They found a place on the upper deck with the hikers and a cable repairman toting a plastic utility bucket.
The deck shuddered. Machinery groaned. Iestyn’s pulse leaped as the ferry pushed into the waters of the harbor under the gleaming eye of the squat lighthouse, past boats tethered to round white mooring buoys. A curving line of jagged rocks like a broken jawbone slid away to starboard.
He inhaled, tasting salt, baring his teeth to the wind.
Christ, it felt good to be on the water again. Too damn bad he was on this floating parking garage instead of under sail.
But even the stink of fuel and the engine’s vibration couldn’t diminish his pleasure. The sea was what he knew, where he belonged.
He glanced at Lara, standing beside him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. A wandering sea breeze played with her hair.
With everything she’d been through these past two days, she stil took his breath away. She had entrusted herself to him. Her body. Her safety. Her future.
Confusion caught him under the ribs, sharp as a cramp.
How could he ever leave her?
How could he ask her to stay?
17
Th e wo r l d s h i f t e d u n d e r f o o t a s t h e y m ov e d farther and farther from shore.
But she couldn’t let herself think about that. Those worries belonged to the future, and she was determined to stay in the here-and-now for as long as she could.
She watched him brace beside her at the rail, his strong legs set against the chop of the waves, the wind molding his shirt to the hard planes and muscled curves of his body.
The stitches along his hairline were barely visible. In the slanting afternoon light, he burned like a seraph, his hair fired to sunlight, his skin like liquid gold.
A great wave of lust and longing seized her by the throat.
She took a deep breath and held it until everything settled and was stil again.
2 18
V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
She would not regret this, she told herself fiercely.
Whatever happened.
She could admire and enjoy him without possessing him.
Like admiring a sunset or an eagle or anything wild and beautiful and beyond her grasp.
Iestyn turned his head, smiling down at her, the light in his eyes and on his hair, and her heart—her foolish, female, human heart—quite simply tumbled at his feet. He tucked her against him, her back to his chest, his jaw by her ear, and held her while time and the world slipped away.
Water churned under the prow. Lumps of land rose and fel from view. His heart thudded against her shoulder blades, her breathing slowed to match his breath, until it seemed they shared one heart, one breath, one flesh. She covered his hands where they linked around her waist, trying to hold on to him. Hold on to the moment.
Until the arms around her stiffened and his heart changed beat.
“Iestyn? Iestyn.”
He didn’t respond.
*
*
*
“Hold on!” Iestyn shouted, his heart hammering in his chest. A wal of water reared on the horizon, gray and terrible as a ghost army, spears of debris held aloft by dirty crests.
Foam spewed and flew as far as the eye could reach.
He tightened his grip on the ship’s wheel, his palms burning. Sweating.
“We have to Change.” Roth thrust the sealskin bundled in his arms at Iestyn. “Now.”
The heavy pelt thumped to the deck. Iestyn’s pelt. Every F o r g o t t e n s e a 219
instinct he possessed screamed at him to grab it and go, flee, dive. Abandon ship.
Madagh barked, barked, barked, the deep, frantic sound echoing Iestyn’s own terror.
He swal owed the greasy panic in his stomach, prayed he wouldn’t disgrace himself. “You go. The prince trusted me to see the boat to safety.”
“Prince Conn would not ask you to die for his boat.”
“His boat, no. Maybe his dog.”
Kera stumbled over the rope Iestyn had used to tie himself to the mast. “Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. Her eyes glittered. With tears? But selkies did not cry.
