Fynn’s fingers knotted in my salt-crusted hair and tugged, easing my head back to expose my throat. His lips left mine, leaving a kiss on my chin before moving to my neck. I closed my eyes, shutting out the sea, the sun, dulling my senses to everything but him.
Though I was floating in the seawater, I’d never felt so safe—until the roar of the waves broke through. I clutched Fynn’s shoulders, the warmth of the past moments quickly replaced by dread. Fynn smiled against my throat before the heat of his lips moved away.
“It would seem the current has found us. Are you ready to head to shore? We’ll ride the waves in. Hold tight.”
I squeezed his shoulders harder. His assurances didn’t stop me from wanting to vomit as the current, like a giant shepherd’s crook catching errant sheep, jerked us toward the breaking waves.
I struggled for breath as we rose with a swell, and nearly fainted when the large wave threw us into a mixture of soft sand and swirling sea foam.
“Bridey? Are you all right?” Fynn had landed a few feet away and slid across the sand toward me.
If I could walk into the sea, I could do anything. So this time, I kissed him. And though I bumped my nose against his in my haste, he didn’t seem to mind. His hands found my waist, pinning me in place.
Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I ran my hands over the scars of the wounds that had brought him to Port Coire. His injuries seemed to belong to a more distant past. Together on the beach we were fierce, out of reach of the water’s threat. We’d faced down the ocean and emerged whole, with only sand in our hair to show for it.
I slid a hand farther down his stomach, and he made a low noise in his throat. “Did I hurt—?”
A shrill gull’s cry drowned out my question. Fynn and I leaped apart. And as the clouds parted to reveal the sun, I realized how much of the afternoon was already gone.
“Maybe we should go.” As I followed Fynn onto drier sand, a putrid odor, like spoiled milk, wafted under my nose. “Do you smell that?” I called above the crashing of waves.
He turned, scenting the wind like a hound, and made a face. “Something must’ve died.” He studied the water for a long moment before shrugging. “Probably a seal.”
“Still, I think it’s time we return home. Dusk will be here before long, and there’s the fossegrim to consider.”
“Dusk is a few hours off yet.” Without warning, Fynn flopped down in the last stretch of sand before the path, taking me with him. “We still have time.” He leaned in, like he wanted another kiss, but I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.
“Promise me you won’t suddenly remember how much you loved your old life and leave me to rot alone in Port Coire.”
“I don’t have any proof to offer you,” Fynn said quietly, “other than my word: I intend to stay.”
“Then come with me to Morag’s. We didn’t exactly leave things on a friendly note yesterday, but perhaps she knows a spell to restore memories.”
“You couldn’t just take my word?”
I shook my head. “Please, Fynn.”
He frowned.
“If she can’t help, I’ll simply have to make my peace with the things I may never know about your past, just as I’m trying to make peace with the sea. Then I can kiss you again.” Lowering my eyes, I added, “I really want to kiss you again.”
“All right. I’ll go with you.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close.
I rested my head on his shoulder, watching the shifting tide. I thought of the last time I’d stood on this beach with Cat and Lugh, and shivered as I realized the three of us might never be together like that again. With Alis gone, with the way I’d hurt Lugh, our bonds had been forever altered. And there could be no reversing it.
I closed my eyes and listened to the wind, hoping it would carry away this constant ache of missing my friends, an ache that didn’t soften even with Fynn so near.
We stayed in the shadows of the cliffs until the sky turned a rich marigold. There was still plenty of time to walk home before the fossegrim could make its appearance. Sand fell from the skirt of my bathing dress with every step, and my throat ached from talking.
When the first row of houses came into view, I considered what we’d say if Mam had recovered from her latest headache enough to notice our bedraggled appearance. “Be careful not to let Mam ask you too many questions,” I advised. “She can smell a lie on a person like a shark scents blood. And—”
I forgot the rest of the words as sweet strains of music filled my ears. I paused, glancing toward the sunset sea. The melody seemed to be coming from across the water. Was someone practicing their fiddle on the beach?
“Bridey,” Fynn murmured.
His words washed over me as the fiddle’s melody ensnared my attention, my thoughts, and my heart. I longed to sit beside whoever made such beautiful music.