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Authors: Melissa Mayhue
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his interest in her was
so
obvious—and the teasing she took from the others on the team as a result of it—that made her uncomfortable.
He certainly had been blessed with all the prerequisites to classify him as a perfect catch. He was wealthy, handsome, intelligent, and generous to a fault. She knew that she should be feeling lucky to have caught his eye.
Instead she simply felt uncomfortable.
Again she sighed, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.
More the fool, her. Here she was, driving away from perfect catch material, headed toward some mystery dream man she’d met only once. One who’d never bothered to try to see her again after spending that one night with her.
Which probably should tell her something important about her own mental state, not to mention what kind of guy this Colin MacAlister really was.
Abby chewed on the corner of her mouth, considering for a moment whether to turn the car around and head straight back to Swan House.
No. She had to do this. It was the only way to get Colin MacAlister out of her system. And without a doubt, she’d reached a point where getting him out of her system was the only way to save her sanity.
Eight
W ill you be wanting yer tea here in the sitting room, Mr. Flynn?”
Flynn O’Dannan turned with a start toward the elderly hotel keeper, shaken by her use of his name. Of course. She thought it his surname. Not for the first time he silently acknowledged the foolishness of his having used any part of his real name in this charade.
“Yes, thank you. Over by the fire will be fine.”
He turned his back on the woman, stroking his thumb and forefinger against his chin as he peered through the ruffled curtains to watch Abigail drive away.
Abigail. So trusting. So innocent. So absolutely desirable. The latter realization had come as a pleasant surprise over the last couple of weeks. Having her turn out to be the one he sought would certainly bring anunexpected bonus. But was she the one? Was she all Mortal or was it the Faerie blood rushing through her veins that called to him?
She’s Faerie!
Every one of his instincts screamed the accusation every time she came near. And though his instincts rarely let him down, he wanted proof before he made any drastic moves. Absolute, irrefutable proof.
But how?
Just a taste. Her blood can’t deceive.
No! With a snort of disdain, he turned his back on the window to take a seat by the crackling fireplace. He would not allow the demon Bloodlust to lure him down that path again. He had more than enough poor choices haunting his past without adding another.
Joining the rebellion against the Earth Mother had been only his first mistake. His second, choosing to follow Reynard Servans, had been equally unwise.
As always when he allowed himself to dwell on the past, fear and regret curdled in his stomach as if it had been only yesterday.
His poor choices had resulted in his being exiled from his home world, banished forever to the Mortal Plain, his precious magic stripped from him.
Drawing on his inner discipline, Flynn loosened his grip on the arms of his chair and reached for the now cooled cup of tea.
That was all behind him now.
Once he’d faced the truth of his reality, he’d found the power to move forward. He wanted nothing so much as to go home to Wyddecol. Not to rule, but simply to live peacefully in the home of his ancestors, bathed in the glow of Faerie Magic.
Lo, but he missed the feel of the Magic coursing through his body!
Just a taste.
His grip on the cup tightened as he fought to ignore the ever-present demon.
There was a better way, though it required time and patience. A female descendant of the Fae could locate and open a portal to the Realm of Faerie. He needed only to find such a woman and convince her to help him. The woman he needed was Fae, but she was Mortal as well.
In Abigail Porter, he hoped to have found such a one as he sought.
Mortals were, for the most part, easily manipulated
so
obvious—and the teasing she took from the others on the team as a result of it—that made her uncomfortable.
He certainly had been blessed with all the prerequisites to classify him as a perfect catch. He was wealthy, handsome, intelligent, and generous to a fault. She knew that she should be feeling lucky to have caught his eye.
Instead she simply felt uncomfortable.
Again she sighed, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.
More the fool, her. Here she was, driving away from perfect catch material, headed toward some mystery dream man she’d met only once. One who’d never bothered to try to see her again after spending that one night with her.
Which probably should tell her something important about her own mental state, not to mention what kind of guy this Colin MacAlister really was.
Abby chewed on the corner of her mouth, considering for a moment whether to turn the car around and head straight back to Swan House.
No. She had to do this. It was the only way to get Colin MacAlister out of her system. And without a doubt, she’d reached a point where getting him out of her system was the only way to save her sanity.
Eight
W ill you be wanting yer tea here in the sitting room, Mr. Flynn?”
Flynn O’Dannan turned with a start toward the elderly hotel keeper, shaken by her use of his name. Of course. She thought it his surname. Not for the first time he silently acknowledged the foolishness of his having used any part of his real name in this charade.
“Yes, thank you. Over by the fire will be fine.”
He turned his back on the woman, stroking his thumb and forefinger against his chin as he peered through the ruffled curtains to watch Abigail drive away.
Abigail. So trusting. So innocent. So absolutely desirable. The latter realization had come as a pleasant surprise over the last couple of weeks. Having her turn out to be the one he sought would certainly bring anunexpected bonus. But was she the one? Was she all Mortal or was it the Faerie blood rushing through her veins that called to him?
She’s Faerie!
Every one of his instincts screamed the accusation every time she came near. And though his instincts rarely let him down, he wanted proof before he made any drastic moves. Absolute, irrefutable proof.
But how?
Just a taste. Her blood can’t deceive.
No! With a snort of disdain, he turned his back on the window to take a seat by the crackling fireplace. He would not allow the demon Bloodlust to lure him down that path again. He had more than enough poor choices haunting his past without adding another.
Joining the rebellion against the Earth Mother had been only his first mistake. His second, choosing to follow Reynard Servans, had been equally unwise.
As always when he allowed himself to dwell on the past, fear and regret curdled in his stomach as if it had been only yesterday.
His poor choices had resulted in his being exiled from his home world, banished forever to the Mortal Plain, his precious magic stripped from him.
Drawing on his inner discipline, Flynn loosened his grip on the arms of his chair and reached for the now cooled cup of tea.
That was all behind him now.
Once he’d faced the truth of his reality, he’d found the power to move forward. He wanted nothing so much as to go home to Wyddecol. Not to rule, but simply to live peacefully in the home of his ancestors, bathed in the glow of Faerie Magic.
Lo, but he missed the feel of the Magic coursing through his body!
Just a taste.
His grip on the cup tightened as he fought to ignore the ever-present demon.
There was a better way, though it required time and patience. A female descendant of the Fae could locate and open a portal to the Realm of Faerie. He needed only to find such a woman and convince her to help him. The woman he needed was Fae, but she was Mortal as well.
In Abigail Porter, he hoped to have found such a one as he sought.
Mortals were, for the most part, easily manipulated
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