The Selkie Bride Read Online Free Page A

common operations of nature…I caught it by the handful as I passed. I felt as if a dozen thongs were lashing me around the body…I felt a pressure of weight on my body, which had the effect of dragging me down and retarding progress, as if the power of gravitation had increased tenfold. For a moment I stood like one petrified—perspiration starting from every pore—I put my hand in my pocket in search of handkerchief and found the pocket crammed with sand. Every pocket about me was filled with sand, my clothes completely saturated with it, my shoes like to burst, my ears, eyes, nostrils and mouth were like partakers.
    —Lachlan Shaw in The History of the Province of Moray
    I squinted in the faint light, my eyes tired but my mind too fascinated to stop reading.
Blue men of the Minch, Sruth nam fear Gorma: powerful sea spirits of the Outer Hebrides thought to be Fallen Angels or souls of Moorish slaves forced into sailing Viking longships. They calm treacherous waters when residing in underground caves. Can sometimes be defeated in battle by rhyming contests, or by singing unknown songs. Might be selkies, roane, fin folk or merrows. Note: Shedding their blood will cause epic storms. Able to transform at will by shedding their skins or by use of a red feather cap. Might they be Nickers or Nokke??? Possible link to kelpies (water demons) and needing to devour human flesh every day they remain on land. Review history of Clan MacCodrum…
    Clan MacCodrum? I lowered the journal for a moment and rubbed my eyes, unable to believe that my maternal grandmother’s family name was mentioned. I knew very little about Morag MacCodrum or any of her Scottish kin. My memories of my grandparents were dim. My father’s view was hostile, and my softspoken mother rarely mentioned them and only with great nervousness on the rare occasions she did. I always suspected that there was some scandal or mystery associated with them because Father was not universally xenophobic. Indeed he showed no dislike of any of our neighbors, though many came from Europe.
    Thunder crashed right outside the window, bringing me back to my present surroundings. The rain had grown ferocious while I read, and the wind all butscreamed. As the saying goes, it was a night “fit for neither man nor beast,” so nothing could have surprised me more than to have my late reading—if the slow deciphering of the symbols of the book I examined by firelight could be called that—interrupted by a pounding on the cottage door. The blows were heavy and spaced evenly, like the tolling of a funeral bell, and I couldn’t help shivering as the echo died away. This was the sound of doom calling, and it demanded I answer.
    Herman jumped up and hissed. His hair stood on end and he would have looked comical, but as the cat was habitually calm, even in bad weather, this display alarmed more than amused me. A dozen ridiculous thoughts ran through my head as I sat frozen—among them that the Devil had come to call on Fergus Culbin—but at last good sense prevailed and I seized on the most likely explanation to flit through my mind: A fishing boat from another village had perhaps been driven ashore and the fishermen, not knowing the path to the village, had headed for the nearest shelter. They had seen the light in my window, and it had guided them to the cottage, which was the closest building.
    I put Fergus Culbin’s journal aside slowly and laid another book atop it. Then I took up the lamp with a hand only vaguely troubled by tremors and forced my reluctant feet to move.
    I had a welcoming if insincere smile pasted in place when I pulled back the heavy bar and opened the ancient door, but it faded very quickly as I surveyed the creature on my doorstep. He was male—oh, definitelymale—and quite the most beautiful being I had ever seen. But there was also something about him that seemed sinister and made me feel very weak and insignificant as I stood before him. Perhaps it was