Showing posts with label paranormal romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal romance. Show all posts
Friday, May 25, 2012
Summer Reading Sale
In that other universe in which I teach English at an alternative high school...summer has arrived. In celebration of the fact that about 10 percent of the graduating class did so because I tutored them through their reading and writing exams during my planning period and after school, I'm putting my Guardian series on sale through the end of June.
The coupons are good on Smashwords. All you have to do is enter the coupon code prior to completing your checkout.
Book #1: The Guardian Michel was originally $0.99 -- with the coupon code PA46R -- you can get it for free through June 30, 2012.
Book #2: The Guardian Michael was originally $1.99 -- with the coupon code KE93L -- it is $0.99 through June 30, 2012.
Book #3: The Guardian Gabriel was originally $2.99 -- with the coupon code KX63P -- it is $1.99 through June 30, 2012.
The books are available in the e-book format of your choice at Smashwords.
Happy reading!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Ghosts? You Bet!
Ask my mother. She knows. The house where I spent most of my formative years was haunted. I don’t want to sound all woo-woo, but I believe there are some folks who are wired for the weird, and others who aren’t. My dad was in that latter category.
Parts of the house creeped me out for a long time before I even knew my mother had actually seen an apparition inside it. And that was really kind of strange because it wasn’t like it was an old house, something that just screamed haunted. We moved in when it was brand-spanking new.
The family room was at one end of the house at the end of a long hallway that extended almost to the opposite end. Sometimes, after my parents thought I was old enough, they’d leave me for the evening to visit friends down the street. My brothers, all older, would be off doing whatever, so it would be just me and the dog. Grinner liked to lie on the floor, positioned so she could see down the hall. Not me, not at night. Every now and then, she would lift her head with a jerk and just stare down that long, dark hallway.
“Stop it!” I’d whisper, huddled under a blanket on the couch and not really wanting to see if she actually did see something. The dog would give me that over the shoulder glance before she went back to glaring down the hallway. I peeked one night, and no lie, I saw something smoky and floating at the end of the hall. But did I say anything? Hell no. I still didn’t know Mom had actually seen someone sitting in a chair in our family room! Instead I cowered on the couch and hoped our ancient mutt would keep whatever away. She growled, but I was still more frightened of the teasing I’d get from my brothers than of whatever lurked at the end of the hall.
I was always relieved when my parents came home.
In addition to the long hallway, this house had a full basement. Early on, my parents had hired a guy laid off from the Ford Plant in Louisville to finish the basement. That was okay with me. I’d always been spooked by the wooden stairs where someone could reach through and grab my ankle. I figured once those stairs were closed in, like normal stairs should be, everything would be cool.
The problem was, even after the basement was finished, I still got spooked every time I had to go up or down those stairs. They might be carpeted and paneled and look like any other stairs, but I still ran up them like the hounds of hell were hot on my heels, and I never, ever went up or down unless the lights were on.
There was even a bedroom in the basement. My parents had added that so that every one of us kids could have our own room. My brother, Tom, lived there with his black lights, Jimi Hendrix and long hair. He was into a few other things as well, so when he told me he’d seen a pure white hand flash in front of his face one night when he fell asleep watching TV and then woke up, his credibility was just a bit suspect.
Nevertheless, it reinforced my basement phobia.
Most of the time I was okay if I was down there with someone else, or if I could stay on the far side of the basement near the fireplace and the sliding glass door. It was the stairs and the unfinished part of the basement that made my skin crawl.
I truly tried to get over it. I would force myself to go down there for things, make myself stay there, but every time, when it came time to go back up, I felt like someone hovered right behind me, breathing down my neck as I scrambled up the steps.
I have to admit, this went on into my teenage years…way into them. In fact, I believe it was about the time I was cleaning out my stuff in preparation for going away to college that the final incident happened. My mother was big into us periodically going through our junk and getting rid of what we no longer wanted.
There I sat, by myself, and old enough now to poo-poo that niggling shiver of unease, sorting old books, toys and games. By this time, I knew about the lady in the chair. I knew about the hand flashing in front of Tom’s face, but big deal—I was college ready with a year abroad already behind me. Sophisticated, intelligent, getting ready to take the journalistic world by storm.
Right.
That’s when I found the Ouija Board. Remember those things? Cue the dark creature feature type voice: “Use the pointer on the board to communicate with the other side.” Ooooohhhhhh! I’d gotten it for a birthday or Christmas or something years ago, played it a couple of times with my girlfriends down the street while we asked it stupid questions like, “Will I marry Johnny when I grow up?” then put it away and promptly forgot about it.
With a cynical chuckle, I pulled the board and the pointer out. Since no one but me would be operating it, I figured I could debunk the whole idea of someone else having pushed it. I wasn’t going to. I was simply going to rest my fingers lightly on both sides of the pointer as the instructions said. Sitting there cross-legged with the board in front of me and my fingertips just barely touching it, I inhaled and asked, “Is there anyone else down here with me?”
The damn thing moved. Not some little twitch to one side that could have been caused by a quiver in my finger. No. It jerked across the board to “yes.”
When I could finally make myself go back down to the basement again, I packed up the Ouija Board and gave it away. I have never touched one since then.
But I still wonder. Did the people who’ve lived in that house since we moved ever realize they weren’t really alone?
So, bottom line? As much of a realist as I like to believe I am, I absolutely do believe the souls of the departed are sometimes still walking among us. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Not only will it help me get rid of the shivers still turning my stomach as I recall those memories, it will enter you in a drawing for a copy of any one of my books that you choose as a pdf. I'll let the winner know on November 1st.
Hey, and while you’re at it? Check out this great Halloween blog hop!
Parts of the house creeped me out for a long time before I even knew my mother had actually seen an apparition inside it. And that was really kind of strange because it wasn’t like it was an old house, something that just screamed haunted. We moved in when it was brand-spanking new.
The family room was at one end of the house at the end of a long hallway that extended almost to the opposite end. Sometimes, after my parents thought I was old enough, they’d leave me for the evening to visit friends down the street. My brothers, all older, would be off doing whatever, so it would be just me and the dog. Grinner liked to lie on the floor, positioned so she could see down the hall. Not me, not at night. Every now and then, she would lift her head with a jerk and just stare down that long, dark hallway.
“Stop it!” I’d whisper, huddled under a blanket on the couch and not really wanting to see if she actually did see something. The dog would give me that over the shoulder glance before she went back to glaring down the hallway. I peeked one night, and no lie, I saw something smoky and floating at the end of the hall. But did I say anything? Hell no. I still didn’t know Mom had actually seen someone sitting in a chair in our family room! Instead I cowered on the couch and hoped our ancient mutt would keep whatever away. She growled, but I was still more frightened of the teasing I’d get from my brothers than of whatever lurked at the end of the hall.
I was always relieved when my parents came home.
In addition to the long hallway, this house had a full basement. Early on, my parents had hired a guy laid off from the Ford Plant in Louisville to finish the basement. That was okay with me. I’d always been spooked by the wooden stairs where someone could reach through and grab my ankle. I figured once those stairs were closed in, like normal stairs should be, everything would be cool.
The problem was, even after the basement was finished, I still got spooked every time I had to go up or down those stairs. They might be carpeted and paneled and look like any other stairs, but I still ran up them like the hounds of hell were hot on my heels, and I never, ever went up or down unless the lights were on.
There was even a bedroom in the basement. My parents had added that so that every one of us kids could have our own room. My brother, Tom, lived there with his black lights, Jimi Hendrix and long hair. He was into a few other things as well, so when he told me he’d seen a pure white hand flash in front of his face one night when he fell asleep watching TV and then woke up, his credibility was just a bit suspect.
Nevertheless, it reinforced my basement phobia.
Most of the time I was okay if I was down there with someone else, or if I could stay on the far side of the basement near the fireplace and the sliding glass door. It was the stairs and the unfinished part of the basement that made my skin crawl.
I truly tried to get over it. I would force myself to go down there for things, make myself stay there, but every time, when it came time to go back up, I felt like someone hovered right behind me, breathing down my neck as I scrambled up the steps.
I have to admit, this went on into my teenage years…way into them. In fact, I believe it was about the time I was cleaning out my stuff in preparation for going away to college that the final incident happened. My mother was big into us periodically going through our junk and getting rid of what we no longer wanted.
There I sat, by myself, and old enough now to poo-poo that niggling shiver of unease, sorting old books, toys and games. By this time, I knew about the lady in the chair. I knew about the hand flashing in front of Tom’s face, but big deal—I was college ready with a year abroad already behind me. Sophisticated, intelligent, getting ready to take the journalistic world by storm.
Right.
That’s when I found the Ouija Board. Remember those things? Cue the dark creature feature type voice: “Use the pointer on the board to communicate with the other side.” Ooooohhhhhh! I’d gotten it for a birthday or Christmas or something years ago, played it a couple of times with my girlfriends down the street while we asked it stupid questions like, “Will I marry Johnny when I grow up?” then put it away and promptly forgot about it.
With a cynical chuckle, I pulled the board and the pointer out. Since no one but me would be operating it, I figured I could debunk the whole idea of someone else having pushed it. I wasn’t going to. I was simply going to rest my fingers lightly on both sides of the pointer as the instructions said. Sitting there cross-legged with the board in front of me and my fingertips just barely touching it, I inhaled and asked, “Is there anyone else down here with me?”
The damn thing moved. Not some little twitch to one side that could have been caused by a quiver in my finger. No. It jerked across the board to “yes.”
When I could finally make myself go back down to the basement again, I packed up the Ouija Board and gave it away. I have never touched one since then.
But I still wonder. Did the people who’ve lived in that house since we moved ever realize they weren’t really alone?
So, bottom line? As much of a realist as I like to believe I am, I absolutely do believe the souls of the departed are sometimes still walking among us. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Not only will it help me get rid of the shivers still turning my stomach as I recall those memories, it will enter you in a drawing for a copy of any one of my books that you choose as a pdf. I'll let the winner know on November 1st.
Hey, and while you’re at it? Check out this great Halloween blog hop!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Guardian Michel: On Sale Now
Description: Lilly Evans has a past she's buried from everyone, including herself. From the moment she meets the mysterious Michel de Valois, memories she'd just as soon forget push their way from dream to reality. When she realizes he is a vampire, the horror of her past could pull them apart forever.
Michel recognizes Lilly as soon as he sees her. What he doesn't know is if she can accept the past they share and the vampire he has become. To regain her love and save her very life, he'll have to call on his brothers, The Guardians, for help. In the end, the choice is between Lilly's life and her love. .
Excerpt: Lilly picked up the big zoom lens, loving the weight and feel of it in her hands. There was power there, power to freeze time. Scanning the horizon, she zoomed in on a few gulls, winging, diving and standing still in the wind. She followed one to the surface of the water only to see it abruptly cut its dive short, and with a startled cry, wing up and away.
Something moved in the water several hundred feet offshore. Lilly zoomed in closer and could make out the indistinct form of arms and a head. A swimmer on a day like today? Was the person crazy? Or was someone truly in trouble? Lilly clicked. The swimmer drew closer, but on a path that would intersect the shore north of where she stood. So, not someone in trouble, simply someone who must have a death wish to be swimming with a storm headed in.
As she continued to click, she felt again the sensation of being watched. It was the same tingle she had felt first in Charlevoix and then again as she snapped pictures out in the woods that first day. The urge was overpowering; Lilly wanted to drop the camera and look around. She was being paranoid. She fought the feeling down, unwilling to lose her opportunity, her camera lens glued to the swimmer. As the light changed, she adjusted, and almost before it seemed possible, he rose from the pounding waves as if he were doing no more than emerging from a swimming pool. In surf that would make most adults stagger out of the water, he moved as gracefully as if he walked on dry land.
He shook sleek dark hair like a seal sloughing off water before he pushed it back from his forehead. His body rippled with muscles as if it had been sculpted. Lilly’s hands shook. A sense of familiarity overwhelmed her until she thought: Michelangelo’s David had come to life. Long-limbed and muscular, not an ounce of fat on him, nor a stitch of clothing for that matter, he moved with a grace that was catlike. She continued to click as if hypnotized, hands shaking and breath coming in gasps, and then as she concentrated on framing what she saw in the viewfinder, he turned and looked at her. His expression was unsmiling, not annoyed but searching, and Lilly had the odd feeling that he wasn’t just looking in her direction, he was looking at her.
Her breath stopped. She felt a shock again, almost like recognition, but that couldn’t be. She had never seen this man before in her life. She would have remembered. Oh, yes, she would have remembered this man.
Available now on Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Taking the Step into Indie Publishing
I've discovered there's a good side and a bad side to having spent years writing without actively seeking publication. I have, as my husband likes to call it, a veritable woodpile of manuscripts. It does mean I have plenty to choose from when it comes to sending things out to publishing houses--and that is a great problem to have.
The bad part is my woodpile is far from silent. I can't get those other manuscripts still waiting out of my head. And I can't get them out fast enough to silence their clamoring. I also realized while working with editors at two different publishing houses at the same time that trying to speed up that process would cost me my sanity. Don't get me wrong. The editors and the publishers are great. I've learned a lot, and they've improved the manuscripts I've given them, along with my own attention to detail. I will continue to send them manuscripts which I hope they will continue to publish, but I also wanted to try something on my own.
The Brotherhood of the Guardians series is that experiment. Call them the knights in shining armor of the vampire world, but these guys break a lot of rules when it comes to vampire mythology. So, if you're a Dracula-style vampire purist you won't be happy with me. However, as a writer, I've found there's only so much control I have over my characters. Please don't call the psych doctors, but it's a little like having people living inside your head. I just tell their stories. So welcome to the world of the vampire accountants. Okay, they're really financial advisors, but they have a real kick-ass side to them too.
In addition to Gabriel (whose story is book #3), there's Michel (pronounced me-shell), Michael, Mikhail, Miguel, Michaly and Mick. OMG--did I really put all those forms of Michael together?? Yes, all forms of the name Michael--one of the Guardian Angels--and the impetus for the series name.
Right now, my plans are focused only on ebooks with this series, but we'll see. In the meantime, I'm still shifting through the woodpile. Depending on how things go...well, who knows.
The bad part is my woodpile is far from silent. I can't get those other manuscripts still waiting out of my head. And I can't get them out fast enough to silence their clamoring. I also realized while working with editors at two different publishing houses at the same time that trying to speed up that process would cost me my sanity. Don't get me wrong. The editors and the publishers are great. I've learned a lot, and they've improved the manuscripts I've given them, along with my own attention to detail. I will continue to send them manuscripts which I hope they will continue to publish, but I also wanted to try something on my own.
The Brotherhood of the Guardians series is that experiment. Call them the knights in shining armor of the vampire world, but these guys break a lot of rules when it comes to vampire mythology. So, if you're a Dracula-style vampire purist you won't be happy with me. However, as a writer, I've found there's only so much control I have over my characters. Please don't call the psych doctors, but it's a little like having people living inside your head. I just tell their stories. So welcome to the world of the vampire accountants. Okay, they're really financial advisors, but they have a real kick-ass side to them too.
In addition to Gabriel (whose story is book #3), there's Michel (pronounced me-shell), Michael, Mikhail, Miguel, Michaly and Mick. OMG--did I really put all those forms of Michael together?? Yes, all forms of the name Michael--one of the Guardian Angels--and the impetus for the series name.
Right now, my plans are focused only on ebooks with this series, but we'll see. In the meantime, I'm still shifting through the woodpile. Depending on how things go...well, who knows.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Silkie Parents: Part 3
Catriona has escaped from Camlin, nephew of the Faerie King and the male determined to marry her...
Since his fight with his cousin, Faeran, earlier in the day, Carrick had lurked in the inlet, hoping for some sign of Catriona. A Faerie. He should have known, and it was why he and Faeran had fought. His cousin had seen what she had done that morning and known instantly what she was.
“So she’s a Faerie.” Carrick downplayed it. “What does that matter?”
“There is no love lost between Silkie and Faerie at the moment. You would do well to steer clear.”
When he refused they’d fought, but in the end both had conceded it was a draw.
Now, as dusk descended, Carrick wondered exactly why he still waited. He had seen no sign of her since that morning. He sat on the narrow beach and shoved a hand back through his hair. He knew why he was still there. She hadn’t wanted to leave that morning. The fear in her eyes when her servant mentioned the one named Camlin had shown him that.
Carrick remembered Camlin from his surreptitious visit the day before. Pale-haired and pale-eyed, there was still something dark beneath all that fair coloring, something that repelled Catriona as much as it stirred a fierce protectiveness inside him.
He stood up. This was ridiculous. He should return home, find some pleasure in a willing human female because God knew there were few enough Silkie maids to be had, but he couldn’t get Catriona off his mind.
He clenched his fingers. His hand remembered the feel of her breast against his palm, the subtle and somewhat shy invitation in her eyes. Even as his body hardened at the memory, his senses vibrated.
Someone called to him. It was different than anything he’d experienced before. Unlike the internal clamoring of a human, this call was infinitely quiet and sad, as soft as a whisper breathed on the wind, but no less compelling. Carrick stood. What manner of creature plucked so softly and insistently?
And so nearby?
He walked cautiously along the narrow beach, toward the point where inlet and ocean merged. As he rounded a slight curve in the coastline, he saw her huddled near an outcropping of rock, her long hair tangled.
“Catriona.”
She started, edging back into the shadows of the rocks. “Who? Who is it?”
“Carrick.”
She slumped. As her legs started to give way, he rushed forward to catch her against him. Dirt smeared her face and gown, and a tear marred the bodice.
“Please don’t let him find me,” she whispered.
Anger tightened his face, colored his voice. “The pale one? The one you call Camlin?” When she nodded, he continued, “What did he do to you? Did he touch you?”
“I got away, but he followed. I’ve been hiding.”
His body clamored for him to fulfill his calling, but there was more at work here. He was to make her happy, and at the moment, physical passion was not what she needed. Her skin felt chilled, and the hollow look in her eyes made him wonder if she’d been hiding since this morning.
“Shall I return you to your father?”
“No!” Her panic wrapped around him like a sea snake. “I can’t go back. If I put my father in a position where he must defend me, he’ll lose everything.”
Hysteria shone in her eyes. Carrick wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. “I’ll look after you, little fish. Will you trust me?”
She nodded. “I do. You’ve already saved my life once.”
“And I’ll take care of you now. I live on an island, so I cannot take you there until my boat arrives in the morning, but there is a cave not far from here. I’ve used it before when I have been here…fishing. It’s warm and dry. There are provisions there so I can give you food. Have you eaten today?”
“No. I came out to you before breakfast, and then…”
He set his arm around her waist. “Do not worry. In just a little while you will feel much better.”
****
Catriona didn’t doubt his word. She trusted him even though she knew nothing about him. He dressed like a beggar, but he was so well-spoken she knew deep in her heart there was far more to him than what she could see.
They reached an area where it was necessary to wade through shallow water, so he swung her easily into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. As she rested her hands on him, she realized how thick and heavily muscled he was across his shoulders and chest—a contrast to most of the Faerie males. Though she had heard rumors of fierce warrior Faeries to the north, she had never seen the ones called the Caellum.
“All right?”
She looked into his strong face with his snapping, dark eyes and beard-shadowed jaw. “If you do not live here, why were you still sitting along the beach?”
He stopped in front of a wide cave entrance right at sea level. “I was waiting for a sight of you.”
His response surprised her, and if she were truthful, frightened her just a little. “Why?”
He started down into the cave entrance. As they continued into what should have been total darkness, Catriona noticed that the water running along the cave’s floor glowed.
“Is this magic?”
Carrick laughed. “No. Purely nature. It lasts for a few hours after sunset, but it wears off. Still, it is a pleasant way to light our path.”
“I could walk, you know.”
“I know.”
But he didn’t set her down, and strangely, Catriona wanted nothing more than to rest her head against his shoulder and close her eyes. Before she could prevent it, she yawned.
“Is my company so boring?”
“Oh no! It is just…I am tired and hungry.”
He stopped to gaze down at her. The shimmering luminescence of the water cast an eerie light over them. “There is a thermal spring where we are going. The water is warm and soothing. I will leave you to bathe there while I gather firewood.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away hoping he would not see. She was never this fragile. Through the deaths of her mother and brother and even now through most of today’s ordeal, she had always been strong.
“Don’t cry. It was your tears just a while ago that called me to you. Now I am here, and I will only be happy if you shed no more of them.”
She smiled shakily at his fanciful words. She had wept only a little by the inlet, and she was certain she’d made no noise. She watched him wonderingly; his strong profile was even stronger than her father’s. She was overcome with the need to know more about him, but hesitant to probe his thoughts.
“Here we are, my beautiful Faerie. There are furs against the wall. The thermal spring is to your left. I’ll light a torch, then leave you to give you time to bathe.”
After he set her on her feet, she touched his arm. “Thank you.”
He smiled at her. “There is a trunk in the back as well. You’ll find a selection of clothing there. Help yourself.”
He lit a torch for her and placed it in a sconce high on the wall. She could see that while primitive, the cave had enough comforts for a night or two.
“Will you be all right?”
Carrick’s question startled her. She smiled a little shakily. “Yes. Thank you.”
He stroked her cheek with a lean, calloused finger. “You will be quite safe here. Bathe. It will soothe away the aches as well as the dirt.”
As the sound of him retreating toward the entrance of the cave faded, Catriona stripped off her torn and dirty gown. In the light from the torch, she saw the faint discoloration on her breasts and the darker bruises on her arms where Camlin had grabbed her. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. Her father would be so nervous, but she dared not try to communicate with him.
“Oh Papa,” she whispered softly. “I wish I could tell you I was all right, but it is so much better for you not to know. Why could I not have been a boy? Then there would be no question of Camlin and his unwanted attentions.”
As soon as she stepped into the thermal pool, Catriona sighed in relief and wonder. It was amazing, warm and just a little bubbly. She sank down on a ledge beneath the surface and simply soaked up the heat. She ducked beneath the surface, scrubbed her hair and her scalp, rubbed gently on the areas where she was scraped and bruised and then simply tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She would rest here for just a moment and enjoy the feelings of peace and security.
The sound of his return woke her, and she realized he deliberately made noise to warn her. In a flash, she scrambled from the water, scampered to the trunk and flung open the lid. To her relief, a large, finely-woven sheet rested on top. Wrapping herself in it was the best she could do before he reached her. Straightening with as much dignity as she could muster, she turned and smiled at him.
He grinned and arched one dark brow. “Fell asleep?”
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yes.”
He set down the wood he brought with him and walked in her direction. As he drew close enough to really see her, she could tell from the sudden darkening of his expression when he saw the marks on her arms and shoulders. Dark eyes shifted from the bruises to her face. “He hurt you.”
“I was able to get away. It could have been worse.”
Carrick’s brows drew together. “Any mark he left on you is one mark too many.”
His fingers whispered over the bruises, making her skin tingle in awareness. His gaze followed his fingers, the frown still pulling his brows together, but when he met her gaze again, his expression cleared, and heat filled his dark eyes.
“There is women’s clothing in the chest.” His voice was husky, and Catriona heard the reluctance in it. She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know that at the moment, he was totally and completely aware of her as a woman. And she couldn’t help but respond, her breasts tingling and her lips parting, ready for his touch, his kiss.
But it didn’t come.
He turned away, going to another trunk. After opening the lid, he brought out several tins. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she looked through the trunk to find something that would fit. Finally, she located a thin underdress and a heavier long-sleeved gown to go over it.
“I’m going to change,” she said softly. “If you wouldn’t mind, please keep your back to me.”
“Couldn’t you just use magic?”
“I’m afraid if I do, it would reveal my location.”
“Ah. I know little of Faerie ways, though we are related.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she let the underdress fall so that it covered her to mid-thigh. “Humans and Faeries?”
“No.”
When he said nothing else, she grabbed the gown and drew it around her, closing its loops and buttons and then using a belt to draw it tight around her waist.
When she finished, she draped the damp sheet over the lid of the trunk. “What do you mean no? No, you’re not human?”
Carrick stood. In the close surroundings of the cave, it finally occurred to her how tall and powerful he was.
“I have some dried fish, fruit and oat cakes. Will that be enough to satisfy your appetite? If not, I can catch some fish…”
“Carrick, are you human?”
He set his provisions on a smooth outcropping of stone.
“No.”
She cast around in her mind, trying to remember all of the folklore her father and mother had told her when she was young. While she knew there were many creatures who lived outside of both human and Faerie existence, she had encountered only a few. Those were the creatures who shared their habitat like the brownies who sometimes helped around the house. There were also the wood sprites, and it was them she knew she must thank for the help she received in escaping Camlin.
She thought again of always seeing him around the inlet. Was he a merman? Her father had mentioned there were such creatures. She thought of the seals. “You are a Silkie. Papa has told me of them. He says we were once closely unified, that we are both angels from heaven, only the Silkie landed in the sea when we came to earth.”
“What makes you think I am a Silkie?” His gaze was steady and curious.
“I have only seen you near the sea. And this morning. One minute you were there and when I turned away for just a second, you were gone. I feared something had happened to you because you didn’t surface anywhere, but you didn’t need to, did you?”
“I cannot stay below forever.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “Long enough.”
She bit her lip. “Why are you here now…with me?”
“Why don’t you eat, Catriona. We’ll talk after.”
She took the few steps it needed to reach him, picked up a dried fig and popped it in her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she looked at him challengingly. “All right. I have eaten. Why are you here with me?”
Irritation flitted across his handsome face, a faint flush following right on its heels, as if he were embarrassed. “I have watched you for a long time.”
“How long?”
He raked a hand through his thick hair. “Years. Since we were children.”
“And yet you never spoke to me.”
“I hoped you would call me, but you never did.”
“But you saved me.”
“I could do nothing else. And now it no longer matters.”
“Why? What has changed?”
“Everything. This evening as you sat by the inlet, Catriona, did you cry?”
She nodded, unsure of where this was going. “Just an instant.”
“The Silkie respond to the tears of certain others. Most often it is humans, but it appears it applies to Faeries as well.” His dark eyes watched her intently. “At least it does with you and me. You’ve called me, and now I must attend you.”
She wrapped her arms across her waist and looked away from him uneasily. “You make it sound like you’re my slave.”
“In a sense, I am. Do you have any idea what it truly means for us if you call to me?”
She shook her head.
“I am bound to you physically and emotionally to make you happy.”
“What do you mean physically?” She glanced at his broad shoulders and narrow hips. With a nervous need to do something, she picked up an oatcake and munched the corner of it.
“I must mate with you.”
When she choked on a piece of the coarse cake, he rapped her on the back. As soon as she could speak again, she questioned. “Right now?”
His dark eyes flared with heat. “If that’s what you wish.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I can wait.”
She lifted her chin. “You could force it. You’re bigger than I am.”
Anger darkened his features. “A Silkie who must force a female doesn’t deserve to keep his pelt. If you are not ready, not willing, then I must wait.”
It was strange, but though he admitted he intended to couple with her, she felt calmed. “Will you eat with me?”
“I must build a fire first. After what you’ve been through, I don’t want you to become chilled.”
He turned to his task, leaving her time to study him. His movements were quick and efficient as if he had done this many times. He squatted to place the wood in a fire pit, his long hair falling forward to hide his face. Catriona swallowed as her gaze ran over the smooth muscles of his back.
“Don’t you feel the cold?”
He glanced her way as he located a box of wooden matches. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”
She felt the heat in her cheeks. “You don’t seem to wear much in the way of clothing.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “Most Silkie wear only the minimum of clothing. It only gets in the way when we wish to transform.”
She thought of the few times she’d seen him. All he’d worn then were ragged pants. Now she wondered if they’d even been his. “What do you do if you have no clothing to put on?”
He rolled to his feet. As he did so, he brushed his ankle and suddenly was holding a sleek sealskin in his hand. Catriona gasped and he laughed.
“How did you do that?”
“The Faerie are not the only ones who possess magic. The Silkie have their own.”
“May I touch it?”
From the heat in his eyes, she suddenly got the feeling allowing her to touch his pelt meant a whole lot more than simply running her fingers over a hide like that of her horse.
“If you wish.” His tone was casual, but his body was tense. Catriona watched him carefully as she reached out and slid her fingers along the silky hide. When he shivered as if it was his own skin she touched, she snatched her hand back. Heat flooded from her toes to her cheeks. “It’s all right,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed. “I want you to know what I am.”
She swallowed. Once more she reached out and darted a quick look at him. “You feel my touch?”
He nodded, his gaze locked on her fingers where they hovered just above his pelt. “It feels amazing.”
More to come next Tuesday...
Since his fight with his cousin, Faeran, earlier in the day, Carrick had lurked in the inlet, hoping for some sign of Catriona. A Faerie. He should have known, and it was why he and Faeran had fought. His cousin had seen what she had done that morning and known instantly what she was.
“So she’s a Faerie.” Carrick downplayed it. “What does that matter?”
“There is no love lost between Silkie and Faerie at the moment. You would do well to steer clear.”
When he refused they’d fought, but in the end both had conceded it was a draw.
Now, as dusk descended, Carrick wondered exactly why he still waited. He had seen no sign of her since that morning. He sat on the narrow beach and shoved a hand back through his hair. He knew why he was still there. She hadn’t wanted to leave that morning. The fear in her eyes when her servant mentioned the one named Camlin had shown him that.
Carrick remembered Camlin from his surreptitious visit the day before. Pale-haired and pale-eyed, there was still something dark beneath all that fair coloring, something that repelled Catriona as much as it stirred a fierce protectiveness inside him.
He stood up. This was ridiculous. He should return home, find some pleasure in a willing human female because God knew there were few enough Silkie maids to be had, but he couldn’t get Catriona off his mind.
He clenched his fingers. His hand remembered the feel of her breast against his palm, the subtle and somewhat shy invitation in her eyes. Even as his body hardened at the memory, his senses vibrated.
Someone called to him. It was different than anything he’d experienced before. Unlike the internal clamoring of a human, this call was infinitely quiet and sad, as soft as a whisper breathed on the wind, but no less compelling. Carrick stood. What manner of creature plucked so softly and insistently?
And so nearby?
He walked cautiously along the narrow beach, toward the point where inlet and ocean merged. As he rounded a slight curve in the coastline, he saw her huddled near an outcropping of rock, her long hair tangled.
“Catriona.”
She started, edging back into the shadows of the rocks. “Who? Who is it?”
“Carrick.”
She slumped. As her legs started to give way, he rushed forward to catch her against him. Dirt smeared her face and gown, and a tear marred the bodice.
“Please don’t let him find me,” she whispered.
Anger tightened his face, colored his voice. “The pale one? The one you call Camlin?” When she nodded, he continued, “What did he do to you? Did he touch you?”
“I got away, but he followed. I’ve been hiding.”
His body clamored for him to fulfill his calling, but there was more at work here. He was to make her happy, and at the moment, physical passion was not what she needed. Her skin felt chilled, and the hollow look in her eyes made him wonder if she’d been hiding since this morning.
“Shall I return you to your father?”
“No!” Her panic wrapped around him like a sea snake. “I can’t go back. If I put my father in a position where he must defend me, he’ll lose everything.”
Hysteria shone in her eyes. Carrick wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. “I’ll look after you, little fish. Will you trust me?”
She nodded. “I do. You’ve already saved my life once.”
“And I’ll take care of you now. I live on an island, so I cannot take you there until my boat arrives in the morning, but there is a cave not far from here. I’ve used it before when I have been here…fishing. It’s warm and dry. There are provisions there so I can give you food. Have you eaten today?”
“No. I came out to you before breakfast, and then…”
He set his arm around her waist. “Do not worry. In just a little while you will feel much better.”
****
Catriona didn’t doubt his word. She trusted him even though she knew nothing about him. He dressed like a beggar, but he was so well-spoken she knew deep in her heart there was far more to him than what she could see.
They reached an area where it was necessary to wade through shallow water, so he swung her easily into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. As she rested her hands on him, she realized how thick and heavily muscled he was across his shoulders and chest—a contrast to most of the Faerie males. Though she had heard rumors of fierce warrior Faeries to the north, she had never seen the ones called the Caellum.
“All right?”
She looked into his strong face with his snapping, dark eyes and beard-shadowed jaw. “If you do not live here, why were you still sitting along the beach?”
He stopped in front of a wide cave entrance right at sea level. “I was waiting for a sight of you.”
His response surprised her, and if she were truthful, frightened her just a little. “Why?”
He started down into the cave entrance. As they continued into what should have been total darkness, Catriona noticed that the water running along the cave’s floor glowed.
“Is this magic?”
Carrick laughed. “No. Purely nature. It lasts for a few hours after sunset, but it wears off. Still, it is a pleasant way to light our path.”
“I could walk, you know.”
“I know.”
But he didn’t set her down, and strangely, Catriona wanted nothing more than to rest her head against his shoulder and close her eyes. Before she could prevent it, she yawned.
“Is my company so boring?”
“Oh no! It is just…I am tired and hungry.”
He stopped to gaze down at her. The shimmering luminescence of the water cast an eerie light over them. “There is a thermal spring where we are going. The water is warm and soothing. I will leave you to bathe there while I gather firewood.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away hoping he would not see. She was never this fragile. Through the deaths of her mother and brother and even now through most of today’s ordeal, she had always been strong.
“Don’t cry. It was your tears just a while ago that called me to you. Now I am here, and I will only be happy if you shed no more of them.”
She smiled shakily at his fanciful words. She had wept only a little by the inlet, and she was certain she’d made no noise. She watched him wonderingly; his strong profile was even stronger than her father’s. She was overcome with the need to know more about him, but hesitant to probe his thoughts.
“Here we are, my beautiful Faerie. There are furs against the wall. The thermal spring is to your left. I’ll light a torch, then leave you to give you time to bathe.”
After he set her on her feet, she touched his arm. “Thank you.”
He smiled at her. “There is a trunk in the back as well. You’ll find a selection of clothing there. Help yourself.”
He lit a torch for her and placed it in a sconce high on the wall. She could see that while primitive, the cave had enough comforts for a night or two.
“Will you be all right?”
Carrick’s question startled her. She smiled a little shakily. “Yes. Thank you.”
He stroked her cheek with a lean, calloused finger. “You will be quite safe here. Bathe. It will soothe away the aches as well as the dirt.”
As the sound of him retreating toward the entrance of the cave faded, Catriona stripped off her torn and dirty gown. In the light from the torch, she saw the faint discoloration on her breasts and the darker bruises on her arms where Camlin had grabbed her. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. Her father would be so nervous, but she dared not try to communicate with him.
“Oh Papa,” she whispered softly. “I wish I could tell you I was all right, but it is so much better for you not to know. Why could I not have been a boy? Then there would be no question of Camlin and his unwanted attentions.”
As soon as she stepped into the thermal pool, Catriona sighed in relief and wonder. It was amazing, warm and just a little bubbly. She sank down on a ledge beneath the surface and simply soaked up the heat. She ducked beneath the surface, scrubbed her hair and her scalp, rubbed gently on the areas where she was scraped and bruised and then simply tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She would rest here for just a moment and enjoy the feelings of peace and security.
The sound of his return woke her, and she realized he deliberately made noise to warn her. In a flash, she scrambled from the water, scampered to the trunk and flung open the lid. To her relief, a large, finely-woven sheet rested on top. Wrapping herself in it was the best she could do before he reached her. Straightening with as much dignity as she could muster, she turned and smiled at him.
He grinned and arched one dark brow. “Fell asleep?”
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yes.”
He set down the wood he brought with him and walked in her direction. As he drew close enough to really see her, she could tell from the sudden darkening of his expression when he saw the marks on her arms and shoulders. Dark eyes shifted from the bruises to her face. “He hurt you.”
“I was able to get away. It could have been worse.”
Carrick’s brows drew together. “Any mark he left on you is one mark too many.”
His fingers whispered over the bruises, making her skin tingle in awareness. His gaze followed his fingers, the frown still pulling his brows together, but when he met her gaze again, his expression cleared, and heat filled his dark eyes.
“There is women’s clothing in the chest.” His voice was husky, and Catriona heard the reluctance in it. She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know that at the moment, he was totally and completely aware of her as a woman. And she couldn’t help but respond, her breasts tingling and her lips parting, ready for his touch, his kiss.
But it didn’t come.
He turned away, going to another trunk. After opening the lid, he brought out several tins. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she looked through the trunk to find something that would fit. Finally, she located a thin underdress and a heavier long-sleeved gown to go over it.
“I’m going to change,” she said softly. “If you wouldn’t mind, please keep your back to me.”
“Couldn’t you just use magic?”
“I’m afraid if I do, it would reveal my location.”
“Ah. I know little of Faerie ways, though we are related.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she let the underdress fall so that it covered her to mid-thigh. “Humans and Faeries?”
“No.”
When he said nothing else, she grabbed the gown and drew it around her, closing its loops and buttons and then using a belt to draw it tight around her waist.
When she finished, she draped the damp sheet over the lid of the trunk. “What do you mean no? No, you’re not human?”
Carrick stood. In the close surroundings of the cave, it finally occurred to her how tall and powerful he was.
“I have some dried fish, fruit and oat cakes. Will that be enough to satisfy your appetite? If not, I can catch some fish…”
“Carrick, are you human?”
He set his provisions on a smooth outcropping of stone.
“No.”
She cast around in her mind, trying to remember all of the folklore her father and mother had told her when she was young. While she knew there were many creatures who lived outside of both human and Faerie existence, she had encountered only a few. Those were the creatures who shared their habitat like the brownies who sometimes helped around the house. There were also the wood sprites, and it was them she knew she must thank for the help she received in escaping Camlin.
She thought again of always seeing him around the inlet. Was he a merman? Her father had mentioned there were such creatures. She thought of the seals. “You are a Silkie. Papa has told me of them. He says we were once closely unified, that we are both angels from heaven, only the Silkie landed in the sea when we came to earth.”
“What makes you think I am a Silkie?” His gaze was steady and curious.
“I have only seen you near the sea. And this morning. One minute you were there and when I turned away for just a second, you were gone. I feared something had happened to you because you didn’t surface anywhere, but you didn’t need to, did you?”
“I cannot stay below forever.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “Long enough.”
She bit her lip. “Why are you here now…with me?”
“Why don’t you eat, Catriona. We’ll talk after.”
She took the few steps it needed to reach him, picked up a dried fig and popped it in her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she looked at him challengingly. “All right. I have eaten. Why are you here with me?”
Irritation flitted across his handsome face, a faint flush following right on its heels, as if he were embarrassed. “I have watched you for a long time.”
“How long?”
He raked a hand through his thick hair. “Years. Since we were children.”
“And yet you never spoke to me.”
“I hoped you would call me, but you never did.”
“But you saved me.”
“I could do nothing else. And now it no longer matters.”
“Why? What has changed?”
“Everything. This evening as you sat by the inlet, Catriona, did you cry?”
She nodded, unsure of where this was going. “Just an instant.”
“The Silkie respond to the tears of certain others. Most often it is humans, but it appears it applies to Faeries as well.” His dark eyes watched her intently. “At least it does with you and me. You’ve called me, and now I must attend you.”
She wrapped her arms across her waist and looked away from him uneasily. “You make it sound like you’re my slave.”
“In a sense, I am. Do you have any idea what it truly means for us if you call to me?”
She shook her head.
“I am bound to you physically and emotionally to make you happy.”
“What do you mean physically?” She glanced at his broad shoulders and narrow hips. With a nervous need to do something, she picked up an oatcake and munched the corner of it.
“I must mate with you.”
When she choked on a piece of the coarse cake, he rapped her on the back. As soon as she could speak again, she questioned. “Right now?”
His dark eyes flared with heat. “If that’s what you wish.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I can wait.”
She lifted her chin. “You could force it. You’re bigger than I am.”
Anger darkened his features. “A Silkie who must force a female doesn’t deserve to keep his pelt. If you are not ready, not willing, then I must wait.”
It was strange, but though he admitted he intended to couple with her, she felt calmed. “Will you eat with me?”
“I must build a fire first. After what you’ve been through, I don’t want you to become chilled.”
He turned to his task, leaving her time to study him. His movements were quick and efficient as if he had done this many times. He squatted to place the wood in a fire pit, his long hair falling forward to hide his face. Catriona swallowed as her gaze ran over the smooth muscles of his back.
“Don’t you feel the cold?”
He glanced her way as he located a box of wooden matches. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”
She felt the heat in her cheeks. “You don’t seem to wear much in the way of clothing.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “Most Silkie wear only the minimum of clothing. It only gets in the way when we wish to transform.”
She thought of the few times she’d seen him. All he’d worn then were ragged pants. Now she wondered if they’d even been his. “What do you do if you have no clothing to put on?”
He rolled to his feet. As he did so, he brushed his ankle and suddenly was holding a sleek sealskin in his hand. Catriona gasped and he laughed.
“How did you do that?”
“The Faerie are not the only ones who possess magic. The Silkie have their own.”
“May I touch it?”
From the heat in his eyes, she suddenly got the feeling allowing her to touch his pelt meant a whole lot more than simply running her fingers over a hide like that of her horse.
“If you wish.” His tone was casual, but his body was tense. Catriona watched him carefully as she reached out and slid her fingers along the silky hide. When he shivered as if it was his own skin she touched, she snatched her hand back. Heat flooded from her toes to her cheeks. “It’s all right,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed. “I want you to know what I am.”
She swallowed. Once more she reached out and darted a quick look at him. “You feel my touch?”
He nodded, his gaze locked on her fingers where they hovered just above his pelt. “It feels amazing.”
More to come next Tuesday...
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Meet the Silkie Parents: A Free Read of their story
“Lady Catriona! Come away from the edge of the sea.”
“In a moment. Oh but look at all the seals.” Catriona clapped her hands, laughing as one seal separated itself from the others, shooting along in the clear water of the inlet. The sleek creature leaped and dived almost as if it were showing off.
“My lady, I must insist. Your father is expecting you there when the guests arrive.”
Catriona looked at her long-time companion. “We will go in just a moment Fiona. I know I must, but I can’t help that I have no wish to be tied to the king’s nephew. He is old and I don’t trust him.”
Fiona looked alarmed, her pale green eyes darting nervously as if she expected Catriona would be overheard. “My lady, you must be careful.”
“Have we really sunk that low, Fiona?”
Catriona gazed at the inlet once more, searching for the seal who had played there a moment before, but it was no longer visible. She sighed and started to turn back, but a figure sitting on a rock across the other side of the inlet caught her eye. Cat glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that Fiona was still gazing worriedly back along the path, so she returned to watching the figure on the rock.
Not a seal, but a man. She stepped nearer the edge. He was beautiful. Long dark hair lifted on the breeze. She blushed as she realized his chest was bare, and then her gaze ate him up from his sun-bronzed skin to the sleek muscles. Cat swallowed, glancing once more over her shoulder to see Fiona idly picking wildflowers. Catriona spun back to the see, but her foot slipped. Arms windmilling, she tried desperately to regain her balance. Even as she cried out, she tumbled over the edge of the steep bank and down into the water. Oh blessed mother. She did not even know how to swim.
The water was shockingly cold, so cold she gasped and then began coughing as she thrashed. Panic swirled as the dark water bubbled and foamed around her. Oh please. She did not want to die. She might not want to marry the king’s nephew, but she didn’t want to die to escape her fate. The heavy material of her dress weighed her down, wrapping around her legs and making it impossible for her to push to the surface.
In the distance, she heard screaming, but as she sank below the surface of the water, the sound became muted and distorted. Panic faded as the certainty of death grew. As one replaced the other, Catriona experienced an odd peace. She even imagined seeing the most beautiful man.
Strong arms pulled at her, dragging her by her hair until her face broke the surface. Someone held tightly to her, towing her through the water and then onto a narrow bank along the inlet from where she had stumbled. She felt so sick. Catriona coughed, trying to free her lungs and stomach of the water she’d swallowed. Again, firm hands rolled her to her side and she heaved up the sea water in her belly.
“Come, little fish, you will survive.” The voice was deep and melodious, a soothing song to her ears.
“Die. I am going to die.”
“No, no. Not this day. Soggy you will be, but dead? Not while I breathe.”
She lay still, even her shivering ceased at the certainty she heard in his voice. Catriona looked at her rescuer. It was the man from the rock. How had he reached her so quickly? His eyes were dark, nearly black, and thickly lashed. Looking into them, she felt almost as if she drowned yet again. But this time she would do so willingly. His gaze was intense and it made her look away, her face flushing in embarrassment. She had seen other Faerie males, but they didn’t look like this man. Their hair was lighter, as were their eyes. He was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
“Who are you?” Her voice sounded like a croak to her own ears.
“Carrick.”
It was a hard name, like rocks. It was also not a Faerie name. Where was he from? She started to ask him when Fiona’s frantic voice called, “My lady! Oh my lady! I thought you were dead. Are you all right? You must come. We must go!”
“Must you really?” her rescuer protested “Can you not stay awhile? I could teach you to swim. ‘Tis dangerous to be so close to the water and not be able to swim.”
Learn to swim? She had always wanted to, but few Faeries knew how and seldom if ever went into the ocean. She looked at Carrick again, imagining his hands holding her, guiding her as he taught her. Oh, but she would love that. She snuck another peek at him. He was even handsomer at close range than he had been across the width of the inlet.
“Lady! We must go. Your father!”
She sat up. Carrick held his hand out to her, and then helped her to her feet.
“Your name,” he whispered as she stood. “What is your name?”
Cat glanced to where Fiona hovered nervously several feet away. “Catriona. I will come tomorrow morning, just after sunrise.”
He smiled, white teeth flashing against the sunlight.
As she and her companion hurried along the path back to her father’s dwelling, Fiona kept up a nonstop stream of worried thoughts. “Your father will have our heads. He will turn us into toadstools.”
“Nonsense,” Catriona laughed. “Wait, Fiona. I cannot show up looking as I do. Stop here in the glade. I need just a moment.”
As soon as her companion came to a halt, Catriona flicked her sodden curls back over her shoulders, adjusted her wet skirts and took a deep breath. “Father sun both warm and high, restore my person clean and dry.”
Fiona laughed. “You do that with such ease, Lady, I envy you.”
Catriona fluffed out her now dry skirts then ran a hand over her soft, curling hair. “You have no idea, Fiona. Do not envy me. I fear what I go to face is more than I can bear.”
****
Carrick wanted to follow her. After watching her for weeks always in his seal form, he had risked showing himself. When she lost her balance and plummeted from the high bank, he thought his heart would stop. He dove in, remaining as a human instead of shifting. He couldn’t risk the other woman seeing the change. He’d very nearly regretted that decision when he found her and realized how close she was to giving in to the sea.
Why would she not know how to swim? He had encountered many humans, and those who lived near the sea all swam almost as well as the Silkie in human form. Why not this girl?
Catriona. It was a beautiful name, and the other woman had called her lady. Was she some sort of noble? Did he dare approach her? Carrick’s heart thudded. She stirred something in him he’d never felt before, but she had not called him, and he knew his destiny would be with another Silkie. Though Silkie women were not easy to come by, his standing would assure him a mate. Still…
He thought of her hair, as red as the coral in the southern seas and her eyes, as green as the moss that waved from the rocks along the northern shores. No, she was very definitely not one of the Silkie, but if she called to him, he would be free to take her. He looked along the path where she’d disappeared then back to the ocean. He had nowhere he had to be. There were no prohibitions against him watching a non-Silkie. He looked down at his attire. A pair of human pants that he had found and kept hidden nearby. No shoes, no shirt. Well, he would just have to remain hidden.
****
Catriona stepped onto the veranda of her father’s home. Nestled into the edge of the forest, it blended so well with its surroundings that it was sometimes easy to miss if you were anything other than Faerie. It had always been a place of refuge, a place of comfort and security. She had lived here all of her life with only her father and her companion. An accident had taken her mother away when Cat was just a baby.
As she moved toward her father and the slender man standing near him, Catriona lowered her eyes to help cloak her thoughts. It would do no one any good if Camlin sensed her reluctance was more than just shyness.
“Catriona,” her father called with obvious relief. She was sure he knew of her hesitation and had probably worried she would disappear, but she dared not. She had heard rumors of what happened to some families when they would not bend to the will of the king and his family. “Come greet our guest.”
Still keeping her gaze lowered so as not to meet Lord Camlin’s eyes, she curtsied and held out her hand. “My lord.”
He brought it to his lips, and the wet, sloppy feeling of his mouth against her skin nearly made her snatch her hand back in revulsion. Instead, she smiled and let her gaze skate away as if overcome with shyness.
His laughter jangled her nerves.
“Such demureness.” Camlin’s voice oozed like oil. “Your daughter is a credit to you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” her father responded. “Come, join us for supper.”
Catriona smiled at all the right places, accepted their guest filling her plate for her, but all the while she cringed inside. How soon could she get away? It couldn’t be soon enough. Camlin made her skin crawl, and she had heard from more than one source that his surface cordiality cloaked innate cruelty.
Fiona had joined them as well for the meal, but as always, she remained so much in the background, she could just as well have been one of the wall sconces. By the time Catriona felt she could sneak away, her face hurt from trying to keep her expression under such rigid control.
All she could think about as she ran on whisper light feet to her chamber at the far end of the house was meeting Carrick at the inlet early in the morning.
****
Carrick loved the summer months. Rather than staying aboard the ship he’d inherited from his father, he chose to spend as much time as possible in seal form. What time he did spend as a human was most often in isolated areas, or coming ashore to answer the call of a human female. Though young, he understood the drive among his kind. They were motivated to give sexual pleasure, but it seemed more and more that Silkie males now sought mates among the humans.
He told himself that wasn’t what he was after. He had reminded himself of that as he watched Catriona smile at another man the previous evening. Yet her smile had looked so different than the one she had flashed at him before spinning away earlier.
Carrick had been fascinated by where she lived too. It was unlike any human settlement he had ever seen. An odd feeling of peace permeated the area around her home, both in the forest and the field. And the people looked different too. Not only were they fairer of hair and eye than what he knew, there was such an unhurried air about everything, as if they had all the time in the world.
He wondered about that now as he morphed from seal to man and strode from the ocean. Moving quickly in the gray of early dawn, he located the cut off trousers he had lifted from a human’s laundry line. He had seen men before, clad in swim attire that seemed ludicrous to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to wear anything so humorous. Were it not for fear of offending Catriona, he would simply have dispensed with any clothing at all.
A sound as soft as the brush of water against the shore made him lift his gaze to the top of the steep bank. She picked her way delicately down from the top. Nervousness made him motionless for a moment. Her gown flowed around her, lifting lightly in the barely discernible breeze.
He wanted to hold her, to gather her close and simply press her against the length of him.
“Good morning.” Her voice was soft, little more than a whisper of sound, and still it tingled along his nerve endings.
Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers along the satin sleeve of her gown. “Surely you don’t mean to go into the water in this. It would ruin it.”
She laughed. “I could fix it, but no. I—I have something else beneath.”
He smiled. She was more approachable this morning than she had looked with the other man yesterday. “May I help?”
The glance she gave him held some shyness, but also a laughing flirtatiousness that aroused need like he’d never experienced. Carrick wasn’t used to exercising control. Normally when he was this close to a female, it was because she had called to him. She was ready and wanting, already willing to accept him sexually.
This was a new game.
Her fingers slipped to the belt of her silk covering and he realized it was styled like a robe. As he watched her slender fingers loosen it, his breathing increased. “Let me.”
His voice was no more than a growl. He slipped the robe from her shoulders and folded it, laying it on a rock where the water wouldn’t reach it.
Carrick cleared his throat. “Do you…can you swim at all?”
“No. My father did not wish me to come to the sea. We have pools where I live, but they are not deep.”
He held his hand out. “Come. I’ll hold onto you while you become accustomed to the water. It will be cooler than what you’re used to, but the salt water also makes it easier for you to float.”
He was amazed how easily she placed her trust in him, even holding onto him while he swam with her riding on his back. When he saw her wide-eyed pleasure, Carrick laughed.
She went instantly still, and the shyness once more had her gaze shifting away from him. Unable to resist any longer, Carrick dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers.
“Catriona.”
Her arms slipped up over his chest and circled the back of his neck. Sensation exploded through him, arousing him to such a degree he feared he would frighten her. But when he started to back away, she whimpered and clutched more tightly against him.
“Don’t. You want more. I see it.” She pulled his hand down to touch the wet material clinging to the mound of her breasts.
“Cat…” The feel of her cupped in the palm of his hand made his throat go dry; he couldn’t tear his gaze from the darker pink of her nipple visible through the thin, wet material.
The sound of someone above them made him still. With a low growl he shifted his gaze up to see the young woman who’d been with her yesterday.
“You have company.”
Releasing his hand, she tilted her head back. “Fiona. What are you doing here?”
“Lord Camlin. He’s coming!”
Now his growl resonated, and as he turned back to Catriona, he saw her eyes widen with wariness.
“What are you?” Her whisper trembled in the air between them. Even though neither of them had moved, he felt the gap between them widen.
A fluttering at the edge of his own mind set off warning bells for him as well. Eyes narrowing, he dropped his hand and stepped back. “What am I? Perhaps I should ask that same question.”
“Lady! He will be here any moment.”
She muttered words in a language that sounded strangely like the old tongue, yet different, and in an instant her clothing and hair were as dry and clean as when she’d first arrived.
“You’re a Faerie.”
The gaze she turned to him for one more instant was now shuttered and sad. “Goodbye, Carrick of the sea.”
“Don’t!” he protested. “Don’t go to him. You don’t even like him.”
“I have no choice.”
She looked for her gown. With a snarl of frustration, Carrick stripped the pants from his body and leaped back into the sea. With a touch to the leather strip around his neck, he morphed back into a seal and dove, anger driving him deep into the inlet.
(more to come...)
“In a moment. Oh but look at all the seals.” Catriona clapped her hands, laughing as one seal separated itself from the others, shooting along in the clear water of the inlet. The sleek creature leaped and dived almost as if it were showing off.
“My lady, I must insist. Your father is expecting you there when the guests arrive.”
Catriona looked at her long-time companion. “We will go in just a moment Fiona. I know I must, but I can’t help that I have no wish to be tied to the king’s nephew. He is old and I don’t trust him.”
Fiona looked alarmed, her pale green eyes darting nervously as if she expected Catriona would be overheard. “My lady, you must be careful.”
“Have we really sunk that low, Fiona?”
Catriona gazed at the inlet once more, searching for the seal who had played there a moment before, but it was no longer visible. She sighed and started to turn back, but a figure sitting on a rock across the other side of the inlet caught her eye. Cat glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that Fiona was still gazing worriedly back along the path, so she returned to watching the figure on the rock.
Not a seal, but a man. She stepped nearer the edge. He was beautiful. Long dark hair lifted on the breeze. She blushed as she realized his chest was bare, and then her gaze ate him up from his sun-bronzed skin to the sleek muscles. Cat swallowed, glancing once more over her shoulder to see Fiona idly picking wildflowers. Catriona spun back to the see, but her foot slipped. Arms windmilling, she tried desperately to regain her balance. Even as she cried out, she tumbled over the edge of the steep bank and down into the water. Oh blessed mother. She did not even know how to swim.
The water was shockingly cold, so cold she gasped and then began coughing as she thrashed. Panic swirled as the dark water bubbled and foamed around her. Oh please. She did not want to die. She might not want to marry the king’s nephew, but she didn’t want to die to escape her fate. The heavy material of her dress weighed her down, wrapping around her legs and making it impossible for her to push to the surface.
In the distance, she heard screaming, but as she sank below the surface of the water, the sound became muted and distorted. Panic faded as the certainty of death grew. As one replaced the other, Catriona experienced an odd peace. She even imagined seeing the most beautiful man.
Strong arms pulled at her, dragging her by her hair until her face broke the surface. Someone held tightly to her, towing her through the water and then onto a narrow bank along the inlet from where she had stumbled. She felt so sick. Catriona coughed, trying to free her lungs and stomach of the water she’d swallowed. Again, firm hands rolled her to her side and she heaved up the sea water in her belly.
“Come, little fish, you will survive.” The voice was deep and melodious, a soothing song to her ears.
“Die. I am going to die.”
“No, no. Not this day. Soggy you will be, but dead? Not while I breathe.”
She lay still, even her shivering ceased at the certainty she heard in his voice. Catriona looked at her rescuer. It was the man from the rock. How had he reached her so quickly? His eyes were dark, nearly black, and thickly lashed. Looking into them, she felt almost as if she drowned yet again. But this time she would do so willingly. His gaze was intense and it made her look away, her face flushing in embarrassment. She had seen other Faerie males, but they didn’t look like this man. Their hair was lighter, as were their eyes. He was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
“Who are you?” Her voice sounded like a croak to her own ears.
“Carrick.”
It was a hard name, like rocks. It was also not a Faerie name. Where was he from? She started to ask him when Fiona’s frantic voice called, “My lady! Oh my lady! I thought you were dead. Are you all right? You must come. We must go!”
“Must you really?” her rescuer protested “Can you not stay awhile? I could teach you to swim. ‘Tis dangerous to be so close to the water and not be able to swim.”
Learn to swim? She had always wanted to, but few Faeries knew how and seldom if ever went into the ocean. She looked at Carrick again, imagining his hands holding her, guiding her as he taught her. Oh, but she would love that. She snuck another peek at him. He was even handsomer at close range than he had been across the width of the inlet.
“Lady! We must go. Your father!”
She sat up. Carrick held his hand out to her, and then helped her to her feet.
“Your name,” he whispered as she stood. “What is your name?”
Cat glanced to where Fiona hovered nervously several feet away. “Catriona. I will come tomorrow morning, just after sunrise.”
He smiled, white teeth flashing against the sunlight.
As she and her companion hurried along the path back to her father’s dwelling, Fiona kept up a nonstop stream of worried thoughts. “Your father will have our heads. He will turn us into toadstools.”
“Nonsense,” Catriona laughed. “Wait, Fiona. I cannot show up looking as I do. Stop here in the glade. I need just a moment.”
As soon as her companion came to a halt, Catriona flicked her sodden curls back over her shoulders, adjusted her wet skirts and took a deep breath. “Father sun both warm and high, restore my person clean and dry.”
Fiona laughed. “You do that with such ease, Lady, I envy you.”
Catriona fluffed out her now dry skirts then ran a hand over her soft, curling hair. “You have no idea, Fiona. Do not envy me. I fear what I go to face is more than I can bear.”
****
Carrick wanted to follow her. After watching her for weeks always in his seal form, he had risked showing himself. When she lost her balance and plummeted from the high bank, he thought his heart would stop. He dove in, remaining as a human instead of shifting. He couldn’t risk the other woman seeing the change. He’d very nearly regretted that decision when he found her and realized how close she was to giving in to the sea.
Why would she not know how to swim? He had encountered many humans, and those who lived near the sea all swam almost as well as the Silkie in human form. Why not this girl?
Catriona. It was a beautiful name, and the other woman had called her lady. Was she some sort of noble? Did he dare approach her? Carrick’s heart thudded. She stirred something in him he’d never felt before, but she had not called him, and he knew his destiny would be with another Silkie. Though Silkie women were not easy to come by, his standing would assure him a mate. Still…
He thought of her hair, as red as the coral in the southern seas and her eyes, as green as the moss that waved from the rocks along the northern shores. No, she was very definitely not one of the Silkie, but if she called to him, he would be free to take her. He looked along the path where she’d disappeared then back to the ocean. He had nowhere he had to be. There were no prohibitions against him watching a non-Silkie. He looked down at his attire. A pair of human pants that he had found and kept hidden nearby. No shoes, no shirt. Well, he would just have to remain hidden.
****
Catriona stepped onto the veranda of her father’s home. Nestled into the edge of the forest, it blended so well with its surroundings that it was sometimes easy to miss if you were anything other than Faerie. It had always been a place of refuge, a place of comfort and security. She had lived here all of her life with only her father and her companion. An accident had taken her mother away when Cat was just a baby.
As she moved toward her father and the slender man standing near him, Catriona lowered her eyes to help cloak her thoughts. It would do no one any good if Camlin sensed her reluctance was more than just shyness.
“Catriona,” her father called with obvious relief. She was sure he knew of her hesitation and had probably worried she would disappear, but she dared not. She had heard rumors of what happened to some families when they would not bend to the will of the king and his family. “Come greet our guest.”
Still keeping her gaze lowered so as not to meet Lord Camlin’s eyes, she curtsied and held out her hand. “My lord.”
He brought it to his lips, and the wet, sloppy feeling of his mouth against her skin nearly made her snatch her hand back in revulsion. Instead, she smiled and let her gaze skate away as if overcome with shyness.
His laughter jangled her nerves.
“Such demureness.” Camlin’s voice oozed like oil. “Your daughter is a credit to you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” her father responded. “Come, join us for supper.”
Catriona smiled at all the right places, accepted their guest filling her plate for her, but all the while she cringed inside. How soon could she get away? It couldn’t be soon enough. Camlin made her skin crawl, and she had heard from more than one source that his surface cordiality cloaked innate cruelty.
Fiona had joined them as well for the meal, but as always, she remained so much in the background, she could just as well have been one of the wall sconces. By the time Catriona felt she could sneak away, her face hurt from trying to keep her expression under such rigid control.
All she could think about as she ran on whisper light feet to her chamber at the far end of the house was meeting Carrick at the inlet early in the morning.
****
Carrick loved the summer months. Rather than staying aboard the ship he’d inherited from his father, he chose to spend as much time as possible in seal form. What time he did spend as a human was most often in isolated areas, or coming ashore to answer the call of a human female. Though young, he understood the drive among his kind. They were motivated to give sexual pleasure, but it seemed more and more that Silkie males now sought mates among the humans.
He told himself that wasn’t what he was after. He had reminded himself of that as he watched Catriona smile at another man the previous evening. Yet her smile had looked so different than the one she had flashed at him before spinning away earlier.
Carrick had been fascinated by where she lived too. It was unlike any human settlement he had ever seen. An odd feeling of peace permeated the area around her home, both in the forest and the field. And the people looked different too. Not only were they fairer of hair and eye than what he knew, there was such an unhurried air about everything, as if they had all the time in the world.
He wondered about that now as he morphed from seal to man and strode from the ocean. Moving quickly in the gray of early dawn, he located the cut off trousers he had lifted from a human’s laundry line. He had seen men before, clad in swim attire that seemed ludicrous to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to wear anything so humorous. Were it not for fear of offending Catriona, he would simply have dispensed with any clothing at all.
A sound as soft as the brush of water against the shore made him lift his gaze to the top of the steep bank. She picked her way delicately down from the top. Nervousness made him motionless for a moment. Her gown flowed around her, lifting lightly in the barely discernible breeze.
He wanted to hold her, to gather her close and simply press her against the length of him.
“Good morning.” Her voice was soft, little more than a whisper of sound, and still it tingled along his nerve endings.
Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers along the satin sleeve of her gown. “Surely you don’t mean to go into the water in this. It would ruin it.”
She laughed. “I could fix it, but no. I—I have something else beneath.”
He smiled. She was more approachable this morning than she had looked with the other man yesterday. “May I help?”
The glance she gave him held some shyness, but also a laughing flirtatiousness that aroused need like he’d never experienced. Carrick wasn’t used to exercising control. Normally when he was this close to a female, it was because she had called to him. She was ready and wanting, already willing to accept him sexually.
This was a new game.
Her fingers slipped to the belt of her silk covering and he realized it was styled like a robe. As he watched her slender fingers loosen it, his breathing increased. “Let me.”
His voice was no more than a growl. He slipped the robe from her shoulders and folded it, laying it on a rock where the water wouldn’t reach it.
Carrick cleared his throat. “Do you…can you swim at all?”
“No. My father did not wish me to come to the sea. We have pools where I live, but they are not deep.”
He held his hand out. “Come. I’ll hold onto you while you become accustomed to the water. It will be cooler than what you’re used to, but the salt water also makes it easier for you to float.”
He was amazed how easily she placed her trust in him, even holding onto him while he swam with her riding on his back. When he saw her wide-eyed pleasure, Carrick laughed.
She went instantly still, and the shyness once more had her gaze shifting away from him. Unable to resist any longer, Carrick dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers.
“Catriona.”
Her arms slipped up over his chest and circled the back of his neck. Sensation exploded through him, arousing him to such a degree he feared he would frighten her. But when he started to back away, she whimpered and clutched more tightly against him.
“Don’t. You want more. I see it.” She pulled his hand down to touch the wet material clinging to the mound of her breasts.
“Cat…” The feel of her cupped in the palm of his hand made his throat go dry; he couldn’t tear his gaze from the darker pink of her nipple visible through the thin, wet material.
The sound of someone above them made him still. With a low growl he shifted his gaze up to see the young woman who’d been with her yesterday.
“You have company.”
Releasing his hand, she tilted her head back. “Fiona. What are you doing here?”
“Lord Camlin. He’s coming!”
Now his growl resonated, and as he turned back to Catriona, he saw her eyes widen with wariness.
“What are you?” Her whisper trembled in the air between them. Even though neither of them had moved, he felt the gap between them widen.
A fluttering at the edge of his own mind set off warning bells for him as well. Eyes narrowing, he dropped his hand and stepped back. “What am I? Perhaps I should ask that same question.”
“Lady! He will be here any moment.”
She muttered words in a language that sounded strangely like the old tongue, yet different, and in an instant her clothing and hair were as dry and clean as when she’d first arrived.
“You’re a Faerie.”
The gaze she turned to him for one more instant was now shuttered and sad. “Goodbye, Carrick of the sea.”
“Don’t!” he protested. “Don’t go to him. You don’t even like him.”
“I have no choice.”
She looked for her gown. With a snarl of frustration, Carrick stripped the pants from his body and leaped back into the sea. With a touch to the leather strip around his neck, he morphed back into a seal and dove, anger driving him deep into the inlet.
(more to come...)
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Contest Today!
It's May Day. The weather here is beautiful, and I'm in the mood to give something away. So...check out my author fan page on Facebook: Laura Browning Author -- click to "like" the page, and I'll put your name into a drawing for a free copy of my book, The Silkie's Call.
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