“After Ben died, I was angry with him for leaving me. Leaving us.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Even though his death wasn’t his fault, even though I knew my feelings were part of the grieving process, it took me a long time to forgive. But until I got past the anger, I couldn’t get on with my life.”
Her words struck him like stones. Were they still talking about his sister and her dead husband? “I was angry with him for leaving me . . . It took me a long time to forgive.”
“And did you?” Morgan asked, braced for her answer. “Forgive?”
She nodded so that her hair brushed his collarbone. “I remembered how much I loved him, and how he loved each of us. I thought how much richer my life was because he was in it even for a little while.” Compassionate and direct, her gaze sought his. “And I realized that I would rather have loved him and lost him than never to have had him in my life at all.”
He lay beneath her, mute and stiff.
“You say you live in the moment. Maybe,” she suggested softly, “you should let go of the past.”
Could he? His emotions churned. His revelation earlier today must have turned her world upside down. But she had turned him inside out, leaving him uneasy, aching, raw.
“I never told her that I loved her,” he said abruptly. “My sister. I gave her all the reasons in the world to stay but that.”
Elizabeth cupped his jaw, her touch indescribably tender. “Maybe she knew without you telling her.”
He met her steady dark eyes. “I cannot promise you a future, Elizabeth.”
“Then I’ll take now.”
He covered her hand with one of his own, holding it to his cheek. “Take me.”
“Yes,” she said.
He wanted her again. He would always want her.
He pushed the fear aside. He dug in the drawer for another of the damn sheaths and put it on before he rolled with her, deliberately overwhelming her with his strength, shoving into her without foreplay or finesse. She was still silky, soft, wet. With a moan of welcome, she opened to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, her arms around his ribs.
“That feels so . . . Oh.” Her tremor shook them both. Yet she craned her neck to look at the clock. “I don’t think we have time.”
No time, he thought.
Nothing lasts forever but the sea.
“I do not need long,” he said and set out to prove it, stroking into her fast and hard, hammering into her over and over in a push toward forgetfulness, a rush toward release. But she met him, matched him, tilting her hips to take his thrusts, twining her fingers in his hair, her legs around his legs, Elizabeth in every pulse, push, breath. He felt her around him, inside him, part of him, and when she cried out and came, her orgasm took him like the sea, changed him in his heart and the marrow of his bones.
He lay on her, listening to the rain drum on the roof and drip through the trees.
Beached.
Bewildered.
Changed. He would never be the same, never be himself again.
Outside, a car crunched over gravel. Headlights sparked on the glass and arced away.
“I have to get dressed,” Elizabeth kissed the side of his face, shoved at his shoulder. “It’s getting late. You have to go.”
He lay unmoving, his body as heavy as stone, her words trickling through him as cold and inescapable as water.
He had to go.
Sooner or later, whether he took the boy or not, he was warden of the northern deeps, with duties in the sea and on Sanctuary. He was lord of the finfolk, among the last blood born of his kind. He could not stay.
Could he?
Dylan had. But Dylan was both selkie and human, bound to land by his sealskin, anchored by a human life and human responsibilities.
“It is already too late,” he said.
Elizabeth looked at him without understanding. “The children will be home soon.”
The children. Zachary.
The reminder formed an icy ball in his gut. He disengaged slowly from Elizabeth’s body, reluctant to part with her warmth, already anticipating in his heart and in his flesh the larger separation to come. “I must speak with him. Zachary.”
Elizabeth’s clouded eyes cleared. He watched the subtle shift from lover to mother as she marshaled her authority and defenses. “Not tonight. He’s been through enough for one day.”
So had she. But she did not make excuses for herself, he noticed. He admired her determination to protect their son. But he would not let admiration deter him from what must be said. What must be done.
“Zachary is old enough to make his own decisions.”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t know enough to decide anything. He needs time to adjust. To accept. We all need time.”
The bitter echo of Conn’s words played in his head. “You need time to recover . . . Take as long as you need.”
“Time will not change what he is,” Morgan said. “Or what I am.”
A frown formed between Elizabeth’s brows. “This isn’t only about you. Or even about Zack. I have to consider Em.”
He stared at her, perplexed, uneasy. “Emily already accepts me.”
“Exactly. She’s becoming attached.”
Attached. Like a barb in his skin, a tiny hook in his heart.
The admission did not hurt as much as he thought it would.
“I am . . . attached to her, too,” he said carefully.
Elizabeth did not appear impressed. “I’ve been very careful about limiting the children’s contact with the men I’ve dated. I don’t want Em to think that because we’re involved, you’re a father candidate.”
The thought of Elizabeth with other men made him grit his teeth. Her rational tone drove him wild. She was still lying naked under him. How could she dismiss him so easily? “I was not aware you had come to this island to find a father for Emily.”
Her eyes sparked. “I didn’t. Any more than you came looking for a son. But here we are.”
“In your bed,” he reminded her.
“Yes.” She sighed, releasing her anger with her breath, and touched his taut jaw. “I can accept you won’t be around forever. I won’t ask Emily to accept it. I think it would be better if you don’t see her for a little while. You need to give us some space.”
Her barriers were up again, he realized. And he was on the outside. Despite her gentle hands, her rueful tone, her complete and satisfying surrender to him moments ago, she would not compromise where her children were concerned.
Frustrated, he rolled from her to sit on the edge of her mattress. “And Zachary?”
“I won’t stop him from seeing you. But if you care for him—if you care for me at all—you’ll back off. Give us time.”
Instinct and pride, primal, possessive, rose to refute her. Back off now? Leave her when she was vulnerable? When she was his? She would only use the opportunity to withdraw even further behind her formidable defenses.
And yet . . . She had no reason—he had no right—to expect otherwise. “I can accept you won’t be around forever . . .”
He nodded stiffly, still with his back to her. “Very well. I will come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. Zack’s at the store all day.”
“Sunday, then.”
“We need one day together as a family.”
A family he was not part of.
He cast a sardonic look over his shoulder. “Will one day make such a difference after fifteen years?”
Her smile trembled. “If it’s the last day.”
Ah, God.
He wanted to reassure her that he would not rip Zachary unwilling from this life and her arms. But he could say nothing until he had spoken to the boy. Zachary was finfolk. The choice must be his.
“How much time do you need?” he asked.
18
FOR THREE DAYS, IT DID NOTHING BUT RAIN, a hard, cleansing downpour from clouds piled like oyster shells, thick white and luminous gray. The runoff penetrated
every cranny of Liz’s house and leaked under the duct tape holding her broken window together. The chill permeated her bones. The smell of loam and moss and pine was everywhere. Rain splashed in the road like a river, collecting in puddles on the saturated ground, driving the tourists to the mainland and the islanders to the clinic for every twinge and sniffle aggravated by the creeping damp.
Liz advised ibuprofen, saline rinses, and rest, and wished she had a home care remedy for the anarchy brewing in her heart and head.
“How much time do you need?”
She wished she knew. Morgan’s absence ached like a bruise. She had made him promise to stay away from them until she had a chance to think, until she and Zack had a chance to talk, until she could figure out what was best for him and Emily.
But Zack seemed content to say nothing, to do nothing, to slide through the days and nights with as little fuss as possible, as if ignoring the issue would make it go away.
Part of her was grateful for the respite after the stress of the past few years, the shock of the past few days. She found herself a silent coconspirator in avoidance, doing her best to recapture the rhythm of their earlier life, making pancakes, watching movies, playing Go Fish around the kitchen table as if everything were normal. As if Zack were normal. Hoping, selfishly, that the simple family pleasures, the familiar family routines, would be enough to hold him when the time came.
She knew they would not hold Morgan.
Something had changed the last time they’d made love. In him. In her. She felt it. But his words lay stark between them. “I cannot promise you a future, Elizabeth.”
She didn’t need guarantees, no longer believed in happily-ever-after. But her children deserved stability. Security.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride to work?” she asked Zack at lunchtime on Tuesday.
He grinned. “I don’t think a little water will hurt me, Mom. Unless you’re worried I’m going to grow gills on my way to Wiley’s.”
Her pulse bumped. “Very funny,” she said dryly. “Don’t forget your jacket. You want me to pick you up?”
He accepted the jacket, shrugging into it as he opened the door. “No, I’m good.”
“Zack . . .”
“Mom, I’ve gotta go.” His gaze met hers briefly. “I’ll be fine.”
Would he?
Her eyes blurred as she watched him jump down the porch steps and splash through the yard, a tall, skinny shadow in the silver rain. At the bottom of their driveway, he slid out of the jacket, bundling it under his arm, turning his face to the sky.
His wet profile looked like Morgan’s. Her breathing hitched.
She returned to the clinic to see her afternoon patients, an ache in her throat that had nothing to do with the rain.
At the end of the day, the sky had lightened, even if her mood hadn’t.
“Bobby Kincaid called,” Nancy said as Liz retrieved her wet coat from the stand outside her office. “He should be able to get to your car next week.”
“Did he tell you why it’s taking so long to fix a simple broken window?”
Nancy shrugged. “We’re on an island. It takes time to get parts. And the Kincaid boys were never worth a damn anyway.”
Liz sighed. “Fine. I’ll call and schedule an appointment.”
At least the rain had stopped. She drove to the community center to pick up Emily.
Freed from the gym, the camp kids whooped and splashed on the playground. Em stood under the fort bridge with Nick, inspecting something he’d pulled from his pocket. A bead? A coin? The sight of her daughter’s round, absorbed face sent a surge of protective love through Liz’s chest.
Regina climbed out of the white catering van parked at the curb. Liz raised a hand in tentative greeting, still slightly embarrassed by the way she’d unloaded on Regina a few days ago. She badly wanted another woman’s support. But despite their exclusive club membership, they hadn’t known each other long.
Regina waved and hurried over, her brown eyes warm and concerned. “Dylan told me about the fire. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Liz summoned a smile. “Soggy.”
“Safe. That’s the important thing. And at least it’s over now.”
Her heart clutched, thinking of Morgan. “Over?”
“The rain,” Regina explained. “Margred told the guys she wanted good weather for the baby shower tonight.”
“They can do that?”
Regina nodded as if they were talking about changing the batteries in the remote. “They’d better. Nobody rains on Margred’s parade. Or her party. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”
Liz blinked. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Regina grinned. “Being married to a man who can control the weather is a definite advantage when I have a big catering job.”
“I imagine it must be,” Liz said faintly.
“You’re coming, right?” Regina said. “Tonight?”
She hesitated. Would Morgan be there? She missed him with an almost physical ache, as if they had been lovers for years instead of one evening.
Yet this was a short separation compared to the one to come.
She had survived losing Ben to death. She would survive losing Morgan to the sea.
But she wasn’t ready to give up Zack. Not yet. Their son still needed a chance to grow up before he made the most important choice of what could be a very long life. Emily deserved a better role model than a mother who accepted anything less than everything a man had to give.
“I don’t want to intrude,” she murmured.
“As if you could. You’re Maggie’s OB. If you don’t belong at her baby’s shower, I don’t know who does. Anyway, half the island will show up, invited or not.” Regina cocked her head. “You sure you’re okay?”
Liz swallowed around the spiky lump in her throat. “Fine.”
“Good.” Regina pursed her lips. “Morgan looks like hell.”
Liz gaped, flattered and distressed. “Excuse me?”
“He’s been palling around with Dylan since you kicked him out. Holding the weather system in place—like it takes the two of them to make rain in Maine—and sulking. Poor guy.”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
“You mean because I called him a coldblooded son of a bitch?”
“That was a clue,” Liz said dryly.
Regina grinned. “Okay, so he’s the opposite of warm and fuzzy. But he’s good with Nick. And . . . Well, you didn’t ask for my opinion.”
Ever since her parents cut off all financial support when she failed to follow their advice, Liz never asked for anyone’s opinion. But she genuinely liked Regina. She hoped they could be friends. And she was both concerned and curious about Morgan.
“Tell me,” she urged.
Regina met her gaze. “Dylan says you told Morgan you need time to think things through.”
Liz nodded.
“That was smart,” Regina said. “Maybe smarter than you realize.”
She hid the pang at her heart. “You think things won’t work out.”
“I think they might,” Regina said, surprising her. “Once Morgan has a chance to figure stuff out. You’ve got to remember they’re no good at this emotional stuff.”
“They.” Men? Liz wondered.
“The children of the sea,” Regina explained. “Maybe when you live forever, you can’t afford too many attachments. You love a human, they die. You love another elemental, you have to sustain that relationship over centuries. Easier not to love at all.”
“But Dylan loves you.”
“Dylan had to learn to love me. To love anyone. And he’s at least half-human. This is all new territory for Morgan. Whether he admits it or not, he needs time to adjust as much as you do. And the fact that he’s at least trying to consider your feelings, to honor your request . . . That’s big, coming from an elemental.”
“I don’t doubt that he cares for me,” Liz said. His whisper seared her heart: “For no other wo
man—for no other force on earth—would I have stayed.” “But I have to think about my kids. Would you get involved with someone who didn’t know how to love your children? Didn’t love you more than his life away from you?”
They both turned to look at the playground.
“No,” Regina said quietly. “No way.”
Emily dashed up, her halo of soft curls bouncing. “Mommy, look what I got!”
She tipped back her head to show off the camp lanyard around her neck. Hanging between with the red “caring bead” and blue “responsibility bead” was a silver disk with three interconnected spirals radiating from the center.
Liz bent for a closer look. “That’s very . . .” Her breath hitched. Something about the gleaming medal teased at her memory. “Pretty.”
“It’s a triskelion,” Regina said.
“A what?”
Regina turned over her wrist, exposing a simplified version of the same symbol tattooed against her pale skin. “It’s a sign of protection. A ward. Earth, sea, and sky—that’s the three curving lines, see?—around a common center.”
Liz studied the flowing lines. “You got this for protection?”
Regina grinned. “Hell, no. I got it because I was drunk and thought it was some kind of female empowerment thing. It wasn’t until I met Dylan that I knew the real meaning. It’s a wardens’ mark.”
Recognition flashed through Liz. That’s where she’d seen that symbol before. The medal was a smaller replica of the one around Morgan’s neck.
“Honey,” she asked gently, “where did you get this?”
Emily’s gaze fell. “Nick gave it to me.”
Liz looked at Regina for confirmation.
“I guess it’s possible.” Regina scanned the play equipment. “Nick!”
Her son came running, accompanied by a freckled older boy.
“Did you give something to Emily?”
Nick rubbed the toe of one sneaker in the mud. “Yeah. Sort of.”
His freckled friend grinned. “Nick’s got a girlfriend, Nick’s got a—”
Nick flushed. “Shut up, Danny.”
“Which is it, kiddo?” Regina asked. “Yeah, or sort of?”
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