The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) (23 page)

She needed to stop this charade. She needed to stop it now before he got hurt. But then his tongue was on her and she felt herself spiraling—spiraling so far out of control.

Sam.

She had tried to warn him. But he refused to believe her. Couldn’t he see that inside, she was nothing but thorns? The sensation built, pulling her under. She sunk her fingers in his hair. She had known from the first moment she saw him that he would be her undoing. That he was nothing like the others who came before him.

The tremors inside her turned to shuddering quakes and her body clenched. His name escaped in a ragged gasp from her lips as he rose, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. Every muscle in her body felt languid and loose. A smoky female voice played from the speakers where she’d switched on a blues station earlier. The candles were lit, the curtains drawn.

He laid her down gently on a bed of burgundy feather pillows and cream sheets. Edging her back, he ran a hand lazily up the curve of her waist, teasing the underside of her breast. “Tonight, Glenna. You are mine.”

She lifted a hand, tracing the rugged lines of his face, the hard angles and planes of his jaw and cheek. She brushed her lips back to his, but it was his eyes that had her heart skipping a beat.

There was only one emotion in them. And it was not lust.

LATER, MUCH LATER,
when he finally filled her, burying himself inside her as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over them, he whispered the words she had read in his eyes.

And for the first time in her life, she wished she could say them back.

C
aitlin eased out of Owen’s bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. The air in the cottage was warm, but she felt cold—cold all over. Liam was in the living room, stacking their son’s fairy tale books into a box. Owen still wouldn’t tell his parents why he refused to read the stories anymore, only that he wanted them out of his sight.

Liam glanced up when he heard her come into the room. “Is he asleep?”

Caitlin nodded, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Normally, she would seek comfort in her fiancé’s arms. But after Nuala’s arrival on the island tonight, she felt like a wall was between them—a wall of bitter memories and foolish regrets. “How could we not have known Owen was seeing Nuala every night?”

“We thought he was at Brennan’s,” Liam said, setting another book into the box. “And he was. We just didn’t know he was leaving early each night to see her on the way home.”

“We should have been with him.”

Liam looked up at her. “We can’t follow him everywhere.”

“What if Moira had gotten to him? What if—”

Liam stood, crossing the room to her and rubbing his hands up and down her arms. They could hear the echo of waves through the open windows. “Owen’s safe now. He’s in his bed. He’s okay.”

Caitlin stepped back and Liam’s arms fell to his sides. “What is Nuala still doing here?” Caitlin asked. “What does she want with us?”

“Maybe she wants to see Owen.”

Caitlin looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“He never talks about her,” Liam said, lowering his voice. “He’s never even mentioned her name. How could we have known that he wanted to maintain contact?”

“We should have asked,” Caitlin said helplessly. “We should have offered. So he didn’t think he had to sneak around behind our backs.”

“Would you have let him see her if he’d asked?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlin shook his head. “After everything she did to us. To our family…” She fought back a hot rush of anger and walked into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water. “She
stole
our child, Liam. For ten years, Nuala raised Owen as her own, and we didn’t even know he was alive.”

“And he didn’t know
we
were alive.” Liam picked up the yellow dish towel hanging over the back of the chair, handing it to her. “Maybe we underestimated the bond that formed between them during those years.”

“He asked me to forgive her,” Caitlin said, drying her hands. “And I did. To get
you
back. But I don’t trust her. I don’t want her here.” She set the towel down. “And I don’t want her anywhere near Owen.”

“Owen thinks she might be trying to help us find Brigid.”

The gas clicked on the stove as Caitlin lit the burner with a match. “Why would she do that?”

“Maybe to prove to us that she’s trying to change?” Liam offered. “That she’s on our side?”

Caitlin turned. “I don’t want her on our side.”

“If Nuala is against Moira, she
is
on our side. She might be able to help us.”

Caitlin pushed away from the counter. How could she have been so stupid to think her son would forget about Nuala? Walking over to the box, she picked up the book Liam gave Owen for Christmas, the one that fell in the water. The pages were still damp and stuck together, but she opened them to the story marked by the gold ribbon and wasn’t at all surprised to find
The Little Mermaid
. “Have you come up with any ideas about why your mother would shelve the white selkie legend with the mermaid books?”

“I have a theory,” Liam admitted slowly. “But it’s pretty far-fetched.”

“I’m starting to think far-fetched is the norm around here.”

Liam walked over to the couch, pulling her down beside him. “Did Owen tell you the story Brennan told him? About the mermaids and the selkies?”

Caitlin nodded.

“I’ve been searching back, as far back as I can go, trying to figure out when the first white selkie was born. And I think it might have coincided with when the mermaids forced the selkies into these waters.”

“But they had queens before then, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Liam answered. “But not
white
selkie queens. The siren who almost started the war between the mermaids and selkies was the daughter of a selkie queen. It was that queen’s refusal to hand her over to the mermaids that forced the selkies into these waters.” Liam’s gaze shifted to the book in Caitlin’s hands. “I can’t help wondering if the white selkie’s role was created by the mermaids as a punishment, a sort of twisted test to ensure the selkies maintained the peace between the land and the sea.”

Caitlin furrowed her brow. “But a white selkie has to bring a human man into the sea to rule beside her before she can be queen,” she argued. “If the reason the mermaids cut off the selkies in the first place was to stop the siren, or any selkie, from luring men into the sea, why would they punish the selkies with something that would essentially make them do the same thing?”

“Think about it.” Liam took a deep breath. “It’s the
ultimate
punishment. Only one land-man is allowed to be taken every few hundred years, and, yes, he’s cut off from his family and friends, but he gets to rule beside the white selkie. He gets to be king. The power is shared. Together they rule these seas and keep the peace between both their people. It’s a balance of power.”

“But wouldn’t that be disruptive?” Caitlin asked. “Wouldn’t the mermaids be afraid the ruling family would revolt, if someone didn’t want to lose power?”

“Not if the alternative was this.” Liam gestured out the window. “There are no fish in these waters, Caitlin. Nothing for the selkies to eat, to live off of. The ocean is growing warmer every day. And the tides…” Liam shook his head. “Donal and Jack spent half the day clearing a path for the ferry to get back in this afternoon. If a storm were to blow in when the tide was as high as it was today, our harbor could be wiped out.”

“Our island,” Caitlin whispered. “Our home. It’s slipping away.”

“I think that’s what the mermaids want,” Liam said quietly. “If the story Brennan told Owen is true, then the selkies are restricted not only by the boundaries under the sea, but by the amount of land they can shape-shift on. Their connection to these islands is the only magic they have left. Without the islands, the selkies would lose their magic. They wouldn’t be selkies anymore. They would only be seals.”

Caitlin’s hands clasped the damp pages of the fairy tale. She had never considered mermaids to be anything other than friendly sea creatures. But now that she looked more closely at the illustrations, she could see the sharp scales on their powerful tales, the elongated fins that could propel them through the sea five times faster than any selkie, and the piercing barbs of the king’s trident.

“Nuala couldn’t have been the first white selkie to rebel,” Liam went on, “to reject the idea of bringing a land-man into the ocean to rule beside her. There had to be others who felt this fate was forced on them.”

“Nuala rebelled twice,” Caitlin said softly. “First by eloping with her selkie lover, and then by taking Owen—a child instead of a man.”

Liam nodded solemnly. “She might have succeeded if Moira hadn’t tricked her into stealing
our
child—one with selkie blood in his veins.”

Caitlin’s gaze dropped to the pearl and sapphire engagement ring on her finger, a gift from Liam’s grandmother—the selkie queen who had passed away only six weeks before. “Do you think that’s why Nuala was here tonight? To warn us?”

“She’s on our side, Cait. I have no doubt of that.” He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “As much as we both hate what she did to us, I think we may need her before the end.”

Caitlin drew in a shaky breath. “There has to be another way to restore the balance in the selkie kingdom.”

Liam lifted his eyes to hers. “The selkies need a queen.”

Caitlin gripped his hand as a new fear swept through her. “Nuala?”

Liam shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

Caitlin searched his face, pale and fraught in the dimly lit room. “Then who?”

“If Nuala hadn’t been born,” Liam said slowly. “My mother was next in line to be queen.”

BRIGID LAY AWAKE,
listening to the owl hooting in the woods. The moon was a pale disk of silver shining through her window. The house was quiet, but her fingers worried over the seam of the wool blanket tucked under her chin. She could hear it—the voice whispering to her through the pines—the voice of the sea.