The Selkie Bride (15 page)

Or have we eaten of the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?

—William Shakespeare

Back at the cabin, my second night of uneasy dreams came and went, and it was with relief that I rose in the morning and saw that there was a break in the storms. Determined to take in some sun—and, yes, to stop behaving like a vaporish ninny who faints when she had better take action—I put on a cloak, a scarf, some old leather gloves and sensible boots, loaded my pockets with apples, and then set out for the beach to dig for cockles. During the night I’d had a sudden conviction that raw cockles drenched in honey would be delicious. Some species are poisonous, but I was convinced that I would be able to tell which kinds were safe. And I had to do something. The hunger was ravening, and the apples that I indelicately gobbled as I wrapped my scarf tightly about my neck and head barely appeased it.

Herman appeared to approve of this outing, so I assured myself that the finman couldn’t be nearby.
The cat and I went to the shed together to fetch a spade and pail.

I soon discovered that there was a new acuity to my senses that was sometimes actually painful to experience. Sight, hearing, and especially my sense of smell were all now particularly intense. I was grateful that the air was fresh and crisp and the sun slightly veiled by clouds, because even the limited light made my eyes hurt.

My mind, like my stomach, seemed oddly empty. Fear and morbid rumination had been banished somehow, and I was existing solely in the moment. Occasional thoughts of the happenings in the outside world and its new uncertainties would enter my brain, but perhaps these cares felt lonely with no accompanying thought or ambitions beyond acquiring food, for they did not stay long to trouble me. My only companions were the raspy-voiced skuas that watched Herman and me closely as I worked and cheered my successes. Sometimes I would throw them small cockles, which they quickly learned how to open. Herman was polite and didn’t chase the birds away, perhaps because I shared with him also.

Perhaps this harder life would be good for me. As I dug deep holes, I made note of the fact that I was getting stronger. Certainly I had no trouble digging through the wet sand to claim my prizes, though the task had always exhausted me before. Nor did I have any trouble finding the buried cockles; I
knew
where they were as surely as if I had a treasure map. It was as though my muscles and bones and all my senses were finally being put to proper use after a long
sleep. For a long while, even the cold did not bother me, though the wind molested my hair and clothing.

A large shadow fell over shoulders as I worked, and I rose quickly to my feet, my spade held in what might have been a slightly threatening position. I looked about for Herman, but the cat was gone. He’d been helping me dig for cockles only a moment earlier, but as always, he was gone whenever someone else appeared. The skuas had fallen silent.

The man before me was quite tall and lean, and made me think of a racehorse. His clothes were old and his worn shirt barely hid his muscled chest and arms. I should have been alarmed at the proximity of this stranger but was not. He smelled good. He smelled a little like Lachlan, which was to say he was some mixture of spice and sin. I did not know if this pleased me or not.

“
Latha math
. I am Eonan. Lachlan’s…cousin.”

Certainly there was a general resemblance in the dark hair and eyes, though I sensed that this male was worlds younger and less serious than my missing lover.

“It is a verra great pleasure tae know thee,” he continued.

“
Latha math
,” I replied. “I’m Megan Culbin, Lachlan’s…not cousin. And I am sure it will be a pleasure to know you too.” I lowered the spade and stuffed it into the sand.

Eonan smiled—an expression devastating to any female heart, and I found my own breath stuttering as I took it in. “I’ve come tae look in on ye. Lachlan is gone tae Avocamor and may be a bittock longer than expected.” When I looked blank, he explained, “He’s
gone tae see his family. They shall be…astonished at his return.”

This news was a relief but was followed immediately by another uncomfortable thought. Lachlan was seeking rapprochement with his family? The ones who thought him dead?

“Good god. Why?” I asked baldly. “I mean, why now? Is something wrong?” More specifically, had I done something to cause this?

Eonan’s smile widened. “Wrong? Nay. He’s there because of yerself. And the bairn.” The young man’s smile faded at my silence. My own faded a bit too. This
did
have something to do with me. And our postcoital conversation hadn’t been a hallucination; I was pregnant and Lachlan knew it as well.

“Lachlan doesnae want tae lose anither child. The bairn will be safest in Avocamor. If it is allowed…and it shall be.”

“Good god,” I said again, this time more weakly. I wasn’t ready to admit to anyone that I was pregnant, let alone some strange relative of the father. I also did not know how to react to this news of Lachlan’s making arrangements for me and my child that sounded like the rankest high-handedness. And what did Eonan mean about being
allowed?
Was this more of the prejudice Lachlan and Eonan had both mentioned, the bigotry that had kept Lachlan’s clan from accepting his human wife? And if so, how was he so sure it would all turn out well?

I shook my head, willing myself to not get lost in the byways of speculation. “But why didn’t he say
something before he left? Did it not occur to him that I might worry when he disappeared?”

“Aye, it did, after he began to suspect that ye might recall what passed between ye both. He suggested first that I might want tae gae and break the happy news of his survival tae the clan meself, but I declined the honor. And that is why I am free tae be here and at yer service whilst he’s away.”

“And why would I not recall what had passed between us?” Later I would be embarrassed at this conversation, for it was far more likely that I would disrobe in front of stranger than discuss making love with someone I did not know. But for the moment I was too curious and annoyed to keep silent. Also, I had a strong suspicion that very little embarrassed Eonan.

“May I speak honestly, mistress?”

“Will it make me regret meeting you?” I asked in return. The question momentarily startled him out of his good humor, and I found myself amused. “I’m just teasing you. Please be honest. I’d prefer it.”

Eonan smiled, comfortable again. “Weel…it happens that many lassies forget their encounters wi my kind. If we wish it.” He did not seem repentant. In fact, the word
incorrigible
came to mind. I was very glad that I had not met him when I was young and persuadable.

“And you might wish this because…?”

“If nae child comes of the union, then ’tis best a lassie doesnae carry any memories wi her,” he said. “ ’Tis a danger tae her and tae us.”

This sounded unethical to me, but I didn’t argue.
This was a discussion—one of several—I was saving for Lachlan. “But this forgetfulness doesn’t work on me? This drug—”

“The
salt,
” Eonan corrected. “Nae so well as Lachlan waud probably like.”

The young man’s voice was again slightly amused, but I found myself unable to remain annoyed. It was like feeling anger at dandelions for blowing seeds all over the garden: a pointless activity if ever there was one. Instead I said, “Well, you’d best come up to the cottage. Um…you don’t happen to have any fruit or honey, though, do you? I’ve had the most awful craving for sweets, and I’ve eaten up nearly everything in the village.”

“Nay…” Eonan bent down and picked up my nearly full pail and spade. We turned and started up the path, side by side but not touching, though the way was narrow. With every step we took from the sea, the wind grew stronger at our backs. I sensed that a storm wanted to push in but thought maybe Eonan was keeping it away. This did not seem strange. “But Lachlan shall be bringing something when he comes that will help wi’ the cravings. They are strong?”

I sighed. “Unbelievable.”

“That is marvelous news!” Eonan said.

“For whom?” I asked grumpily.

“For the bairn. A strong craving means a strong babe.”

“Hmph.” But I was relieved to hear this. My experience with pregnancy—even the human kind—was exactly zero, and I had been worrying that my body was not behaving normally. I had not forgotten
Lachlan saying that his other half-human child had died.

“It is a wee bit odd, yer remembering sae clearly and being sae calm in yer situation,” Eonan mused. “Yer family perhaps knew of us frae before?”
Us
—the selkies. And by
before
, he meant when the MacCodrums lived in Scotland, I was sure. I wondered about this also, but had no answer.

“Granny MacCodrum might have. But she never said anything to me. My family was very…private about its dealings. This is all very unexpected.”

“Ah—a MacCodrum! That waud explain yer resistance tae the salt.”

I glanced at Eonan and laughed. “Maybe to you. I’m still baffled.” But even as I said this, I felt my mind make the final separation from the old reality and accept the new one. I had a lover who wasn’t human. I was pregnant, whether I wanted to be or not, and I was going to have Lachlan in my life at least for a time—again, whether I wanted him or not. And I thought I did.

I also might be headed for Avocamor, kingdom of the selkies. That, however, remained to be decided. I was not convinced that it would be the best thing for me, especially if Lachlan’s people were upset by his return and inclined to dislike me and perhaps our child. However much I wished to leave Findloss and its dangers, I would not go to a place where I was hated and there was potential political turmoil.

“Eonan, I found a poem in an old book last night. It is called ‘The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry.’ ”

“Aye. I ken this poem well.” He didn’t look happy.

“Why did the selkie take the baby from his mother?”

Eonan sighed. “The babe maun make the change tae sea life or die. There isnae hiding what he is, once the change happens, and history has proved that yer kind are none tae tolerant of us; our bairns were almost always murdered. And those wham were hidden still died when they stayed on land. A young selkie maun live in the sea a number of years afore he can safely shed his skin and walk on land again.” He paused. “None of this waud happen if oor lovers could breed selkie females. But it is only males wham survive.”

This wasn’t news I wanted to hear, but I was relieved that it wasn’t cruelty that made the selkies take their children from their human mothers. Given their apparent contempt for my kind, I had been inclined to wonder.

“But why human mothers at all?” I heard myself ask. “Lachlan said that he had a selkie wife once. And he had a grandson who married a faerie…?” But I wasn’t sure about this as I said it; a lot of my thinking was fuzzy, and I was having a hard time recalling past conversations. Had I imagined this?

“Aye, but she was the last. There’ve been nae female selkies born aen centuries of your time.”

Lachlan had said this, I recalled now that I was reminded. It hardly seemed like the kind of thing I would forget. Unless I had been told to.

“Me own mither was of the fey,” Eonan remarked.

“Really? Was she an elf?” I asked randomly.

“Nay. She was a pooka—a mischievous spirit wham could be a river horse when she willed it.”

A pooka? Lachlan had said something about pookas. I concentrated hard, chasing down the memory. He’d said I should be glad I didn’t know any, that pookas were tiresomely cheerful and inclined to play pranks. And this was whom Lachlan had sent to guard me?

“Megan? Lass, are ye well? Yer scowling like an angry moggie.”

“Sorry if I seem absentminded. Lachlan’s dru—salt—makes me…confused. I forget things. And I
see
things sometimes, which is a bit frightening.” I was still feeling a bit discombobulated by what I had seen on the beach with the seals the previous day, though today all was calm and beautiful, if rather cold. Of my other thought I made no mention; there was no need to be impolite.

“Aye, weel, MacCodrums hae always had the Sight. Ye joost tell me if there’s aught that frightens ye and I shall force it away.” He said this all quite comfortably. Apparently nothing upset or surprised him.

“Did the seals come and find you?” I asked.

“The seals? Nay. Why waud they?”

“Oh, I thought that perhaps…” I stopped, unwilling to admit that I had been talking to animals in hope of getting a message to Lachlan. “You know about the finman?” I asked abruptly.

“Aye. That is also why I am here. Lachlan feels that ye need protecting.”

“Does he?” I tried to keep my voice even. If he thought I was in danger, what the devil was he doing going off to visit relatives? Surely my pregnancy was not so urgent a matter. Not yet.

“Aye. He says yer a wee bit reckless and impulsive, and might not stay indoors where ye’d be safe. Tae be honest, he maun be very worried, because he usually says I’m the ficklest being he knows and nowt tae be trusted.”

This seemed honesty indeed. I wasn’t sure how to react. Finally I decided upon: “Well, fair enough. I’m glad to know he cares at least
that
much.”

Eonan turned his head to study me, catching the annoyance beneath my mild tone. “Yer a bit like a tricky tide. Calm aen the surface, but running rough beneath. I’ve angered thee?”

I smiled wryly. “Hm, I suppose that is true—the surface calm, I mean. Be glad of it. Otherwise I might express my annoyance at you instead of at Lachlan.”

“Then ye
are
annoyed.”

“Lachlan seduces me…” This was perhaps slight exaggeration, since I had been far from unwilling. “…tells me I’m pregnant, gives me a drug that addles my brain and then leaves without so much as a note of farewell or thanks, all when there is a killer finman loose in the village, who has come to this very cottage more than once…Of course I’m annoyed!” I stopped. Jekyll was being taking over by Hyde, and none of this was Eonan’s fault.

“A note. Ah, weel, selkies arenae accustomed tae writing. We’ve never needed it much, ye ken? Though I believe Lachlan has the knack. He learned whilst on land.”