Read Online Skin Deep by Marissa Doyle - Free Book Online

his fill at those eyes.
    Then her words registered. Inappropriate? Did humans have some taboo about children? “Is it inappropriate to comfort a hurt child?”
    “No…it’s just that I don’t want you to think I’m trying to”—she shrugged and looked even more uncomfortable—“to take anyone’s place.”
    So that was what had troubled her. “Conn’s mother is dead,” he said, his voice hardening as it did whenever he had to speak of Finna. “You did him a kindness. He’s known no woman’s touch since he was very small.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said again, then blinked. “You remember that? Do you remember your last name? Or your address or phone number?”
    Shark’s teeth, he had to be careful. “No, I don’t remember anything else. But I could not forget losing my wife. Could you forget losing your husband?”
    An odd change came over her face. “I’m trying to,” she muttered.
    A sudden loud sound, like a brief whir, came from the table next to him. He tensed, but she quickly rose as the sound came again and reached for something black on it.
    “I’ve got to get a new phone for up here. The ring tone on this one is hideous,” she said as she lifted an oblong object from it, poked at it with one finger—it made another short, peculiar noise—and held it to the side of her head. “Hello? Oh, good morning to you too, Rob. No, it’s not too early. I’m awake, sort of.”
    Rob. That was the healer’s name. Was she communicating with him through the little black oblong? He’d heard humans did things like that, just as they had boats that moved without the wind and silver metal birds that they flew through the air. It was fascinating to see some of their handiwork up close.
    But what was even more interesting was Garland. She’d just said she was trying to forget her husband…might he be dead, too? He touched the skin she’d given him to wear. She must have loved him very much, to judge by the feeling she’d woven into this. No wonder she had seemed so sad when she spoke of forgetting. By Lir, he had to remember that he wasn’t the only creature in the world grieving for a lost love. How long ago had her husband died? Not very long ago, for surely other men would be eager to pay court to a beautiful widow like her. Perhaps one already was. He’d seen the way the healer had looked at her—
    “No, the boy’s still sleeping but Alasdair’s awake. They spent a peaceful night as far as I can tell.” Garland made a funny little face as she said that. She wasn’t going to tell the healer about sitting up with Conn all night? Why not? “Of course you can. Boy Scouts? You’re either very civic-minded or very crazy. Or both. See you in a few minutes.”
    She poked at the black thing again and stood looking at it with a little smile. “That was Dr. Mowbray. He wants to come check on you two now because he’s doing a first aid class later with the local scout troop. He’s really something, isn’t he?”
    “Yes,” Alasdair said politely. Most of what she’d said made no sense but it seemed safe to agree.
    “I’m going to go start some coffee. Call if you need me, okay?” She set the black thing back down on its platform, glanced again at Conn, then left. He heard her soft footfalls move away from him and counted them. This was a large place, with many rooms—large and lonely, if she lived here all alone. How sad for her.
    He lay back against his cushions and winced as one of his cuts gave a twinge. He wished he could like the healer as much as Garland seemed to. But underneath that calm demeanor—all healers, selkie or human, seemed to have it—Alasdair could sense his suspicion, verging on hostility. He didn’t want him and Conn here at Garland’s house, that was certain. Why? Because he didn’t want anyone getting between him and Garland? Too bad there was no way he could reassure the healer that he had no interest in her—not even one as lovely and compelling as she was. He