Excerpt5

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

   Kieran of Hawkesmere sat on a rocky ledge over-looking the sea, ignoring the drunken celebration of his
kinsmen a hundred yards inland. The small group of men, led by his older brother Hugh, had made camp
for the night in a sheltering grove of trees. They were in high spirits, having successfully kidnapped their
enemy’s daughter in a midnight raid. Hugh meant to take the girl as his wife, thereby insuring a cessation
of the escalating violence between the two clans.
    They’d ridden hard all day, stopping late this afternoon when Hugh had judged them safe from pursuit.
But while the others drank and made merry, Kieran scanned the sea below, unable to relax his vigilance.
    The six years he’d spent on Crusade had marked him, left him wary and tense, apart from Hawkesmere
and its people in a way that went far beyond the distance from the cliff to the trees. Though he’d been home
for several months, he still felt a stranger in the very keep where he’d been born.
    A salty breeze brushed Kieran’s skin and he took a deep breath, trying to erase the scent of death that
lingered deep in his lungs. Only three men had died during the night, a paltry number to a man who’d
participated in the slaughter of thousands, yet Kieran felt those losses keenly.
    Would he never find peace? He feared Hugh would pull him unwillingly into one battle after another
until his luck ran out and he lay cold and forgotten, the victim of some insignificant raid.
    A shudder ran through him and he pulled his heavy cloak tighter around the chafing weight of his
armor, wishing for a warm hearth. Unfortunately, Hawkesmere laid two day’s ride inland and he didn’t
crave warmth enough to endure the stares and questions of those near the fire.
    He gave the camp an annoyed glance over his shoulder, wondering if anyone would be sober enough to
fight, should Lady Anna’s brother make use of the skiff Kieran had seen anchored below their keep and try
to rescue her by water.
    With a heavy sigh, he turned his attention back toward the choppy sea that crashed against the deserted
beach thirty feet below. Perhaps his fears were irrational. Lady Anna had been betrothed to Hugh from the
cradle. Despite Hugh’s bloody method of claiming his bride, it was doubtful her brother would attempt to
take her back.
    Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
    The shadows lengthened, tendrils of magenta and gold darkening the horizon. Kieran’s tired gaze drifted
over a rocky islet some fifty feet from shore, then snapped back, caught by a metallic glimmer. He sprang to
his feet, hand on his sword.
    Standing at the edge of the cliff, he scanned the cluster of rocks. They rose sharply out of the crashing
surf, creating a natural shield. He gauged the distance and height of the rocks. Did the Cameron’s skiff
anchor unseen on the other side? If so, how could it have gotten so close without drawing his attention?
    A distinctly human form stepped into his line of sight. He froze, and then blinked, sure the lovely, dark-
haired nymph who dove into the sea and started swimming toward shore must be a figment of his
imagination.
    “What do you see?” Hugh’s concerned voice came from mere feet behind him, startling Kieran from his
reverie. He whirled to face his brother, stunned that he’d been so bewitched Hugh had managed to sneak up
on him.
    Hugh’s blue eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed from the quantity of whiskey he’d already consumed.
Kieran instinctively angled his body to block his brother’s view.
    “Twas nothing,” Kieran murmured with a dismissive shrug. “A seal, swimming in the surf.”
    Hugh laughed, poking Kieran’s shoulder with drunken good humor. “Sure it wasn’t a Selkie, lad? P’
rhaps you need a wife, as well. You’ve been far too maudlin of late.”
    A Selkie? Kieran had grown up with the stories of seals that shed their skins to frolic as lovely young
women on the beach. Twas said if you caught one before she returned to her skin, you could take the
enchanted creature to wife.
    Superstitious nonsense, of course. Still, he couldn’t resist another quick peek.
    The girl had made it to shore. She stood upon the rocky sand, wringing water out of her long, dark hair
while she gazed at the sunset with a rapturous expression. She was garbed in some sort of thin, black fabric,
which clung to the luscious curves of her body as though it were in truth a seal’s skin.
    Before Kieran could tear his gaze away, the girl began peeling the cloth from her shoulders, revealing an
expanse of pearly skin. Unfortunately, Hugh chose that moment to peer over the side of the cliff.
    “Holy Mother of God.” Hugh crossed himself, backing away, his eyes wide with shock. “It is a Selkie.”
    “No.” Kieran had no idea where the girl had come from, or why she was so strangely garbed, but he
knew she wasn’t some mythical creature. “She’s just a girl, Hugh. Let her be.”
    It was too late. Hugh was already turning away, mumbling excitedly beneath his breath. “We have to
find a way down to the beach and hide her skin before she can return to it.”
    With a private groan, Kieran hurried after his brother, his earlier apathy burned away by a pressing need
to undo the damage he’d unwittingly caused. He hadn’t been able to stop Hugh from taking Anna, but
perhaps he could somehow protect this innocent girl from the same fate.
    While Hugh went back to camp to rouse the rest of the lads, Kieran headed down the treacherous trail
that led to the beach. The prospect of a beautiful, naked woman, Selkie or no, was bound to send the men
running. He purposely slid on the loose rocks, hoping the racket would give the girl time to escape, bur the
crash of the surf obscured the sound of his approach.
    He blamed himself for this regrettable turn of events. If the girl hadn’t mesmerized him so, Hugh would
never have seen her.
    If she didn’t escape, there were only two possible outcomes. He’d either be forced to stand by and watch as
his brother and the rest of the men violated her, or he’d have to step forward and claim his right as the Laird’
s brother to take her as his own.
    Kieran found neither option palatable.
    But he could never live with himself if he didn’t at least attempt to offer her whatever protection he
could. Reaching the beach, he glanced behind him, relieved to see Hugh and the rest of the men had barely
started down the trail.
    The girl was now less than a dozen yards away. The dark fabric lay in a puddle at her feet and she was
bent at the waist, rummaging in some sort of satchel. The last rays of the sun limned the pale curves of her
naked back and buttocks with an amber glow and her long dark hair clung to the full silhouette of one pale
breast.
    Kieran had been unable to keep his eyes off her even at a distance, but up close, she was breathtaking.
Unconscious grace filled her every movement. If not for the shivers that wracked her slim frame, he’d have
thought she spent all her time frolicking naked in the sea.
    Blood rushed to his groin, surprising him. He hadn’t felt desire since he’d returned from Jerusalem. The
thought of taking her for his own suddenly didn’t seem such a sacrifice.
    "Don’t move, lass." Hugh’s gruff voice rang out from above, echoing against the cliff. "We mean you no
harm."
    The girl let out a startled cry and whirled to face them, her green eyes wide in a fey, expressive face. She
scanned the stream of men clambering down the trail, her gaze locking on Kieran, who was closest. Shaking
her head, she picked up her satchel and sprinted down the beach in the opposite direction.
    Kieran frowned as he saw Hugh send two of their most ruthless comrades, Arlo and Murtagh, along the
rim of the cliff to head her off. Cursing, Kieran raced to retrieve the garment she’d left behind. The fabric
squished in his hand, unlike anything he’d ever touched. He didn’t believe she was truly a Selkie, but the
foreign feel of it took him a little aback.
    "I have her skin." Preying on his men’s suspicions, he held it above his head for all to see. "The Selkie is
mine."
    Hugh skidded to a stop, his eyes wide with surprise. "You wish to claim her for your own, lad?"
    Kieran nodded, his gaze fixed on the girl, who was now several yards away and picking up speed. "Call
off your men, Hugh."
    He knew Hugh was torn between the thrill of the chase and his loyalty to his only brother, who had
never asked him for anything until now. He held his breath, wondering why he cared. Why had he set
himself against his brother’s wishes for the sake of a girl he didn’t even know?
    "The Selkie belongs to Kieran," Hugh declared at last, with only the slightest hint of reluctance. "Let
them be, men. Head back to camp."
    Ignoring the angry rumble which followed his brother’s pronouncement, Kieran set out after the girl,
hampered a bit by the weight of his armor. His feet sank in the sand and he was disconcerted to realize she
was gaining on him. He’d never seen a lass so fleet of foot.
    Knowing he had to catch her before Arlo and Murtagh made it down to the beach, he poured all his
strength into an extra burst of speed. "It’s all right, lass. I won’t hurt you."
    She glanced over her shoulder, terror streaking across her face as she lost her footing. Crying out, she hit
the ground hard.
    He sank to his knees beside her, unfastening his cloak and draping it over her, shielding her beautiful
naked body from his far-too-interested gaze. “It’s all right. I don’t mean you any harm.”
    She drew his cloak tighter around her, scooting toward the water. “Please. Let me go.” Her voice was
oddly accented, shaking with fear.
    "Ah, lass. I wish I could." He raked a hand through his hair, his gaze riveted down the beach to where
Arlo and Murtagh rushed toward them. “Listen quickly. I won’t hurt you, but there are those in my party
who would. If you want to remain untouched, you need to stick beside me and do as I say."
    She glanced at Arlo and Murtagh, then met Kieran’s gaze for the first time. She gave a jerky nod,
apparently deciding he was the lesser of two evils. "I understand. Tell me what to do."
    "Do you have anything to wear in your satchel?"
    "Yes. I was changing when you . . . startled me."
    "Get dressed beneath my cloak," he instructed. "I’ll keep them at a distance."
    She cast a quick glance at the ocean, her thoughts plain as day on her lovely face.
    “Don’t try it. If you run again, they’ll chase you. I won’t be able to stop them.” Giving her one last,
warning glance, he strode away to intercept Arlo and Murtagh.
    Before he even reached them, he held out a restraining hand. “Go back to camp, lads. I’ve got everything
under control.”
    Arlo gave the girl a hungry glance. “Hugh promised we could all have a turn.”
    Kieran straightened, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet. “Hugh changed his mind. The lass
belongs to me.”
    Arlo looked as though he meant to protest further, but Murtagh elbowed him in the ribs. “Kieran’s in
need of a wife, Arlo. Let it go.” He met Kieran’s gaze. “Just the same, we’ll escort the two of you back to
camp. I’d hate to see that soft heart of yours get in the way of your common sense.”
    Kieran gave his old friend a slight smile, cursing the fact that Murtagh knew him so well. “Of course.
Lead the way.”
    By the time he reached the girl, she’d somehow managed to don an emerald gown and was staring out to
sea, her ebony hair blowing in the breeze, the surf licking at her elegant bare feet. For a moment Kieran
could almost believe she was otherworldly. He gripped the strange fabric a little tighter, as if by doing so he
could somehow keep her anchored to this realm.
    As he and his companions approached, she shot them a fearful glance, and then moved to Kieran’s side
with wary grace.
    “Have you no shoes, lass?” he asked, in the same tone he used to gentle his horse. “The trail is rocky.”
    “Shoes,” she murmured. “I forgot.” She knelt beside her satchel, and for the first time he noticed how odd
the bag was. Made of some shiny fabric similar to the suit she’d been wearing when she first came ashore, it
was covered with strange pockets and fastenings.
    Withdrawing a pair of finely made black shoes, she slipped them on and stood, covering them with her
skirts. He understood her furtiveness, because her shoes, like so much else about her, were unlike anything
he’d ever seen before.
    Frowning, he secured his cloak once more around her shoulders. There were so many things he wanted to
ask her, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to her than necessary. Hopefully, the rest of the men
would be too busy remembering what she’d looked like without her clothes to look too closely at the strange,
fine things she now wore.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    He gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re welcome. And I will keep you from harm. I swear it.”