Her face still burned with the recent memory of her brief interaction with the winged and antlered Warbird the night before. He'd been nothing but a gentleman and she-. Well. She hadn't been a lady, that was for sure. The baffled look on his face as she sank into the river kept flashing before her eyes, making her wince each time. Foolish girl.
All she wanted now was to check on her boys, find a nice sunny stretch of beach, and sleep off the ragged ends of a night away she'd sorely needed. That, however, didn't seem to be in the cards.
As soon as the golden white seamare walked into the sheltered palm grove that edged the family beach, she could feel that something was off. Neither Cormorant nor Halcyon seemed to be sleeping in. That wasn't unusual, she'd figured on tracking them down once she got here. No, it was a smell that caught her off guard. Deep sea brine, the heavy tang of fish that'd been sitting out in the sun too long. And beneath it all, or perhaps tying it all together, was the tell-tale musk of a nearby stallion.
Her teeth set hard in her jaw. One part of her, the sane part no doubt, urged her to walk back the way she'd come. To go quickly, but not quick enough to draw attention. To come back later, with a friend. A big friend. The overriding part of her brain pushed her forward though. This cove had been her family's safe haven for generations. She, her sister, her brother, had all been born here. Her children had been raised here. It was a fool who thought to invade a home like this one.
On stiff legs she prowled forward, eyes casting back and forth through the dense foliage before it gave way to the sandy shore of her private den. He wasn't hiding. Not even attempting to. Bold as a bull shark, a stallion stood thigh deep in the gently lapping waters of her tiny harbour. He was patterned in blue and gold and white all over, and beautiful enough to impress her. If only his reputation hadn't run before him.
"Ivar," she clipped, planted firmly on the sands of her beach. For all they'd never met, the kelpies of the northmost daughter island were mostly known to her. Ivar most of all. Her tail fretted the air fitfully as she eyed the waterbound stallion. For all his reputation, she knew her own strengths. "I don't remember inviting you into my home, kelpie." She stepped closer to the water's edge, out of reach. "That means you're trespassing." She spoke conversationally, almost pleasantly, but a sharp edge swam beneath the surface of her words. A riptide that was fed by lack of sleep and sheer annoyance. Whatever the kelpie was here for, it had better be good.