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"I hope so," she said, looking up at him. Maybe it was enough for now, to live moment by moment and not worry about the past or the future. Maybe there was some truth to it.

"Will you tell me about Sokolov and when you were with him?" he asked, reaching out and resting his hand gently on her stomach.

She tried not to tense, not wanting to ruin the sanctity that surrounded them, cloaking them in its bygone mercy. "I can't." She looked down.

He frowned briefly. "Perhaps not tonight, darling." His hand cupped her face, tilting it back up. "Another time." His thumb brushed over her lips. "Your eyes, they're darker, almost purple, just like the gloaming."

"I'm sorry, Sin."

"Shh, darling, shh, don't be. Right now, all I want is to see the moonlight shimmering on your skin." He helped her off the ledge and removed her clothes until she stood naked in the pale light. Goosebumps erupted all over her body, the chill of the night air mixing with the venerable narrative of love's demands, as aged as the stones around them. "You're like a pearl. Iridescent and luminous." His hand traced the swell of her breast and continued upward over her collarbone to the back of her neck. He pulled her toward him and kissed her, his mouth taking ownership of what he had already deemed his.

She stepped back, breaking his hold. "Now you." She helped pull his sweater over his head. She expected to find his weapons strapped to his chest but there were none. A brief respite from the subjectivity of his forced employment. She fumbled with his belt, finally unclasping it, and undid his kilt, laying it on the ground. His cock stood stiff against the hard, flat plane of his stomach, the course dark hair surrounding it forming a trail to his belly button.

"Christ, you're beautiful," he muttered, pulling her down on top of the wool tartan. The ground was hard underneath them, but neither seemed to care. She looked up at him, touching his chest. His skin was hot compared to the chilly air, and she welcomed his warmth. "I want you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

"Then have me." He slid into her, slick and solid, overpowering her senses. It was the lover's embrace. What she always dreamed of, but more than she ever imagined possible. He kissed her tenderly, the rhythm of his thrusts matching the beating of her heart. She wrapped her legs tight around his hips as he drove into her, increasing the depth of his domination. At this moment she did belong to him. She felt him begin to tighten with his release and she relinquished her last hold on reality. Wave after wave of pleasure erupted within her, sealing their union as he laid claim to her heart. For the moment she would grant him his dominion. She was his.

He pulled out of her, wrapping his kilt around them. She rested her head on his chest, his fingers stroking her hair.

"Tell me about your woman in the sketches." She leaned up on her elbow, so she could see his face.

"My woman." He chuckled lightly. "You mean the selkie."

"I mean the woman you loved," she said, then added, "Still love."

"Aye, I suppose I loved her." He adjusted her, laying her on her side so her back was pressed up against his chest and his body encompassed her like a spoon. "That is, as much as a fourteen-year-old boy can love something." His hand found hers, interlacing their fingers.

"Why do you call her a selkie?" she asked, curious. "I thought it was a fable."

"The first time I saw her, I was a wee lad, no more than eight. She was here at the castle. It was the first time I saw a naked woman. When she spied me, she jumped into the water and never came up. I knew then I had seen the selkie from the legend."

"You actually saw her?"

"Aye, though I never told anyone. They would have thought me mad. But then one day, years later, I was out on Jock's trawler and we both saw her in the cove, sunbathing on the outcropping of rocks. Jock told me I could never tell anyone. If I did, I risked putting her in harm's way. That night was the first time I drew her."

"And her eyes?" she questioned impulsively. "The color."

"Aye. It's part of the legend. Eyes of lilacs and violets," he explained. "The Greeks often described the sea as purple. Homer's wine-dark seas or Plato's true sea-purple are examples. So, for the selkie to have purple eyes made sense since she came from the depths of the sea and legends are created from the past. I couldn't imagine it until I saw her with my own eyes. It was like she hypnotized me. I researched it when I was a bit older to try to understand. I had never seen a purple ocean nor a purple-eyed girl until the selkie. I learned it most likely came from a dye traded back in the day called Tyrian or Royal Purple dye which comes from the murex sea snail. That is what the Greeks were most likely referring to. That was until I met you."

"It's not a natural eye color."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "It's why I followed you that night from the bar. Why I took you and brought you up here. Why I kissed you. I knew you were my selkie from the moment I looked into your scared eyes in the alley way. It was the same look the selkie gave me when she caught me spying on her here at the castle."

"I'm not selkie," she said with a laugh. "I'm human."

"Perhaps, or maybe you've just forgotten." He kissed the back of her head. "Either way, you're mine."

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