“Where’s she from?” Jordan asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
Kellan shrugged. “No clue.”
“She must be from close by,” Jordan commented. “She knew how to get down to the cove. Danny says you three are the only ones who know where the path is.”
Kellan took a sip of his beer, then slowly set it down in front of him. He did know of one other person who’d discovered the path. It had been so long ago, fifteen years, more or less. The girl he’d chased across the meadow. His first kiss. He’d seen her that day and then never again. And though his memory was a bit muddled, there was something about Gelsey that was oddly familiar.
“She could use some clothes,” Kellan said. “I was hoping one of you might have something to lend her.”
“Is she naked up there?” Jordan asked, her eyes wide.
“No, I gave her some of my clothes. But they’ll be far too large for her.”
“I can run home right now,” Nan offered.
“I’m sure I can find something for her,” Jordan said.
“Tomorrow morning will be fine,” Kellan said. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere tonight.”
Nan leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Was she wearing a red cap? Or a cloak? You can tell us. We won’t say anything.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to fall for all that mermaid rubbish,” Kellan said. “She was wearing a green silk dress with nothing underneath.”
“Hmm,” Nan said, her brow furrowed. “The Irish legends about merrows say that they wear a red cap or a cloak and if the human steals either one, the merrow will forget her life in the sea and live on land with the human.”
“If you want to keep her, maybe you should start looking for that cloak or hat,” Jordan teased. “I’d definitely hide the green silk dress for safe measure.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Kellan said with a chuckle. “Because the best way to form a perfect relationship is to trap someone into staying with me. Especially some magical sea creature that isn’t human in the first place.”
Nan and Jordan giggled. “So she’s probably not a real merrow,” Nan said. “But if she’s pretty and you like her, maybe you should ask her to stay a little longer. You need a date to our engagement party, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I really don’t think she’ll hang around that long.”
By the time he finished his beer, Danny had packed up his supper order in a paper sack and encouraged him to bring the “merrow” down to the pub for lunch the following day. Kellan put up with the last bit of teasing before making his escape.
As he walked back to the cottage, the wind nipped at his face. The thought that Gelsey might have died on the beach sent a shiver running through him. How long had she been there? Was there no one who’d missed her? Wouldn’t her absence cause at least one person to wonder where she was sleeping for the night?
The cottage was dark and quiet when he stepped inside. The peat fire on the hearth had cooled and Kellan set the bag of food and box of paper on the table and slipped out of his jacket. When he saw Gelsey on the sofa, sound asleep, he kicked off his shoes and crossed to the hearth.
He silently tossed another brick of peat on the fire, then turned and looked at her. The light from the flame played across her beautiful face and he studied her for a long moment. Was she the girl he remembered from so long ago? If it was her, where had she been all this time? Why hadn’t he seen her in the last fifteen years?
A sudden thought occurred to him and he walked into the bedroom and bent down at a spot beneath the window. The floorboard was still loose. He took his keys out of his pocket and pried the end up, peering into the dark space between the joists.
There it was. Where he’d hidden it all those years ago. Kellan reached down and pulled out the old biscuit tin, wiping the dust away with his palm. Did it belong to her? Is that why she’d come back to him? Or was he just fooling himself that there was something special about her?
Kellan sat down on the bed and pried off the lid, silently inventorying the contents and looking for a clue about the previous owner. When he found nothing, he tucked the tin into the bottom drawer of the bedside table, then walked to the kitchen and grabbed a cold beer.
Stretching out in the overstuffed chair across from the sofa, he watched her, thinking about what it would be like to have her in his bed. The heat from the hearth relaxed him and he sensed that whatever happened between them would be incredibly pleasurable.
This wasn’t a woman who hid her passions. Whatever had sent her to that beach last night, dressed in almost nothing, and vulnerable to the wind and cold, had overwhelmed all common sense. Who or what had driven her to nearly kill herself?
He silently catalogued what he knew about her. She was familiar enough with the area to know how to get down to the cove. He’d already ruled out the possibility that she’d washed ashore from the water. She wasn’t wearing any underwear with her dress, so she probably hadn’t been out in public before visiting the beach. She wasn’t a local. Her accent was an odd mix of British and American and something else. Something more exotic.
She seemed well educated, maybe even coming from a posh background, though he wasn’t sure what brought him to that conclusion. Maybe it was in the way she moved, with such self-assured grace and perfect posture. And in the way she ate, quietly sipping her soup from the spoon as if dining in some fancy restaurant.
Kellan sat in front of the fire for a long time, thinking about the women who’d populated his past. He’d always carefully chosen those he invited into his bed. Vulnerability wasn’t a quality he sought. But looking at Gelsey, he felt a strange urge to protect her, to keep her from harm.
When he finished his beer, he got up and took the empty to the kitchen, then wandered back to the bedroom. He thought about waking her, but she seemed quite comfortable on the sofa.
He stripped off his clothes in the dark, then flopped down on the bed, dressed only in his boxers. He closed his eyes, but images of Gelsey plagued his thoughts. His fingers twitched as he remembered the feel of her naked body beneath his palms, recalled the soft swell of her breasts, the sweet curve of her backside. Just the thought of touching her brought an unwelcome reaction and Kellan groaned and rolled over on his stomach.
Unless he wanted to put up with this kind of torment for the rest of his stay in Ballykirk, he’d have to return Gelsey to where she belonged. He pulled the pillow over his head and quietly sang a familiar pub song that went on and on.
Like counting sheep, the song gradually relaxed him and he found himself drifting closer and closer to sleep. The image in his head slowly morphed into a dream as sleep overcame him.
THE WIND RATTLED the windows and Gelsey sat up and ran her hands through her tangled hair. Where was she? She squinted to see in the low light from the hearth. This wasn’t her room at Winterhill. Or her room at her mother’s apartment on Park Avenue. She didn’t recognize anything.
She swung her feet off the sofa and stood, fighting a wave of dizziness. Running her hands over her clothes, she remembered that she was in Kellan Quinn’s house. What time was it? How long had she slept? And where was Kellan?
The room was chilly and she rubbed her arms, then grabbed up the quilt and wrapped it around her body. She was normally a restless sleeper, preferring to nap during the day and stay awake during the darkest hours. Rain hissed at the windows and she crossed the room to the fireplace.
There was no more peat to feed the fire and the room would only get colder. She raked her hands through her hair again, then wandered over to the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the rough wooden floor.
She found