Burning Up

avid face.
    “It is too much,” Jack explained. “Nor can he spend it here. I will pay him for the boots.”
     
    S uch a fuss over a coin, Morwenna thought.
    The children of the sea flowed as the sea flowed, free from attachments or possessions. What they needed they retrieved from the deep, the gifts of the tide, and the shipwrecks of men.
    She regarded the tall, dark-haired human with the hard mouth and gentle, weary eyes, holding out the treasure from the sea. Her lover from yesterday. How amusing.
    How adorable.
    He had come to her rescue. Anyway, he thought he had, which was unexpectedly appealing.
    Her brother had been right. There was much she did not understand about human ways. She had blundered with the pearl, she acknowledged. Floundered with the gold.
    But she was right, too. She could make a place for herself among humankind if she chose.
    She smiled as she took the coin like a tribute from her lover’s hand.
    She had her own ways of getting what she wanted.
    She watched him confer with the shopkeeper; saw more coins exchange hands.
    “Thank you, Hobson,” the man said quietly.
    The shopkeeper bowed deeply, clutching the money. “Thank you , Major.”
    His name was Major, Morwenna noted as he came back to her. She really must make an effort to remember it this time.
    “Have you completed your errands?” the man—Major—asked.
    She had purchased bread and shoes. Surely that was enough to prove to Morgan that she could function perfectly well onshore.
    “Yes. Thank you,” she added, because he and the shopkeeper had both used the phrase and it seemed like the right thing to say.
    “Then may I escort you home?”
    He was so stiff, so considerate. Something about that strong, composed face, those warm, observant eyes, got her juices flowing.
    Her smile broadened. “You may.”
    “My horse must carry us both, I am afraid,” he said, a rueful expression in his eyes. “I could lead you, but my leg would undoubtedly give out on the walk over the bluffs.”
    She regarded the great gray animal standing placidly in front of the shop and felt almost breathless. He expected her to ride on that ? And the animal would allow it?
    This day was proving full of new experiences.
    “Your leg and my feet,” she said.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    She gestured toward her feet, already chafing in their laced leather boots.
    His face cleared in comprehension. “Your new shoes.”
    Her first shoes, she thought, wiggling her toes cautiously. They were very uncomfortable. Very human. She could not wait to show them to Morgan.
    Major mounted with surprising grace for a big man with a bad leg. He leaned down from the saddle. “Take my hand,” he instructed. “And put your foot on mine.”
    The horse flicked an ear at her approach.
    “I beg your pardon,” she told it and took the man’s hand.
    “Steady.” He tugged.
    She felt the pull in her shoulders and gasped, more disoriented than alarmed as he swung her up and over. Somehow he lifted and turned her so that both her legs were on one side of the horse and her buttocks pressed his thigh on the other.
    Morwenna had never been on horseback before. She clutched the man’s coat as the gray horse tossed its head. The ground seemed very far away.
    But his chest was hard and unbudging at her back. The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, enveloped her.
    “Comfortable?” his voice rumbled in her ear.
    She nodded, her fingers relaxing their grip on his sleeve. The muscles of his thighs shifted, and the horse stepped forward.
    She sat very still, absorbing a swarm of new sensations, most of them pleasant. He was so very close, touching her. Surrounding her.
    “Hobson tells me he has not seen you in the village before,” he remarked conversationally.
    Morwenna straightened her swaying seat. She must remember not to get too comfortable. Her lover was human and male, which made him tractable, but he was far from stupid.
    “No.”
    “So you are new to the area,” he said, still in that not-quite-questioning tone.
    She had no fixed territory. Unlike the selkie, who alternated between seal and human shape, the finfolk did not need to come ashore to rest. Their ability to take their chosen form in water gave them greater range and freedom than the other children of the sea. But their fluid nature made them even more susceptible to the ocean’s lure. Dazzled by life beneath the waves, they could forget their existence onshore, losing the will and finally