Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

to her? For her? Under the covers—some kind of fur thing, heavy and warm—she was nearly naked.
    She watched his hands in the near dark. A match scraped and flared. Warm, yellow, honest light replaced the eerie blue glow. Stupid to feel cheered by a lamp under the circumstances. But the familiar light comforted her anyway.
    Until she saw the condition of the cabin.
    Holy crap.
    It looked as if a strong wind had scoured the room, or a bomb had exploded. Broken dishes, boat cushions, maps, and magazines splayed like bodies in the wreckage. An empty coffeemaker and a broken bottle rolled together under the table. Red wine, black as blood in the dim cabin, puddled on the floor. The soured fruit smell in the close, still air rose to her head and made her sick.
    She ran her tongue over her teeth. She wanted a toothbrush.
    Conn lifted a chair one-handed and set it upright. His head brushed the low ceiling. “Do not apologize,”
    he said. “This ship was furnished to withstand storms. The damage is less severe than it appears.”
    She felt a spurt of outrage, completely ridiculous under the circumstances. Like getting upset over a late assignment when the classroom was on fire. “I wasn’t going to apologize. I didn’t do anything.”
    One eyebrow arched upward. “Who else?”
    “Um.” She stared at him, stunned. “I was unconscious . I didn’t ask to be brought here. You need to take me home.”
    He righted another chair, holding it out from the table in invitation. “Come. Sit.”
    Lucy looked mistrustfully at the chair and then at his face. She didn’t want to go anywhere near him. But if she stayed on the bed, he might get the wrong idea.
    A hot flush swept her face. Yeah, like doing him in the dirt of her students’ garden hadn’t already convinced him she was a total slut bag.
    She clutched the blanket, the fur soft between her fingers. “Why?”
    Conn’s gaze rose from her hands to her face. “Explanations will take time. I want you to be comfortable.”
    “Then give me my clothes.”
    Something flickered in his eyes and was gone before she could identify it. “They are not here.”
    “Where are they?”
    “I had need of them.”
    She didn’t want to imagine what use he had for women’s clothing.
    “You promised to take me home,” she reminded him.
    Right before they’d had sex among the pumpkins. But she didn’t want to think about that either. She certainly wasn’t going to mention it.
    And he better not.
    “I said . . .” His voice was cool and precise. “I would take you where you need to go.”
    She stared at him in frustration. “What kind of a man are you?”
    “I am not a man.” He paused. “I should say, not . . . human.”
    The bottom fell out of her stomach. Fell out of her world. For a moment she was back in the dark, with the blood roaring in her head and chaos erupting around her.
    She took a deep breath, willing her mind to still, and felt everything inside her slide back into its proper place.
    The cabin was quiet. In the silence, she could hear the water rush and gurgle over the hull and the creaking of the rigging overhead.
    “Perhaps we should both sit down,” he said.
    Lucy forced another swallow. At least if they sat at the table, he wouldn’t be looming over her. She scooted to the edge of the mattress, reluctant to give up the sleek weight of her blanket. Not that the PETA people didn’t have a point, but there was something almost sinfully comforting about the silky brush of fur. And the cabin was cold.
    She dragged the blanket off the bed and stood, wrapping it around her like a beach towel or a bearskin Page 32
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    rug. The ends dragged on the floor.
    She hobbled to a chair. Not the one he held out for her. She didn’t want to get that close. Plopping onto the seat, she crossed her arms over her chest like a kindergartner refusing to join in circle time.
    Conn’s mouth tightened. His eyes darkened. Now that he had her where he wanted her— ha ha —he seemed curiously reluctant to begin. Unless this silence was his way of making her talk.
    “So.” Maybe she should humor him. Not a man. Not human , beat in her brain. “What are you?”
    “I am selkie.” Another pause thickened the air of the cabin. “Like your mother.”
    The thing inside her leaped, like a child in her womb, knocking the air from her lungs in a big fat whoosh.
    The blood drained from her head.
    The