Under an Enchantment: A Novella by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page B

next few months. She could snuggle down in the feathery softness and know she would be blessedly, peacefully alone. Until she was forced to marry Torquil.
    She was standing alone on a rocky stretch of beach, her bare feet on a boulder as the water swirled around her. There was a cool breeze, tossing her long skirts against her legs, spilling her hair around her face, but she stood there, shivering in the chill air, motionless, as she watched him emerge from the angry green depths of the sea.
    His long black hair clung to his bare shoulders, beads of water glistened on his narrow, enigmatic face, his bronzed torso. He stood thigh-deep in the surf, and the icy sea swelled around his black pants.
    He stared at her, silent, demanding. And then he held out a hand to her and beckoned her.
    She shook her head. The water was too icy, she was too frightened, she who’d never been frightened of a man in her life. But then, he wasn’t a man beckoning to her, calling to her. He was an enchanted creature, one who would take her down, down into the frigid depths of the water to live among the seal folk.
    He moved closer, so that the water only reached his strong calves, and beckoned to her again. Once more she shook her head, denying him, denying the yearning that surged in her heart. He would hurt her, Morag had warned her, and Morag was always right. If she stayed on the rock and didn’t touch the water, she’d be safe.
    Finally he spoke, and his voice was low, musical. “Come away with me, lass.” And he moved to the rock where she stood, and held out his arms.
    She could fight it no longer. She went to him, into his arms, and he scooped her up, holding her against the solid, silky warmth of his chest, as he started back into the sea.
    She braced herself for the cold, but as the water lapped around her skirts it was warm, balmy, like a Sunday bath. He paused when the water reached his chest, covering most of her body, and looked at her.
    “ Are you ready, lass?” he whispered, his mouth hovering near hers.
    She no longer hesitated. If he meant her harm, then she wanted that harm, more than she wanted the stifling safety of her life, where everyone tried to order her and everyone failed. This would be her final triumph.
    “ I’m ready,” she said. “But I cannot swim.”
    “ I’ll show you.” And he dived beneath the warm water, taking her with him.
    She held her breath at first, closed her eyes, as he loosed her, holding her hand as he pulled her through the sea. When it seemed as if her lungs would burst, she took a breath, certain she would drown. But life filled her lungs, rich warm life, surging through her, and she opened her eyes in surprise, looking around her as she glided through the depths of the North Sea.
    The selkie was beside her. Malcolm, his long black hair trailing behind him, his limbs strong and graceful as he moved through the water. Surrounding them were a dozen seals, of varying colors, dark and golden, honey-colored and white, but the two of them still held their human shape. He came up to her, drawing her against his body, and she flowed against him, graceful, inevitable, wrapping her arms around him, her hair a cloud in the warm water, floating around them.
    He kissed her then, breathing into her mouth, and she felt as if she would burst with pleasure as she drifted through the shimmering sea, at one with her selkie lover. This was what she had dreamed about, this was what she had longed for. Nothing else mattered but his mouth, wet and open against hers, taking her, down and down and down, into the murky, velvet depths of the Scottish sea.
    Rough hands reached out, trying to pull her back, away from him, but she fought, struggling to hold on to him. His skin was smooth, slippery beneath her fingers, and she felt herself tom away, hauled toward the surface, and suddenly she could no longer breathe, the weight of the water pressing down around her, and it was icy, numbing. She opened her mouth to