The Selkie (6 page)

letter rang out in her head.

Trust no one.

At that moment, a strong arm grabbed her from behind. Before she could scream, a large hand clamped down on her mouth.
“
Easy, lass,
”
whispered a man with a deep voice.
“
Let me help you.
”

Maggie struggled in the man’s grip, but he was too strong. Had Matthew followed her, coming back to plead his insane case again? No. The voice was Orcadian, unfamiliar, yet also somehow recognizable.

He pulled her off the path and behind some shrubbery at the side of the house. She tried to pry his hand away from her mouth, but couldn’t make it budge. The crazy bastard had hands of titanium!

“
Och
,
”
he muttered, mildly frustrated.
“
You’re a spry one, aren’t you?
”

Maggie tried to place the voice, but couldn’t, and its familiarity rattled her. The low vibrations of its baritone sensuality even more so. Still, her body automatically fought back, writhing in his grip.

Holding her from behind, the man lowered his head to her ear.
“
Now look, lass. If you promise to be nice, I’ll take my hand away. I really don’t think you want to be attracting the notice of whoever’s ransacking your granny’s house, do you?
”

Although her chest was heaving in fear, she nodded.
“
Good girl,
”
he whispered.
“
Now, I’ll let you go. But if you make another peep, I’ll sit on you.
”

That option doesn’t sound bad coming from that voice. It sounds good.

She caught her breath and felt his large hands slide away. Her head spun a little as she experienced the glide of his fingers on her flesh. Gently, he spun her around to face him. Maggie looked up.

Even in the darkness, she would have recognized his face anywhere. It was the man from her dream on the beach, fully clothed. The man from all her dreams. And he was smiling seductively down at her.

For the first time in her life, Maggie fainted.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Calan watched as she came to in her grandmother’s bed, where he’d tucked her after she’d fainted. And it was about time the lass woke up. His back was sore from sitting in the chair all night, and now he was plain ornery, especially in light of how badly he’d wanted to share that bed with her.

It had been little more than torture watching her sleep, and his erection hadn’t given him a moment’s peace.

Bloody hell.

Slowly he raked his gaze over her form, which looked no less delectable under her granny’s quilt. He hardened again, which was amazing because he’d been hard for her for months, but seeing her on that beach had done things to him. Undeniably, unbelievably carnal things. And now he couldn’t see straight for the thought of having her body under his again.

He cursed under his breath. He needed to focus, to fulfill his oath to Nora, get the pelt, and get out.

So why did he want to stay?

It must be the lure of the skin, of the sea. He’d had many a human woman in order to help him satisfy the urges that possessed men of his kind. This woman was no different.

She shifted in the bed, groggy but not yet awake. As she turned over to hug her pillow, her top blouse buttons popped open and he got an eyeful of lacy black bra over the top of an ample breast.

All of a sudden, every Orcadian swear word he knew came to mind. And he knew a few. Ones even the oldest of Orkney historians would have forgotten.

It’s because she’s beautiful and you’re hard up, that’s all. You should just go back to the pub, fuck Annette until she doesn’t know which side of the bar is up, and get it out of your system. Humans are all the same anyway.

And yet even the idea of making love to anyone but this Collins woman was strangely repulsive. He couldn’t even visualize the act without picturing her auburn curls strewn on his pillow while he buried himself in her warm body. She fired up his imagination, made him wonder what it would be like to put a new light in those extraordinary blue eyes of hers. The light of surprise and ecstasy when she realized what he could do to her.

But why? Why should he want her so much? So much so that he lost control with her on the beach. Thank Odin he’d heard someone passing. The momentary distraction had given him the power to escape before the seduction was complete. And yet, here he was with her again, unsure of who was doing the seducing in their strange scenario.

The fact that he’d felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to stay the night, when he’d seen the prankster in her house was even more disturbing. Why should he care about this woman’s welfare? She was nothing to him! And yet the thought of her running into what was likely only a teenage hooligan still set his blood to boiling.

To say nothing of the storm of furious emotion he’d experienced watching her talk to her ex-fiancé. He’d had to hold himself back.

And what if the intruder was after his pelt? Was there a chance Nora had been less

than discreet, even though she’d promised not to tell anyone about it? What did he do then? Call the police? He couldn’t take a chance his skin might end up in another’s hands, even a police constable’s hands.

He glanced at Maggie again. These feelings he had for her were new, awkward. He didn’t know what to do with them. He supposed he could ask Angus. That is, if his reprobate of a brother would spare him a moment. Since mating with the lovely Elsie a year ago, Angus hadn’t resurfaced. Wouldn’t leave his mate’s side, and especially not now that she was expecting their pup. Why, the only time he’d heard from him was when he’d asked him to attend the birth. His brother chose to spend the rest of his time mooning over his wife.

Damned newlyweds. For the long life of him, he’d never understand them.

Maggie made a small noise, bringing him out of his reverie. He watched and waited through narrowed eyes, and saw how her eyes grew wild at the sight of him. He jumped to calm her.
“
I won’t hurt you. I’m … a friend. I swear.
”

“
Yeah, right,
”
she whispered.
“
Who the hell are you, and how did you get in my house?
”

He could hear her heart racing. He could smell her fear. He could also smell something else. Her sudden arousal. And that delicious fragrance did fuck all for his sore dick. Still, that tangible proof she fancied him made him feel a little cocky. He grinned, sitting back leisurely in the corner wicker chair.
“
Well, you did have a key in your pocket.
”

“
My pants pocket, you pervert!
”
Her voice rose with every word.
“
I’m not really in the habit of letting strangers get into my pants!
”

“
I’m no stranger, Maggie Collins,
”
he replied, seeing the impact of his lilting, deep voice on her.
“
Certainly not after what happened on the beach.
”

“
That w-was a dream. I’ve been having a lot of weird dreams lately.
”

“
And you know I’ve been the star in every one of them. But you can deny it if it makes you feel better.
”
He shrugged, seeing how she shivered each time he rolled r’s with his Orcadian accent. All the while, he made sure to continue grinning his most devilish grin. The one that had helped him pry his pelt out of feminine hands for centuries. He’d charm this woman too, if he had to. He needed that skin. And if he had to bed Maggie Collins to get it, so be it. It’d be a pleasure for both of them.

With that thought in mind, he leaned back in the chair and spread his legs in a careless pose that drew her attention to his lower half. He licked his lips, enjoying her discomfiture tremendously.
“
Now, wee Maggie. Let’s have us a nice chat, shall we?
”

She shook her head. He tried not to gawk at the way the silky, auburn springs bounced above her shoulders. All of a sudden, he understood why ancient folk used to consider redheads witches. He couldn’t look away from her.

“
You’re not supposed to be real,
”
she whispered, staring at a spot somewhere over his shoulder.
“
I made you up.
”

He cleared his dry throat.
“
Yes, well, I’d rather hoped you weren’t real either. It appears we were both tragically mistaken.
”

*

Maggie stared at him. His long, brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and the body that was so naked and wet on the beach was now clad in a black T-shirt, jeans, and a leather biker jacket. She felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him in this

bad-boy garb. She’d always had a thing for bad boys, from the moment Steven O’Dowd played so carelessly with her heart in high school. And while both Matthew and Bobby had been preppy and straitlaced on the outside, on the inside they’d ended up looking really bad after she learned of their philandering inclinations.

So help her, she would not fall for another bad boy. Her plan was not to fall for anyone, period, for a long time.

Especially not men who overpowered her senses and seemed to ooze sex and moonlight. There really was a faint glimmer to his skin. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was too young for cataracts to set in.

Despite her determination to make the stranger disappear, he didn’t appear even slightly prepared to go. Her mind raced.
“
This isn’t happening. I was drunk, grieving. I imagined you. I’m probably imagining you right now. Only with more clothes.
”

He moved slowly over to the bed, allowing himself to perch on the edge, still smiling.
“
I didn’t hear you complaining about my lack of clothes last time.
”
His gaze dropped to her chest, and he waved his hand in that vicinity.
“
You might want to fasten your
gansey
. It’s a wee bit distracting.
”

“
My … gansey?
”
She shook her head, annoyed. This man used words even her grandmother hadn’t.
“
What is that?
”

He nodded at her bosom, looking annoyed himself.
“
Your … jumper.
”
He seized on the right word as if it had just occurred to him.
“
Your shirt!
”

She looked down, only to see her bra on flagrant display.
Damn
. Feeling herself turn scarlet, she hurried to button her shirt up. She tried not to make eye contact while she did so, but her gaze inevitably flew to his face.

She watched, helpless, as his tongue darted out again to wet the corner of his full lips. She’d tasted that scrumptious tongue. Couldn’t get the taste out of her head! Without thinking, she blurted,
“
Stop that!
”

“
Stop what, love?
”

Oh God
. Stop being so sexy, she wanted to scream. All the heat in her body seemed to shoot up into her face, and she just knew her shame must be written all over her forehead.
“
Look, pal, this needs to stop. I don’t know you.
”
Her hands were trembling now, and her lips were chattering in anger to boot.
“
I don’t understand…
”

“
Maggie,
”
he uttered, grasping her hands. At his touch, her hands stopped shaking and she felt herself calm down once again. His eyes softened as if he almost felt sorry for her. He let go of her hands. From somewhere next to the bed, he produced her flask of brandy.
“
I’ll explain everything to you, lass. Have a drink first, though. You’ll need it.
”

“
No drinks.
”
For all she knew, he’d spiked it. Maybe he was a sex maniac who’d come upon her on the beach, had slipped her something, and was looking to reap the rewards. Yet even as she imagined it, she grabbed the flask. She swallowed a huge gulp of brandy, not caring that it streaked a burning path down her throat.

Once again, his tempting mouth widened in a lascivious grin.
“
Why don’t I start with my name?
”

“
Fine.
”
Her own lips tightened into a straight line, and she tried not to stare at his eyes or his lips or anything that reminded her of how savagely he’d kissed her on the beach.
“
Who the hell are you?
”

“
Calan Kirk.
”
He said it simply, as if that was enough explanation.

She looked blankly at him until the realization set in.
“
Wait.
You’re
my