The Selkie (7 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Leo

BOOK: The Selkie
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grandmother’s friend?


I am,

he whispered. As much as he kept his face serious to match hers, there was a definite laugh in his dark eyes.

Am I not what you expected?


It’s not that … I just thought, oh, I don’t know. The past couple of days have been…


Hell,

he answered for her, his gaze now seeking to console her, as much as his jaw was still set in tense lines.

You’ve been through bloody hell.


Right.

She felt her pulse slowing down. How is it that, as much as he troubled her, he also seemed to understand her? She’d never even met him in person, or had she? Maybe at the funeral. She’d shaken so many hands that day, she couldn’t even remember the faces that went with them. Was it possible she’d sent him the wrong message there, and not remembered? She couldn’t have. She would have remembered this man. He was too sinful to forget.

Were you at the funeral?


I’m sorry, no.


That’s too bad.

Boy, if I’d only met this guy before Matthew…


That piss weasel Matthew’s no good for you,

he said, snarling, as if he’d read her mind.

As I said before, he’s the greatest fool that ever lived.

And then he looked surprised for having said it.

Maggie’s jaw dropped.

How did you do that? It’s like you read my mind.


Easily.

He shrugged, his big shoulders shifting under the leather.

I know … your type.

My type?
She knew she should be rattled at the comment, but her heart was still too busy flip-flopping in her chest at his earlier comment about Matthew.

I don’t think so, friend. Not after one drunken romp on the beach.

And then the most horrible realization flew into her head.

Wait! It’s morning! You’ve been here
all night
? In my grandmother’s bedroom? With me?


You fainted,

he said in a rational tone, not appearing in the least concerned with how things appeared.

How did I know you wouldn’t go into some sort of … diabetic shock? I don’t have a copy of your medical chart, you know.

Maggie felt all the color drain out of her face.

I don’t believe this.


Don’t fret,

he replied, glowering.

I’m not a raving sex offender. You were quite safe.

Maggie calmed her racing heart. This stranger had stayed with her all night, had probably watched her sleep. She knew she should be creeped out. However, she was more creeped out by the fact that she wasn’t so bothered. In a surreal way, it was nice that he’d waited for her to recover. Still, what had Gran been thinking, putting her in touch with this man?

Look, why are you even here? Did my grandmother ask you to come? Is this some sort of weird, beyond-the-grave matchmaking effort on her part?

He laughed, and the heady sound made a shiver run down her spine, but then his face became serious.

If I were you, I’d be more concerned that someone broke into your house.

He looked toward the window, frowning at the state of the old, rusty locks.

It was probably just bored teenagers, looking for a stash of money in a dead woman’s house, but you should still be careful.

And then he got an odd look on his face, as if he didn’t quite believe his own explanation.

Maggie remembered the shadow she’d seen from outside, and felt herself start to panic again. Once more, each taste bud in her mouth seemed to dry up and her hands

began to shake again.

This is all way too weird for me. What’s happening?

Obviously recognizing her for the distraught creature she was, Calan frowned. He inched closer to her on the bed. She didn’t resist as he put a leather-clad arm around her and gathered her to his warm chest. He stared down at her, the furrows in his brow making him appear hungry and determined and shocked, all at once. His lip curled and he patted her head, as he would a dog.


Hush, lass. We scared him away. I would have caught the little bugger, but when you fainted I stayed with you.

He gazed into her eyes, seeking, seeking something she couldn’t name.

Still, better to be safe than sorry. Your granny worried that someone might break into her house. She actually asked me to watch over you. I made her a promise I would until … certain things are returned to me.


Why? What was she to you? She was almost ninety.

His sensual face compressed into a tight mask.

We were friends. Fate brought us together.


That’s ridiculous,

she said, pushing away from Calan and jumping out of the bed. He was too close, emanating too great a heat. Maggie had only ever been with safe-looking, clean-cut men. This Calan was the opposite. All sex, with looks that made her want to dissolve. She couldn’t sit on a bed with him, enfolded in his massive arms. It was far too tempting, and so unlike her to give in to someone like him.

You’re gonna have to do way better than that.

He let out a long sigh, looking up from under impossibly long, dark lashes.

Oh, you’re not ready for the truth.

She stood, hands on hips. Of course, she could handle the truth. She’d been fired by the powers that be at city hall. She’d had to confront not one, but two fiancés cheating, and had survived … sort of. She could handle anything.

Try me.

Looking like he was starting to lose patience, he vaulted off the bed and stood in front of her. He glared down at her, nostrils flaring.

Fine. You want the truth? Your granny certainly didn’t see fit to tell you.

He inhaled deeply, as if unsure how to begin.

Nora took something that was mine. She got me drunk and won it from me in a card game. Perhaps you’ve seen it? The skin of a selkie?

His brown eyes flashed, boring into hers.


That smelly, old thing? Is that what all this is about?

Maggie cried.

Have it!

His eyes widened.

You’d let me take it? Just like that?


Look, if she tricked you, I’m sorry. She was old. I think her mind was going. I don’t know why she’d want it.


Don’t you? It’s not an ordinary pelt.

He drew closer to her. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks.

Don’t you know what I am?

She stared up at him, so lost in his dark eyes that she couldn’t have formed an answer to his question if she had one. Even still, words issued from her mouth of their own petulant accord.

I don’t know. A taxidermist with a grudge?


I am,

he continued quietly, ignoring her pert suggestion,

of the selkie race. Your granny took the pelt and hid it as a final gift for you. She wanted you to have some happiness in your life, happiness only a selkie man could provide. I was starting to show you some of that happiness on the beach, when we were interrupted.


You’re crazy,

she said, breathing a little harder, all too aware of how close he was to her.


Oh no, I’m not,

he replied, sanity shining through his eyes like a flashlight being turned on her.

And neither was your gran. I told Nora that’s not how it works. You cannot win a selkie for someone else, but she begged me. Begged me to keep you safe. She worried others might know of the hidden skin, but not where. And I have to admit, I was curious. My people have … certain gifts. One of them is the ability to see in dreams. And I began to see you. I’ve been seeing you for months.

He reached two fingers toward her cheek, the lightest of strokes, as if unable to refrain from doing so.

You’ve haunted me like a bewitching phantom.

The impact of his words hit her, but her brain was too addled to accept the truth.

Wait. You’re telling me you really were in my dreams, and that you were the seal in the water?


That was me, although not fully formed without the pelt. You see, I could never return to the sea without it, but I can still create the odd illusion.

She shook her head and felt faint. Needing something solid to brace her, she plopped onto the bed again.

This isn’t real. Please go away.

He grasped her gently by the arms.

I’ll prove it. Look.

He held up his hands, slowly spreading his fingers in front of her. For the first time, she noticed that his large fingers were slightly webbed. A thin membrane of almost translucent skin stretched between the bottom of each finger. One might never notice if one wasn’t close enough to him.

She continued looking at his hands. They were astoundingly beautiful, if unusual, and she wished she could touch them. Wished she could dance her tongue over the sheer membrane while she sucked on those luscious, long fingers.

What is wrong with me? Stop this!


Okay,

she argued, desperate for reason.

But that doesn’t prove you’re a selkie. I’ve heard of people with webbed fingers.


Oh, I see you have all the answers,

he whispered, his voice thick with what sounded like tightly leashed desire.

Well, according to the old lore, there is another way to prove it to you. Let me love you, Maggie. I’m unlike any lover you’ve ever known.

She knew she should offer a retort, a smart comment to bring him down a notch for his boastfulness. But all she could do was look up at him in complete wonderment. Her body was already crying for the touch of this clearly insane stranger. She was dying for him to crush her under him and was losing the will to resist.

Something in him spoke to her. And something in her was responding with aching clarity and need.

Calan put a finger under her chin. As he did, she grabbed his hand and stared at the webbing as if it were a beautiful painting. Gently, he encircled her in his other arm and kissed her softly on the forehead. Maggie closed her eyes as he did so, feeling feverish. Even that innocent kiss made her want to tear her clothes off, straddle him in that bed, and ride him hard. When she opened her eyes, he was staring hotly into her own, as if he had seen the dirty image in her brain.


What happened on the beach before … I don’t do that sort of thing with just anyone,

she dared to whisper, melting under his enveloping, all-consuming heat. His face was so close, she could already feel her lips and tongue exploding with the flavor of him.


What happened on the beach was just a taste, love.

She gulped.

A taste of what?

He leaned in and let his lips graze hers. His tongue, that tongue she’d fantasized about since first seeing him, darted out and flicked against her upper lip.

It was a taste of what I’m going to do to you now. And I daresay you need and want it as much as I do.

Yes, she did need it. She needed to be impetuous for once and let this gorgeous man have her. He might not be playing with a full deck, but she could still have some fun. Then maybe he could help her look for his precious, make-believe selkie pelt, and let him think he’d done his job. What harm was there in that?

But as Calan lowered his lips to her neck, letting his dangerous tongue stroke the soft skin there, her common sense came flooding back, rapping her on the head.

Stop. You need to leave.

He pulled away, tilted his head, and considered her face for a moment. And grinned.

That’s fine. I knew you weren’t ready for the truth.

With that, he bounded away from her, out the bedroom door, and down the stairs.

Reeling at his quick change, Maggie almost dropped to the floor. She recovered, chased him down the stairs and toward the front door. He opened it and turned to smile at her again. Her nipples hardened upon seeing the lusty turn of his lips. Infuriated that her body should betray her so, she crossed her arms over her chest.


I’ll be seeing you, Maggie Collins,

he drawled, clearly amused at her reaction to him.

Be sure to lock the door behind me.

She closed the door, hating herself for feeling so needy for a man. And then she locked it, wishing the door boasted six or seven industrial-strength locks so she could keep Calan Kirk out for good.

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