Selkie's Revenge (9 page)

Eddie bowed his head, put in his place. “I apologize, lass. I’m only part finman, but their mischievous tendencies do slip out of me from time to time.”

Beth knew in any other situation she would have already turned around, walked out the door, and said “good riddance” to Eddie the finman and Mack the selkie. In this circumstance, she didn’t. She couldn’t. The look in Mack’s eyes was too earnest. It wasn’t the teasing face of someone who was having fun at her expense or being cruel to her.

Besides, she hadn’t forgotten what happened on the beach, or the sense that she needed revenge on whatever took her family from her. Her mind hadn’t been addled when she’d spied her dead child walking on the waves. She hadn’t been pining. Luke hadn’t even been on her mind at that precise moment, even though he occupied every other moment. He’d just appeared to her. Tangible. Palpable.

Real.

His little brown eyes had crinkled at her as he’d smiled. There had been no otherworldly echo as he’d called, “Mummy!”

It was as if he’d never perished with Frank. As if her own life hadn’t ended with theirs.

Beth knew, as well as she knew the sound of her own voice, that she’d somehow drawn back the curtain that separated the supernatural world and her own. And if she could do that, she imagined selkies and finmen could exist.

She just wasn’t sure she was ready to admit as much to Mack and crazy Eddie. She cleared her throat and said to them, “Tell me more.”

Mack held her gaze and the slight relaxation of his brow told of relief, but he was still guarded. “You believe us?”

“I’m reserving judgment,” she snapped. “For now, tell me what the problem is with me having a finman charm.”

“To be plain,” Eddie said, resuming his story, “there’s a finman who has staked his claim on you with this charm. A finman and his silver are rarely parted, you see. We do like our silver.” His gaze drifted toward a large sterling platter on a nearby counter and he grinned, distracted. He snapped himself out of it and continued, “So by him leaving you this, the equivalent of a finman engagement ring, he is making his desire plain. His plan will be to abduct you when you’re nae expecting it and drag you away to his home on the invisible isle of Hildaland. He’ll force you to, well,
have relations
with him, to bear his children, commit you to a life of drudgery, and never allow you to see your home again. When he’s finished with you, you’ll die there, alone and neglected.” Eddie planted his meaty hands on the counter to emphasize his point. “That’s about it, really.”

This time, Beth did turn around and left the shop as fast as her shaky legs could carry her.

“Beth, wait!” Mack caught up to her outside and gave her elbow a gentle tug. His muscles were tense all over his hard body, making him appear even stronger. He looked as if he wanted to draw her in for an embrace, but for whatever reason, he refrained. “I know this sounds daft, and I know Eddie appears to have as much sense as a cracked egg, but what he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in knowledge.”

She extricated her elbow from his grasp and continued walking at a steady clip down the lane. She spied a coffee shop down the street.

Perfect
.

“Be still, woman,” Mack grunted as he followed her. “I’m trying to help you.”

She turned to him and knew her eyes must be flashing. They felt as hot as laser beams. “I need coffee. Now.”

Machar glanced at the coffee shop. “I’ll join you then.”

She proffered him a tight grin. “There doesn’t seem to be a No Selkies sign in the window. It’s a free country. Do what you want.” She sighed, hating the tone in her voice, and yanked open the door to the shop.

Immediately, Beth was hit by the warmth from a stone fireplace in the corner of the shop. She smelled sweetness, coffee, and pastry rolled into one, and it soothed her frazzled nerves a little. She grabbed a seat in the corner by the fireplace and whipped open the small plastic menu.

Machar pulled up a chair at the same table, his big body hulking in the corner, seeming to take up all the space there. He glanced at the menu and then back at her. She stared back at him, feeling foolish and angry and confused. Mack opened his mouth to speak when the waitress, a portly older lady, arrived.

“What’s your pleasure, dearies?” Her gaze fell to Mack’s broad shoulders, and she fluffed her graying hair without seeming to realize she was doing so. Her surprised gaze tripped along the muscled curves of his arms, and she murmured something about buying a set of weights for her husband.

“What’s the strongest thing you have?” asked Mack, angling an eyebrow at Beth. “We need something strong right now.”

The waitress dragged her gaze back to his face and considered, a plump hand on her plumper hip. She licked her lips as she stared at him. “We have a lovely French blend that’ll singe your pretty eyelashes off, handsome.”

“Decided,” Mack said, smiling at her. “And pudding. Lots of pudding. What sorts of cake do you have?”

“Isn’t it a bit early for dessert?” whispered Beth. “We just had pancakes.”

“Don’t listen to her, love,” Mack said to the waitress. “She needs fattening up. In fact, we’d love it if you brought us a slice of every dessert you have.”

The waitress gawked. Beth could almost see her wheels turning as she tabulated her tip. “We have seven desserts on the menu.”

“Done.” Mack grinned, and the befuddled woman walked away to place the order.

Beth fought not to grin herself, despite the mélange of emotions plaguing her. “Are you trying to win me over to the paranormal side by force-feeding me food full of saturated fats?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. Beth’s gaze strayed to his bulging biceps, making her feel just as weak as the still-gawking waitress, and she hastily looked back at his face.

“Sweetheart,” he began, “I have only one aim here. To make sure you don’t have another finman encounter. Oh, and to fatten you up. You’re too thin.”

Despite everything, Beth’s sense of vanity flared. Too thin? She wasn’t thin at all. Frank always used to tease her about her “childbearing hips.” Of course, she’d lost all appetite since Frank and Luke died. Her normally pear-shaped figure had lost some of its softness. Perhaps Mack was right. Machar Kirk of the heaven-sent body and perfect, chiseled face. There was more sculpture to Mack than a Rodin exhibit. Beth found her gaze drifting, following the curve of Mack’s pec muscles under his shirt and had to avert her eyes.

She was suddenly way too warm for her own good. Had been ever since she woke up in a sexual muddle because of him, the man whose name seemed to be a synonym for “temptation.”

Never mind. He was trying to convince her he wasn’t of this earth.

And she was already halfway to believing him for some reason. She stared at him, searching his handsome face for the smallest sign of feeblemindedness. “You really want me to believe what Eddie said?”

“You have to. You’re in grave danger, worse than I originally thought.”

The waitress chose that moment to arrive at their table with a huge tray laden with steaming coffee and more dessert than even a contestant in a cake-eating contest should see. Beth didn’t know where to look for all the mounds of caramel and crème brûlée and fudge.

Luckily Mack took charge, rubbing his hands together. They’d just eaten a while ago. How could he still be hungry? Once all the plates were squished onto the small table, he winked at her and pushed the plate with the biggest piece toward her. “There. You look like a chocolate-loving lass.”

He got that right. Beth gaped at the mile-high slab of sugar, cocoa, and butter. And before she could respond, Mack speared a mountainous piece and thrust it toward her lips.

“Open up for me.”

She froze. Something felt strange. It took her a second to realize what it was.

She was turned on. God forgive her, she could feel the heat and the moisture between her thighs. As Mack had uttered those four innocent words, her panties had become wet in a way she’d never experienced before. Somehow, his silky voice had moved and enticed her, wringing out the need that was buried deep inside her.

And she was ashamed of her reaction.

She grabbed the fork from his hands, almost dropping the piece of cake. “I’m a big girl. I can feed myself.”

She had no right to get hot and bothered with her husband and son so recently in the ground.

He stared at her lips as she deposited the cake in her own mouth, watching with apparent fascination as she closed them over the fork. And then he looked away, swearing under his breath. Why did he appear just as hard up as she was? Him, the mythical sex god, if he was to be believed.

She felt the need to steer the conversation away from lips and eating and all things oral. “So,” she said, concentrating on the issue at hand, “tell me more about finmen. Why do they need to abduct human wives? Aren’t there any finwomen out there?”

He pulled a face. “Aye, but the finwomen go after human men. Fin folk don’t tend to mate with each other. Mostly because they’re not exactly lookers. Finmen go after mortal women because they can. With their ability to change shape, they can make you think you’re seeing bloody Robert Redford. It gives them a sick thrill to take what isn’t theirs.” He considered the desserts in front of them and then scooped out a big spoonful of crème brûlée and gulped it down. “Finmen are greedy bastards and can often be quite focused on procreating. There aren’t a lot of them, you see. Never have been. They don’t want to dwindle into nothing. This is why they become rather bent on stealing women.”

“But they could just procreate with their own women.”

He grimaced. “Right, but as I explained, your average finwoman is pure hackit.”

Beth tried to make sense of his strange words. Frank had used a lot of Scottishisms, but never that one. “Meaning?”

He shrugged his shoulders, and his mouth twisted into an apologetic curl. “They look like the devil. Most finmen won’t seek them out as bed partners. To them, it’s like deciding whether to have a go at Angelina Jolie or Don Rickles. There’s no contest.”

“I see.” She picked at the chocolate cake in front of her, breaking it into bits with her fork and pushing it around her plate.

“That’s the problem, Beth. None of us see. While a finman is parading in beautiful human form, no one can tell what he is. There’s only one thing that might signal the presence of a finman.”

“That being?”

“To be honest, they usually smell like fish.”

She seized on the topic. “Eddie smelled like fish!”

“Aye, as did your friend Gerald when he brought you his stew.”

“Gerald? That’s ridiculous. Besides, he’s a fisherman!”

“Convenient, isn’t it?” His piercing gaze held her captive. He believed this stuff, and she realized she wanted to believe him too. “We mustn’t underestimate the finmen, Beth. They’re devious and strong. They can even control the weather. “Mack stabbed at a huge slice of New York-style cheesecake and filled his mouth with the gooey concoction. He closed his eyes as he swallowed. “By St. Ethelbert’s blocked back passage, that is delicious. Try some.” He pushed the cake toward her.

She held up her hand. “I’m good, thanks. It’s hard to enjoy cake knowing a fishy sorcerer wants to make me his sex toy.”

Mack looked up, his eyes black shadows, and ran a webbed hand through his hair. “It won’t happen, Beth. I promise you.”

“Okay, but if this finman is as evil as you say, how do we stop him? Am I supposed to enlist Eddie as my bodyguard? Because that’s not going to happen.”

“Nor would I recommend it. No, I’ll be your bodyguard. I’m not just an antiques expert, Beth. Hunting finmen is somewhat of a vocation for me.”

“You hunt those things? As in to kill them?”

“The only good finman is a dead one.” He stared at her, his face solemn. “However, I haven’t killed many. I try to
discourage
them from their path as much as possible and only use my arrows if I see no other method. I’ll help you, but I’ll need to stay close to you to do it.”

“And again, I ask why? Why would you do this?”

He put down his fork and leaned in. God, he smelled good. Or was she smelling cheesecake? She wasn’t sure.

“Because you don’t deserve to suffer that fate and because I’ve wanted revenge on the finmen for a very long time.”

Beth’s skin tingled in a strange way. She had a feeling the alleged selkie man wasn’t just talking about a couple of months.

“How long?” Beth stared at the mysterious man whose quiet, yet commanding presence had captured her imagination. To say nothing of her newfound case of lust. Selkie or not.

Mack consumed big another chunk of cake, surveyed the other slices, and then speared a hunk of caramel-drizzled cheesecake and ate it too. “Over two hundred years.”

Beth had been about to take a bite of cake, but she let her fork fall to the plate. As it clanged on the porcelain plate, several heads in the coffee shop turned to give her disapproving stares. She gawked at him, knowing she ought to scoff or tell him his numbers were exaggerated. Grossly so. Yet he’d made the statement in such a matter-of-fact voice she was forced to pay attention. She swallowed her saliva. “That would imply you’re older than that.”

He reached over and forked a piece of her chocolate cake, savoring it as he swallowed. Did nothing take away the man’s enjoyment of dessert? “I’m a fair bit older than that, Beth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He considered her question and then asked one of his own. “Do you remember how you were rescued from the water?”

“You pulled me out.”

“The water was deep where you fell. How do you suppose I got there?” His dark eyes grew bright as he stared at her. The blaze from the bakery fireplace seemed reflected in his black orbs. Beth watched, light-headed, as the tiny flames danced for her in his eyes, placing her under a hypnotic spell.

She could have gazed at his abnormal beauty all day.
No, think
.
Answer the question
.

Her head was reeling with bizarre possibilities. “I don’t know. Maybe you went for a swim.” Damn, her voice was cracking.