Page 33 of Duncan

“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.”