The Selkie Spell (Seal Island Trilogy) (12 page)

“Then how about returning the favor?”

“I can’t do that, Dominic.”  Tara turned back to the stove, switching on the gas.  “I won’t do that.”  She thought of her pack lying open on the bed.  Of the warning of the festival and the crowds flooding onto the island this summer.  But then she thought of Kelsey.  Of what it must be like to grow up on an island terrified of the water that surrounded it on all sides.  “I can teach Kelsey how to swim,” she said.  “If you’ll trust me enough to help your daughter get over her fear.”

“I’ve tried teaching her.  Others have too.”

“Sometimes it’s easier for children to learn from someone they don’t know as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“She probably knows that if she gets scared with you or Caitlin or most anyone else on this island, they’ll give in to her fear and pull her out.  But if she has to go in, on her own, with someone like me.  She might try harder to impress me.  To prove to herself, and to me, that she can do it.”

“What makes you think she’d trust you?”

Tara thought back to her conversation with his daughter earlier this afternoon.  “Remember when you told me she was starting to ask questions about me, about how I might be connected to the legend?”

Dominic nodded.

“Well I think she’s through asking questions.  She told me this afternoon that she thinks I’m descended from the selkie who haunts the island.”  Tara sent him a wry smile.  “If she thinks I’m part seal, who would be a better swim teacher than me?”

Dominic thought of the woman he’d seen yesterday.  The terrible image of Tara washed up on the shore.  He hadn’t wanted his daughter anywhere near this woman yesterday, but he’d seen Kelsey’s entire mood shift after spending the afternoon with Tara today, and now he didn’t know what to think.  “Have you ever taught anyone how to swim?”

Tara nodded.  “In high school.  I was on the swim team.  We used to teach a summer camp.”

“Were any of those kids afraid of the water?”

“Most of them were.”

“So you have experience then, helping people get over their fears.”

“Yes.”

“And what about getting over your own?”

Tara looked at him, her smile fading.  “I’m working on that.”

 “Is that what you’re doing here, then?  Working on getting over your fears?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Or are you running away from them?”

Tara turned back to the stove and poured steaming water into two mugs.  When she turned back around, she stiffened.  Dominic had crossed the room, closing the distance between them.

“Tara.”  Dominic took the mugs from her hands, setting them both down on the counter.  “What are you running away from?”

When she said nothing, he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  “I wish you would tell me.  I might be able to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” she said, bracing when his fingers threaded into her hair.

“I think that you do,” he said quietly.

“What are you doing?” Tara asked, alarmed.

“I’m testing the limits of your fear,” he murmured, curving his other hand around her small waist.

“I—I’m not afraid.”

“No?”  His hand settled on the back of her neck.  The scent of the roses filled his lungs and he pulled her body against his.  “I know you’re in some kind of trouble, Tara.”  His voice as soft and gentle as the incoming waves.  “I wish you would tell me what it is.”

“I told you.”  Her nails bit into the counter.  “I’m handling it.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth.  “How?”

It was like walking into a whirlpool, there was no stopping her, no turning back.  Her legs felt like lead but some force pushed her on, a force she could no sooner fight than a riptide dragging her out to sea.  She touched him, just the smallest whisper of the tips of her fingers on his cheek.

His mouth captured hers.  The air cracked, sizzled as she curled her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into that rich dark hair.

She tasted of cloves, of honey, of sweet hot desire.  He fisted his hands in her clothes, yanked her to him.  And the scent of her—lavender, roses, seawater—had his lips parting hers, taking the kiss deeper.

He had her up against the counter, the wood pressing into her back.  She should be afraid, she should be frozen.  But she couldn’t think.  She couldn’t breathe.

She melted into him, pressing her body into his hard chest and asked for more, demanded more as she took the kiss deeper.

She was like fire, like sea smoke in his arms.  He slanted his lips down her jaw, to her throat, scraping his teeth over her salty flesh.

And when her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him even closer, he caught her mouth in his again, parting those sweet lips until the earth began to spin.

She felt like she was falling, like there was a drug seeping into her veins, taking her over, controlling her.

“Wait,” she breathed.

“Tara,” Dominic’s voice was thick with need.

“Wait.”  Helpless, she pressed a hand to his chest.  “Stop.”

Dominic’s hand fell away, but his forehead stayed on hers, breathing in the scent of her, the desire for her.

Tara kept her hand on his chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she gazed up into those beautiful storm-gray eyes.  She didn’t want to be helpless.  She didn’t want to lose control.

She could feel his heartbeat, fast and hard through his thin shirt.  “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Tara.”

She swallowed the passion, fought back the desire.  “I’m sorry.”

When he laid his lips on her forehead, brushed a thumb gently over her cheek, the gesture was so sweet, so tender, Tara closed her eyes and let the scent of him, the feel of him wash through her.  She wanted to slide her hands up his chest and press her lips back to his.  But she opened her eyes and, shaking her head, slid out of his arms.  “I can’t.”

It was still dark when Tara slipped out of the cottage.  A thick fog slid over the ground, dripping over the cliffs like fish spilling out of a net.  The ocean surged and retreated, playing its quiet song far below. Closing the door with a soft click behind her, Tara’s heart ached as her fingers brushed the brass doorknob for the last time.

It was one thing to put her own life in danger.  But she would not risk others getting wrapped up in her twisted past.  She’d chosen this island to disappear off the radar.  To take a short snatch of time to save up money and map out a six month plan.  She hadn’t counted on strange legends of people descended from seals, of ghosts haunting the island, of roses forcing their way in through her windows at night.

She hadn’t counted on meeting a man like Dominic O’Sullivan.  Or the desperate longing he would stir in her from one kiss.

She picked her way down the rocky path to the village, the mists curling up like snakes, coiling around her wrists.  It would be best for all of them if she left.  Best for Dominic.  Best for Kelsey.  Best for that strange woman who appeared to her on the beach with that terrible warning.

He is coming.

She shoved her clammy palms into her pockets, shuddering at the memory.  If there was any truth to the legend at all, if what she had seen that night was anything more than a brief loss of sanity, then Philip was coming for her.  He could be tracking her right now, to this very island.

Stealing through the sleepy streets of the village, she diverted her eyes from the pub, and the father and daughter sleeping just upstairs.  Picking a place like this had been a mistake.  It was exactly the kind of place Philip would choose for her.  Because if he tracked her to this island, there’d be nowhere for her to run.

Jiggling the keys in her pocket—boat keys she had swiped off Donal Riley last night when he was too drunk to notice—she quickened her pace. 
What was she thinking fixing Caitlin’s hand?  Easing Brennan’s arthritis?  Curing Sarah Dooley’s cough?
  It was only a matter of time before people started to talk, before word spread of the black-haired, green-eyed American healer living on the island.

And now, with the islanders speculating that she was a witch?  She trailed a finger over a jagged stone wall, dripping with moss.  She could still smell the roses, even down here.  Their scent clinging to the mist, saturating the wet, salty air. 
Where had they come from if no one on the island planted them?  Why were they growing so tall and fast up the walls of her cottage?  And why was she the only one immune to their curious side effects?

She took one last look over her shoulder, at the silvery cottage bathed in the moonlight, then she turned her back on it for good.  It didn’t matter where the flowers came from.  Or what would happen to them when she left.  All that mattered was that she left, before anyone could ask where she was going, before anyone could try to stop her.

She spied the gently bobbing workboats, praying she remembered which one was Donal’s and, slipping the keys from her pocket, she froze as a child’s scream pierced the night.

***

Kelsey?

Tara spun around.  Lights flicked on in the upstairs windows of the pub.  She spotted the dark shape of Dominic moving behind the curtains.  She could hear Kelsey crying, calling out for her dad and for…

Tara?

Had she just heard her own name?

She glanced back over her shoulder at the harbor and Donal’s boat.  She took a few steps back, away from the village.  She needed to leave now.  Before anyone else got hurt.

Tara.

She paused when she heard it again.  Why was Kelsey calling out for her?  Did she need her?

No.  Tara forced herself to turn, and walk the path down to the harbor.  She had Dominic.  She didn’t need Tara, too.

A horse raised its head from behind a stone wall.  It puffed out a breath, staring at her with liquid brown eyes.  But what would happen when the sun rose and she realized Tara had left?  Without even saying goodbye?  What kind of lesson was that for a child?

She heard it again—the faintest call riding over the winds—and she turned, shoving Dona’s key back into her pocket.

Kelsey
needed
her.  She couldn’t,
wouldn’t
, abandon a child in need.

She raced back up the hill to the pub.  Fumbling with the knob, she pushed the heavy door open and strode into the dark barroom.  She could hear Kelsey cries getting louder, could hear Dominic’s deep voice trying to calm her.

She took the steps, two at a time, dropping her pack when she saw tears streaming down the child’s pale cheeks.  “Kelsey?”  Tara rushed over to the bed, dropping to her knees.  “What happened?  What’s the matter?”

“Tara?”  Dominic’s face registered shock at the woman kneeling beside the bed.  “What are you doing here?”  His gaze fell to the pack lying in the doorway and his arms tightened around his daughter.

But Kelsey twisted out of his grip, reaching her hands out for Tara.

“It’s okay,” Tara soothed, gathering Kelsey up in her arms.  “It’s okay.  I’m right here.”

Dominic stared at his daughter clinging to a woman she’d known less than a week.  Fighting the instinct to pry her out of Tara’s arms, he rested a calming hand on her back instead.  “We’re both right here, Kelsey.  Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Kelsey twisted her hands into Tara’s sweater, buried her face in the fabric.

“Was it a bad dream?” Tara asked softly, smoothing a hand over Kelsey’s tangled curls.

Kelsey nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

When those big blue eyes lifted, Tara felt a painful protectiveness rip through her.  She cupped the child’s face in her hands.  “What happened?”

“I saw you,” Kelsey whispered.

“Me?”  Tara shook her head, confused.  “Where?”

“In my dream.”  Kelsey’s fingers bit into her shoulders.  “You were just lying there.”

“Where Kelsey?  Where did you see me?”

“On the beach.”

Dominic’s hand stilled on his daughter’s back.  He remembered the vision, the terrible image of Tara washed up on the beach.  The black bruises staining her neck.

“You were just lying there,” Kelsey whispered, tears streaking down her pale cheeks.  “I went down to the water, to wake you up.  But you wouldn’t move.  Your lips were blue.  And there were marks on your neck.  Black marks.”

Tara wiped a tear from Kelsey’s cheek.  “It’s okay.  Go on.”

“The waves were so high.   They were crashing over you.  And I kept shouting for you to get up.  To get out of the water.  But when I touched you, you wouldn’t move.  Your eyes were open.  But you wouldn’t look at me.”  Her voice broke.  “You just laid there.”

“It was a dream,” Tara soothed, folding the child up into her arms.  “It was only a dream.  I’m here.  I’m fine.”

“I saw you,” Kelsey whispered.  “You were dead.”

“I’m not dead.  It was only a dream.”  Tara lifted her eyes to Dominic’s and slowly unwound Kelsey’s arms from around her neck.  “All you need is something to get your mind off what you saw and it’ll go away.  I promise.”  She waited for Kelsey to curl into her father’s lap, and then turned, searching for something to get the child’s mind off her nightmare.  Pulling the first book off the shelf, she held it up for Kelsey to see.