The heaviness in his heart confused him. She was his enemy, so why did he feel so conflicted about killing her? Perhaps she wasn’t completely human. Her being of the sea, even in part, would explain his powerful attraction to her. It also would provide the excuse he wanted to allow her to live. First, however, he must confirm her heritage beyond a shadow of a doubt. Stuck here with nothing to do except ruminate, he’d come up with a way to test his theory. Unfortunately, the herb he needed to reveal her true form only grew on St. Kilda. Hopes sinking, he looked down at his tail, which itched something awful and had grown dull and cloudy—sure signs he was in the process of molting. It was only a matter of hours until his legs emerged, making the long journey impossible. Abandoning the plan, he formulated another. If she were part nymph or merrow, she should be able to breathe underwater. The ability might be latent, but should still come to the fore when needed. So, once he had legs, he would take her for a walk along the beach, drag her into the surf, and hold her head under until she was forced to take a breath.
