the car to a stop, Kellan got out and carefully scooped the woman up into his arms. “Do me a favor. Give Doc Finnerty a call and if he doesn’t answer, see if you can find him.”
“I know where he is,” Danny said. “He’s having a pint at the pub. He was there when I left.” He ran up the garden path and opened the door for Kellan. “I’ll go get him, then.”
Kellan turned toward the bedroom, then realized that the sofa was a better choice. He could light a fire and it would provide the warmth she needed. He set her down, then hurriedly laid peat and kindling in the hearth. A few minutes later, a flicker of flame licked at the sod, smoke curling up into the chimney.
“There,” he said. He leaned back on his heels, then realized the fire would do only half the job. He had to get her out of her wet clothes and into something warm. Though he didn’t relish undressing a woman without her permission, Kellan figured if he didn’t look at her in a sexual way, it would remain a purely practical matter.
He strode into the bedroom and grabbed the quilt and a wool blanket off the bed, then returned to the sofa. She was so still, curled up in front of him. Kellan gently sat her up, then slipped his jacket off her shoulders.
If she were conscious, he could put her in a warm shower. But there was no way she could stand unless he joined her.
Her hair was tangled with sand and bits of debris from the beach. He managed to skim her damp dress up along her legs, but was forced to pull her to her feet to get it over her head. To his relief, she seemed able to stand on her own for a few seconds.
He tossed the dress aside, then grabbed the quilt, wrapping her up in it and trying not to dwell on the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Why should that surprise me?” he murmured.
She had a beautiful body, slender and long-limbed. Her skin was pale and soft as silk, but so cold to his touch. His gaze slipped lower, to her lovely breasts, the curve of her hips and the junction of her legs.
He drew a ragged breath and pulled her against him, rubbing her back with his palms until the friction created warmth. What she really needed was a long, hot bath. But the cottage had only a shower. A bath would require hauling in the old tub that they’d used as kids.
A sharp knock sounded on the door and a few seconds later, Danny stepped inside followed by Jimmy Finnerty. Dr. Finnerty was the closest thing the town had to a local doctor. He had retired from his practice in Cork three years ago and now lived a quiet life with his wife in his vacation home on the bay, spending his days fishing and only coming out of retirement for the occasional emergency.
“What have we here?” he asked, setting his bag on the end of the sofa.
“I found her on the beach,” Kellan said.
“The beach? What beach?”
“A little spot I know just up the coast. She was lying in the sand.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was dressed. I took her dress off to try to get her warm. I think she’s a bit better. I had her standing. But she hasn’t really opened her eyes.”
The doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial, then cracked it and held the smelling salts under her nose. She jerked back, then waved her hand in front of her face, moaning softly. “Well, she’s not unconscious. She seems to be under the influence.”
“Of what?” Danny asked.
“Pills. Liquor. Can’t say for certain. Why don’t we start with some nice hot coffee and see if that helps.” He glanced over at Kellan. “You say you found her on the beach?”
Kellan nodded. “She threw up while I was carrying her out to the road.”
“That’s a positive sign.”
“Not for me,” he muttered.
“You don’t suppose she’s a—”
“A drunk?”
“No, a mermaid,” Finnerty said with a chuckle. “She could be a mermaid washed up onshore.”
“Look at her,” Danny said. “She has that look about her.”
Kellan stared at the woman, frowning. “She looks … I don’t know. Pretty. But she has feet. Don’t mermaids have … fins?”
“Naw. Not after they come ashore,” Finnerty said as he slipped on a blood pressure cuff. “The skin is so pale and the hair like spun silk. I’ve seen pictures. This is what they look like. Otherworldly. Was she combing her hair when you first saw her?” He looked up. “That’s how they cast their spells, you know.”
“I don’t believe in mermaids,” Kellan said. “And neither do you two. She was unconscious when I found her.”
Finnerty listened to her pulse, then removed the cuff. “Well, she’s here. And her vital signs are strong. What are you going to do with her?”
“I thought you could take her. To hospital, if need be.”
“She appears to be slightly hypothermic and possibly hungover. Now that she’s getting warm, she’ll probably wake up and be just fine. I expect the best place for her is right here—at least until she’s feeling better. Then you can take her back where you found her.”
“What? I can’t put her back on that beach.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll sort it all out,” Finnerty said as he rose from the sofa. “You’re a smart lad, Kellan. Now, my wife has dinner waiting and I’m late. If you need me, give me a ring and I’ll come back. Danny, let’s be off and leave your brother to nurse this pretty merrow back to health.”
Danny gave Kellan a shrug and followed the doctor out the door. “Bring me up some soup from the pub,” Kellan called. “And a bottle of whiskey.”
“No problem,” Danny said. “And I’ll fetch a bushel of kelp and some herring, too.” He was still chuckling as the door slammed behind him.
Kellan stared down at the woman lying on the sofa. He reached down and brushed the flaxen hair from her eyes, taking in the perfect features of her face. Finnerty was right. She had a look about her, something … extraordinary. “Otherworldly,” he murmured.
And familiar. Kellan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before. And yet, he certainly would have remembered meeting her. A woman this beautiful would have stuck in his mind.
“If you are a mermaid,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over her temple, “then we’re going to have a very interesting conversation when you wake up.”
GELSEY WOODSON SNUGGLED into the warm recesses of the blanket wrapped around her naked body. Her head ached from the bottle of champagne she’d drunk the night before and her skin itched from salt water and sand, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
She listened distractedly to the male voices, realizing they were talking about her. The one man was obviously a doctor and she stifled a moan as he took her blood pressure. There was another voice, her rescuer. The man who’d carried her up from the beach. She liked his
