The Selkie Read Online Free PDF

inhalation that followed.
    A second frown began to descend on his brow. His voice lost some of its charm. “It isnae here now, though. Where have ye taken it?”
    “I haven’t taken your fur anywhere. The only fur I touched last night was Jillian’s new sable coat and that— oh, dear!” Hexy closed her eyes. “That wasn’t Jillian’s coat, was it?”
    Rory shook his dark head, smiling that strange smile again when she cracked open an eye.
    “Nay, it wasnae. ’Twas mine. And I should be right angered about this, for I am here on urgent business and need my skin.”
    “But how was I to know? Yes, it felt strange—wonderful even,” she added plaintively as a huge sneeze began building in her. “But why would there be more than one fur coat abandoned on a private beach? No one would question that it was Jillian’s coat.”
    “This Jillian left her skin on the beach as well?” Rory asked, his posture finally relaxing. Then: “Lass, why are ye crying? I’m nae sae angry as to call forth yer tears. Just fetch my skin and I’ll be off until Beltane. I’ll come back and see ye then, if ye wish it.”
    “I am not crying.” Hexy reached into her shallow pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which she used to blot at her eyes and scrub some of the smudges away. “I am allergic to something outside, the cotton grass maybe. Or the yews. They are starting to leaf out now and dropping pollen everywhere. My eyes are like watering pots.”
    “Then shut up the door.” Rory’s long arm reached out, and with very little effort, he closed the heavy panel, cutting out the daylight and the irritating air. “Ye cry everytime ye step outside?”
    “Yes. I can’t help it.”
    Feeling silly about standing in the dark of the foyer, Hexy retreated into the main hall, gesturing for Rory to follow.
    “Look—”
    “At what?” Rory asked.
    “At nothing. That is simply an expression. It means pay attention.”
    “Ah! Well, ye’ve got my attention. Gae on with it. Where’s my fur now?”
    Hexy fought down her annoyance at the repeated question. It was somewhat easier to do now that her need to sneeze had subsided. “Rory, I am sorry that your coat got packed by mistake, but—”
    “My skin has been packed?” he interrupted. “Packed where?”
    “Yes. I’m afraid it is packed into Miss Foxworthy’s trunk and is on its way to Italy via Wales,” she said unhappily.
    “What?” The deep voice was almost a shout, the beautiful eyes as baleful as handsome eyes could be. The stranger leaned down until they were face to face. “My skin is where? How could ye let it gae? Did ye no sleep wi’ it?”
    “Don’t glare at me! It’s perfectly safe.” Hexy leaned forward until their noses all but touched. She did not for a moment consider admitting that she had slept with it wrapped about her, pretending it was a lover. It was too embarrassing. “You are the one who was trespassing on the beach. What were you thinking, leaving a fur coat out like that? How could you be so careless with anything that precious?”
    “Trespassing!” His breath washed over her. It wasn’t unpleasant, smelling as it did of the sea, but the intimacy was unnerving. “There’s a Sassenach word fer ye! As if any man can own the sea. That beach has been used by the People fer centuries—”
    “That may be so,” Hexy interrupted, stung at the accusation and also using a voice that was one step below a shout. “But this is Miss Foxworthy’s beach now, and you were trespassing.”
    “Foxworthy!” The name was repeated with scorn. “And where are the MacKenzies of Fintry?”
    The question brought Hexy up short and caused her to immediately abandon the impulse to either kiss or bite the nose in front of her.
    “Mr. MacKenzie,” she began, then said gently: “I am sorry if he was a friend of yours, but Mr. MacKenzie died late last year. He left Fintry to his new wife.”
    “Miss Foxworthy?”
    “Yes.”
    Rory clapped a hand to his head,