by Rosanna Leo
Mack stared, feeling heat in his face. “I think, given the dire circumstances and the broken glass scattered all over your carpet, we could postpone it.”
She shook her head. “No. The finman took so much from me. I won’t let him take this too.” She walked into the kitchen, opened up a utility cupboard, and produced a broom and dustpan. “Now, will you help me with this glass, or are you going to stand there fuming at me some more?”
“Woman, I should put you over my knee.”
She walked over and thrust the dustpan at him. Her eyes narrowed and one side of her mouth lifted in a half grin. “You’d like that too much.”
Mack’s cock did its best to leap out of his jeans. He liked this side of Beth, needed to see more of it. His lips thinned, and he passed a trembling hand over his face. He took the dustpan. “Fine. But if you won’t leave and go to my family, I’m bringing my family to you.”
She gaped at him. “What? You’re inviting them all here?”
He bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh at her reaction. “Not all. Just a couple of my brothers. They’ll be keen to help, brawlers that they are.” Mack sent out a mental summons to Jamie and Edan, using the silent form of communication they’d used since they were pups. It came in handy at times like these. “And you can’t argue. I’ve already called them. Edan and Jamie are excited to meet you. They’ll be here soon.”
Beth’s shoulders slumped. “So, in the next while, my house will be full of selkie men?”
Mack grabbed the broom from her limp hands and began sweeping around her. “That’s right, Beth.” He laughed. “I’ll board up the windows, and then we need to go shopping for more food.”
* * * *
Beth sat at the piano in the den with little Colin Finnegan, Gerald’s son. Gerald and Mack were both perched on opposite ends of her floral settee, and neither seemed pleased to be in each other’s company. Gerald’s back was ramrod straight and he stared at the piano. Mack glared at Gerald, his large body tensed, his hands clenched. He was clearly raring for a fight.
Surely what he said couldn’t be true … that the finman must be someone she knew. And if it were true, she could never suspect Gerald of being a malicious shape-shifter. Besides, he had a son.
Colin banged on the piano keys in a show of temper. “I don’t want to play piano!”
Beth reached for his flying hands and settled them on his lap. She then placed an encouraging hand on the boy’s back. “I can’t wait to hear how well you’ve done since our last lesson, Colin. Will you play ‘The Happy Puppy’ for me?”
“No! I want to play with Luke.”
“Colin,” Gerald warned from his seat, “we’ve talked about Luke. Listen to Beth.”
Beth darted a look toward the harried father. “It’s okay.” She took a breath. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You can’t play with Luke. Now, ‘The Happy Puppy.’”
Colin would not be deterred. “No. I want Luke!”
I want Luke too. Beth closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them and tried to smile. “I know, Colin.” She paused. “Look, I never liked ‘The Happy Puppy’ anyway. Let’s do another one.”
The little boy grunted. “I don’t want to do another one.” He let out an exasperated puff of air. “Why did Luke have to die? He was my friend. He went away, just like mummy. She never visits me either.”
Beth glanced over at Mack, who was running his hand through his hair with such vigor she feared he’d tear it out. He seemed ready to spirit the whole Finnegan family out of the house, and she was tempted to let him. But she couldn’t do it. This boy had suffered loss, just like her. And God only knew Colin had even less ability to deal with it than she did. She placed her arms around his quivering frame and kissed his head. “It hurts, doesn’t it, buddy?”
Colin let out a whimper against her chest. “Yes.” He raised wet, brown eyes toward her. “Is Luke coming back ever? Daddy says no.”
Beth swallowed the massive lump in her throat. She looked over at Mack and fought the urge to run into his arms for comfort. She didn’t think she’d ever felt as good as when she was enfolded in Mack’s arms. She turned back to Colin. “I’m sorry. Luke’s not coming back. Not ever.”
The boy sighed, wiped his eyes, and proceeded to play “The Happy Puppy” for her. And although Beth clapped for him at the end and smiled in encouragement, she realized afterward she hadn’t heard a single note.
* * * *
After Gerald had ushered Colin out, Beth and Mack did a quick run into town to stock up on humungous amounts of food. Beth was getting nervous about meeting Jamie and Edan and was even more nervous about the damage they could do to her kitchen. She’d seen what Mack could put away. She couldn’t imagine having to feed three Macks. They’d come out of the store, arms laden with meat, meat, and more meat. And Mack hadn’t let her pay for a thing despite the hefty bill.
As they ran their errands, Beth laughed to herself every time Mack unwittingly attracted the hungry gaze of another woman and several appreciative men. He didn’t seem to notice, but she saw the lust in their eyes. She noticed the covert appraisals of his muscles, chiseled face, and inky hair. Hell, she was looking too.
And he looked back at her, offering her many a secret smile that made her heart race. She realized there were few things that gave her such satisfaction as having Mack smile at her. Each time he did, the sun seemed to shine brighter and all the clouds drifted away. Literally.
“So weird,” she whispered.
“What’s weird?”
Heat streaked across her cheeks. “I could swear every time you smile at me, the weather improves.”
Mack grinned at her and blinked, black lashes sweeping over eyes that seemed like bottomless pools of desire. “Of course you noticed,” he mumbled, as if to himself. “Selkies have a similar power to fin folk. Our emotions influence the weather. It can be hard to control when we feel strongly. If I’m tense, you’ll see clouds gather. And when I hold you, the sky will be blue and clear, and the air will be warm.”
“That’s amazing.” She could get addicted to the feeling.
“You are, Beth.” His face was a study in quiet eroticism. His eyelids were lowered and pensive, and his lips were moist and apart. Mack’s nostrils were flared. Whenever he turned to her, he seemed to breathe in her scent. It made his eyelashes flutter and made the sun sear her.
She knew he wanted to touch her again, and she was dying to touch him. Kissing him had given her infinite satisfaction. In fact, she couldn’t even apply the word “satisfying” to how she felt when he touched her, when he brushed his lips against hers. The experience was baffling, but it felt so right.
But he hadn’t touched her since their kiss, and she was worried he was concerned about prompting another finman attack.
Now if she could just stop thinking about his taste. If she could only get the feel of him out from under her skin. Her fingers itched to touch him again, and in intimate ways he’d never forget. She wanted to explore his long, hard body at leisure, to memorize the lines of his face and the caress-inviting angles of his body.
There was a wild thumping somewhere in Beth’s chest, and she realized it was her heart. She’d miss Mack when she moved to New Smyrna Beach. And yet every time she considered that move, her head hurt. It had to be stress. Why else would the thought of returning to the bosom of her American family cause her distress? It was a pity she couldn’t take the selkie man with her.
Selkie man.
God, she’d pondered the improbability since he’d confessed his unusual secret, that and the reality. He wasn’t human. He was something more. Something strange and seductive and foreign in a way she’d never dreamed possible.
And that superhuman man had left his mark on her, shaking her foundations with the most salacious kisses of her life. She loved falling asleep covered in his pelt, thinking of him, and now she’d be dreaming about his delicious lips locked on her breast for the rest of her days.
Would he repeat
the performance? She wasn’t sure, especially seeing as the brothers were about to descend on them. Perhaps she should initiate another kiss. No. She just didn’t have the heart to put herself out there. As tantalizing as it was to fantasize about giving herself to Mack, she could never offer herself to him. He wouldn’t want someone like her, not really. Someone who didn’t have the energy to drag a comb through her hair most mornings. He deserved better.
She used to be better, wanted to be. For herself, as well as him.
And yet despite her sorrow, he’d stayed with her. When she slept, he kept an eye out for finmen, his bow and arrows always ready. He helped her sort through the wreckage of her life. They’d eaten meals together, had talked for hours, and he’d shared his pelt with her, bringing her comfort as she’d never known.
The perfect gentleman, even though his dark eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to grow more heated every time he looked at her.
I don’t want him to be a gentleman anymore.
The devil on her shoulder responded. Then maybe you should make more of an attempt to look like a woman.
She looked down at her attire. Yet another pair of tired jeans. A paint-spattered T-shirt. Mismatched socks. God, what was wrong with her? Get your act together, Beth. Frank wouldn’t want you to be so unhappy.
No. It was too soon. For some reason, she felt the need to continue her oppressive Victorian mourning period. Why, she just needed to put on a bustle and she’d look like Queen Victoria.
As she pondered the silly image, a snort escaped her. Mack looked toward her as they walked down the street to the Mustang. “Excuse me, madam. Was that a snort I just heard? Are we amused?”
Had he read her mind about the Queen Victoria thing? She couldn’t help grinning. She’d been grinning more and more with Mack around. “Me, amused? Never.”
Mack stopped walking, adjusted the bags in his arms, and faced her. He stared at her for a long moment and then let out a soft huff. He seemed to want to say something, but his face was crunched up as if he weren’t quite sure how to vocalize the thought.
She took the bull by the horns. “Mack, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
He freed one of his hands from his bundles and touched her cheek. He had such nice, big hands, ones that seemed even more erotic with their beautiful webbing. The kind of hands any red-blooded woman would want caressing her body. Okay, she wanted it too. A lot.
“You’ve already thanked me dozens of times.” He lowered his eyelids, peering at her through half-closed, sexy eyes. “If you want to thank me again, crazy animal sex would do fine.”
He smiled as if his comment had been a joke, but his expression soon heated. It made Beth wonder if he’d been joking at all. All of a sudden, she felt feverish and her clothes felt way too restrictive.
“Let me guess,” she murmured, nodding at her worn outfit. “It’s my fashion sense that snagged you, isn’t it?”
He frowned at her. “Only the most moronic man on earth would pass you up because of what you’re wearing. Only a dimwit could give a toss about your old jeans.” He looked her up and down with a sensual slowness that almost stilled her heart. His eyebrow arched, giving him an air of effortless allurement. “Besides, I’d have those clothes off you before you could blink.”
Beth did blink. A few times.
For some reason, she felt a need to continue this insane banter with him. It made her feel lighter than anything had in a long time, made her feel pretty. Was she flirting? She couldn’t remember what flirting felt like. “Right,” she dared to tease. “And what would your ‘not really’ girlfriend think of that?”
“Leda?” He chuckled. “She’d likely congratulate me.”
“How very modern.”
“Not especially. Leda is selkie too. As a race, our jealous side doesn’t tend to manifest unless we’re mated.” He looked away. “And mates don’t come along every day.”
“Why don’t you mate with Leda?”
“I’m learning you don’t choose your mate, Beth. Fate chooses her for you. And Leda isn’t the one destined to be my mate. She knew it before I did.”
This conversation was starting to make her feel odd, both because of the lustful feelings he inspired and because of all this strange mate talk. Mating. It sounded so animalistic. So different from the polite country-church wedding she’d had with Frank. Mating sounded carnal. Instead of giving her visions of gentle, considerate couplings, it smacked of greedy fucking and biting and bleeding for one’s lover.
And it was sparking her curiosity in a bad way.
* * * *
By the time they got back to Beth’s cottage, Mack had made up his mind. He decided Beth required a mind-blowing kissing session, followed by some heavy petting and a fuck to rival all fucks. By the time he was done with her, he wanted her shouting his name. Needed to hear her voice raised to heaven in the mother of all orgasmic cries.
And he was just the one to make it unfold for her. He knew he’d take infinite pleasure in watching her unravel in his arms.
The wee, blonde woman hurried into the house. Mack watched, making a mental note to order her up some more cheesecake. He’d been trying hard to feed her during their time together, and her appetite had improved under his watchful eye, but it wasn’t where it should be. She might have put on a delicious pound or two but was still too delicate. Looked too breakable.
The door shut behind her, and he wondered if she was nervous about facing him. She’d been quiet on the ride home from the market. Was she afraid of what might happen between them? Probably. With Big Ben pealing inside him, he had to admit he was scared too.
Still, she was his mate. She needed to know, and soon. He needed to put the issue, and her, to bed. And his need was growing more desperate by the minute.
He followed her in and locked up behind them. He turned and found Beth standing in the middle of the living room. And she wasn’t alone.
Leda was perched on the edge of the couch, drumming her fingers on her crossed knee. She’d made an effort to dress to impress for the occasion. Her ample curves were swathed in leggings and a tight-fitting shirt. To accentuate her long legs, she’d put on a pair of thigh-high boots, the type any streetwalker might covet. And her face, although at its prettiest when bare, was highlighted by makeup and red lipstick. This was a woman on a mission. The selkie woman appraised Beth, eyeing her from top to bottom, and then glanced at Mack with a smile. “Hello, lover.”
Mack stepped forward and placed a hand on Beth’s back. “Leda. As lovely as it is to see you, I feel the need to remind you of a new invention. It’s called a door. I can introduce you to the idea of locks as well.”
Leda waved him off. “Don’t lecture me. You stood me up, Machar.”
Beth turned to him. Her face was pink. “This is your … girlfriend?”
Leda’s amusement at the term led to a musical explosion of laughter. “Girlfriend? To this beggar? I think not.” Her eyebrows knit together as she glared at him. “I prefer my men prompt.”
Mack frowned at the selkie female. “Leda and I are friends. Have been for years.”
Beth looked at Leda, her head held high. The cobalt glint in her eyes made Mack think she didn’t for a moment believe that he and Leda were merely platonic friends. “Hmm. None of my friends feel the need to break into my house.”
Leda laughed again. “I like this one, Machar. Despite being a pale, wee nymph, she’s got spunk.”
“What are you doing in my house?” Beth persisted.
Leda stood, strolled over to the window, and fingered the sage-colored damask curtains with little interest. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love. I’m just here to inquire after Mack. He was acting a wee bit strange after our last, um, interlude, and I grew worried when he didn’t appear in the Caribbean. I followed his trail here.” She cocked an eyebrow at Mack. “I assume you didn’t bother to join me because of your problem. So, is she the one?”
“The
one?” Beth asked, her cheeks still flushed from indignation. “Which one?”
“Leda,” Mack warned.
“Didn’t he tell you, precious?” Leda responded. “Mack’s looking for a mate. He feels the need to call an end to his successful bachelor days. Are you planning to help him out?”
“Oh, for the love of…” Mack said, as heat seared every inch of his exposed skin. He must be as red as a prize-winning beet at a beet festival.
“Don’t be shy, darling,” Leda cooed as she rushed over to the pair of them. “Isn’t that why you’re shacked up with…” She turned to Beth. “What’s your name, love?”
“Beth.”
“Beth,” Leda repeated, grinning. “So, will you be Mack’s mate, then?”
Mack turned to see Beth’s reaction, horrified but also curious. How could Leda let the cat out of the bag? And Beth, well, she looked as stunned as someone who just realized they’d swallowed the chicken bone, rather than a piece of meat. Her face was pink and her cheeks were a little puffed out, as if she were trying to catch some air.
“I, uh…” Beth stammered.
“Leda,” Mack said, interrupting and saving Beth from having to answer the ridiculous question. “We have more important things on our minds right now. I’m sorry I didn’t make contact with you, but I’ve been trying to help Beth. The finman has it in for her.”
Bless Leda, she had the sense to look abashed and afraid. “The finman?” She turned to Beth and grasped her hands. “Oh, love, I am sorry! I hate those fuckers.”
Beth actually grinned at that. “Look, I’d ask you in for tea, but you’re already in.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Would you like some now that you’re here? We have tons. Jamie and Edan are expected any minute.”
“Oh, I haven’t seen those two scallywags in some time!” Leda’s eyes warmed over. She whispered, “I’d love some tea. I could murder Earl Grey if you’ve got him anywhere.”
Mack watched, stymied, scratching his head, as Leda and Beth walked into the kitchen. Their arms were clasped, and they were suddenly giggling like school chums. The woman he’d often slept with and the woman he needed to sleep with if he were to retain any of his tenuous hold on his sanity.
