Page 31 of The Last Kelpie

Within minutes, it had become a competition. The children were trying to out-throw each other, laughing as the ducks raced across the water. Áedán was in the middle of it, throwing bread with the precision of someone who'd spent centuries understanding water and the creatures that lived in it.

“You're good at this.” A little girl looked up at Áedán with open admiration.

“I've had practice.”

I stood back and watched. Áedán lifted a smaller child so he could throw his piece further. He laughed when a particularly ambitious duck managed to steal bread from another duck mid-swim. The tension in his shoulders loosened, and he was back to the mischievous kelpie who had tossed me into the loch.

An older woman walking past smiled at me. “Your husband is wonderful with children.”

I opened my mouth to correct her. To explain that Áedán wasn't my husband, wasn't even my boyfriend, much less my husband, but caught myself. That was too much to load on a stranger. “Thank you. Yes, he is.”

She walked on. I stood there, face burning, wondering why I hadn't corrected her.

Áedán glanced back at me. He'd heard. I could see it in the slight curve of his mouth, the way his eyes caught the light. He didn't say anything. Just looked me over and then turned back to throw another piece of bread.

It happened twice more as we walked through the village. A man at the bookshop said we made a lovely couple. A woman at the souvenir shop asked how long we'd been together. Each time it happened, I started to correct them. And each time I started to correct them, Áedán would slip his arm around my shoulders, casual and affectionate, and say something that wasn't quite a confirmation but wasn't quite a denial either.

I should have moved away, should have stepped out from under his arm and established proper boundaries. Instead, I stood there, hyperaware of the weight of his arm, the warmth of him against my side, and his fresh, masculine scent.

“You're enjoying this.” I stopped outside the souvenir shop to slide the books I'd purchased into the bag with those I'd gotten at the bookshop.

“Immensely.” He slid his arm around my shoulders again. “You're easily fankled.”

“I'm what?”

“Uh, what's the English?” He frowned. “Ah, yes, you're flustered.”

“I'm not flustered.”

“Your ears are red.”

I reached up to touch them. They were warm. “That's from the cold.”

“It's a warm summer day.”

“The breeze off the water is cold.”

“Sure, it is.” He squeezed my shoulder gently, then let his arm fall away.

I tried not to feel disappointed that he'd drawn away, but I've never been one to deny the truth. I was disappointed. But then he took my bag of books from me, and I felt a little better.

We were wandering down Pier Road, looking for a tea room or restaurant for lunch, when we heard a commotion coming from the pier. We had just reached the end of the road and were about to turn and go up the other side, so we were close enough to see what the shouting was about. A little girl had fallen into the loch, her red coat bright against the dark water. A couple stood on the pier above her. The shouts had been from other people on the pier, alerting the parents. The man had shucked off his coat and was climbing the railing, but the child was already going under, her coat pulling her down.

Áedán moved before I could process my shock. One moment he was beside me, the next he was in the water, moving with a speed and grace that wasn't human. He reached where the girl had gone under in seconds, dove, and came up with her. The couple on the pier ran for the shore, reaching Áedán just as he carried the girl out of the water.

By the time I reached them, he was kneeling on the rocky shore, supporting the girl's back as she coughed out water. Her mother knelt beside her, sobbing, while the father stood over them, white-faced with terror.

“Is she—” The father could barely get the words out.

“She's fine.” Áedán's voice was calm, steady. “Just a wee bit feart. Get her warm and dry.”

The girl's mother removed the child's soaked coat and replaced it with hers. The father was trying to thank Áedán, words tumbling over each other, but Áedán just shook his head.

“Anyone woulda done it.” Áedán stood up and patted the man on the shoulder. “I saw you. You were aboot to dive in, but I dinnae think you'd reach her in time.”

“I think you're right. Thank you.” He shook Áedán's hand.

Wrapped in her mother's coat and held in her mother's arms, the little girl looked up at Áedán with huge eyes. “You're pretty.”