Carousel Seas by Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

worries you, does it—the sharing?”
    “Not the sharing,” I corrected. “The results of the sharing. In my case, will it be force enough to turn me from my service . . .”
    “. . . and in my case, will it be enough to hold the Gulf from anger?” His arms tightened and I felt him sigh. “No way to know that, is there?”
    This is getting ’way too serious, Kate. You had plans for this evening, remember?
    . . . but if I was only his science project, then I wasn’t certain my plans were a good idea. I didn’t exactly know what I wanted from this new and still fragile relationship, but I was pretty sure I wanted some thing. Something . . . ongoing, and . . . steadfast.
    I’m not all that good at even straightforward relationships. I didn’t think I could begin to handle one in which boy’s commitment to his duty drove his wooing of girl . . .
    I took a breath, pushed thinking to the back of my mind, and turned around inside the circle of his arms.
    When my breasts were pressing into his chest, I put my arms around his waist, and looked up into wary and quizzical black eyes.
    “And you say I worry too much.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “I try not to let it keep me awake at night.”
    “That’s no good. I particularly want you awake tonight.”
    “Maybe you can give me another reason, then.”
    “That sounds like a challenge,” I said, lifting my hand and running my fingers around his braid. It was heavy and warm and satisfying in a way I’m not sure I can even begin to describe.
    “How about we play a game?” I said.
    “What kind of a game?”
    “I’ll do something, and you’ll tell me whether it’s nice, great, wonderful, or terrific.”
    “Those’re my only choices?”
    “I don’t want to confuse you.”
    “Fair enough.”
    My fingers tightened on his braid.
    “Ready?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    I pulled firmly, and he bent his head in response, while I came up on my toes—and captured his mouth with mine when he came into range.
    Some time that I refuse to quantify in minutes or years later, I leaned back, knowing that he wouldn’t drop me; watching his face.
    “So,” I managed, my voice shaking, “which is it?”
    He looked thoughtful. “I’m going to kiss your ear.”
    “No side trips! Make your choice, sir.”
    “Well, the part where you yanked on my hair, I wouldn’t call that nice , necessarily. The kiss, that was . . . you sure about the ear?”
    About the only thing I was sure of was that I wanted to kiss him again—ears not being entirely out of the equation—not to mention other things . . .
    “The kiss, that was nice,” he said, and before I could whip up even a little bit of bogus outrage, he did kiss my ear . . . and other things . . . and sometime . . . later . . . we went inside and up to the bed.
    Sometime much later, sated, peaceful, and just about to tip over the edge into sleep, I felt his lips against my ear again, and his voice so soft it seemed like my own thought.
    “ Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious .”

    The goblins had offered her every courtesy, welcoming her into the cavern wherein they dwelt, rough fare though it was. Some effort had been made to make the stones more pleasing—sea grass rugs had been lain, and kelp curtains hung, to separate one area from another. There were treasures displayed, to her eye meager, though surely the best that goblins might have.
    She had been given food, and drink, and a shelf lined with sea grass upon which to recline. They had observed the courtesies—neither Daphne nor her sister, Olida, asked for her name, her station, or her affiliation. They treated her, subtly, as one of a higher order, yet comported themselves with such dignity as even goblins might attain.
    Olida, at least, bore wounds of a recent nature, and hers was the voice most raised in the listing of wrongs set against them by this other, this Borgan , who had seduced the sea away from them.
    There was some trickery within the narrative, of