Sins Against the Sea (17 page)

“I will if I can,” he said, “but first, I must get my hands on the magic herb that will give me legs year-round…and to do that, I will need to find a spae-woman somewhere close enough to walk to.”

“What’s a spae-woman?”

“A witch, more or less, with ancient wisdom about the magical properties of plants.”

Her thoughts went instantly to Mrs. MacLeod. “The owner of this cottage might be able to help. She comes around every couple of days, so I can ask the next time she drops by.”

He grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “I’d be grateful if you would.”

As much as she wanted to help him get the herb, she wanted to finish what they’d started even more at this moment. “Can we talk about this later? Right now, I want you inside me.”

“I want that, too.” He pressed his erection into the small of her back, reinforcing his statement.

She tried to imagine how they would do it in the tub. None of the standard positions seemed feasible, except maybe doggy-style, which, though possible, would be hard on her knees.

He withdrew the showerhead and returned it to its holder before setting his hands on her shoulders. “Stand up, Cordelia.”

Assuming he wanted to do it upright, she gripped the edges of the tub and hoisted herself to her feet. Goosebumps erupted everywhere as cool air chilled her wet skin.

The water sloshed as Kew-in gained his feet after her. For a breathless moment, he stood before her, all dripping wet virile mermanliness. The next moment, her back was against the cold, hard tiles of the wall beside the tub. He’d pinned her there with his body. Her legs went weak as his mouth found hers. She parted her lips to admit his tongue. His hand came up between her legs to caress her folds. She quivered as desire engulfed her pelvis.

She reached down and took hold of his erection, guiding him toward her entrance. His sex pulsed in her hand and, weak with need, she pointed it toward her own. He entered her with an ardent thrust that knocked her head against the wall. She didn’t care. She wanted this, wanted him. Every glorious aquatic inch of him.

With his help and a little hop, she wrapped her legs around his hips. Welcoming the force of his brutal thrusts, she arched her pelvis higher and higher
until she shattered around him. As her body convulsed in ecstasy, he pulled out of her and spilled himself on her stomach.

When the thrilling tremors had passed, she looked into his eyes, which shimmered with tenderness. “Won’t you miss the sea if you stay with me on land?”

She had to ask the question, much as she’d rather not. Her mother had left her behind to return to the sea, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Kew-in the same way.

“I would miss you more if I returned,” he said, his eyes glittering like sea glass in the sun. “We can get a cottage like this one. Somewhere remote and near the water. We can take walks on the beach, make love in the surf, and go swimming whenever we want.”

“I’d like that.” Heart spilling over, she smiled up at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

After he washed his emissions off her with the hand-held showerhead, they got out of the tub, grabbed two towels, and started drying off. Her thoughts returned to MacInnes’ news with a pang. Should she tell Kew-in about the captain of
Ketos
? She wanted to, but was torn. Though withholding what she knew from him seemed dishonest, it seemed the lesser of evils compared to providing information that could lead to the captain’s death. Besides, if she told him, he’d feel duty-bound to warn his clan, requiring him to go back to his underwater world. If they wouldn’t let him return for some reason, she might lose him forever.

“If you do stay on land with me, how will you tell your people you’re not coming back?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I haven’t thought quite that far ahead yet.”

She wanted to ask about the place his clan dwelled, but there was something more pressing she wished to know. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to
Ketos
?”

“The tanker should not have been in the Minch.”

His answer, though vague, told her what she needed to know. “So, you did have something to do with the accident…”

“We believed her hull to be empty,” he told her, “or we would not have risked what occurred.”

The tanker’s hull had been mostly empty—the reason the spill was not as devastating as it might have been. “Was the tanker’s size the reason you did what you did?”

“Partly, but there were other reasons, too.”

Corey’s pulse quickened. Did he know the answers she sought about Conch? “What were they?”

“I only know what Shan told me.”

“And what’s that?”

“That your company is in cahoots with the Finfolk of the Vanishing Isles.”

* * * *

Cuan was almost sure he knew how Conch was hiding whatever nefarious activity the oil company was engaged in. He had figured it out while she’d had her mouth on his
bod
. Not that he’d been focused on the problem at the time. On the contrary, he’d been completely immersed in the pleasurable sensations swimming through his body. Sometimes, however, the subconscious mind did its best work when the conscious mind was preoccupied with another matter.

While coming here earlier in the evening, he’d seen someone he was almost sure was a Finman on the beach—a tall, dour-looking man with thinning hair and a clipboard.

Most Fins led a nomadic life, spending the long Orkney winters in the luxury of Finfolkaheem, a majestic city inside an underwater cave, and the summers on the island of Hether Blether, which they hid from human senses using their vanishing magic.

“Who is the man in charge of the clean-up operation?”

“Do you mean Finlay Trowbridge?” she asked, brow furrowed.

The name confirmed his suspicions. “He’s a Finman. Do you know what that is?”

She nodded. “My mom used to tell me stories about them. I just never believed they were real.”

“They are as real as you and I, and extremely powerful and dangerous.” As he spoke, he wrapped the towel around his waist and watched as she dried her hair.

“How do you think Mr. Trowbridge is hiding what Conch is doing in the strait?”

“Vanishing magic,” he said. “If the Finfolk can hide real islands, why not a Thunder Isle?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “What’s a Thunder Isle?”

“The manmade islands that harvest the oil from below the seafloor,” he explained. “We call them Thunder Isles because of the deafening noise they make, which damages the hearing of many sea creatures, making them more vulnerable to predators and—”

“Oh, my God,” she cried, cutting him off. “I know what they’re hiding. My father sent the blueprints home from Skye ten years ago. A self-contained underwater drilling platform—a sort of submarine space station, if you will. That’s why it made me think of Jules Verne!”

Unfamiliar with the name, he furrowed his brow. “Who is Jules Verne?”

“An author. Though dead now, he wrote a very famous book titled
Twenty-Thousand Leagues under the Sea
.”

The title piqued his interest. “It sounds well worth reading.”

Looking up from the task of drying herself, she blinked at him in obvious surprise. “Do you read fiction?”

“Only during breeding season.” he said, letting the slur pass. “As you might imagine, books don’t hold up all that well underwater.”

A smile spread across her pretty face. “I wouldn’t think so—or that a Kindle would do much to solve the problem.”

Incomprehension drew his eyebrows together. “What’s a Kindle?—and, more importantly, what in the name of Hades is a space station?”

“I’ll explain later,” she told him, wrapping herself in the towel before heading into the bedroom. “Right now, though, I want to hear more about this vanishing magic. How does it work and, more importantly, is there a way to break the spell?”

He followed her, staying close enough to converse. “The Fins use an ancient incantation to raise a wall of mist from the sea, which makes the object behind the mist invisible to the eye. If there is a counter spell, I’ve never heard of it—but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” After a moment’s reflection, he added, “Perhaps Robharta, being from Orkney, might know a way to break the enchantment.”

She sat on the edge of a very large bed with a quilted cover. “Who’s Robharta?”

“A selkie I know.” He drew closer and looked down at her.

Lifting her gaze to his, she arched an eyebrow. “
Know
in the biblical sense?”

He furrowed his brow, assuming “the biblical sense” meant enmity, as the bible, he’d oft been told, was the foundation of many human conflicts. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

She gave him a small smile and blushed a little. “To know someone in the biblical sense is to have sex with them.”

“Aye, well.” Now, it was his turn to blush. “In that case…”

Her eyes narrowed peevishly. “What other sorts of creatures have you put your dick into?”

For some reason, his mind jumped back to the prank Shan had played on him as a pup. “Not a real anemone, I can tell you that much.”

She laughed, which eased the tension some. He’d forgotten what jealous creatures mermaids could be. He’d have to tread carefully with this one.

“Where and how might we find this selkie friend of yours?”

Tired of standing, he sat beside her. “Sometimes, I meet her in a hidden cove near Lochmaddy…and sometimes, she simply appears out of nowhere.”

“How far is Lochmaddy from here?”

“Too far to swim with legs.”

“Maybe we can borrow a boat from someone.” She gave him a kiss he was glad of. “I also want to go with you. In case you need help resisting Robharta’s charms. According to my mom’s stories, selkies, both male and female, are irresistibly beautiful and seductive.”

Chapter Ten

Corey opened her eyes to find the bedroom filled with the soft gray light of morning. She was still tired—hardly surprising, given that she and Kew-in had been awake into the wee hours, debating which task to attempt first: borrowing a boat to take them to Lochmaddy to find the selkie or speaking to Mrs. MacLeod about the magic herb to help him leave the sea.

While finding the selkie seemed more urgent, since he would keep his legs for another three months, the herb might give both of them tails, eliminating the need for a boat. It was a conundrum of the chicken-and-egg variety. Which to attempt first? Both also carried risks. They would have to tell Mrs. MacLeod why they wanted the herb, which meant trusting her with Kew-in’s secret.

As for the boat, Corey knew only one person she could ask: MacInnes, who wasn’t likely to give up his vessel without asking a lot of prying questions. Should she tell him they suspected Conch was hiding an underwater drilling platform using Finfolk vanishing magic? Would he think she’d lost her mind if she did? Maybe not, since he’d insinuated a belief in storm kelpies. Still, the reporter was a loose cannon she couldn’t completely trust, meaning there was no way in hell they were telling him the truth about Kew-in. Revealing their secret to a spae-woman was taking a calculated risk; confiding in a pushy journalist, on the other hand, was downright reckless.

It was too big a story to keep a lid on and, if the truth about Kew-in and his kind got out, it would ruin more than their future plans of living happily ever after in a cottage by the sea. The storm kelpies would be hunted, captured, and put in tanks for scientific study, which would be much worse than letting Conch get away with drilling in illegal waters.

Finally, after hours of see-sawing, they’d agreed to let the fates make the decision for them. If Mrs. MacLeod came by in the morning, they would ask about the herb. If she did not appear, they ask to borrow MacInnes’ boat.

Once the issue was settled, they made love again, more gently this time, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. Kew-in was still asleep beside her—not snoring, thank God. She was a light sleeper and couldn’t abide a partner who snored.

She looked at him and smiled. He looked so peaceful—and so adorable. She still had trouble believing he was real…or that Finfolk and mermaids existed as well. She found it even harder to believe she was part merrow herself, or that her mother was more than likely still alive.

If I went to Eynhallow, would I find her? Do I want to?

Part of her did, but part of her didn’t. If she did find her mom, what would she say to her except the obvious?
Why did you leave me?
She already knew the answer. Her mother loved the sea and her freedom more than she loved her human husband and half-human daughter. So why go there and suffer more hurt than she already felt?

Corey threw a glance toward the bedside clock. It was almost seven. If Mrs. MacLeod was coming, she would show up around now. She listened for any sounds downstairs, but all she heard were the noises of the clean-up crews on the beach. Speaking of which…she ought to get up and check on things. She also needed to quit her job. Or, maybe she should wait. Terminating her employment would only take her farther out of the loop than she already was.

Being careful not to wake Kew-in, she slid out of bed and put on jeans, a sweater, and a pair of sneakers before venturing downstairs. The cottage was empty, but not quiet, thanks to the activity outside. She put on the kettle and stuck some bread in the toaster. If Mrs. MacLeod didn’t appear by the time she finished her tea and toast, she’d go out and look for MacInnes.