“You spoke of both land and sea,” Bran pointed out. “Of songs and sighs.”

“Like when we were flying.”

“What?”

“Not flying,” Annika said to Sawyer. “What it feels like to fly, or what I think it would feel like to fly. The traveling. The songs and the sighs when you brought us here.”

“What songs and sighs, Annika?” Bran’s dark gaze arrowed to her.

“You didn’t hear them?”

“No.” He glanced around the table. “I don’t think the rest of us heard anything.”

“All I heard was the tornado.” Though she watched Annika, Riley continued to eat. “I’ve been through a few, and that’s what traveling Sawyer’s way sounds like to me. But you heard singing and sighing.”

“Only for a moment. It was so beautiful. It—” She pressed a hand to her heart, then cupped it out. “It made my heart big. There was the wind, and the colors and light. It’s very exciting. Then the songs, just music with words I couldn’t hear all the way. And sighs, but not sad ones—or not all sad. Sweet, but with some sadness. A little sorrow with the joy. Is that right?”

“Mermaid ears, maybe?” Riley speculated. “Water Star, mermaid. Interesting.” She took another bite of pasta, smiled. “We’re going to need another boat. I’ll get on that.”

Later, when the house was quiet, when all her friends slept, Annika stepped out on the terrace outside her new room. The sea drew her—she was of it, from it. She wished she could fly down to it, wished she could swim inside its heart for a little while.

But the sea must wait.

She had the legs, and she prized them, though now that she’d told the others what she was—she’d had no choice—her time with them was a ticking clock.

So she wished on the moon-slice over the sea that she might sing and sigh inside Sawyer’s heart, in the time she had left. She wished he might feel what she felt, if only for a single day.

Duty came first, and she would never shirk it. But she could hope inside her heart that she would do her duty, fulfill her legacy.

And know love before she returned to the sea forever.

CHAPTER TWO

In the morning, Annika woke early. She chose one of her pretty dresses that swirled around her legs—a lovely reminder she had them—and hurried straight down to the kitchen.

She wanted to make the coffee. She’d learned how in the villa on Corfu, and liked doing things ordinary people did. But this new house had a different machine, and would take some time to figure out.

She liked figuring things out, too.

Today she wanted real flowers for the table, so she wandered outside and down toward the garden. And saw the pool. The pale blue water under the first soft beams of sunlight.

The sea was too far for a morning swim, she thought, but this. Well, it was right here. Trees flanked the yard, making a kind of green wall. In any case, she didn’t understand the human fuss about bodies. They were as natural as hair and eyes, as fingers and toes, and no one made a fuss about hiding them.

Besides, she longed for the water, and saw no reason to go back to her room and find the suit to swim in. Instead, she pulled off the dress, tossed it onto a chair. And dived in.

The water embraced her, gentle as a mother, sweet as a lover. She skimmed along the bottom, her sea-green eyes open and lit with pleasure. Delighted, she swam the length of the pool, back again, then, pushing off the bottom, let her legs spear up into the air and sun.

And slice down into the water again as a tail.

Sawyer, a cup of coffee in his hand, stopped dead on the skirt of the pool.

He’d come out to see who was up, who’d put the coffee on. He’d known it was Annika the instant her legs had come up and out of the water—long, dusky gold, and perfect.

Then color had swirled around those legs, winking, flashing like precious gems, gems that went to shimmering liquid before they’d become the mermaid’s tail.

It took his breath. Knowing her for a mermaid and seeing her transform were two different things. And it simply took his breath. Even before he caught it again, she flew up, long black hair streaming, arms outstretched, tail sparkling, her face bright and beautiful.

She arched in midair—and Jesus, she wore nothing but the tail—then slid backward into the water again.

His body reacted, and it didn’t matter he reminded himself he was a man, and what man wouldn’t go hard watching a gorgeous, naked mermaid. He tried to think of her as a sister, got nowhere. Did better listing her firmly as a teammate.

Most of all he had to stop her from swishing that amazing tail around. They had neighbors here.

She came up again, laughing, flipped back to float. He ordered himself not to look at her breasts—too late—but managed to shift his gaze to her face. She had her eyes closed, a quiet smile on her face as she floated, with the only movement the gentle flick of her tail fin.

“Annika.”

Her eyes opened; she smiled over at him. “Sawyer, good morning. Do you want to swim with me?”

Oh, yeah. Oh boy, yeah.

Couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t.

“Ah, not right now. And you can’t, ah, you know, be right out here with the tail. Without the legs. And naked. Somebody could spot you.”