on a line. Invariably the lines that caught his eye contained the words “sexual,” “coupling,” or “mating preferences.” He snorted and tossed the book on the bed. He didn’t need to look at it to recall what it said; her inflammatory prose was virtually scored into his brain. The more he read and studied it, the more annoying it became.
Here, he had finally understood, was a diabolically clever work. Her presentation of her research—if it could be dignified with that title—was crafted to appear to be a scholarly work, while appealing to the lowest, basest impulses of themasses. It was pure sensationalism … sex and sea creatures … hedonism cloaked in scientific terms.
She had been canny, indeed, in selecting her subject. Dolphins were familiar to all levels of society, were largely unexplored by legitimate scientists, and were something about which the general population had a natural curiosity. And her methodology—direct underwater observation—was so unprecedented and so difficult to repeat, she probably believed she was all but assured of no direct challenges to her conclusions.
Even her style of writing—at first glance amateurish and infuriating—now appeared nothing short of brilliant. She had combined scientific terminology and titillating romantic prose in a way that stimulated the reader’s libidinous impulses without triggering any feelings of guilt or moral outrage.
It was just animals, after all
, he imagined her saying.
All done in the name of science
.
Science, hell. It had all been done in the name of
profit
. A calculated grab for money and notoriety. A masterpiece of scientific hucksterism.
He had to give her credit, though; she was a shrewd one. This “Lady Mermaid” idea was positively inspired. She had somehow managed to fill both the papers and people’s heads with visions of half-naked women wearing fish tails and swimming about the ocean, seducing exotic secrets from the deep itself. One look at her—blond hair, blue eyes, country fresh and ripely curved—was enough to give a tantalizing hint of flesh to the fantasy. The portrait that appeared in yesterday’s
Gazette
had been nothing short of sensational.
He sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed and pulled the clipping from the back of the book. There she was … seated on a chair composed of carved dolphins, her body curved over one of the arms, her eyes bright and unabashedly provocative as she caressed the wooden dolphin she rested on. She certainly earned points for audacity, presenting herself before Britain’s finest scientific minds, lecturing
them
on marine science. Annoyed, he crumpled it and stuffed it in his coat pocket.
She was not to be taken lightly, that was easy to see. Confronted, she had defended herself quite capably, and backed into a corner, she had proved dangerously resourceful. Her challenge that he come to her home and verify her work had seemed straightforward enough … until he studied her work again, in the light of her brazen attitude and bald manipulation of public opinion. She had something clever in mind, he was certain of it.
The task she had set for herself was formidable, indeed: conjure up a small herd of dolphins, climb into the water with them, and convince him that she and they were practically blood relations. The task was so formidable, in fact, that he couldn’t help wondering how she meant to pull it off.
Or
if she
meant to pull it off.
But then, faking such a demonstration would be no trivial matter, either. He was an ichthyologist, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if she could just draft a few barrel-chested fishermen, strap a fin on their backs, and set them to swimming back and forth in the water. She had promised him firsthand experiences … a close, personal look at her subjects.
A smile spread slowly across his face. It would be interesting to see how she handled it all.
D OWNSTAIRS , C ELESTE STOOD looking out the seaward windows in the drawing
Here, he had finally understood, was a diabolically clever work. Her presentation of her research—if it could be dignified with that title—was crafted to appear to be a scholarly work, while appealing to the lowest, basest impulses of themasses. It was pure sensationalism … sex and sea creatures … hedonism cloaked in scientific terms.
She had been canny, indeed, in selecting her subject. Dolphins were familiar to all levels of society, were largely unexplored by legitimate scientists, and were something about which the general population had a natural curiosity. And her methodology—direct underwater observation—was so unprecedented and so difficult to repeat, she probably believed she was all but assured of no direct challenges to her conclusions.
Even her style of writing—at first glance amateurish and infuriating—now appeared nothing short of brilliant. She had combined scientific terminology and titillating romantic prose in a way that stimulated the reader’s libidinous impulses without triggering any feelings of guilt or moral outrage.
It was just animals, after all
, he imagined her saying.
All done in the name of science
.
Science, hell. It had all been done in the name of
profit
. A calculated grab for money and notoriety. A masterpiece of scientific hucksterism.
He had to give her credit, though; she was a shrewd one. This “Lady Mermaid” idea was positively inspired. She had somehow managed to fill both the papers and people’s heads with visions of half-naked women wearing fish tails and swimming about the ocean, seducing exotic secrets from the deep itself. One look at her—blond hair, blue eyes, country fresh and ripely curved—was enough to give a tantalizing hint of flesh to the fantasy. The portrait that appeared in yesterday’s
Gazette
had been nothing short of sensational.
He sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed and pulled the clipping from the back of the book. There she was … seated on a chair composed of carved dolphins, her body curved over one of the arms, her eyes bright and unabashedly provocative as she caressed the wooden dolphin she rested on. She certainly earned points for audacity, presenting herself before Britain’s finest scientific minds, lecturing
them
on marine science. Annoyed, he crumpled it and stuffed it in his coat pocket.
She was not to be taken lightly, that was easy to see. Confronted, she had defended herself quite capably, and backed into a corner, she had proved dangerously resourceful. Her challenge that he come to her home and verify her work had seemed straightforward enough … until he studied her work again, in the light of her brazen attitude and bald manipulation of public opinion. She had something clever in mind, he was certain of it.
The task she had set for herself was formidable, indeed: conjure up a small herd of dolphins, climb into the water with them, and convince him that she and they were practically blood relations. The task was so formidable, in fact, that he couldn’t help wondering how she meant to pull it off.
Or
if she
meant to pull it off.
But then, faking such a demonstration would be no trivial matter, either. He was an ichthyologist, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if she could just draft a few barrel-chested fishermen, strap a fin on their backs, and set them to swimming back and forth in the water. She had promised him firsthand experiences … a close, personal look at her subjects.
A smile spread slowly across his face. It would be interesting to see how she handled it all.
D OWNSTAIRS , C ELESTE STOOD looking out the seaward windows in the drawing
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