The Selkie (17 page)

neck. Her sex tightened around him as she came to orgasm once again, milking him dry and bringing him to the point of lush pain.

Oh shit
, he wondered as their bodies stilled.
Now what?

*

Maggie was shivering. All over. And it was magical.

What he’d done to her … she’d never felt anything like it. When he’d taken her and delivered her the most pulse-pounding orgasm she’d ever had, she’d begun to think maybe he was telling the truth.

Could selkies really exist?

She caught herself believing the lie for a moment and looked at him as he pulled out. His eyes were still closed, as if the feeling had been too much to bear. She felt it too. In fact, she’d never experienced anything like it. When Calan had come with her, a circuit inside her had shorted. All the little paths to her heart had been realigned somehow.

Something had changed.

He climbed off her, offering her a strangely shy smile, and helped her sit up. He then grabbed a small towel from his bathroom and insisted on tidying her up, wiping her sex with a gentle hand.

Maggie stared, unable to speak.

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he dropped a tender kiss on her lips. He then stood and started to get dressed. She shifted to look at him as he dressed. He leaned over and grabbed his jeans, hoisting them up to his waist, and she swallowed the disappointment she felt in seeing his incredible lower half disappear. Calan was unspeakably gorgeous, fallen angel gorgeous. His dark hair seemed to shimmer with a light of its own. His lips were luscious and his every muscle seemed sculpted by God’s hand.

Surely mortal men don’t look like this.

And that mouth. Kissing and licking at her sex with animalistic fervor. No mortal man had ever left her with such a soul-searing need. It had been sheer agony when he’d removed his hands from her body. God help her, she really wanted to start all over again and see if the second time would be as fiery and turbulent as the first.

But this can’t be right.

He turned to her, once again clearly perceiving her thoughts. With a sad smile, he reached over to brush a curl off her cheek.
“
Beautiful Maggie. You still don’t believe, do you?
”

She couldn’t answer. Didn’t know how to answer. She’d never been much of a believer, not even with a grandmother who talked of fairies and gnomes and magical beings who dwelled under the sea.

How could she believe? God had seen fit to take both her parents, shattering her belief system. And when she’d offered her unquestioning devotion to two men who’d used her, her faith in others had dried up.

She had to protect herself. She couldn’t let Calan touch her again.

He breathed in deeply, as if trying to convince himself to be strong, and handed over her wrinkled clothing.
“
Come. There’s no sense staying here. Let’s go to The Deacon’s Bench. We have to find that pelt and you must be starving. I know I’m hungry.
”

And then he smiled, as if to say,
“
I’ll make a believer of you yet.
”

“
How can you even think of eating?
”
she asked as she began to move.

His rakish grin was now back in full force as he watched her reach for her underwear.
“
Didn’t I tell you? We selkie men have unending … appetites.
”

And despite everything they’d been through, despite the turmoil in her heart, Maggie found herself grinning back as she dressed.

“
I just bet you do.
”

Chapter 9

Calan pulled Maggie along by the hand and led her toward the busy pub that was The Deacon’s Bench. He was surprised to see it was already nearing six o’clock. Of course, they had begun their day late and then he had entertained Maggie at his home for a time. He grinned at the decadent memory, relishing the lingering taste of her on his lips.

Oh, what he might do to preserve that taste in his mouth.

Breathing in deeply to clear his head, he looked up at the pub door and took note of the activity inside. Even through the frosted windows he could see the patrons. By now, the little tavern would be filled with village folk looking for a meaty pie, a rousing song, and a large ale, and not necessarily in that order.

As they entered, he turned to Maggie.
“
Did you ever come here with your gran?
”

“
Oh, yes,
”
she replied, grinning at her memories.
“
She used to bring me here for lunch sometimes.
”
She scanned the pub, raising herself on tiptoes so she could see over some of the heads.
“
Her favorite spot to sit was at the back, over there.
”

Calan looked in the direction where she was pointing and spied a booth with an actual deacon’s bench. One that looked like it had storage underneath. Fortunately, the booth was vacant.
“
Let’s go. Do you think we could be lucky enough to find a skin under that bench?
”

“
Yeah,
”
she answered quietly.
“
That sure would be lucky.
”

He took in the wary, almost rueful darkness in her eyes. Could it be she didn’t want to find the pelt? Could it be Maggie didn’t trust him with the skin now? That had to be a good sign. Perhaps she was starting to believe. He suppressed a grin at the thought. For some reason, the thought of Maggie believing in him made him happy enough to want to clamber up the pub walls and do a jig on the roof.

Fucking insanity.

He really wanted Maggie to believe in him. Needed her to become a convert. Despite his every mental protestation, the wee lass had touched him in a way no woman ever had in all his years. And now that he’d tasted her, now that he’d had the honor of savoring her womanly juices on his tongue and feeling them drenching his cock, he could barely think for wanting her so much.

And not just her body, he was coming to realize. Her heart and soul. He wanted to sit with her for days and find out what sorts of things made her happy, and then make those things happen.

Angus had once said something like that about Elsie. Had said he’d do anything to bring a smile to her face.

Is that what love feels like?

He didn’t know if this was love. In fact, he was fairly sure he wasn’t capable of it. But there was something going on in his heart that he couldn’t explain. Something new. Something exotic and potent.

No. He wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t allow this
thing
to go any further. Kyla would be so disappointed. He had to be strong.

But as they made their way through the pub, Calan noticed the way a couple of half-drunk fishermen eyed Maggie’s bottom. He felt his grown hot in sudden, overwhelming

rage.

Love or lust, insanity or reason, whatever it was he was feeling, clearly it was tinged with great jealousy.

He walked Maggie past the two oglers, his hand firmly around her waist. Nodding to one of them, he snarled,
“
Olaf Hansen, how’s that wee, pregnant wife of yours doing?
”

When the man noticed the murder in Calan’s eyes, he turned his attention away from Maggie’s behind.

“
What was all that about?
”
she asked, as Calan led her to the booth in back.

“
Nothing,
”
he replied, and then forced himself to smile at her. As he sat next to her, he gathered her to him fiercely but bestowed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He lingered there for a moment, his face close to hers, and whispered,
“
No matter what, as long as you’re with me, I’m the only one who gets to look at your sweet arse like that.
”

She blushed from tip to toe. Good. His jealousy pleased her. He liked that.

“
We should, um, look for the pelt,
”
she murmured, smiling, her eyes deep blue in the pub light.

He stood, unable to look away from her.
“
Lift your bum, before I lift it.
”

Giggling, she stood. He bent over discreetly and raised the lid on the bench. They both peered inside the storage space. There was nothing there but lint, and an empty pint glass that looked as if it had been stowed there months ago. He lowered the lid and Maggie sat down with a smile on her face.

“
Do you know what? I could eat now,
”
she said sprightly.

Calan grinned as he sat next to her. She definitely didn’t want to find the skin.

As they waited for a waitress to approach, they sat quietly, bodies always touching. Calan couldn’t stop looking at her. She was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. The way her eyes lit up when she talked. Her easy smile. The flirty side she tried to keep hidden, but couldn’t. She was bloody perfect. Like most women, she probably had any number of complaints about herself, but she was perfect to him.

Every so often, though, the worry crept back into her face.
“
Maybe we shouldn’t be stopping to eat,
”
she said.
“
What if the shooter followed us? What if he’s here right now? Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out who he is? Maybe we should go to the police. What if one of these people figures out … what you are?
”

“
We’re fine for now, Maggie. There’s no way he’d attack in the middle of a crowded pub. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought he’d followed us. And, as for what I am, I’ve always kept a low profile on the island. Nora was the only one who understood my true nature. Others may think I’m different, odd even, but it’s not as if I advertise my selkie self.
”
He brushed his fingers against her cheek, hoping for another smile from her.
“
Besides, never let it be said that I would not feed a starving woman.
”

She did smile, a little. He knew she was worried. By Thor’s cavernous crack, he was worried too. He didn’t know who the shooter was, or who the thieves at Nora’s were, but he knew they’d be back. His concern only intensified when he allowed himself to remember things he’d seen in the past. Why, he’d witnessed humans brought to near lunacy over a selkie skin. He knew the lengths that some would go to in order to obtain one.

That’s why he couldn’t bring Maggie back to Nora’s house. It’d be the first place they’d look. No, they had to keep moving and had to find the skin.

And he had to keep her safe, although it didn’t seem so much a promise to Nora

anymore, as it did to himself.

He pulled her to him and kissed her with all the desperation he suddenly felt, leaving her with an adorable, stunned look on her face. Surely they could forget about the wannabe skin thieves for a little while. Besides, he was on a mission now.

He’d convince Maggie he was a selkie if it killed him.

*

Maggie let her guard down for a moment and allowed herself to just enjoy being in that pub with Calan. It was easy to do. There were lots of colorful locals to watch and a band had started playing some rousing fiddle music. And, of course, being with Calan was an event in and of itself.

Every female eye was upon him, and it was no wonder. He was sinful to look at. Lust on a plate. And every woman in that bar was obviously hoping to get served a healthy portion. With his long hair, soulful face, and biceps that made his leather jacket bulge, he was easily the most scrumptious man in there. Probably on all of Orkney. Heck, all of Scotland.

And his beautiful brown eyes were trained only on her. Amazing.

If only he didn’t believe he was Shamu’s distant cousin. It was such a shame for someone so sublime to be so certifiable.

She was considering the possibility of living in the cuckoo house with him when a waitress approached. Drooling.

The woman addressed only Calan, as if in a stupor.
“
What would you like, handsome? Please tell me it’s forty-year-old blondes with a couple of kiddies at home.
”

He merely grinned, as if he got that response from women all the time.
“
A bottle of red wine, please, pet. Oh, and a shrimp plate, the buttered scallops, the lobster pasta, and the oyster special.
”
He turned to Maggie.
“
What’ll you have, love?
”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from popping.
“
None of that was for me?
”

He leaned over and whispered, grinning lasciviously.
“
I did warn you about selkie appetites.
”

She tried to ignore the luscious ripple of sexual promise that wobbled through her core.

A short time later, Maggie was polishing off her lunch-sized portion of fish and chips, watching as her strange companion swallowed back the last oyster with gusto. He’d eaten all of it, every last morsel, although he’d tried to share a great deal of it with her. And he’d ordered two more bottles of red wine, too. She’d had a glass. He’d had the rest. And he was as sober as a novice on her first day at the convent.

“
Do you always eat like this?
”

Calan laughed.
“
I’ll share something with you. Selkie folk are sensualists. We live to feel, Maggie. We live to touch, to smell, to taste.
”
He leaned over and gave her a kiss so redolent of buttered shrimp that she almost thought she was at Red Lobster.
“
And we like to eat, mostly shellfish, but I’d take a good burger any day.
”

She couldn’t help laughing at his enthusiasm. It was as infectious as his kisses.

“
And,
”
he continued,
“
I do have a weakness for fine red wines. And one of the perks of being selkie is that it takes a lot to get me drunk.
”

“
So, when you lost your skin to Gran, you must have had a lot.
”

He rolled his eyes.
“
Not one of my better moments. That Gran of yours must have been serving me firewater.
”
And then he smiled at her. An honest-to-goodness, genuine