Not staying is good. I don’t need him bothering me just by being there.
Something ahead caught her eye, and she slowed. It was a clear, cold night, and by the starlight, she could make out faint movements on the rocks revealed by the ebbing tide. Her heart began to beat faster. Seals. The seals were back.
Slowly, she edged backward into the cliff and watched them. There were several, their round heads bobbing and their land-clumsy bodies flapping over sand and rocks. Most of them settled quickly and lay still, one or two finishing off the odd fish. On the big rock she’d noticed from her window lay two animals, a big male and a more petite female, their eyes turned towards her. She imagined they were the same ones who’d sat there last night.
Chrissy delved into her capacious pocket for her camera. But since she didn’t want to startle them with the flash, she doubted the pictures would come out very well.
Above her, on the cliff side, something shuffled, and she glanced up, startled. As she peered in the darkness, the figure of a man slid down the rocks and the grassy, unstable earth. Chrissy’s heart jumped into her mouth, for it was a dangerous way to go. You might not kill yourself falling from that height—unless you landed headfirst on the rocks at the foot—but you could certainly injure yourself pretty severely.
The man, however, moved like some sure-footed goat, as if he’d done exactly the same thing many times before.
At four in the morning? What the hell…?
She moved carefully along the sand to the next rock, keeping in to the side of the cliff. The man jumped down the last few feet, light and agile, and glanced to either side. If she stayed very still, he might miss her in the shadows…
He didn’t.
“There you are,” he observed.
Chrissy’s mouth fell open. “Aidan?” Perhaps she shouldn’t have admitted to recognizing his voice so easily, but it was very distinctive—deep and yet soft, holding only an echo of Ardknocken’s Highland lilt.
He walked towards her, stepping over a rock, and the moonlight briefly skimmed his blond head and one side of his strong, handsome face.
He said, “I thought it was you. What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
Chrissy nodded towards the seals. “Looking for them. What’s your excuse?”
“Coming home from Dan’s. Dan MacDonald? Lives over there.” He waved one hand in the vague direction of the MacDonald farm.
“You’re a friend of Dan’s?” she asked carefully. Of course he was. They both grew up here.
“We sailed to Orkney together when we were seventeen. Haven’t seen each other much since.”
She looked away, towards the seals, hoping he hadn’t influenced Dan against the project. She felt his gaze on her averted face.
“So, you’re a seal watcher?” he said at last.
She shook her head. “Not really. I just noticed them last night. Thought I’d come down for a closer look since I was up.”
“I used to play with them when I was a kid.”
She turned and stared at him in the darkness. “Play with them? What, like puppies?”
“Not exactly. You shouldn’t really get that close—they bite, for one thing, especially at breeding times. Come on.”
Unexpectedly, he took her hand as he brushed past her, drawing her on with him. It might have been to guide her around the large rock in her way, and over the top of the next patch. Either way, it seemed curiously natural, so she didn’t make a fuss.
The seals seemed to watch them as they walked along the beach. Chrissy caught the odd glitter of dark eyes. One of them, flat out on the sand, began to move with them. Aidan started to whistle, at first like you might to attract a dog’s attention, and then swerving into a tune, which she finally recognized as an adventurous version of Auld Lang Syne. She let out a breath of laughter, realizing with awe that several of the seals were following them, or at least moving parallel with them.
When Aidan stopped suddenly, so did they. “Happy New Year, seals,” he said. “Good party?”
It struck her then that Aidan was slightly drunk. It had relaxed him—or perhaps the childhood memories of “playing” with the seals had humanized him. Whatever, she was happy enough to walk on with him, even to whistle with him. The seals didn’t seem to mind her laughter, or their voices. She could almost imagine they were enjoying it.
After a little, Aidan swung her around and began to walk back the way they’d come—and the seals came too. She tried running, pulling Aidan with her, and the seals upped their pace as well. Spinning in a circle with him just made the seals pause and watch, but when she moved on, whistling again, the seals came too, more and more of them. All except the two on the rock, who continued to observe like the king and queen at some theatre production performed for their amusement.
Chrissy laughed with pure pleasure, liking the feel of Aidan’s gaze on her face. As if he found her interesting. Or perhaps just amusing. Like the seals did, still moving with them.
“Isn’t it the sea creatures who’re meant to sing us to our doom?” she said wryly.
“You’re thinking of mermaids. Selkies are different. If you ever feel the need of a handsome husband, just stick your face in the sea and cry seven tears, and one will obligingly step out of its seal skin for you.”
Remembering her fantasy of the previous night, she flushed. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
“I wouldn’t. He’ll have a selkie wife too, and he’ll leave you in the end. Selkie romances always end badly.”
She smiled faintly. “You almost sound as if you know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, there are female selkies too. At least in the X-rated dreams of an adolescent boy who’d fantasize about anything.”
She couldn’t really imagine him ever having to resort to mere fantasies. Even as an adolescent boy, he must have been stunning.
“They look so human, don’t they?” she mused. “At least their heads do. I suppose that’s why the legends sprang up.”
“Maybe. That and the fact that back in Viking days, visiting traders from the north probably wore seal skin clothes that they took off.” He swung her hand higher, reminding her that he still held it. It seemed stupid to draw it free now. She didn’t even want to. He didn’t wear gloves, but she did, so there was no flesh-to-flesh zing like when he’d touched her at Louise’s.
And yet now she’d noticed the contact, her physical awareness of him almost overwhelmed her. A fit, lithe man, he walked beside her with long, easy strides, sure-footed, as if aware of every feature on the beach, which must have changed however slightly with every tide since he’d last lived here. He observed, she thought, and reacted from instinct. His narrow hips swung along at her side, almost touching her.
What it would be like to be touched by him? To touch him?
Oh no, I’m so not ready for that. Besides, he’d run a mile. Right now he’s pissed and friendly and as full of New Year camaraderie as he gets. Tomorrow, it’ll be different. He probably won’t even remember.
I will, though…
“What are they even doing here?” she asked. She could blame her breathlessness on the cold, on the briskness of their walk. “I thought they didn’t breed until nearer the end of January?”
“They just come ashore for a rest, sometimes. It’s a hard life, constantly swimming and fishing and eating.”
She glanced at him. “Are we still talking about the seals?”
He looked up at the sky and smiled. “Life, probably.” His gaze dropped to her face. “What are you doing here, Chrissy, with a bunch of dangerous ex-cons?”
Chrissy smiled. “That’s how the village used to see them too.”
“Used to?”
She shrugged. “Some of them still do. The ones who’ve had nothing to do with us. They’re not dangerous.”
His eyebrows rose with obvious scepticism. Chrissy knew what he was going to say, so got in first: “I’m not saying they never were, though most of them were never
violent criminals.”
“Brody was.”
“Yes,” she allowed, “though never as violent as his reputation. But people learn and change. He did.”
“You really believe that?”
“Do you really believe Izzy Ross would have taken her son there to live with him if he was dangerous? She’s gone to lengths you can’t even imagine to protect that boy. Now Glenn protects them both. If they need it, which they don’t.” She drew in a slightly flustered breath. “Look, I know you’re a cop. Or were. I know you’ve seen the worst of humanity. Trust me, so have I. But these guys have done their time. You can’t judge them on their past, just their present. And they’re working damn hard for themselves and each other.”
He regarded her, his expression thoughtful, curious, as if she were some rare species. “You’re very passionate,” he observed. “There aren’t many parole officers who leave the job early with their idealism intact.”
“I’m not an idealist,” she retorted. “I’m a realist. Is that why you left your job? Broken ideals?”
“Like my smile?” he said, and she flushed with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Stupid thing to say. I was half-pissed. A smile can’t be broken.”
“Maybe not. But a man can be. Or a woman.”
Her stomach clenched. She searched his eyes, for the first time wishing there was more light. Did he know?
“Not I,” she said. “There’s a song I could sing to prove it, but I’ll spare you.”
“I’m strong. I can take it.”
She smiled, pulling her hand free to punch his arm. His lips curved upwards. His eyes glistened in the dark, almost as if they were smiling too. Imagination.
“I should take the shortcut here up to the house,” she said.
“I’ll just walk along to the bonfire, make sure the kids aren’t setting fire to themselves.” He seemed to hesitate, then added, “I never made it to your party.”
She shrugged. “Neither did Louise. No worries. I get you both have too many responsibilities. Plus older friends.”
“I’m glad I ran into you, though.”
He stood so close, she could feel the heat of his body. Something was certainly warming hers, though it seemed to begin inside.
“So am I,” she managed. “Thanks for showing me how to play with the seals.”
“Come out on the boat with me. Once it’s repaired. The seals come right up to it sometimes.”
“Ah. You guessed I wanted to talk to you about the boat.”
“Talk away.”
“It’ll keep. I’m just looking for someone with a boat to teach the lads to sail. Useful skill on the coast.”
His lips quirked. He had expressive lips. She bet they could kiss really, really well. Unexpectedly, he lifted one hand and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. She caught her breath.
“Sorry,” he said, without dropping his hand. “Cold fingers.”
“No colder than my face,” she said nervously. “Happy New Year, Aidan.”
He bent his head, and her stomach dived. His lips brushed her cheek. “Happy New Year, Chrissy.”
Weird happiness seemed to explode inside her. She wanted to close her eyes. Instead, she pulled away and ran to the winding path that led up to the Ardknocken estate. When she glanced back, he still stood where she’d left him. Smiling, she raised one hand in a wave. His own came up in acknowledgement, and then he began to walk on towards the village.
Chrissy climbed on up the path. For some reason, the smile still split her face. She’d made friends with Aidan Grieve, Louise’s brother. He liked her. And that felt…good.
“Well, she’s not fat,” Dyrfinna allowed. “And she is beautiful in a bizarre kind of a way. On the other hand, she seems more interested in him than in you.”
Runi flopped into the water. “Well I didn’t notice him paying too much attention to you. They both seem likely to cut us out and opt for each other.”
Dyrfinna laughed. Even after an eternity together—mostly—her laughter did something to him. He entered the water and swam close to her.
“Husband,” she said, rubbing her head against his. “Humans are only dull when we let them be.”
Showered and dressed just after midday, Aidan followed his nose downstairs to the living room, where his mother was setting the table for lunch and his father was unsetting it again. He wondered how long they’d gone round the table like this, with his mother placing the cutlery and his father picking it up again and laying it back on the pile in the middle.
“Morning, ancestors,” Aidan said cheerfully. “Aunt Aggie coming for lunch?”
His mother beamed. “Aggie’s coming over for lunch. Your dad will like that.”
“Me too,” Aidan said and went into the kitchen to find Louise peeling potatoes. “Pie smells good,” he volunteered. “Want any labouring done?”
“No, it’s all in hand. You could open the red wine—just keep it away from Dad.”
Aidan pulled the bottle from the cupboard. “Nice. Shame to waste it on a hangover.”
Louise cast him a grin. “Had a good time at Dan’s, then?”
“Aye, it was fun. Good to see them all again. It’s like another life now.” As if Ardknocken had stayed still and only he’d changed. But no, that wasn’t right either. Dan had grown up too. And even the village had altered.
He drove the corkscrew into the bottle and twisted. “Ran into Chrissy Lennox on the beach when I was walking home. Watching the seals.”
In fact, he hadn’t run into her. He’d actually been contemplating cutting across to the big house to see if the party was still going, when he’d caught sight of her unique shape from the path. He’d wondered where she was going with such purpose, and followed her. When she’d disappeared from his view, he’d left the path, climbed down the shorter, more dangerous route and surprised her doing nothing more criminal than watching the resting seals.
Had he really expected her to be hauling in a drug shipment on her own and storing it up at Ardknocken House? Actually, he was pretty sure she wasn’t involved in any crime at all. But he still had one more mission before he left the police for good—to find and shut down the heroin supply line that most probably centred at Ardknocken House, her place of work.
Chrissy had been different last night, much more relaxed and natural, almost playful when she didn’t feel…threatened, he could only surmise. He supposed he’d loomed over her and lusted at the harbour. And when she’d been in the house last night, he’d probably oozed disapproval. But on the beach…she’d joined in his old game with the seals almost like a child. A city kid. And whatever cares she carried seemed to vanish. Until he’d driven her to defend her pet project again.
With a hint of laughable jealousy he wondered if one of the convicts was her lover. He’d have suspected Brody if he wasn’t so obviously in a relationship with Izzy.
“Who was she with?” Louise asked eagerly. She loved relationship gossip. Aidan supposed it was a girl thing. Reinforced by enforced solitude.
“No one. She was on her own.” He placed the open wine bottle on the shelf above the cupboards. “How well do you know her?”
Louise shrugged. “Better since Izzy started working up at the big house. She’s nice. Friendly, funny. Izzy likes her.”
“Izzy likes Glenn Brody.”
“Aye, she does,” Louise exclaimed with rare irritability, “and so do I! Not that I was best pleased when she went to work up there. In fact, I was terrified for her, to be honest, used to watch for her coming home.”
Aidan gave a twisted smile. “Count all her fingers and toes out and in again?”
Louise laughed. “Something like that. Then Chrissy organized a sort of event at the house, while the television people were there doing their haunting programme, and Morag and I went there with Izzy and Jack and Harry MacConnell. And the scary Glasgow convicts weren’t so scary. They make rather beautiful furniture and paint pictures and play mus
ic and cook. They’re not interested in robbing you or hurting you. They’re just trying to make a better life for themselves.”
Aidan regarded her. “I hear the voice of Chrissy Lennox.”
“Maybe,” Louise allowed. “But I think it’s true. And I know Glenn was probably a scary bastard before he went inside. He still looks a scary bastard, but I don’t think he is. He’s actually quite shy and funny and fiercely loyal. He looks after those guys as if they’re his kids. And since he met Izzy, he even smiles.”
“Was his smile broken too?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Aidan said. He turned, resting his hip against the kitchen table. “So, is Chrissy with anyone up there?”
He was ready for her suspicion and archness. Her look gave him both, but at least she answered.
“Not with anyone at all, that I know of. But we’re not really that close. My feeling is, she’d never go out with anyone at the big house—it would be unprofessional. She’s fun, but she takes her job very seriously.”
The doorbell rang at that point, and he gave up his interrogation to go and let Aunt Aggie in. She squeaked and cried over him and hugged him with the strength of a body builder. The really weird thing was, he found he didn’t mind.
Chapter Four On the morning of the second of January, just as it was getting light, Chrissy woke up and lay thinking about the last couple of days. She reckoned New Year had been a success at the house. The new guys appeared to be fitting in okay. Both the party and New Year’s Day lunch had gone well, with Jim’s spectacularly good steak pie lauded by all. She’d leave them to their own devices for today as well. Although that didn’t mean she could sit and do nothing.
Throwing back the quilt, she rose and headed for the shower. There, as the water coursed over her, she found herself looking for excuses to go into the village. Because it was possible she’d run into Aidan Grieve. Annoyed with herself—she was not some teenager to hang around street corners with her pals, waiting for the boy she fancied to wander past with his—she washed herself vigorously and almost slammed out of the shower, giving herself a brisk talking-to.
In Her Secret Fantasy Page 4
