Swept Away by the Merman

By Helen Louise Cox

Never interfere with humans.

That was Lawrence's cardinal rule. One that he lived by. And yet, at this very moment, the most beguiling human woman he had ever seen lay in his cave.

1913 Coney Island

When Rose Miller's mother poisons her whole family and Rose narrowly escapes with her life, she is tortured by questions about why her mother would commit such an outrageous and murderous act. Unable to live with her survivor's guilt, Rose attempts to drown herself in the Atlantic. Little does she know that a beastly creature dwells in those blue depths and she is swimming straight into his arms.

Ex-Union soldier Lawrence Carter has lived for fifty years with the beastly curse cast by a woman he refused to marry. In that time he has isolated himself from a society that would fear or exploit his unnatural guise of half man, half fish. On spying an autumn-haired beauty sinking beneath the surface of the cold Atlantic however, he is moved to rescue her from certain death.

Neither Rose nor Lawrence feel they have a place in proper society but when the shell necklace that binds Lawrence to his startling form begins to glow, he knows he only has three days left to live. In an attempt to do something noble with his remaining hours on earth, Lawrence vows to uncover the truth about Rose's murderous mother to give the lady who is fast stealing his heart the closure she needs. But will he be able to keep her safe from the true villains that lurk in the back alleys of New York City and will his honourable deed be enough to break the curse?

 

A steamy historical romance novella with a fairytale twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helen Cox
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781838080198

Book preview

All characters depicted in this book are works of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidence only. Representations of historical figures and organizations have been fictionalised to serve the story and do not reflect an accurate depiction of events or actions. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For further information, visit helencoxbooks.com.

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Other Romance Titles by Helen Louise Cox

Disarming the Wildest Warrior

Surrendering to the Gentleman Pirate

Once Upon a Rugged Knight

Swept Away by the Merman

Helen Louise Cox

1913, Coney Island

Chapter One

Rose

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Swimming fully clothed out into the Atlantic, away from the discordant organ music of Coney Island’s fairground attractions, Rose Miller could no longer tell the difference between the ocean and her own tears. Through bleary eyes, she could see goosebumps raised on her forearms, but the cold that caused the bodily reaction somehow didn’t reach any deeper than surface level. With every stroke, she remembered some ghastly detail from the scene that had played out at the lunch table just three days ago. Her family’s final minutes were fixed in her mind as a nightmarish tableau. The wide, desperate eyes of her father. Her brother, clutching at his throat. The look of teary resignation on her mother’s face as she watched on and raised a fatal spoon of broth to her lips.

Rose scrunched her eyes shut, recalling how her mother didn’t even struggle as the poison took her. How could the woman who had brought her into this world and tended her so lovingly for twenty-two years do something like this? And moreover, why? These were the questions that had plagued her mind when she had buried them the day before.

Rose still could not fathom it, and she did not want to. Kicking as best she could at the frothing waves, despite the interference from the skirt on her fitted, turquoise tube dress, she winced, remembering how hard her father’s head had fallen into his soup bowl. And how her older brother Warren had jolted before slumping down in an almost identical manner. And how it had felt to watch the dirt fall into their graves.

The day they died, Rose had, as usual, been talking nonsense when she sat down at the table to eat. She’d been relaying a story her friends had told her about a wolf-man. The creature was thought to be one of the natives that lived in New York in great numbers before the settlers came. According to Betsy Brown, one of the girls who lived a few houses from Rose and her family in Hell’s Kitchen, the wolf-man stalked the streets whenever the moon was full. The intricate care Rose had taken in spinning this yarn was the reason she hadn’t started on her food right away. And she should have known when her mother didn’t at once say, ‘Rose Miller, I’ll not have your heathen tall tales at the table. Hush yourself now,’ that something was amiss. Or at least different. Only when her father and her brother flailed did she understand something was wrong with the broth. And it wasn’t until her mother had looked her dead in the eye, spoon in hand, and said, ‘Eat up now Rose, be a good girl,’ that she realised who had administered the poison.

Those would be the last words her mother would ever say to her. A thought that only made Rose’s tears fall harder before joining the cold, unfeeling ocean.

When the spoon reached her mother’s lips, for one nauseating split second, Rose had suspected her family of playing the most awful joke. But in her heart she had known she was fooling herself.

Even now, she couldn’t believe her own docile reaction to the events she had witnessed. Why hadn’t she leapt up? Knocked the spoon from her mother’s mouth? Run for a doctor at once? She still had no answers. Except that the whole event hadn’t felt as though it could possibly be real as it unfolded. Only when she understood that she was not caught in some terrible dream, and thus not on the brink of waking up, did she jump from her stool and shake each one. Shout their names. Try to call them back from the next world. When they didn’t rouse, she still wouldn't believe they were dead until she had the wherewithal to rush round to one of her mother’s friends, Mrs O’ Sullivan, who in turn summoned Doctor Parsons. Only when the medic told her himself that her family was gone did she truly begin to believe it.

At some point during Doctor Parsons’s brief but tender explanation, Rose had got it into her head that the only way to find out why her mother would do such a terrible thing would be to go and find her in heaven and ask her herself. But Doctor Parsons had disposed of the poisoned broth before it had occurred to Rose to follow after her family. She had tried, over the last few days, to come to terms with their passing. Well-meaning members of the neighbourhood had spoken to her at length about trusting God’s design and will. But the pain of burying her family and being left so very alone in the world with no clue about how she was going to pay for her shelter and food was just too much to bear. Which is why she had ended up swimming out into the cold Atlantic in her day dress, perfectly prepared to take her last breath.

Splashing through the salt water, Rose was determined to get far enough out that nobody could reach her before it was too late. That is, should anyone get it into their head to rescue her. She marvelled that nobody had noticed her swimming out here like this. Her clothes saturated. Her long hair loose and drenched?. They must have been too busy soaking up what was left of the June sunshine. It was Sunday, the day of rest, after all. Or perhaps everyone simply had too many of their own woes to contend with to bother about a girl of twenty-two who wanted to end things before her life had even truly begun.

The thought of nobody caring about the fact that she would soon be gone was what enabled the cold to, at last, settle into her bones. Her teeth began to chatter between gasps. Her limbs were slowing. She would have panicked if she were able to feel anything on the inside. But she was still numb, utterly empty. After what she had witnessed in the family kitchen, she was certain she would never feel anything on the inside, where it really counted, ever again.

So why go on?

When that thought registered, Rose began to sink. Limb by weary limb, the ocean pulled her downward into its watery embrace.

She did not resist. To do so would have been to fail her mother for a second time.

Rose had never been good at doing as she was told. And if she had, she would be dead already. But at least she would be with her family. Not here in New York alone with no one to turn to. Not reliving the horror of their darling faces as they left this life and entered the next. Not left wondering why her mother had done such a thing, while at the same time understanding that, regardless of her reasons for wanting to leave this world, she had acted in the hope they would all be together in the next.

Though Rose lagged behind her family, just as she had on many an outing, she had faith that she would be reunited with them soon. And then she could ask her mother’s forgiveness for not eating up as she’d been told. And for a hundred other things that made having her as a daughter difficult, unlike the other girls in the neighbourhood who all seemed to effortlessly make their parents proud.

Yes, she would be with her family again soon.

That was her final thought as she sputtered under the surface and felt water rush into her ears and nose and mouth until the ocean was all she knew.

In fact, that's not quite accurate.

Her lost loved ones were the penultimate thought before the water claimed her.

Her very last thought was that she was sure she could see a shadow somewhere in the depths of the ocean. And in the cold madness of grief she could have sworn that shadow had a face... and a tail.

Chapter Two

Lawrence

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Never interfere with humans.

That was Lawrence's cardinal rule. One that he had lived by. After all, it was only fifty years ago that he had been human himself. So, he knew just how dangerous human beings could be around things they didn’t understand. And yet, despite the oath he had made to himself, at this very moment, the most beguiling woman he had ever seen lay in his cave, which was just far away from the bustle of Coney Island to avoid notice.

At least, for the most part.

He was almost certain that the odd fisherman had caught a glimpse of the moonlight bouncing off his scales once or twice. And that they would return to shore with tall tales of a beast, half man, half fish. But he also knew that the residents of New York would sooner dismiss such fancies as insane than believe in a creature like him. In truth, even after half a century of living in this cursed body, Lawrence could barely believe in his own existence.

He was living proof that even God made mistakes.

The woman stirred, tearing Lawrence from his thoughts. He watched as her full, sumptuous lips quivered in the cold. If she kept shaking like that she would likely wake soon. What he would do then, he had no idea. He only knew he couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as she to die like that in the cold, unforgiving ocean. Not that there was much comfort for her in his cave.

All he had to cover her was an old blanket he’d found drifting in the water one day. Likely a beach blanket washed out from shore. Though he had stored it above sea level in case he was ever released from the curse and needed a garment to shield his modesty, it was impossible to keep anything dry in this environment. So, he very much doubted it would do much to ward off her shivering.

If he were a real man, with legs and a warm heart to pump blood around his body, he could have lain his form on top of hers and given heat to her in the most