Free The Selkie by Melanie Jackson Page B

cleansed of their taint.
    In three strides he had regained Hexy’s side. A quick look at her pale face told him that something had disturbed her. He reached out a hand to touch her neck, trying to soothe her in the only way he knew how. The sweat fromhis palms should have immediately calmed her to a soporific state, but it did not. Instead of immediately soothing her, he found it was growing more difficult to control her the farther they got from the sea. Perhaps it was because his own agitation had increased.
    Hexy had had the oddest effect on him from the first moment they met. Perhaps it was the tears that had welled from her eyes—those beautiful eyes, the color of spring when it came to the land in a rush in May. But it was something else as well. The curves of her body, the very feel of her. Everything about her was different from any female he had ever known. His own body was emphatic about its attraction to the variation of woman that was Hexy Garrow. The pleasure of exchanging passion with her would extend far beyond the satisfaction of having done his duty by contributing to the survival of his clan.
    The thought of it made him impatient, but fulfillment would have to wait while he dealt with this new outrage. The two facts in conjunction incensed him and made serenity impossible. He would have to be careful. Being separated from his skin was making him irritable.
    “Rory, did you know that they have a merman from Sule Skerry in this wagon? Imagine that! We’ll have to come see it tomorrow, won’t we?”
    “Aye,” he agreed, his voice a shade grim as he stroked his hand down her nape and then behind her ear. He could almost feel her rebelling thoughts buffeting her captivated brain with their great disembodied wings as they attempted to escape his control. He could not allow that to happen. Whatever else occurred, he could not allow her to panic and run away. “We’ll come and see it, there’s nae doubt of that.”
    It was impossible for any of the People’s beautiful brown eyes to ever appear cold, but Ruairidh knew from Hexy’s reaction that his expression was far from the reassuring one he wanted to wear.
    He renewed his petting, stroking salt into the skin over her veins, and forced his features to relax so that she would not be frightened and fight its effects.
    It bothered him to do this, to use his gift in this way. Hexy’s contentment was something needed for the collective good of the People, and perhaps for himself as well, but this constant interference with her thoughts was too close to the subjugation the amoral finmen imposed on their women.
    The People had always prided themselves on their society, which allowed for individual thought and choice.
    Of course, some would say that Hexy was notone of the People and therefore not entitled to the privileges of the clan. And so much was at stake—the selkies very survival, in point of fact—that he could not risk losing her before she understood her importance to the People and to him. And his importance to her.
    In the meanwhile, he could not waste time in questioning the philosophies of his clan. There were concerns of more immediacy.
    “Where came ye by such a wondrous thing?” Ruairidh asked the young tumbler as the older one stopped long enough to hike up a drooping sock. “It must hae cost ye a shilling or two tae buy something sae rare.”
    “Nay, it didn’t,” the youngster said. “Hector never paid a brass farthing for it. It was brung to us last year while we was in Scotland by two bullyboys named Turpin and Brodir—compliments of a Mr. Sevin. Muffled up to the eyes they was—two strange blokes, and that’s no lie.”
    Ruairidh stiffened in shock at the name, and so alarming was his posture that Hexy actually laid a restraining hand upon his arm. At any other time, he would have found the gesture amusing, for the People were not usually violent. But in that moment he was glad of her reminder to use caution. It was improbable