Under an Enchantment: A Novella Read Free

future.
    She could just imagine her brothers’ reaction when they heard of Collis’s visitor. Fortunately most of them were in Edinburgh, only Angus remaining behind to watch over their half-mad little sister. If he caught wind of an enchanted creature come to St. Columba, he’d probably send word to Domnhall the seal hunter to dispatch him.
    She couldn’t let that happen. Collis would warn him, no doubt, but he might not listen. She’d never met a selkie before, she had no idea how practical they might be. Having lived their lives at the bottom of the sea, they might not know of the treachery of man.
    It was a warm day for September. She climbed steadily, up the narrow path, rolling up her loose sleeves as she went, baring her strong forearms to the bright sun, shaking her thick hair out behind her. This time next year she’d be trapped once more. Torquil might own her in bed, but he couldn’t force her to behave. He would have to stand by as she forgot her bonnet, her hairpins, her shoes. With any luck, if he insisted on marrying her, he might at least grow tired of her witlessness. Leaving her free to live her life of dreams.
    She wandered the hills often, knowing where each croft lay, knowing the names and temperaments of the animals, the children, the inhabitants. Collis was a crusty old bachelor, one who suffered from the ague and the long nights. She liked him, and he liked her. He’d often tell her stories of piskies and broonies and the like, and never once did he suggest that he didn’t believe just as devoutly as she did. Though she suspected he was far more practical than he let on with her.
    She hadn’t brought anything for him, a failing that sorrowed her. She should have brought some fresh fish from the harbor. A seal-man would eat fish, wouldn’t he? Would he eat it raw, like a sea gull?
    The croft lay nestled in a tiny pocket by the hill, a thin plume of smoke coming out of the chimney. Tammas stood in the doorway, watching her approach with unabashed pleasure, his tail wagging wildly as he rushed out to greet her.
    She knelt down, her skirts trailing in the dirt, and let him lick her face, crooning to him as she did so. He smelled sweet and doggy, like the sea and the hills and the gorse, and she leaned her forehead against his shaggy coat.
    He was watching her. She could feel his eyes upon her, watching her, touching her, and she lifted her head, like a doe sensing a predator.
    He was standing in the doorway of the old croft, filling it, yet he wasn’t that broad or tall. He was very still, and his eyes danced over her, skimming across her skin like a physical touch.
    It was disturbing, but not unpleasant. Invading, but not encroaching. She sat back on her heels, her mussed skirts around her, and looked at him.
    “ Are you the selkie?” she asked, her voice cool and calm.
    “ So they say.” His voice unnerving, deep and sure like his steady gaze. A voice that could reach out and touch her. Was this what enchantment was?
    “ And what do you say?” She allowed her curiosity free rein.
    “ My name is Malcolm.”
    She smiled at him. Surely no one named Malcolm could be that great a danger, enchanted or no. “I’m Ailie,” she said.
    “ Ailie. A pretty name. Were you looking for Collis?”
    “ I was looking for you.”
    He looked startled by her artless speech. “For what reason?”
    “ I’ve never seen a faerie creature before.”
    “ And you have now?”
    She smiled, a shy, secret smile, staring at him, wondering what his skin would feel like. It was a golden brown, the color of a man who spent long hours in the sun. “Are you a golden-brown seal?” she asked, not answering his question. “Or is your pelt the color of your hair?”
    His hair had dried on his shoulders, and he picked up a strand, staring at it as if he’d never seen it before. As indeed, thought Ailie, he might not have. “I’m black, like my hair,” he said. “Like my heart.”
    “ No,” she said, slowly