Page 50 of The Lighthouse Keeper and the Mermaid
“I’m here. I’m here,” she reassured, pulling her boat up beside his. And instantly it was clear why he looked so pale. His white shirt—a very nice one at that—was covered in blood. His left sleeve was practically dyed red, and it had leached all over his left torso so that it looked like he had been splattered with red paint.
She didn’t know if he had been trying to row earlier, but he certainly didn’t look well enough to now. She was sure she couldprobablymanage tying up his boat behind hers, but she had learned from last time that it was better to save what she could with certainty rather than everything with uncertainty, especially when this was merely property.
It was surely easier to hop in his boat, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell Mr. Wilson that she had destroyed yet another of his creations. Destroy too many boats and they might stop giving them to her.
“Can you make it to my boat?” she asked, working through ways to make it easier, but he was already nodding and trying to stand.
“Yes,” he said. Their boats were close enough that it was really only a stand and step, and he handled it well, like a man well-accustomed to life at sea.
“I can come back for the boat,” she started, but he waved his hand.
“No need. It’s just a dinghy.”
So clearly this was not his only boat. Even if his other had likely sunk. Still, between the shirt and his lack of concern at such a loss, he must be rich.
Why would a rich man be alone?
She started rowing, her eyes already scanning the horizon. “Are there others?”
“There are,” he said. His voice was quiet, as if it was hard for him to speak.
“Do you know where?” She hadn’t seen a thing, and if they had started together, that hardly made sense. Why was he in the boat alone?
He swished his hand through the air, again as if it were inconsequential. “I am sure they’ll find their way.”
“How many? And where? How far?” she asked. How could a man be so blasé about his comrades?
“Nine. They’re strong men and there was another boat. They’ll be fine.”
He said it with so much confidence, as if he knew beyond all doubt, that she found it surprising when she looked back at him and found he was slumped against the bow, eyes closed, looking closer to death than life.
“What happened?” she asked—demanded was more like. She’d have to stop his bleeding, then look for the others, probably from the tower for she saw no hint of them here. Just fabulous. Though the waves weren’t actively trying to kill her, she did not look forward to paddling this again.
“Lightning hit the mast and it exploded and I got hit. Things were on fire. They assured me they could put it out and asked me to get in the dinghy just in case, but we hit some wave and the ropessnapped, and well, here I am. So they either boarded the other dinghy or they got the fire out.”
The way his body looked, it was as if speaking alone was enough to exhaust him. Not a good sign if she had to guess. She paddled faster.
She was sure him passing out would be a worse sign, but in some ways it would be helpful so Kallias could push again and they could return to shore faster. But whatever. It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle it. He wasn’t well, but he didn’t seem to bedyingeither. They had time. Was it enough time to make it all the way back to the lighthouse and then tend to him before he got irreversible? That, she wasn’t sure.
“The better question is: why is a woman out here all alone?” he said.
He wasn’t like the dark-haired man she had saved last time. There didn’t sound like a single syllable of gentlemanly worry, only condescension, and she pressed her lips together hard in a smile. “Oh? Is there a problem?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem,” he said, so dismissively and arrogantly that she was certain beyond a doubt that he was rich for no one else could expect someone to take such a tone without being smacked. “I merely asked”—he said this indignantly as ifshewas at fault for not properly listening—“why.”
“Why,” she repeated. How could someone even ask such a question to their rescuer when they were in the midst of bleeding out or drowning?
He nodded once, looking to her in exasperation as ifhecould not believe she had not yet answered.
She was sure the truth would not please him but she said it anyway. “Because I’m the lighthouse keeper.”
CHAPTER 57
“You?” he asked with a laugh. “You? Surely, you must be joking.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything and was thankful the disbelief was causing a smile and not a tirade. The nerve of this man! The land could not come soon enough.
“Are you joking?” he continued.
