The Selkie Read Online Free Page B

of a sick, old woman. And yet her Gran had
    mentioned Calan Kirk again, and she wasn’t even dreaming this time. What did she mean when she said she won the sealskin from him? Maggie could just picture the sight. Two old people playing cards for a smelly animal pelt. It was almost sad.
    If it weren’t for the parts about not resting and trusting no one. That was just plain scary. What would make her Gran so paranoid?
    She sat still, not sure what to do next.
    It took all of thirty seconds for her curiosity to get the better of her. She turned and eyed the piles of books and figurines and small appliances ordered from the television. The mass of stuff around her. Where did one begin in such chaos?
    Look in the places that meant the most to me.
    Tentatively, as if she were being watched, Maggie took a step into the living room. Gran had an antique chest, one that had been reclining in the corner longer than Maggie had been alive. She knelt before it, unlatched the rusty latch, and raised the lid. She winced at the loud creak. The smell of old mothballs greeted her. With her nose wrinkled, Maggie reached in and burrowed through the worn blankets and clothing Nora had stopped wearing in the seventies.
    “ Go-go boots? Please tell me these weren’t yours, Gran. ”
    There was a noise somewhere outside. Without even thinking, Maggie pulled out her arm and slammed the lid shut. She quickly fastened the old latch. Then, without understanding why, she ran around the small house, locked the door, and shut all the blinds. Only after she was satisfied that no one was about, did she make her way back up to bed.
    Yet, as tired as she was, she still could not sleep.
    * * * *
    “ More wine, please, Annette, ” called Calan from his place at the end of the bar, “ and another oyster platter. ”
    The pub waitress did her best shimmy as she approached him with an inviting smile. “ Why, Calan Kirk, that’ll be your third oyster platter tonight. ” She leaned over his table, giving him an eyeful of carefully propped-up cleavage. “ Are you fortifying yourself for the evening’s adventures? ” She reached out a finger to twine in his long hair.
    He pulled away, but gave her what he hoped was a kind grin. “ Not tonight, pet. ”
    Human women. The grasping, gullible creatures.
    She pouted, her rouged lips curling into a perfect, little pucker. “ But it’s been so long since you visited me. ”
    It had been a while. Months, to be cock-teasingly precise. And for someone with his appetites, it was a bloody sacrifice. But as much as a mere whiff of Annette’s perfume used to tighten his trousers, now the sight of her ample bosom left him limp. And it was all Nora MacLean’s fault. Damn that meddling, old woman.
    Calan swallowed. He hated making women sad, even the human variety. The very idea grated on his fraught nerves, but it was best to make a clean break of it. “ Annette, you know it has to end. We’ve talked about this. ”
    The waitress blanched. “ Is it another woman? ”
    Shite . He didn’t even know how to answer that question. Was there another woman? Was it possible that Maggie Collins was more than just a tempting dream? Or was she a sin-inspiring succubus sent by the devil himself to torment him?
    Why did his life sometimes seem like an endless cycle of trying to escape those soft-skinned beauties?
    He knew the Collins lass was in Kirkwall. It didn’t take long for news to spread on the island, and the place was abuzz with word of Nora’s Canadian granddaughter. He just hadn’t been able to seek her out in person yet, despite his promise to Nora.
    He needed Maggie to do a little something for him first.
    How on earth would he introduce himself to the petite redhead? Not that introductions would be required. Surely, she’d recognize him as the stranger she’d been having intense, sexual dreams of for months. As the creature who’d been haunting the periphery of her fantasy world, egging her on in her