had turned one of Priddy’skitchen chairs into a throne simply by sitting down in it.Thankfully he’d accepted a towel, and turned that into a Scottishprince’s ceremonial kilt by wrapping it round his waist.He’d satpatiently through Trewin’s checks on his pulse, temperature, bloodpressure.Covertly Priddy admired the beautiful set of hisshoulders.The guy had to be a model, or an actor of some kind,or...Well, Priddy was as interested as Trewin in finding outwhat.
Atpresent the flight lieutenant was stalled on line one of the form.“No first name, Mr Merouac?”
“First name?Oh, to distinguish an individual from his lineage?Yes, I suppose I should have one of those.”He stole a glance atPriddy, making him spill the sugar.“Let’s call meJack.”
“Jack...Merouac?”
Priddydropped a spoon.This was mortifying.He’d called out SAR for a manwho no more needed rescuing than a dolphin from the deep blue sea,and now the bastard was winding the officer up.Priddy’sconnections with Hawke Lake were tenuous—he was just the wintertemp, the bulb-changer on a fully automated lighthouse—but he likedand admired the brave souls who launched themselves off intoroaring Atlantic storms in the Sea Kings.This callout was hisresponsibility.
But Merouac was leaning in to glance at the form.He’d droppedhis haughty demeanour, and Trewin was smiling reluctantly, shakinghis head.“Oh, theFrenchspelling of Jack, is it?Sure your last name’s notCousteau?”
“No, but oddly enough he’s a friend of mine.A friend of myfather’s, anyway.Lovely gentleman, and certainly knew how to keepa secret.”
“All right.Jacques.What about an address?”
“It’s a little embarrassing.I ran into some financial trouble,and to tell you the truth, I was living on the boat.”
“The yacht Lyonesse, you said.”
“That’s right.My pride and joy, she was.”
“You’re the registered keeper of the vessel, which ran intofoul weather off Hagerawl Point tonight?”
“Correct, sir.”
