Sea Lord (31 page)

not ask for.

He ought to strangle Griff.

She raised her head. Her eyes were huge and translucent with tears. Her expression struck him like a

quick blow to his gut.

“You brought me a garden,” she whispered.

He shrugged uncomfortably.
Never admit emotion. Never reveal weakness.
Yet with her, his defenses

crumbled like the mortar of the tower. “Only the beginnings of one. To remind you of home.”

“Oh, Conn.” To his horror, the tears welled and began to roll.

She scrambled from the ground and launched herself at his chest.

He had just enough presence of mind to catch her. Soft hair, soft breasts, soft, foolish, female sounds

beyond his understanding like the gurgle of the fountain. He deciphered enough, however, to comprehend

that she was pleased, that he had pleased her, and the slippery knot in his gut eased.

He stroked her back, pressed a kiss to her hair. An unfamiliar tenderness swelled his chest until he could

scarcely breathe. All this fuss for sticks and seeds. She had not cried like this—noisy, abandoned

tears—when he kidnapped her or when she faced the demon wolves or when she dragged him back

from the gate of Hell.

“You . . . So thoughtful . . . Love it,” she wept.

He was baffled. “Then why are you crying?”

She shook her head, mumbling something into his chest.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted her head. “Tell me.”

“I know I can’t . . . And I don’t want to.” More tears spilled. “Not to stay.”

His heart froze in his chest.

“You do not wish to stay here.” It was possible, he discovered, to form words, to speak calmly and

precisely, even as his whole world turned to ice.

She raised those soft, drowned eyes to his. “Of course I want to stay,” she said. “I miss them, that’s all.”

His heart began beating again. “Miss . . .”

“My family.”

Ah.
He released her.

Her teeth dented her lower lip. “It’s all right. I totally get you can’t leave Sanctuary for a two-week jaunt

across the ocean. I’m sure they’re all fine. It’s just . . .” Her voice trailed away.

Conn clasped his hands behind his back. What had she said to him last night? “
You can’t always put

off what you want because you feel responsible for everything and everybody else.
” Yet she was

willing to sacrifice her desire for his sake.

“Would it ease your mind to see them?” he asked.

She blinked. “You said that wasn’t possible.”

“Not possible to visit,” he conceded. “That does not mean you cannot observe them.”

“Can you do that?” Lucy asked.

“I saw you,” he reminded her simply.

Taking her hands, he led her to sit on the edge of the fountain, bubbling with magic, sparkling with

memories.

“Picture your family,” he instructed quietly. “Imagine them all together. Can you see them? Caleb and

Margred; Dylan and Regina; your father, Bart . . .”

Their names merged with the murmur of the fountain.

“All your family. All together. Now.”

A wind swept over the surface of the water, shimmering with ghosts and reflections.

Lucy shivered.

A wind swept over the threshold of Antonia’s restaurant, carrying the scent of wood smoke and fallen

Page 104

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

leaves.

Maggie shivered.

Caleb put an arm around her as the door jangled shut behind them. “You okay?”

She looked up at him with big dark eyes. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah. Damn cold out tonight.”

The snap in the air had brought the locals out to dinner. Caleb exchanged nods with the former mayor,

Peter Quincy, greetings with lobsterman Manny Trujillo. Glassware clinked. Plates clattered. The smell of

Antonia’s red sauce and Regina’s mussels in white wine and garlic hung over the dining room.

Nick Barone, Regina’s eight-year-old son, hopped into the aisle between the tables. “Hey, Chief. Can I

show Danny your handcuffs?”

“Sure, Houdini.” As Caleb unhooked the cuffs from his belt, Regina pushed through the swinging door,

her thin face flushed beneath a red bandana.

She gave him a grin and Maggie a kiss. “Special tonight is bluefish with capers, soup’s minestrone.

Booths are full, but I can get you a table. Unless you want to share with your dad and Lucy?”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. Bart Hunter went out in search of alcohol, not food or company. Most nights

he favored the bar at the inn. “Dad’s here?”

Regina nodded. “In the corner.”

Caleb glanced over the dining room. Dylan had strolled out of the kitchen and picked up two plates from

the pass-through. Caleb smothered a grin at the sight of his elegant older brother, the selkie son, the

warden of the sea, bussing tables. He carried the plates to a corner booth, where Caleb could see a

flannel sleeve and his sister’s blond hair.

“They’ve been in almost every night this week,” Regina continued.

A muscle ticked in Caleb’s jaw. Not too long ago, he’d hauled his father out for breaking bottles behind

this very counter. “He give you any problems?” he asked evenly.

“None.” Her gaze met his. “He’s changed, Cal.”

Caleb grunted, watching the family tableau. “He going back to the AA meetings at church?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll talk to him.”

“Dylan says he’s been taking real good care of Lucy,” Regina offered.

“That would be a first.” Caleb shifted until he could see his sister sitting opposite their father in the

high-backed booth. Something about the color of her skin, the expression in her eyes, nagged at him.

“She looks a little off.”

Regina shrugged. “She’s been sick.”

“We will sit with them,” Maggie said.

Caleb frowned in concern. “I don’t want you catching anything.”

“Oh, please,” Regina said. “Lucy’s fine now. Nick said her class spent most of yesterday outside.”

Maggie touched Caleb’s arm. “I want to sit with them. They should hear our news, too.”

“What news?” Regina’s gaze darted between them.

Maggie’s dark eyes shone. Her lips curved.

“Oh my God.” Regina’s mouth dropped open. “You’re ...”

Maggie nodded, her smile widening. “Having a baby.”

The joy on her face, the pride in her voice, stung Lucy’s eyes.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Isn’t that wonderful? They’re having a baby.” She grinned at Conn through her

tears. “I’m going to be a two-time aunt!”

“A child is a blessing,” he agreed. “We have had too few.”

She shook her head impatiently. “I’m not talking about the selkie birthrate. I’m happy for them. Aren’t

you happy for them?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am happy for us all.”

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Maybe his lack of reaction was a selkie thing. Or a prince thing. Or a guy

Page 105

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

thing.

He met her gaze and smiled very faintly, with amusement and affection.
Teasing
her.

Her heart somersaulted in her chest.

“My lord Conn.” Griff paced across the courtyard from the keep. He sketched a bow to Lucy before

turning to Conn, his eyes dark and serious in his broad face. “Ronat has discovered a new vent to the

northwest.”

Conn’s features froze. “He is here?”

“In the hall, lord.”

Conn released Lucy’s hands and stood. “I must see to this. Will you—”

“I’m fine here,” she assured him. “I’ll . . . plant my rosebush or something while you’re gone.”

His smile rewarded her for her understanding. “Get Iestyn to help you with the digging,” he tossed over

his shoulder as they strode away.

She watched them through the arch, their shadows stretching across the cobblestones of the outer bailey.

The fountain gurgled and flowed. The pool reflected only the sky and the castle towers.

Lucy sighed and tried to recall her family’s faces, to hold on to their memory in her heart and in her mind,

to imagine their joy and their conversation. Did they miss her?

But no, they had the corn maiden. Sitting there with Lucy’s family. With Lucy’s face. A little worm of

jealousy uncoiled and gnawed at her heart.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on the silver surface of the water. Think about babies. Think about

nieces and nephews, a little girl with Dylan’s black eyes, a little boy with Caleb’s slow smile. She could

almost see them, sturdy chubby legs and small grubby hands and skin smooth as an egg or the inside of a

shell. Her heart was full and tender for them, these children who would always know their parents loved

them.

The water shimmered deep, deeper . . .

“
How pretty.
” The voice—
that voice
—drove into her brain like an iron spike and ripped her throat.

She opened her mouth, but no scream came out. “
How unfortunate they will not live to be born.
”

Her stomach twisted. Her mind shrank. This couldn’t be happening. Gau shouldn’t be here. They had

warded the springs.

“
Oh, I am not here.
” Gau’s chuckle drew blood like the rusty edge of a saw. “
I am already on my

way to World’s End to visit your family. Since you couldn’t take the time.
”

She quivered, fear and guilt making her shrivel like a jellyfish left in the sun.

“
Do you know what I’ll do to them when I get there? Your pathetic excuse of a father. Your big

brave brothers and their bitches.
”

The pool roiled and darkened.

“
Perhaps I’ll let you watch . . .
”

Her stomach churned like the waters of the fountain. She saw things, dark, horrible, vile things, wavering

just below the surface, Dylan fighting and Regina screaming and Caleb covered in blood. Maggie, pale

and torn, weeping as though her heart would break.

“
No!
” Lucy shouted, or tried to shout, but she had no voice.

Just like in her nightmares.

“
Too bad about the babies,
” Gau said, and laughed while the water ran stained with blood.

The scream built in her chest and in her head until her throat was raw, until her ears rang, until the

pressure behind her eyeballs exploded.

And she never made a sound.

When the last echoes died away across the courtyard, she stood on trembling legs. Staggering to the

corner by the fountain, she threw up on the cobblestones.

After the freedom and relief of the sea, the stone keep closed around Conn like a prison.

They all felt it, he saw, looking around at his wardens. They were used to the vast reaches of their own

territories. Being on land, in human form and together, strained them as much as any demon threat.

Morgan wore a perpetual sneer. Enya’s voice was as brittle as her smile. Even Griff’s normally impassive

Page 106