The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) (5 page)

It wasn’t Tara. It was her.
She
was the reason he was staying on the island. Glenna leveled her gaze at him. “You’re wasting your time, Sam. I’ve made that clear.”

Sam crossed the room to her. “I don’t believe that.”

“Sam—”

“No,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “We had something before I left. You can’t deny it.”

She shook her head. “I was delirious with fever. I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

He took a step closer, and she retreated. The backs of her legs met the sofa behind her, and his strong hands landed on her hips. She could feel the heat, the intensity of his gaze only inches away. And then his mouth was on hers.

Sam.
The man she had been avoiding for months. The one man who could unravel every one of her plans, who could break through all of her defenses. Who, if she gave him half a chance, could destroy them all.

She pressed her palms to his hard chest, intending to push him away. But his lips moved warm and insistent, and felt so damn good, against hers. He tasted of black coffee and sugar and…
Sam
.

He yanked her against him, locking them in place. And every bone in her body turned to molten lava. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, her nails digging into those hard muscles. Her lips parted under his, desperate for more than a taste.

She gasped, staggering back when he stepped away suddenly. The air between them turned cold. She reached for the arm of the sofa, steadying herself as Sam turned on his heel, stalking to the door.

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes on fire as he wrenched it open. “Think about
that
, Glenna.”

A YELLOW FOG
rolled over the rocks. The waves lapped at the shoreline. Moira gazed into a small driftwood fire, watching a vision of her daughter and Sam kissing. Glenna could pretend as much as she wanted, but she had feelings—
deep
feelings—for this man.

Sam Holt would be her daughter’s undoing.

And Moira’s ticket to the throne.

She laughed, low and wicked. Sam wouldn’t let her down. He would lead her to Brigid without even knowing it. Her daughter would never be able to keep up this ploy to stop him, not when she fell for him.

It was already happening.

She smiled. Brigid would be found by Imbolc, before the fires burned.

And as soon as she got rid of Brigid, she would be the only one left to reclaim the throne. The only
rightful
queen.

Smoke twirled into the sky, taking on the shape of a rose. Flames brushed the flower, coloring the petals a blazing sunset orange. She let it hover, and gazed into the fiery petals.

She had assumed when she’d stolen Nuala’s powers that she would be unstoppable. But Caitlin and Liam had proved her wrong. There was still one magic more powerful than hers—the magic of true love.

Good thing she knew where to find it.

Her lips curved as she watched the image of Sam stalk out of her daughter’s cottage, slamming the door. She lifted her hand, blowing the wisp of rose-shaped smoke toward Glenna’s cottage.

Sweet dreams, darling.

L
iam.” Caitlin rubbed her eyes, walking out into the hallway. “It’s after midnight.”

Liam glanced up from the couch, where he was bent over his laptop, a single lamp burning beside him. “Is it that late?”

She nodded, peeking into the bedroom across the hall at Owen. Their son was tucked under a navy blue quilt, his face buried in his pillow. They’d decorated the room in an ocean theme, at Owen’s request, with sea-green walls and paintings of starfish and dolphins. His collection of seashells twinkled in the moonlight bathing the windowsill.

She shut the door quietly, walking into the sitting room. “Why don’t you come to bed?”

Liam pushed the computer off his lap, leaning back and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I need to figure out how it all connects.”

“I know,” Caitlin sighed, picking up the unfinished bottle of Harp on the table. The windows were open, the warm air teasing the curtains into the room. Goosebumps rose up on her bare arms despite the heat.

“She’s out there somewhere,” Liam said quietly. “He found her pelt, Cait. It’s real now.”

Caitlin set the bottle in the sink and sank to the couch beside him. “I know.”

Liam’s eyes were bloodshot from staring at the screen. “I’ve been researching the legends of these islands for years, but I’m only beginning to understand how closely linked they all are. And how fragile they are—both the islands and the selkies.”

Caitlin took Liam’s hand in hers. “Maybe you should give it a rest for a couple days. You’ve been working like this non-stop for weeks.”

“I can’t find what I’m looking for.” Liam’s gaze fell back to his computer. “I’m certain that my mother is the missing link in the puzzle. And as soon as we find her, we’ll know how it all connects.”

“Sam
will
find her.” Caitlin closed the laptop and stood. “Come on,” she said, tugging him gently up to his feet. “Let’s get some sleep.”

TARA LAY AWAKE,
listening to the murmur of waves splashing against the cliffs far below. She welcomed the rhythm, as it usually lulled her to sleep. But tonight it felt off—more like a whisper than a song.

“Mum?”

Tara lifted her head off her pillow and peered through the crack in the door. Kelsey was standing in the hallway, the hem of her pink nightgown dragging on the floor. Tara put a finger to her lips, gesturing to Dominic who had fallen asleep only moments ago.

Kelsey backed into the hallway as Tara slipped out of bed and tiptoed out the door.

“You can’t sleep?” Tara whispered.

Kelsey shook her head.

“Me neither.” Tara guided Kelsey into the living room and switched on a light. “Hot chocolate?”

Kelsey nodded, climbing up onto the sofa. Tara warmed two mugs of milk and crushed mint leaves into the cocoa powder. She carried them over to the sofa and set them on the table, eyeing the book clutched in her daughter’s arms. “Do you want me to read you a story?”

Kelsey nodded.

Tara lifted the collection of fairy tales into her lap, flipping through the pages. “How about something different…
The Twelve Dancing Princesses
?”

Kelsey shook her head. “I want to read
The Little Mermaid
.”

Tara looked up. “I thought we’d moved past that story?”

Kelsey tugged on the crocheted blanket draped over the back of the sofa. “It’s the only story with a sea witch in it.”

Tara watched her daughter closely. “Why do you want to read about a sea witch?”

“Because Moira’s a sea witch.”

A prickle of uneasiness danced up Tara’s spine. She knew Moira had unfinished business with Glenna—maybe with all of them—but she didn’t want Kelsey getting involved. And it wouldn’t be the first time her daughter had followed clues in a fairy tale that led her to danger. “If you have questions about Moira, I want you to ask me or your father.”

Kelsey dug deeper under the covers, her fingers playing over the little bits of pale green yarn that stuck out of the corners of the blanket. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the sea witch in that story is a mermaid, when we know she’s a selkie?”

“This story was written a long time ago.”

“Do you think Moira is related to this sea witch?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how that would be possible since one’s a selkie and one’s a mermaid.”

Kelsey reached for her mug, cupping both of her small hands around the blue pottery. “How does somebody become a sea witch?”

“I don’t know.”

“No one wants to be a sea witch, do they?”

Tara breathed in the calming fragrance of mint and chocolate. “I imagine not.”

Kelsey picked at a chip in the mug. “I wonder who Moira was before. If she wasn’t born a sea witch, then she must have been a regular selkie once.” She bit her lip. “There has to be some good in her, if she’s Glenna’s mum.”

Tara thought of her ex-husband, the man who abused her for years before she got the courage to escape. “I think,” she said slowly, “there are some people who don’t have any good in them at all.”

“We didn’t think Nuala had any good in her,” Kelsey said. “And we were wrong.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Kelsey asked, her eyes falling back to the book. “I think if we could figure out who Moira was before she was a sea witch, and what she wants, it might help us find my grandmother.”

Tara closed the book. “I want you to leave this investigation to Sam.”

“But—”

“No,” Tara cut her off. “I don’t want you getting involved in this. Besides, we don’t even know if Moira’s behind your grandmother’s disappearance.”

“There has to be a reason why she stole Nuala’s powers,” Kelsey protested. “Moira wants something.” She reached for the book and Tara let it go reluctantly. “We need to figure out what it is.”

Tara swallowed a lump in her throat. “What have you figured out so far?”

“Not much,” Kelsey admitted, turning to an illustration of a mermaid in a dark cave hovering over a bubbling cauldron. “But I think parts of this story are wrong.” She traced a finger over the words on the page. “It says that no plants or flowers could grow in the sea witch’s lair. But whenever I read this part, I smell roses.”