The Selkie (9 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Leo

BOOK: The Selkie
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yes, one hundred and ten percent so, but not a bad guy.

There was silence on the main floor. Perhaps Calan had followed the intruder outside.

Taking a chance, she sailed down the stairs into the living room. She couldn’t see or hear anything out of the usual. Scared, her voice came out as barely a whisper.

Calan?

There was a movement in the hallway behind her. Big, burly hands came out to grab her. They shook her, bruising her arms.


Where is it? Where’s the skin?

Maggie turned in his grip. It was a stocky man, his face cloaked by a mask. She shouted at him.

It’s not yours!

Instinctively, she raised her knee, clobbering the stranger’s balls with as much force as she could muster.

The man let loose a loud string of curses, which, in his heavy Orcadian dialect, sounded even more threatening. He shook her again, hard. This time, she felt her head snap back, bashing against the wall behind her.

You’ll regret that, woman.


Maggie!

Calan shouted to her from outside.

I’m coming!

Giving her face a hard slap that felt more like a punch, the would-be burglar tore through the back door, knocking over lamps and end tables in the process.

Calan bounded through the front door. His face fell as he saw her slump against the living room wall.

Oh, Maggie. I’m so sorry. There were two men, both disguised. I thought I’d chased them both outside. The other must have come back in.

He crouched in front of her, seemingly agonized at the sight of her.

Your face. He hit you. Why didn’t you stay upstairs?


I was worried,

she said, groaning, delirious, tasting blood. She’d almost said she was worried
about him
, but her remaining good sense stopped her. Not that it mattered. He was eyeing her as if he’d already somehow discerned the implied words.

Calan looked touched, but guilt-ridden over her taking the lumps.

Perhaps it’s better if I take the skin back. Then they’ll leave you alone.


No,

she murmured in a small, faraway voice.
If you take it, you’ll go away
. Besides, there was the small matter of her not knowing where the thing was.

Immortal selkie or con man, friend to an old lady or devil, she didn’t know what the hell he was. She just knew she wasn’t ready to get rid of him yet. As much as he unsettled her, she sort of liked him there with her.

Sort of.


I give you my word. I won’t go anywhere until I fulfill my promise to Nora.


Why would you?

He gave her a crooked grin.

I wish I had an answer for that.

* * * *

After seeing out the local constable, a thickheaded dolt who was more interested in Nora’s Wedgewood teacup collection than an intruder, Calan turned to Maggie in wonderment. Being what he was, he generally avoided contact with the authorities. They sometimes asked too many questions. But seeing Maggie hurt had put a little shift in his priorities. Now he really wanted to catch the bastard who’d harmed her and show him a little selkie retribution.

At least the matter was on record, although he doubted the local constabulary would be spinning its wheels over what they assumed was a drunk getting into mischief.

He followed her upstairs when she went in search of some Tylenol that she said she kept in the bedside table. Within moments, they were sitting on the bed and Calan was inspecting the back of her head, with her approval. He wove his fingers through her hair, searching for bumps and blood. She’d already allowed him to wipe the blood from her lip. Being able to graze his fingers against her plump lower lip had sent him into a state of arousal that was hard to fight. But now, to be allowed to run his fingers through her vibrant curls was enough to make him tortuously mad with desire. He was ready to burst the seam on his jeans.


Aren’t you done back there?

she demanded, her voice a little hoarse.

It’s taking a while.


Be still, lass,

he scolded, his own voice thick with barely hidden lust.

Do you want the job done right? Head injuries are serious business. Look at your Canadian friend Sidney Crosby.


Uh, Sidney Crosby got a concussion playing hockey. It’s different,

she responded in a tart tone. But then she trembled, a reaction that was not lost on Calan.

What if they come back?


If they come back, I’ll make them regret it,

he snarled, shocked at the intensity of the feeling that coursed through him.

Especially the girl’s blouse that hit you. Hitting a woman. Thank Loki the trickster for your weapon of a knee. I hope you skelped him.


I guess that one karate lesson I took paid for itself,

she joked glumly.


Maggie, they’re gone for now, but they’ll return.

Gently, he spun her around to face him, never letting his hands fall from her shoulders. Why couldn’t he take his hands off her body?

It’s just my humble opinion, but you shouldn’t stay here.


It’s my gran’s house,

she spat.

I don’t want criminals rifling through her things!

Even as she declared it, the uncertainty in her eyes belied her true fear.


Better that, than putting their paws back on you. No, much as I admire your pluck, I won’t have that.

She narrowed her eyes at him and pulled away from his touch.

Why do you even care, Calan? You just want the skin, too.

He wanted to reach for her again but, using all his fortitude, he resisted.
Why am I here? I shouldn’t care about this wee mortal woman. She’s nothing to me.

He moved off the bed, hoping his face didn’t reflect the storm of conflict inside him, and went to stare out the window. He placed his hands on either side of the window ledge and hunched over, ripples of tension surging through his shoulder muscles, a strange agony splintering through every bone.

Nora’s bedroom had a view of the beach, of the sea Calan so loved. Now, shimmering under the golden rays of the sun, the waves called to him, spoke his name. They begged him to return to their dreamy depths, just as a siren might call to a sailor from her rock. He was selkie. And as comfortable and content as he could be on land, ultimately the sea would always seek to claim him. It was part of him, the best part of his soul.

Then why, he wondered as he spun around to face the ginger-haired woman on the other side of the room, did he suddenly not care about the blasted sea? Why did he want to run to her, rather than into the surf?

Fine. She touched him. That, he’d allow. He knew he’d seen something in Maggie, almost before he even saw her. There had been something in the way Nora had described

her that had stirred him from the start. The old woman had told him about Maggie’s youth, about how she lost her parents, yet remained strong. She’d told him stories that illustrated Maggie’s passion, her caring for others, even as those others didn’t always care for her in return. And when Calan had heard how Maggie had been treated by her former fiancés, it had made him seethe with unexpected rage. Of course, selkie folk did feel strongly, but he had still been surprised at how affected he was.

When he began to dream of her, he’d known he was headed for trouble. When he finally saw her that day on the beach, her quiet beauty had brought him to a point of near insanity. He’d forgotten himself and that he had a job to do. It was clear he wanted her with an undeniable, unstoppable force, and it was killing him to keep his hands off her.

If only she didn’t belong to such a greedy, violent race. There was no way in hell he could ever choose a human for something more than a quick shag.


Hey, are you okay?

Her face had lost its defiance and was molded with concern as she witnessed his internal struggle.

By all the old gods, she’s beautiful. Those curls and those bright eyes. Such fair skin and a voice so sweet, her every word sounds like a poem.


Aye, I’m fine.

He moved toward her, not stopping until he was right in front of her. He allowed himself to brush aside a stray, auburn curl with one finger. He tucked the lock behind her ear, and tried not to smile as her eyelids fluttered. Her need was clearly written on her delicate face, and was as raw as his own.

Listen to me. Keep the skin. Burn it for all I care. But we must get you out of this house. I cannot see you hurt again.

She stared at him, wide eyed.

But don’t you need it? To, uh, go home? Like E.T.?


There’s only one thing I need right now, and it has nothing to do with that skin.

He leaned in, his sense losing out to his senses. He was so eager to taste her lips, but Maggie slid out of his grasp. Mentally kicking himself for being a fumbling fool, he watched the object of his reluctant affection.

Without a word, she went to Nora’s closet and leaned in. He could hear muffled noises of frustration as she began to toss articles out of the overburdened closet. Shoes, scarves, and handbags were launched out of the space. Calan had to duck as an ample girdle flew in the direction of his head. He stared, completely at a loss. Not once had his kisses inspired his partners to embark on a spring-cleaning project.


Reorganizing now, are we, Maggie? Not the moment I would have chosen, but to each his own.

She didn’t respond until a clunky shoe fell on her foot, eliciting a loud,

Oh, shit!

Calan stifled a laugh, but apparently not well enough because Maggie just turned and glared at him.


You could help, you know, instead of cackling at me like an old woman!

He tried unsuccessfully to look serious as he approached her.

Forgive me, but I have no idea what you’re doing.


I’m looking for your bloody pelt!

Had he heard her right? Calan could have sworn he felt the arteries in his body constrict, cutting off his supply of oxygen. He licked his parched lips.

What do you mean you’re looking for it? Don’t you know where it is?

She stood and slowly faced him, her face a little pale.

No,

she admitted.

Gran told me she hid it, but not where. She was worried others might find it, so she said I’d have to look for it.

Calan felt as if the floor had fallen out from under him. Surely he was pitching forward into a deep, dank abyss, because his stomach certainly felt that way. He steadied himself on the open closet door, willing his sudden migraine to disappear.

She didn’t tell you where she put it?


No,

came the small reply.


Feck,

he roared.

Meddling, conniving humans! They’ll be the death of me! You cannot trust a single bloody one. What was that old woman thinking?


Hey,

she retorted, insulted.

It’s just an old animal pelt. No reason to be rude.


I’m not being…

he began, and then choked off the words in his mouth before he said something he regretted. After all, it wasn’t Maggie’s fault her granny enjoyed messing with men’s minds. He forced himself to calm down, taking a few deep breaths. He just needed to find the skin. It shouldn’t be hard. How cagey could an old human lady be anyway? It was probably tucked into a hatbox or hidden in her garden shed.

Or buried under one of the million rocks on Orkney.
Oh, hell
.


Look,

Maggie said quietly, taking a step toward him.

Why don’t you help me look for it? It can’t be far. She said it would be in one of the places she loved. And when we find it, I promise you can have it back.

She looked so forlorn then, as if she expected him to disappear with the imagined pelt. Calan just stared at her and considered the possession he’d so bargained over with Nora. No mortal woman in her right mind would return it, knowing the power it wielded. By keeping that pelt, Maggie could keep him as her very own sexual genie. He was honor bound to obey the keeper of the skin, thanks to some cursed magic that was older than time.

But Maggie was offering it back to him, offering him his potential freedom, though he hadn’t yet fulfilled his duty. When they did find it, it should be so easy to take it and run. He’d be able to keep his promise to Angus. Could swim in the surf he adored until the next time he felt an urge for human food or human women. The waves would swallow him in their welcoming embrace, and he need never see her spellbinding face again. The pelt would be his ticket to his beloved home.

But for the first time in his centuries-old life, Calan hated the thought of it. Hated that it might take him away from her. Feeling more delicious unease than he’d ever felt in his life, he reached for her hand.

That’s kind of you, lass. You’re the only woman who’s ever offered it back to me.

He breathed her in, fighting her magnetic pull on him.

Look, we can search for it later. For now, we should get you settled at a B&B somewhere close.


I’m not going anywhere.

His anger flared again. Stubborn woman!

Oh, yes you are. You can’t stay here with burglars afoot.

She pulled her hand out of his, making him feel as if she’d slapped his face.

I am not leaving my grandmother’s house.
My
house.

The tiny white specks in her eyes flashed, making them a shocking blue.


Well,

he said, quickly pondering his options.

Then I’m staying here with you, and I won’t take no for an answer. I promised Nora I’d watch over you. And if you refuse to see sense, like all the other women I’ve known, then I’ll watch over you here.

She began to protest, but he cut her off.

Besides, this way, I can do a little skin hunting on the premises.

He gave her his best I-will-not-be-defied look.

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