Lachlan gripped his hands in his lap and bowed his head as the minister’s words stirred those waters even more. Was he willing to accept conviction? How could he call himself a man of faith if he ignored it and continued as ever?
After the benediction, Lachlan rose with his parents and greeted elderly Mr. and Mrs. Fraser in the pew behind them.
Mother peered over Mrs. Fraser’s shoulder toward the back of the church. “I wonder who those young ladies are. Have you seen them before?”
In the back pew talking to the Bain family stood two women in naval uniform—Cilla’s guards. They had their backs turned to ... Cilla. Who stood by herself in a yellow floral dress.
No. Lachlan’s heart plunged into his stomach. When Cilla made sport about attending church, it never occurred to him that she’d actually come.
“Aye,” Mrs. Fraser said. “One of the Wrens has attended this past fortnight—the Welsh lass with the light brown hair. She’s stationed at Dunnet Head. The other two lasses are new though.”
Mother guided Father toward the aisle. “Let’s introduce ourselves.”
Lachlan fumbled for his mother’s arm. “No!”
His parents spun to him, eyes wide.
His mouth opened and closed, but no words could pass the barrier erected by the Official Secrets Act. How could he tell his parents they were about to welcome a Nazi spy?
“Well?” Father said.
Lachlan ran his tongue around his dry mouth. “I—I want to go home and have dinner.”
“In good time.” Mother gave him an affectionate smile and marched down the aisle.
Straight to Cilla.
Lachlan scrambled to catch up, but what could he say? How could he protect his mother and father?
And what if Cilla said she was his sweetheart—or worse, his lover?
He couldn’t speak. He could only pray.
Lord, no.
Mother extended her hand to the selkie. “Och, I love seeing a new face at Dunnet Parish Church, and such a bonny one. Welcome, dearie.”
With a smile that illuminated her entire face, Cilla took his mother’s hand. “How do you do? I’m Cilla van der Zee.”
Lachlan’s step hitched. Why did she have to be so attractive? But wasn’t that the way of the selkie?
“I’m Rhona Mackenzie. My husband, Malcolm. Our elder son, Lachlan.”
Cilla’s gaze locked on his. Her smile flattened. The light extinguished. “Lieutenant.”
He managed to nod. “Miss van der Zee.”
“You’ve already met,” Father said as he shook Cilla’s hand.
The Official Secrets Act tied his vocal cords in knots. He couldn’t say how he’d met Cilla or how he’d been blackmailed into helping her transmit secrets to Nazi Germany, and he let his gaze bore into hers.
Cilla snapped a smile to his parents. “I’m the new apprentice lightkeeper. Your son had an appointment at Dunnet Head yesterday.”
“Aye.” Mother tucked her pocketbook under her arm. “He didnae mention meeting you.”
“Oh, we met only briefly.” Cilla flapped her hand. “I know he has important matters on his mind.”
“Aye.” Important matters like protecting his family and country.
