by Sela Carsen
She dropped them onto the counter. One fell off and landed with a solid thunk before rolling under the edge of the cabinet. Meriel searched for some paper to make a grocery list.
“You mean, you ask for it and gold shows up in your hand?”
She nodded absently, testing a pen on the back of an envelope. “Sometimes it’s jewels. They don’t do me much good in the middle of the ocean, but I like the sapphires.”
“You like the sapphires.” She said it so casually. Not greedy, not expecting anything. Just a fact. “You’re dangerous, woman.” He glared at her sideways, even though she ignored him. “Or is this a test? You want to trade those for your skin?”
She sighed and put down the pen. “No, it’s not a test, Ronan. If I thought I could buy you off with a few moldy gold coins, I’d have done it already. I only want to know if you’re picky about your brand of mayonnaise.”
“I don’t care, Meriel. Buy whatever’s on sale.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. If you’ve got a favorite, then nothing else tastes right.” She sounded dead serious, too. As if mayonnaise were the most important thing on earth right now.
“Buy whatever you want, Mer. Hell, buy the whole damn store if you want to. Do you have any idea how much those coins are worth?”
She stared at the greenish lump of gold on the white counter, then shrugged. “No.”
“I thought you were an accounting geek.”
“I crunched numbers, Ronan. I didn’t deal in gold or antiquities. What kind of soda do you like?”
“I’m not going anywhere. It’s not safe to leave you alone.” Ronan grabbed the phone off the counter and called the yard. His foreman answered.
“Ayuh.”
“Devon, it’s Ronan. Something’s come up and I can’t come in.”
There was a long pause before Devon spoke. “Gray seals in the harbor.”
“Beg pardon?” What the hell? What did that have do with anything? He had a gray seal sitting at his kitchen table, so he didn’t think anything else should surprise him.
“They only come once a year. Usually one. Sometimes two.”
“Oh-kay.”
“There was one in the harbor that day seven years ago. Waiting.”
This time it was Ronan’s turn for silence. Devon knew about the Selkies. He’d never figured the taciturn old man for a believer in myths. But then, he hadn’t believed in them, either.
“Devon, what day is today?”
“April twenty-fifth. She only wants one thing from you. Don’t fall in love with her. And don’t come in to work.” And he hung up, leaving a dial tone ringing in Ronan’s ear.
Chapter Five
That was the most Devon Murphy had said to him in twenty years. Hell, it was probably more than Devon had said to his wife in twenty years. Ronan hung up the phone and turned to Meriel.
“He believes,” he said.
“In what? In Selkies?”
He nodded, still reeling. There was a lot to take in this morning. But at least his hangover was gone.
“That’s not as big a surprise as you might think, Ronan. A lot of people who make their living at sea believe things that ordinary people don’t understand. From what I hear, the folks in Orkney don’t even blink when one of us goes on land.”
“Haven’t you been on land before?”
Meriel shook her head as she poured coffee for them both.
“Part of the curse, I guess. I can’t shapeshift when I want because I’m condemned to stay a Selkie. Somehow, saving you shorted out part of the spell. This amulet showed up when I asked the sea not to take your life, and I think it was the catalyst for me becoming human again. Even if it is just for a day.” She sat with the mug cradled in her hands, breathing in the steam. “I didn’t realize I missed coffee until I walked into the kitchen earlier and smelled it.”
This woman was messing with his brain, because it didn’t even faze him anymore when she talked about curses and magic from the ocean. From across the table, he watched her enjoy the cup. She was a shiverer, he realized. The things that turned her on made her whole body shimmy. He couldn’t wait to see what happened when she came.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The constant recurrence of his erection getting caught in his jeans was going to put a permanent crimp in his dick.
“What else did he say?” She interrupted his wayward thoughts.
“He said you were only after one thing, and I shouldn’t fall in love with you.”
“You shouldn’t what?” she spluttered, using a napkin to wipe up the spills.
He waved away her question. He wasn’t going to fall in love with her in a day, so it didn’t need to be part of the discussion.
“I don’t get how he knows all this stuff. He’s never said a word about Selkies before. And he knew about you. Knew what happened the day you…you know.”
Her brows knit together. “That’s odd. I’ve never heard of another Selkie around here.”
“What, you know every Selkie alive?”
“Hey, it’s a small community.” Meriel jabbed playfully at his arm. “I haven’t met all of them, but word gets around.”
“I knew it. A bunch of gossiping seals. What do you do when you get together? Toss beach balls around and slap your flippers together?”
She laughed and he smiled. The happy sound felt foreign and strange in this house and he drank it in, thirsty for joy.
“Not even close. I spent the last several years with Iona, learning the seas, eating more raw fish than a sushi chef on a busman’s holiday, running from killer whales and freezing my butt off shuttling around the top of Great Britain.”
“So being a Selkie isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Not even close. It might not be so bad if I’d been born a Selkie, but as a cursed one, it’s not that much fun.”
“Tell me more about this curse.”
“I’d love to, really, but I have to say that sitting at the kitchen table isn’t helping me figure out how to break this curse. And even if I can’t figure it out, it’s not how I want to spend my time as a human.”
“You want to do something? Go out somewhere?”
“That sounds perfect.” She stood and took her coffee to the sink. “Something that involves walking. I find I really miss walking. And I could use the practice.”
“We can go down to the boatyards from here along the beach. Not too many people.”
“Great. Do you have any shoes I can borrow?”
“There might be a pair of flip-flops in my room. It’s a mess, but you can look.”
Meriel opened the door to a cave. A dark, funky smelling cave. He might keep his kitchen clean, but it didn’t look like he was so picky about his room.
It wouldn’t hurt to air it out a little, so she pulled up the shade, wincing again when the sudden burst of light illuminated the true extent of the mess, and cracked the window.
A pile of clothes she hoped were clean tumbled out when she opened the closet doors, but a quick search didn’t reveal any shoes. Where else could they be?
Meriel dropped to her knees and thrust an arm under the bed, knocking out various bits of clothing, discarded paper, a few carnivorous-looking dust bunnies and one expensive brown Italian leather wingtip—nearly gray with dust. She moved around to another end and continued the search. The other wingtip appeared, equally in need of a shine, before her hand encountered something soft and silky.
A tingle of magic traveled up her arm.
Her skin.
She could leave now. Get away from him before he realized how much control he could wield over her. Forget about breaking the curse and go back to the ocean.
It wasn’t really as bad as she’d painted it. Not really. Well, aside from the cold part. And the killer whale part. And the raw fish part.
No. She knew where it was now. She could leave any time she wanted. And it would be nice to walk on the beach for a little while before she went back to the open seas. With n
o clues to work with, Meriel didn’t hold out much hope for breaking the curse. Better to enjoy the time she had left and let the future take care of itself. She tucked the fur back under the bed.
“I don’t want treasures,” she said to the listening air, “but I could really use a pair of shoes.” She opened her hand to find a pair of dripping mesh water shoes dangling from her fingertips. They were even in her size. She blessed the person who’d lost them to the tide and slid them on before she went to find Ronan.
They walked down the sandy steps to the small beach where she’d brought him yesterday evening.
“It’s been less than a day since I dragged you out of the water. How’s your head?”
“Fine. There’s barely even a bump anymore. So tell me about this curse.”
“You’ve got a one-track mind, Ronan.”
“I prefer to call it focused.”
“I’m sure.” Meriel sighed. “I don’t want to talk about my curse right now. Can you tell me what I’ve missed? What happened to Burbank Industries?”
It was his turn to sigh.
“You went over the cliff at the party and the whole damn world fell apart. Naturally, we called the police and they ended up discovering that someone had been siphoning money off the corporation and cooking the books.”
Meriel gasped. “Who was it?”
“Evan Murtaugh. He was using your terminal so he could pin the blame on the new girl if he ever got discovered.”
“VP of Finance? That lying weasel. I never liked him. He always tried to look down my shirt.”
Ronan glanced over and the light in his eyes turned hot. “I can’t blame him for that.”
“Men.” It was so wrong to be flattered, but a thrill went through her anyway. “What happened then?”
“Murtaugh had his hands in deeper than we could have imagined. By the time we got the accounts straightened out, several of his sections were already bankrupt. After that, it was like quicksand. Everything around them got sucked down, too.”
“I still don’t understand how it could have been such a complete disaster. I mean, Burbank’s was so diversified.”
“It was the name that went to hell, Mer. Anything that had my name on it became suspect and deals started turning to dust in my hands.” He looked down and shoved those hands into his pockets.
Meriel pulled him to a stop. “That doesn’t make sense, Ronan. Something else happened.”
Ronan turned to stare out at the sea. Yeah, something else had happened. Before they discovered the real culprit, the spotlight had turned on him. Every detail of his life had been laid bare to the courts—and to the press.
Someone found a sticky pad on the allegedly dead girl’s desk with her name scribbled on it as “Mrs. Meriel Burbank”, and a firestorm of speculation exploded. They’d been secret lovers. They were planning to run off to Brazil, or the Bermuda Triangle, or somewhere equally absurd. But in true tabloid form, the media speculated that something had happened between the doomed lovers and they fought. Ronan was even accused of shoving her off the cliff himself. Thankfully, there was no proof, not even a body, so no charges were brought.
Too late. He was already convicted in the eyes of the press and the public and after a while, even the few friends he had left began to distance themselves. That was the unkindest cut of all.
He told her. All of it. Even the parts that made his chest ache, though he kept the ache to himself.
“I don’t know what to say, Ronan. I’m so sorry.” She fought her way through his stiff stance, burrowing her arms under his and holding tight. Her lush little body gave off a blast of warmth and he took his hands out of his pockets. Slowly, he touched her. Put his hands on her shoulders and embraced her.
“No wonder you wanted to kill me.”
“Meriel, I’m so sorry about that. I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s all right, Ronan. I forgive you. And I’m sorry about my part in it. If I hadn’t had that crush on you—written that stupid note—it might not have been so bad.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s over.” The note meant nothing. He hadn’t even known her then. But for what he’d done to her on the beach, he didn’t deserve her forgiveness—and treasured it all the more. Ronan dropped a kiss on the top of her head and turned her back down the beach toward the boatyard.
“Come on. You still have to tell me your story. And I want you to meet Devon.”
He tucked her hand firmly into his as they walked.
“I already told you a little bit of it. It’s to do with great-great-Granny Byrne. A Selkie named Murchadha—”
“Who?”
“Murchadha. That’s the old name. They’re something else now, but I forget what.” She pronounced the unusual word with a distinctly Celtish lilt, as if she’d learned to say it only one way—murkaya—pursing her lips, rolling over the r, with the accent on the first syllable. It didn’t sound like any name he’d ever heard before.
“Anyway, he fell in love with her back in Ireland and gave her his skin, but she loved her husband and didn’t know the magnitude of the gift she’d received. She left for America and took the skin with her. When Murchadha realized he’d been abandoned, he cursed her. Any child of her line would become a Selkie forever the moment they touched the sea. There’s a way to get out of it, but everyone seems to have forgotten. Tough to break a curse when you don’t know the way out.”
Their fifteen minute walk took over an hour while Meriel wandered and played all over the beach. Things he took for granted, things he never even saw as he trudged to work each day, caught her eye.
“I’ve never really been to the beach before, Ronan,” she said, breathless from playing chase with the tide. The sun made the silver medallion pinned to her shirt gleam almost as brightly as her dark hair. “I mean, going to that party at your house was the first time I’d been so close to the ocean and we know how that turned out.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” he said. “I can’t imagine not being near the water.”
“It was just as hard for me to imagine not being around mountains and hills. Tennessee is beautiful, but so is this. I can see why people never want to leave.”
They finally reached town and walked along the docks until they reached the boatyard.
“‘Winner Take All Racing’. I like it.”
Pride and an old bitterness warred in his blood at her words. Bitterness that he couldn’t put his name up there if he wanted any business, but this time pride won. The race wasn’t over yet for him.
He poked his head in the door and discovered silence.
“Anyone here?”
No answer, which was unusual. Devon practically lived at the yard. Not that it mattered. They were a little ahead of their deadline for the Sonar racing keelboat they were working on, so if he wanted to take some time off, it was no big deal.
He took her down to the boathouse to see the almost-finished boat, but there was no one there, either. “Looks like we’re all alone.” Ronan pulled aside the tarp that covered the gleaming little yacht. “Meriel, meet the Sea Bright.”
“Oh my gosh, Ronan. She’s beautiful.” Meriel touched the boat reverently, rubbing her fingers over the sleek hull as it rocked on the water.
Fierce joy rushed through him as he watched her admire his work. At odds with the hopelessness of the night before, he realized that though he might have lost a lot, he’d also gained some things. He was proud of the work he did. As president of Burbank, Inc., he’d always been able to look at the company he inherited objectively, filtered through market analysis and stock figures.
But Winner Take All was personal. He had his hand in each product. Each boat bore his blood and sweat, his frustration, his pride and, at last, his joy.
“Thanks. She’s the second we’ve built for these clients, and they won a cup at the Bay Haven Regatta with the first one. It looks good for marketing.”
“Always thinking of the big picture,” she teased. “But s
he truly is wonderful. Do you do the building yourself?”
“I’m only one part of the team here. We all have a hand in design and we all get in there with the tools and the grit.” He showed her around the rest of the shop, pointing out different aspects of the design. When they walked past the Sea Bright again on their way out, Meriel paused.
She touched his hands, turning them over in her palms, tracing the rough spots. “These are good hands, Ronan. Strong, capable hands.” She brought them to her face and he stroked her cheek with his thumbs. “I’m proud of you and I’m glad I was there to save you.”
“I didn’t think I was glad yesterday, but I am now.” He bent down to kiss the smile from her lips. He’d forever relate the clean tang of the ocean with the wild flavor of her mouth.
She responded eagerly again, throwing herself into the kiss. Without hesitation, he pushed his hands under her shirt to touch the smooth skin of her back.
“Still want you,” he whispered into her mouth, opening his eyes to see the flush of her cheeks.
She nodded, wordless, but her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. They burst into laughter and it felt good. As if some dam inside him had broken at last.
“Let’s get some dinner,” he said. “You want sushi?”
“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?” She tickled his side and he twisted away from her.
“I’ll have to work on my crabby hermit routine, I guess.”
They left the building and Ronan locked up before he took her hand and walked with her up the pier.
Chapter Six
Toab’s Market provided sustenance in the form of spaghetti, sausage, a jar of pasta sauce and a bottle of red wine. The loaf of warm fresh bread didn’t quite make it back to the house as they tore off chunks and nibbled while they walked along the empty shore.
Misquapaug wasn’t a popular tourist spot. The town had business to attend to and travelers soon discovered that unless they were fishing or visiting family, there wasn’t much in the way of luxury amenities. Block Island, across the sound, catered to vacationers, but Misquapaug had no time to waste on such frivolity.