Free Ocean's Justice by Demelza Carlton

be worth it. Anything to rid myself of the pounding inside my head.
    William pointed at his pillow. "Rest. They take a little while to work."
    I reclined slowly, relieved when the pain lessened as my head hit the pillow. I turned to watch William, hoping he might be able to distract me from my hurting head. He'd removed his shirt and I could see the pale lines of scars on the smooth skin of his back. They looked too straight to be from Portuguese man-o'-war tentacles, as mine were. Perhaps he had different jellyfish in the waters near his home.
    He wrapped his fingers around a brush, rotating it into the palm of his other hand until the bristles were covered in creamy foam. To my fascination, he smoothed this foam across his cheeks and his chin. He even spread a thin layer on his upper lip before frothing up a handful more of the stuff to coat his throat. Once he'd carefully rinsed and dried his hands, he unfolded a blade and began sharpening it. The silvery metal glinted in the morning sunlight streaming through the porthole as I wondered why he needed such a sharp edge. Perhaps I should have felt a premonition of danger, but the blade in William's hands held no fear for me.
    "This was my grandfather's," he said, rubbing his thumb across the cream-coloured handle. "Back home, I had one of those modern safety razors, but I had no idea if we could get the blades out here, so I was allowed to take my grandfather's old cut-throat razor. My father never used it – he said a beard was a man's defence against the freezing north wind. My mother said it was a defence against women – if no other woman could find his mouth to kiss, then he was hers forever."
    I watched in alarm as he scraped the blade down his own cheek, much like I might have scaled a fish. His careful stroke removed the foam, but his skin beneath it appeared intact. Successive strokes cleared his skin of most of the creamy lather, until he reached his chin. "Did you never watch your father shave? Or your husband?"
    I stared, mute, as he continued.
    He squinted at a small circle of glass he'd propped up on the locker, puckered his face and cautiously ran the edge of the blade down his chin. He pulled comical faces, pulling the skin this way and that as he scraped the soap away, pausing every few strokes to rinse the blade. When there were only faint lines of foam left and a blob that had somehow adhered to his ear, he splashed water on his face and towelled himself dry.
    He lifted the bowl of water, its surface now swimming with the scum of what had once been the lather on his face, and tipped it out the porthole before he turned to face me. I gasped at the transformation.
    Gone was the stubble at his throat, the neatly trimmed beard on his chin and the bristly moustache that had adorned his upper lip. His face looked as smooth as mine and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him without the tangle of facial hair he'd worn since the day we'd met.
    As William buttoned up his shirt, he said, "When we reach shore, I'll help you find your family so you can go home, where you'll be safe."
    I shook my head. "No family. No home. No...more."
    William dropped to his knees beside me. "No family left at all? No home? Maria..."
    I looked into his horrified eyes and nodded slowly.
    Without warning, he gathered me in his arms, pulling me up so that I faced him. Only a breath separated our lips and his eyes drew me deep inside. "I will find a home for you. I swear it. I'll even build one for you with my own hands, if that's what it takes to keep you safe. I'll make a home for you...with you...if that's what you want."
    I yielded to the yearning in his eyes, as they reflected the urge in my own heart. I took his head in my hands and kissed him, his tongue gliding around mine as if he wished to hold me inside as well as out.
    The door clanged open and we sprang apart. Charlie stood in the doorway, glowering as he held the frame for support. His hair and