Duncan (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar #5)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

O ver the next week as Nicole waited for the MacMar to capture one of the hybrids, she tried to adjust to her new living conditions. After spending a lifetime enjoying all the best that money could buy, she struggled with some of the more rudimentary necessities. The privy was no better than an outhouse, and the maids only brought the tub to her room once a week, so she had to bathe from the water in the washstand. She had to lace everything she wore that had been made on the island, and untangle her hair with a comb, not a brush. The lye soap the maids provided dried her skin dreadfully, until Lark brought her a container of moisturizer she’d made herself from seed oil, rose-scented water and beeswax.

“I figured being a redhead you’d have sensitive skin like me,” the seamstress said. “Once they shear the sheep this fall I’m going to try to extract the lanolin from the wool and turn it into some skin and lip balms for winter.”

Nicole appreciated all that the other women from the future did to make her comfortable, but she still left the stronghold as often as she could. She considered walking by herself to the nearby village Julianne had shown her, but lately the maids and some of the male servants at Dun Ard had been giving her the oddest looks. No doubt they’d heard about her healing the injured cart horse, and given their medieval attitudes, probably thought she was some kind of witch. Since accused witches never fared too well in primitive cultures, she was probably safer staying within sight of the guards.

The inactivity bothered her, however, so every morning after breakfast she walked out to the forest and back. Down below the trail, another stone-lined path led to a pretty, tree-shaded cove, but Valerie had asked her to stay away from the bay. As she made her way toward the trees she attracted the attention of birds, squirrels, and even a pair of little, furry creatures with small dark eyes, golden ruffs and adorable faces that vaguely resembled tiny foxes. At first they kept their distance and simply watched her, but when she scattered a handful of grain in the grass for them one day, they all ignored the food and came closer, with the weasel-like pair coming onto the trail and sniffing around her new boots.

“Good morning.” Nicole slowly crouched down, expecting them to run off, and then smiled as they both climbed onto her lap and cuddled against her like affectionate puppies. “Hey. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

As she petted them she discovered they had the silkiest thick fur, and when they grinned at her they displayed very white, sharp-looking teeth. Then, just as suddenly, they stiffened and scampered off, the birds and mice following after them.

“Do you befriend pine martens in your time?” Shaw asked as he came and offered her a hand.

“Is that what they were? Ah, no. They’re very cute, though.” She stood and brushed off her skirt. “Are they some variety of fox?”

“More like weasels, Mistress.” He nodded toward the woods. “You should ken they’re the most vicious hunters on the island. Many a woodsman’s lost fingers after prodding a marten. Indeed, I’ve never ken the wee killers ever show affection for any mortal.”

“I’ll be more careful, then. Ah, do you think it would be all right if I walk down there?” She pointed to the cove. “Lady Valerie said I should avoid the shoreline because of the problem with the Finfolk, but I won’t go in the water.”

He nodded. “I shall accompany you.”

As they walked down to the cove path the chieftain told her about the nearby walking labyrinth, and how it served as a place for the MacMar and their aquatic neighbors to talk and work out their differences.

“I could use something like that,” Nicole admitted. Ever since the laird’s wife had asked her to try to heal a hybrid, she had been restless; even more so whenever she thought about her father. “I know the laird has contacted the druids on the mainland to see if they can help me go home, but it seems like it’s taking forever for them to respond.”

“’Tis difficult, remaining patient when you’re far from home.” Shaw took hold of her elbow as she stepped over a bunch of weeds. “After the Pritani captured me and took me from my brothers, I watched every day, expecting them come and free me. I couldnae sit still, for wanting their rescue. Oft my pacing earned me a lashing.”

“How long were you enslaved?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Too long, my lady.” Shaw stopped and breathed in deeply, his expression darkening. “You should return to Dun Ard, Mistress Fairburn. Something in the water, ’tis dead.”

“I’m all right.” She looked at the shadowy cove, and spotted a large mound of brown seaweed floating in the center. “Do you mean that, Chieftain?”

“Aye.” He didn’t seem to be looking at anything, his eyes fixed on the embankment. When he lifted his head, she saw his eyes had turned black.

“Does the smell of death awaken the Pritani spirit inside you?” she asked quietly, easing a few steps back.

“Aye. Never run from me, even as I am now.” Shaw caught Nicole’s arm to stop her. “You should return on your own, lass, and I shall stand watch. When you reach the stronghold, bid the guards send some men with a litter.”

“I will, once we’re sure this is a person.” She could already smell the decaying flesh coming from the floating pile of seaweed, and it made her stomach clench. “Can you pull the remains to shore? It will be easier to see who or what it is.”

The chieftain gave her a long look before he nodded and waded out to the center of the cove. Taking hold of the floating, twisted mass, he dragged it through the water, and hoisted it onto the bank before climbing out and dropping to his knees. He drew a long blade from his belt, and used it to cut through the mass of wet, slimy fronds until he exposed a short arm attached to most of a shoulder and a breast, and part of a neck. Shaw pulled off his tunic, and used it to cover the remains. On his arm and chest, the black Pritani tattoos appeared to be writhing on his skin, betraying his agitation.

Shaw cannae lose his temper, Duncan murmured from her memory. Such a thing, ’twould permit the beast overtake him.

“Do you know her?” Nicole asked, and when he shook his head she reached out to touch the chieftain’s arm. “It’s okay. Whoever murdered this woman won’t get away with it.”

Shaw’s ink stopped moving, but then he suddenly recoiled from her. “Dinnae put hands on me, lass. The beast, ’twill use your boon and invade you.”

“I don’t think so, or it would have already done so.” She waited for a few moments, but experienced no pain or any discomfort other than her own distress over finding the woman dead. “I don’t know who to talk to at the stronghold. You go, and let me stay here with the body.”

The chieftain watched her for a long moment, nodded, and then vanished in a flood of inky darkness that poured out of the cove and across the trail.

Nicole sat down by the tunic-draped mound, and drew up her legs as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “I wish you could tell me who did this to you. I’d make sure Shaw was the one who carried out their punishment.”

Water splashed, and a fair-haired, stunningly handsome man quietly surfaced in the cove. The three slits on the sides of his neck revealed him to be one of the Finfolk, and the purple and gold metal crown he wore suggested he was their king. She had never seen a more beautiful or unearthly man; he might have been a computer-generated icon of the perfect fantasy warrior. His eyes, which were so vividly blue and gold they resembled jewels, shifted over her and the woman’s remains before he swam closer.

“I am Merrick,” the man said.

“Hello, Your Majesty. My name is Nicole Fairburn.” She had never seen a more impressive man, even if he did have gills and webbed appendages. “Do you know who killed this woman?”

“I only just now tasted her blood in the water.” He came ashore, climbing out before he went down on one knee and lifted the edge of Shaw’s tunic. “Och, the poor thing. Likely a village lass.” He carefully covered the corpse again. “Forgive me for no’ attending you since your arrival. I have been much occupied of late.”

His polite excuse almost made her smile .

“I know why you’re avoiding me, King Merrick. Lady Valerie explained the reason I should also stay away from you and your people.” He was frowning and staring at her as if he recognized her, Nicole noticed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Why should I send away such a beauty?” He added a smile to the outrageous flattery as he sat down on the bank. “Truly, I dinnae wish you go. I could gaze upon you for the rest of the day.”

She thought of the pine martens. “That’s probably due to my effect on you and your people, not my beauty.”

“I love another, so I reckon I may resist your charms.” His expression grew more serious. “I am told you wish leave Caladh for the mainland so you may use the druids’ portal. You ken I must remove your memories of the island before we take you there.”

“Yes, Valerie explained the procedure.” She saw a brown crab emerge from the water’s edge and start crawling toward the remains, and picked up a stick of driftwood to prod and discourage it. “I’d like to keep my memories of my time, if that’s possible. I need to go to the authorities about the attempt on my life that brought me here. I won’t tell them anything about you, the MacMar or the island.”

“I shall attempt preserve such remembrances, but ’ tis an imperfect method.” He reached over and tapped the crab on the back of its shell, making it scurry back into the water. “If you return to your future, you shall prove the first lady come from there who made such a choice. Dinnae you much like Duncan MacMar, then?”

She stiffened. “The healer is a fine man, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know the clan. It’s just that my dad is in terrible danger.” She told him about Hudson’s attack on her, and added, “I’m afraid my brother will do the same thing to him.”

“I understand your worry. Rebels murdered my sire, and my blood-kin wished steal rule from me. All for a throne I never once desired.” Merrick’s expression grew stern as he looked out at the sea. “I shall do what I can so you may return and save your sire, lass.”

She nodded, glad that he understood although sorry she’d reminded him of his own tragedies. “Thank you, Your Majesty, and I’m so sorry about what I did to your courier.”

“Say naught of such.” Merrick reached out and touched her hand. “The only happiness I ken of late, ’tis proving of service.”

Nicole pulled away, but not in time to stop the transference. It pushed the air out of her lungs, and when she took another breath it burned in her throat. Her heart throbbed deeply and painfully under her breast, pulsing between slow, aching jolts. When she looked at the astonished king, tears filled her eyes.

“You should tell someone how much you’re suffering,” she whispered.

Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “You look as I do when I think on Meg, my one true love. She shallnae agree to wed me or permit me transform her, for she hates the sea. I should tell everyone of her and my broken heart, aye?”

“So you shall, you eejit.” Duncan came down the bank and scooped her up into his arms. “Go and whinge at Connal.” Without waiting for a reply from the king he carried her up to the trail and started striding toward the castle.

Nicole wondered why he looked so angry. “He didn’t know what would happen, Duncan. Besides, it’s not like an injury. I think this time I just absorbed his emotions–”

“Aye, you did. Merrick suffers from a broken heart, and so he shall for the remainder of his days.” He stopped and glared down at her. “Such pain, ’tis often fatal for mortals, you stupit wench.”

“Why are you yelling at me and calling me names?” Nicole countered. “He knew about my power over his kind. He reached out to me before I could stop him. ”

Duncan took in a deep breath, looked up at the sky, and then started walking again. He carried her through the gates, past some astonished-looking vassals and up to the infirmary, where he unceremoniously dropped her onto his pallet.

“Dinnae,” he told her as she tried to sit up. “The full force of Merrick’s heartbreak, ’tisnae yet come over you.”

“It’s just sadness, Healer. I can certainly… ” Her voice died in her throat as a huge darkness seemed to billow up inside her. It made sobs spill from her lips and tears stream down her face. When she tried to breathe, her chest hurt so much she couldn’t get any air into her lungs.

“I have you, lass, and I shall heal you.” Duncan quickly stretched out beside her, and pulled her into his arms. “Dinnae resist.”

“No one should go through this,” Nicole said, sobbing the words. “The king must have been in horrible pain. I can hardly stand it.”

“’Tis suffering of the worst kind, for ’tis the same for them both.” He stroked her back as she wept against his chest. “Merrick’s loved a lass he can never wed, nor change. He cannae dwell on land, and she despises the sea. The lass, ’tis feared by his kind as a jinx, and she cannae forget her sisters who drowned. Yet they’ve a passion for each other that near sets fire to the air whenever they meet.”

Nicole knuckled away her tears before she lifted her head and met his gaze. “They’re like you and me.”

“I reckon.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “At least I may touch you now and again.”

For a moment Nicole thought she would kiss him, and pressed her lips together until the reckless impulse passed.

“I never realized that heartbreak could do so much damage to someone. No wonder my dad’s still such a mess.” She saw how he was frowning and added, “My mother left us when I was little, and he’s always been overprotective of me. I’m glad he didn’t want me to suffer the way he did.”

“When you love someone, you want only joy and pleasure for them.” Slowly he drew back from her, and then he climbed off the pallet. “Do you wish sleep again?”

The healer sounded distant, as if she’d said something that had upset him.

“No, I’m recovered.” She stood and smoothed her rumpled skirts before she smiled at him. “Thank you for helping me, Duncan.”

Nicole left, only narrowly resisting the urge to slam the door behind her.

Lady Valerie’s notion to permit Nicole Fairburn to attempt to heal a hybrid had never set well with Fletcher. When at last the Finfolk sighted one skulking about their waters, he made his sentiments known to Connal in no uncertain terms.

“I dinnae trust that wench,” he told the laird as they walked along the shore. “Never shall she speak plainly, and ’tis too many secrets in her eyes. She skitters about like a thief.” He stopped as he saw Shaw and Nicole coming. “Why ask the chieftain aid her?”

“He’s serving as our fisherman.” Connal nodded to the pair before he turned toward the bay and let out a piercing whistle.

Two piles of seaweed with legs rose from the surf, wading across the shallows to join them. When Fletcher saw they were Merrick and Jamaran, almost buried by the kelp nets they carried, he nearly turned on his heel to stalk back to the cliff stairs. Only a sharp look from the laird kept him at his side.

“I recall the Finfolk didnae want the wench near them,” Fletcher muttered.

Connal sighed. “Merrick made his peace with Mistress Fairburn when she and Shaw found those remains in the cove. Fletch, for the love of Mar, stop acting the mule-headed arse. ”

He glared at his older brother. “I shall, as soon as you stop coddling every female that cursed ring brings to our island.”

Shaw and Nicole reached them first, and as soon as Fletcher saw the slender woman smile his hackles rose. He knew he was not the first clansman to detest one of the ladies from the future; Shaw and his beast had both taken a violent dislike to Caroline Parish, and Nyall had distrusted Valerie to such a degree that he’d tried to seduce her to lure her away from the laird. Yet try as he might he could not set aside the enmity that filled him whenever Nicole came into his sight. From the quick, wary glance she gave him she was well aware of his sentiments, too.

“My thanks for aiding us, Merrick,” Connal said, bowing to the tall aquatic after he’d dumped his seaweed net on the sand. “You’re recovered?”

“Aye, as much as I may.” The king thumped his chest. “The pain, ’tis gone, and I dinnae speak of Margret with every breath.” He eyed Nicole. “Dinnae touch me, lass, else I begin spewing my sorrows again.”

“Aye, my lady, I beg you.” Jamaran cast his net down beside the other. “My king couldnae sleep for want of telling me of his love. Over and again, for days.”

“I won’t touch either of you,” she promised. “I’ll also be more careful to avoid any physical contact with your people.”

The commander turned to Shaw. “We’ve had reports of one lone shifter lurking in the sea caves near MacLeir’s dock. Wait while I set the nets between the east and west reefs, and then drive the thing in that direction.”

The chieftain’s eyes turned solid black, and he nodded before wading into the surf. A moment later he dissolved into a pool of black, which sank beneath the water and then shot out in a dark stream across the bay.

“That’s incredible.” Nicole stared after Shaw. “He can even move like that under water.”

She didn’t look frightened at all, Fletcher thought, his mood darkening even more. From what he’d been told, Nicole Fairburn never reacted to anything with alarm or surprise. Duncan favored her greatly, of course, so he could do nothing to her without incurring the wrath of the healer as well as the laird’s extreme displeasure. Yet the thought of her joining the clan like the other four ladies set his teeth on edge.

“Come, lad.” Merrick handed Jamaran the ends of both nets, and stretched them out before taking hold of the other side. With the woven kelp held between them, they walked into the sea and submerged, following Shaw’s path.

“It would probably be best to tie down the hybrid before I put my hands on it,” Nicole said to Fletcher as she began rolling up the sleeves of the leine she wore. “Should we use some of that driftwood over there as stakes, laird?”

It was in that moment that Fletcher wished his old mortal weakness, which had left him unable to see the faces of others, would return to him. Over the last months since wedding Lark his blindness had dwindled, until it had vanished entirely. Connal’s wife suggested that had not been a weakness caused by his halfling blood at all, but a condition caused by witnessing his sire’s suicide as a lad. Since losing nearly all the young women he had loved in the past to an obsessed murderess, his guilt had only increased, keeping his wretched condition from dispelling.

Why should you wish for such a thing?

That desire to go face-blind again appalled him, for he had never experienced such joy as when he had looked upon Lark’s face for the first time. His temper, the worst among all the MacMar, slowly subsided into a sullen resentment as he gazed upon Nicole and Connal gathering driftwood. Something about the apricot-haired woman made him more than angry; she frightened him. He had never experienced such fear in the presence of a female. Indeed, he usually wished only to help and protect ladies of all ages.

Mayhap I should do as Caroline bids me and get over myself.

Fletcher went over to join them, and in a few minutes had collected enough driftwood to stake down a dozen hybrids. After fetching a flat, palm-size stone, he knelt down in the sand to pound in the wood, and Nicole dropped down beside him. The laird left them to walk a short distance away and peer out at the water.

“I know you don’t like me, Seneschal,” Nicole said. “Maybe you should tell me why instead of looking like you want to punch me all the time.”

He sat back on his haunches. “You reckon I attack out of dislike, Mistress Fairley? Och, forgive me, ’tis Mistress Fairburn now. I wonder what your name shall become on the morrow.”

“It will still be Fairburn.” She dusted off some sand clinging to her palms. “All I know about you is that you’re Lark’s husband, and quite handsome when you’re not being nasty to me. We’ve only spoken a few times, so it’s difficult to apologize for whatever I’ve done to offend you. Maybe you should let me know now. ”

“I cannae tell you that, for I dinnae ken.” Fletcher eyed her, expecting her to laugh at him, but she simply watched his face. “I expect ’tis something you yet hide from me and my clan. It doesnae reassure me when you skitter away as I cross your path, like a thief with full pockets. Indeed, I reckon naught could make me happier than seeing you sail off with MacLeir.”

She nodded, seemingly unsurprised by his savage confession.

“I’ve been told you have a very bad temper, and that I shouldn’t provoke you. That’s the reason I’ve been walking away every time I see you.” She touched the pendant she wore before she said, “I also apologize for lying about my surname. My father is very wealthy, and he taught me not to reveal my identity to strangers. Nicole Fairley was the name I used when I went to college.”

Fletcher grunted, although for the first time he understood her a little better. His filthy temper had always been easily roused, so staying out of his way when she knew he disliked her was clever. She was, after all, in a strange place surrounded by those she did not know. Why should she reveal all about herself?

“Please remember that I don’t want to be here, either,” Nicole told him. “The moment I am able to leave your island, I will. If you would just be patient a little longer, soon you won’t ever have to see me again.” She hesitated before she said, “Lark doesn’t ever have to know.”

For a moment Fletcher thought he might seize and beat her. But no, she had only recognized the desire he had been fighting since the moment he’d first seen her.

“I reckon she does.” He wanted to weep now. “Only ken ’tis no one else in my heart but my lady wife.”

“Good.” Compassion warmed her cool eyes. “Some men have had the same reaction to me in the past. I think it’s because they resent being attracted to me when they’re deeply in love with someone else.”

“Then I shall ask your pardon, my lady.” Uttering those words to her might have been the most difficult thing he’d ever said. “’Twas wrong of me even think such.”

“I’m actually in the same situation with someone else.” She bared her pretty teeth in a smile that seemed mocking, but then humor warmed her cool eyes. “Should we agree to a truce until I leave Caladh?”

Fletcher nodded, and waited for her to grip the next stake before he began pounding it in. Now that they had spoken about his unwanted desire, his hidden shame finally ebbed, along with his anger. When he returned to the stronghold he would go and speak with his wife, he decided. She understood him as no one else could.

Six stakes later, they had two rows of anchored driftwood between which they could tie down a being as large as a clansman. Their efforts proved timely, too, for a huge splashing tangle surfaced along with the two aquatics and Shaw, who helped them drag the netted creature ashore.

“Mind the teeth,” the chieftain warned as Fletcher reached for the net.

The four of them wedged the tangled kelp between the driftwood stakes. Connal and Shaw held down two fin-shaped arms that had emerged from the net as Merrick knelt on the lower body and Jamaran began cutting away the seaweed. Fletcher twisted several lengths of the kelp together to form a rough rope, which he then used to lash the creature’s limbs to the stakes. By the time they had finished, the hybrid lay gasping and writhing, unable to free itself.

Never had Fletcher seen such a hideous being; it appeared at first glance to be a dark green and gray shark with a slender torso, from which human arms and legs had grown. It also possessed a short head with a cone of a nose, and a small mouth filled with rows of jagged teeth, but its eyes were like that of a mortal. Some black hairs bristled above its eyes and on its neck, as if it were growing brows and a mane.

“’Tis like a thresher shark,” Connal muttered.

The lower part of the creature’s face suddenly changed shape, its mouth growing lips as a chin emerged from its flesh.

“Release me,” the shifter said in a woman’s voice. “Or my clan shall come for you. Dearg shall come for you.”

“We ken you hunted alone, monster.” Fletcher grew disgusted by its claim of kin. “Didnae you please your demented master? Or did he fashion you too small for his evil purposes?”

The shark shifter paid no attention to him; its mortal eyes had fixed on Nicole as the rest of its face bulged and twisted until it changed into that of a mortal female.

“Take care, Mistress,” Merrick warned as she knelt down beside the creature. “It may bite even with a woman’s mouth.”

“I will.” Her face filled with compassion rather than disgust as she looked over the shifter. To it she said, “I’m going to try to heal you now.”

As she reached for it a wave of water suddenly doused her and the creature, which broke free of the stakes and grabbed her by the throat. A stream of inky black came between them, severing the shifter’s arms and knocking Nicole away from it at the same time. The stream then punched through the belly of the creature, emerging on the other side to solidify back into Shaw. Behind him a small, dark shape streaked underwater across the bay, moving so fast it disappeared a moment later.

Fletcher helped Nicole to her feet before he regarded the dying shifter.

“No, my lady, dinnae touch the thing,” he said when she started to move toward it. “If you attempt healing the thing now, ’twill likely end you.”

The creature gurgled out something as its body began to bulge and then seemed to tear itself in two. Both pieces of it changed shape one last time, becoming that of a thresher shark and a woman with terrible lash wounds. Both went still and limp, and did not move or breathe again.

Jamaran crouched beside the female, inspecting her ravaged body closely. “These wounds came from the thresher’s tail. Only such a shark, ’tis shy and never attacks mortals.”

“When ’tis blood in the water, anything shall attack anything,” the king said.

When the commander turned the female over, her back showed different wounds that appeared much like blackened burns. Fletcher had never seen the like, but Shaw came down beside Jamaran and reached out to touch the scorched flesh.

“This, ’twas my doing,” the chieftain said. “She took part in the battle between me and the Cait Sith on the island. I reckoned her dead like the others I burned. No mortal ever survived an attack from the beast.”

“’Tis but half mortal. Fack.” Connal rubbed a hand over his face. “Duxor brings the dead back to life, then, Merrick?”

“If the Selseus could do such, my sire would remain our king.” Merrick glanced up at him. “If our power enveloped something alive feeding on a corpse, then a merging, ’tis possible.”

Jamaran gave him an appalled look. “My king, no Selseus possesses such power.”

“Those of royal blood do, lad.” The Finfolk king rose to his feet and regarded the laird. “You should destroy the remains, Connal. As for the rest…come and walk with me at sunset.”

Fletcher watched the two aquatics wade into the bay and swim off before he said to the laird, “I shall take the bodies and burn them in the carcass pit. Shaw, please escort Mistress Fairburn back.”

As Nicole returned to the castle with Shaw, all she wanted to do was hide in her room. Valerie would see to it that meals were brought to her, and the maids wouldn’t ask any questions. What had happened with the hybrid disturbed her on so many levels she didn’t know what to think. Then there was the guess she’d made about Fletcher that had turned out to be true.

Stop being such a coward. He apologized. The hybrid is dead.

She did understand better now how much danger the clan faced; an entire army of creatures that could shift so quickly from aquatic to mortal would likely overrun the island in a matter of hours. Worse, if the monstrous things could breed indiscriminately, and had no natural predators, then in a few decades there might not be a future for Nicole to return to.

“When my brothers freed me from slavery, they found me little better than a wild animal,” Shaw said suddenly, startling her. “I wouldnae eat at a table like them; I snatched food and fled the hall. Connal would find me crouched in some corner, my back pressed to the walls as I gobbled half what I took from the platters.”

She glanced at him, suspecting he was trying to distract her from her thoughts, and then glad he was. “What did you do with the rest? ”

“Stuffed the food in my pockets and later hid them in my chamber, so I could eat in secret when they starved me. I knew in my head my brothers wouldnae do such, but the memories of the slavers’ hunger punishments proved stronger. ’Tis a rare thing now, yet I still hide food in my trunks now and again when such impulses come over me.” His mouth hitched. “’Tis the same with you, I reckon.”

Nicole stopped in her tracks. “I have never been abused, enslaved or starved, Chieftain. My life has been quite the opposite of what you experienced at the hands of the Pritani.”

“Then why should you look upon a monster as we just saw with understanding and pity instead of fear?” he countered. “The thing wished tear out your throat, and you near wept—and now you seem haunted by what occurred.”

He was too perceptive.

“That hybrid was trying to survive the best way it knew how after terrible things had been done to it. Just as you did when you ran off with food you really didn’t have to steal or hide,” she said, keeping her expression composed. “Who wouldn’t pity someone or something in such a desperate situation? Besides Fletcher,” she added.

“My younger brother’s kettle, ’tis ever ready boil over. ’Twas why Connal and I decided he should run the household. The lad, ’tis too angry when riled, and in battle one needs a cool head.” Shaw eyed her. “As you possess, my lady. You have dealt well with him.”

“You’d be surprised,” Nicole countered. “I nearly kicked him in the kettle today.”

As they walked on down the path toward the gates, he looked up at the tower beyond them. When she followed his gaze, she saw a cluster of men with the captain of the guard, who was talking and pointing to different parts of the shoreline.

“It’s not great that the Finfolk found that shifter in the bay,” she said. “After the attack on that man, we know it’s not alone, too. Does this mean a search of the bay for the rest of them?”

“Merrick and his warriors guard the waters here,” the chieftain told her. “We need patrol closely the shores, and attend to the tide pools, shallows, streams and springs on the island. Anywhere the shifters may find running water with enough depth to conceal them, they shall use it so they may move across our land outside our notice.”

When they stopped at the gate, Nicole noticed Duncan striding toward them on the other side, his expression dark and his eyes glittering. He seemed focused on Shaw rather than her, which puzzled her until she recalled she hadn’t told him what she was going to do for the laird .

“You’d better let me talk to the healer,” she said to the chieftain.

“I dinnae reckon he shall listen with me here,” Shaw said. As the guards began raising the gate, he turned to her and bowed. “Take care, my lady.”

Nicole blinked, and the chieftain had disappeared into a stream of black that went around and vanished before the curtain wall. When she walked through the gate Duncan intercepted her, his expression even more furious now.

“I’m sorry, Healer MacMar,” she said, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “I should have checked in with you before leaving the castle.”

Without a word of warning he grabbed her, lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder, and began striding back into the stronghold. When she struggled a little he smacked her backside.

“Dinnae fight me now, Mistress,” he warned in a flinty tone, “or you shall regret such.”

Nicole hung upside down, her embarrassment growing with every person they passed. Guards looked at Duncan wide-eyed before their gazes grew sympathetic for her. A few maids darted out of the healer’s way, some looking aghast while others smirked. Yet she didn’t want to make him any angrier, so she didn’t resist. When he carried her inside a room she didn’t recognize he kicked the door shut behind them, loud enough to make the slam echo outside in the passage.

I probably can’t make him any angrier.

“Would you put me down now?” she asked softly. “All the blood is rushing to my head and making me dizzy.”

He put her on her feet by a wall, and pinned her there by placing his hands on either side of her. “Who compelled you do thus with that facking monster? The laird, or his lady?”

“No one. I volunteered.” She smiled brightly. “I wasn’t able to help, but when the creature died, it separated back into a shark and a female shifter. Apparently the enchantment that creates these hybrids only works while they’re alive–”

“Enough.” Duncan cradled her face with his hands. “You shall never do such again.”

“I was given this healing power,” Nicole reminded him. “And, since the ring saved my life, I’m obligated to help your clan. Shaw, Fletcher and the laird were there, so I was never in any real–”

He kissed her, so hard he bruised her lips and knocked the wind out of her. All she could do was hold onto his shoulders and surrender to his angry, hungry mouth as he took hers, demanding everything from her. Nicole instantly forgot everything she had planned for the next few years; she wanted to spend them like this. The charities could consult with another heiress, her father could delegate the corporate decisions to one of his advisors. Even Brittany would make a new best friend.

She just wanted to stay in Duncan’s arms, being kissed and kissing him back.

When he ended the embrace as abruptly as he’d begun, her lips throbbed and her breasts heaved against his chest with every breath she took. Was this what he experienced when he wanted her? Had he transferred it by touching her? She’d never known such longing. Worse, the anger in him also poured into her, making her temper spike even higher than it had with the seneschal.

“Shall you drive me mad, then?” he muttered, looking all over her face.

He was going crazy? She was ready to be committed. “You don’t want to do this with me right now.”

“You dinnae only suffer the wounds of others, you thoughtless wench,” he told her through his gritted teeth. “You take them upon your own flesh. ’Tis the same as being wounded yourself, aye?”

“Yes, of course, but I always heal after an hour…or so.” What he was trying to tell her finally sank in. “I wouldn’t be torn in half, Duncan.”

“’Twas what we reckoned merging two living things into one, and yet ’twas done.” He pulled her against him, his hands spreading over her back to hold her there. “Attempting heal an enchanted creature would likely cause the magic backlash on you. Finfolk power, ’tis no’ of our realm, and combined with your boon, ’tis likely anything might overtake you. Recoil from a broken spell might tear you apart.”

He was trying to scare her, Nicole suspected, but that didn’t make him wrong.

“Even though I couldn’t heal the hybrid, we learned something new about them,” she said carefully. “What makes them into a merged creature is an ongoing process. We need to break the enchantment holding them together, and they’ll separate back into people and sharks.” She pulled back from him. “Is there anything you have collected in that black cabinet of yours that could help us do that?”

Duncan shook his head. “A Fae object, ’tis too dangerous.” He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Look at me.”

When she did Nicole was startled by the change that had come over him; he no longer looked like he wanted to throttle her. Instead he had the intense, smoldering look of a man determined to do something else—something her body wanted him to do quite badly, she realized.

He was just reacting to her the way all men did; she couldn’t take it personally .

“I’m very tired,” she said, shifting around him, ignoring his warmth and the delicious smell of him. “I think I should go to my room and rest now. Please ask one of the maids to bring my dinner on a tray, please.”

She almost made it to the door when he caught her with his arm and pulled her back against his hard, taut body.

“’Tisnae what you wish, leaving me.” He bent his head and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Stay.”