The Selkie (24 page)

his pelt back. He might think he wanted her. He might even think he was fond of her, but it was the sea he needed.

She would not be the one to take it from him. Matthew was going home. Now Calan needed to go home, too.

She pasted on a loopy grin that probably did nothing to hide the turmoil inside her. She pushed him toward Nora’s house.
“
I bet you’d just love me to towel you off right now, but it’s not going to happen.
”

He turned and frowned at her.

“
You can frown all you want, buddy. You’re going to dry yourself off, and we’re going to St. Magnus. This needs to end.
”

He stood as still as a post.
“
What exactly needs to end?
”

This. Us. The way my heart’s already breaking
.
“
This deranged quest to find your matted, old skin.
”
She prodded him toward the door.
“
It looks pretty quiet in there. Let’s grab you a towel.
”

He stared at her, his face a blank slate, his voice cold.
“
Never mind, Maggie. I’ll air dry.
”
With that, he walked over to her car.
“
Shall we?
”

What was wrong with him? Could it be
he
didn’t want the skin anymore?

He opened the driver side door for her and she slid in, shaking her head.

Men.
She’d never understand them.

* * * *

Maggie experienced a strange relief when, two hours later, they pulled onto Broad Street in the heart of Kirkwall. They were finally headed for the cathedral. The journey over had been excruciating.

Back at the house, after Calan had escorted her to her car, he’d shut the door and left her inside it, and then walked away. He hadn’t gone far. He’d found himself a good-sized boulder about twenty feet from the car and had leaned against it, looking back only once to glare at her.

She’d made him mad. Oh well, it had given him a chance to cool down and to air dry.

Then, postponing the inevitable and making her more nervous, Calan had insisted on stopping somewhere to eat. And as much as Maggie just wanted to be done with their skin adventure, she’d also been starving. They’d stopped at another cozy pub, this one blessedly Annette-free, and had eaten. A great deal, in Calan’s case.

He’d taken his time eating, too, and she suspected it was to get her goat. It had worked. Maggie had never known a sexier eater than Calan Kirk. He relished his food,
oohed
and
aahed
over it, even going so far as to lick his fingers suggestively when she was looking. He’d had an enormous, juicy burger, one that dripped juices. Maggie had had to quietly stamp on her own foot so she wouldn’t propel herself over the table at him to lick the juices from the corners of his mouth.

Now she was fit to be tied. Thank God they were headed for a church. Hopefully the atmosphere of religion and devotion would douse the flames of eroticism ripping through her.

Although she seriously doubted it.

As if to taunt her further, Calan put his hand on the small of her back as they made their way to the massive doors. She bristled.
“
What are you doing?
”

He looked down at her, his eyes hooded and shrewd.
“
I’m just touching you, lass. Is there a problem?
”

The bugger. He was trying to get under her skin so she’d cave in and wrap herself around him, rather than being the dignified, detached person she wanted to be. If she was going to relinquish the pelt to him, she couldn’t get any more attached to him than she was. It was clean break time.
“
No problem,
”
she retorted, lying through her teeth.
“
Only we’re entering a church so you might want to keep your hands to yourself.
”

Calan’s only response was a growl. The great big beast.

He yanked on the door and it creaked open. They entered. For a moment, they both just stood there at the top of the nave, taking in the view.

The cathedral was empty and silent, as it was between services. Maggie wondered at the beauty of the building with its mix of red and yellow sandstone. As eroded as it was on the exterior, after centuries of exposure to the harsh Orcadian winds and rain, inside it was pure majesty. With thick columns lining the nave and Gothic pointed arches, it took her breath away. Her gaze flew to the magnificent stained-glass window of St. Magnus and she smiled at the blond hair under his crown. He looked like a Viking saint.

“
It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
”
Calan asked, gazing down at her.

She nodded, unable to speak.

“
Where do you think we should start?
”

“
Well,
”
she said, roused out of her reverie by his question.
“
Gran volunteered as a tour guide here. She would have known every nook and cranny in this place.
”

His gaze bore into her. Intruded into her core and on her wellbeing, making her break out in a sweat. Maggie was fairly certain that if Calan kept looking at her like that, as if her clothing were no impediment to his appraisal of her assets, she would lay herself down on the cold cathedral floor and beg him to take her.

“
Would you rather start with the nooks,
”
he whispered close to her ear,
“
or the crannies?
”

She gulped and walked with purpose down the aisle. He followed her slowly, and she could hear the echo of his footsteps on the floor. Taking his time, as if he just knew she couldn’t get away from him.
“
Maggie,
”
he called from down the aisle,
“
you’re avoiding me. Why?
”

She bent over and scanned the area under the wooden pews.
“
I’m not avoiding you. We have a job to do.
”

She spied Calan popping into the St. Rognvald Chapel, dedicated to the Earl of Orkney who was canonized in 1192. And felt his gaze on her the whole time, rather than on the statue of the saint.
“
I know you’re afraid. You won’t convince me you’re not.
”

Damn his mind-reading skills! Gritting her teeth, Maggie inspected the aisle that led to the monument of the Arctic explorer John Rae. She walked around the reclining stone figure, keeping an eye out for recesses or spots where a pelt could be tucked.

“
Admit you’re scared, Maggie. You’re afraid to trust yourself with me,
”
he called from the altar area.

“
I will not dignify that with a response.
”
She wandered from the nave to the choir aisle, tucked behind a decorative screen. She searched each seat and even around the organ.
“
Shoot! Why did my grandmother have to make this so difficult?
”

There were footsteps behind her. And then there were hands upon her, soothing her. He ran them up and down her arms, making her skin explode with goose bumps and

making her breath catch.
“
Huss, lass. We’ll find it.
”

Dammit, why
was
she fighting this? He made her feel so good.

He spun her around and her knees almost buckled at the warmth in his eyes.
“
Look. We’ve searched the whole main floor. Why don’t we call off the hunt?
”

“
No. Calan, if it’s not here, I don’t know where it is.
”
Her emotions bubbled up inside her, making her quiver when she wanted to be strong and decisive. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“
We have to find it. It belongs to you. You need it.
”

He stared at her, seeming to understand how badly she wanted to give him the pelt. Realizing she needed the completion of this quest.
“
Well, we could try the tower.
”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“
Right. The tower. Okay.
”
And this time, as they walked together to the ancient stone staircase leading to the upper level, Maggie didn’t object as he placed his hand on her back.

As they trudged up the two hundred stairs to the top floor, she felt her heart sink. This chase was starting to feel distinctly goosy. Even still, they maneuvered each tight, spiral staircase, walked the balcony in front of the massive rose window, and completed their search of the cathedral.

All in vain.

Finally, Calan turned to her, resigned.
“
Look, love. Perhaps we’re not meant to find it.
”

“
No,
”
she replied, angry now.
“
It’s yours, and you’ll have it.
”
She shook her head, mystified.
“
I just wish Gran had left some other sort of message. If she couldn’t come out with the info, why couldn’t she leave some sort of clue? I feel like I’m the loser on the bloody
Amazing Race
. This is insane.
”

“
We did our best, Maggie,
”
he said, trying to console her.
“
We looked in the places that meant the most to her.
”

“
The places that meant the most,
”
she repeated, dazed.
“
The places that meant the most…
”

Maggie scoured her memory, searching for a kernel of information. Something she might have missed. Gran was almost ninety, after all. It wasn’t as if she spent her days gallivanting. She was mostly a homebody, just like Granddad had been.

Granddad. The places that meant the most…

“
Oh my God,
”
she whispered.

“
What is it?
”
Calan asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes widening.
“
We need to go home. I think the skin was there all the time.
”

Chapter 14

As soon as they were back in Nora’s house, Maggie bounded up the stairs to the bedroom she’d been sleeping in since she’d arrived. With Calan following her, she headed for the bed.

“
Don’t tell me I missed it under that mattress,
”
he said in a wry tone.

She didn’t answer, but gave the bed a great shove.
“
My Gran loved my grandfather more than anything,
”
she said by way of explanation.
“
So much so, that when he died, she couldn’t bear to let him go. He was cremated, but Gran refused to put his urn on the mantelpiece. She was always worried she’d knock him over one day and have to vacuum him up.
”

Calan cocked an eyebrow at her.

“
Anyway, there’s a small crawlspace under her bed. She put him there, figuring he’d be safe, and he’d also always be close to her when she slept. I haven’t seen her open the space for years, and forgot about it.
”

Calan didn’t move. His every muscle was tense in anticipation. She turned from him and sought out the floorboard that covered the crawlspace. Sure enough, there was still a little hole in the wooden floor, one that served as a handle. Notching her finger in it, she gave it a little pull and it lifted.

It was dark inside the recess, and Maggie didn’t really want to reach in, just in case she tipped Granddad over. Straining her eyes, she peered in until she got used to the darkness in the hole, and then extended a tentative hand.

Her fingers closed in on a soft pelt. It felt so luxurious she couldn’t resist pulling it from the nook. Her eyes grew wide as she saw its enormous size. It was beautiful, dark brown and soft. Holding it as if it were a delicate, breakable thing, she looked up at Calan, its rightful owner.

His face was tight, stunned. Regretful.

“
Here,
”
she whispered.
“
Take it.
”

He shook his head.
“
No. I don’t want it.
”

“
What do you mean, you don’t want it?
”

He stared at her and a single tear escaped from his sad, brown eyes. The crease in his brow making him appear humbled and amazed and terrified at the same time.
“
I meant what I said. Keep the pelt. I’d rather have…
”

She felt tears well up in her eyes too, she wanted him so badly. She had to concentrate to form her next words.
“
What would you rather have?
”

“
You,
”
he whispered.
“
You. I want you.
”

Maggie let the pelt fall to the floor and moved to him as quickly as her body would allow. Their mouths came together, seeking, searching that which they could only find in the yielding warmth of each other’s bodies. He lowered her gently to the floor, kissing her madly the whole time, and onto the pelt itself. With his skin cushioning her from behind, and his wonderful weight pressing into her from the front, Maggie closed her eyes and relished each sensation.

*

Home
, Calan thought as he trailed his tongue down to her cleavage.
I’m home.