“Have you forgotten your oath so soon, my son?” His father stood tall above him as he had in Ian’s youth, a disappointed frown on his brow.
“No, Father, I remember and honor it. Always.” He heard his own voice as it had been in his childhood.
“Take care that you remember your vow to protect the Mortals, else the day come when you’re forced to choose.”
“I am ever conscious of my oath, Father.”
Larkin turned away, shaking his head sadly. Bright sunlight glinted off the shining silver armor he wore, blinding Ian for an instant. And in that instant, his father disappeared.
“Come back,” he cried aloud, waking himself. He lay on the sofa, his covers kicked to the floor in a tangled heap. When he stood and looked around the room, the reality of where he was returned to him.
It had been a dream.
He scrubbed at his face. Some nice strong coffee would drive away the cobwebs from his brain. He’d only taken a couple of steps toward the little kitchen when his foot landed on something sharp.
“What the bloody hell?” He leaned over and picked up the offending object, a high-heeled shoe. Sarah’s shoe.
He thought of when he’d seen it last, as she slipped if off just before tucking those lovely feet under her when she sat down on the sofa. Last night. Just before he’d lost control and everything had gotten completely out of hand.
He carried it with him to the counter, tucking it in the waistband of his pajama bottoms before putting the coffee on to perk. Sarah thought he made it for her each morning, and he hadn’t the heart to confess that it was his own little vice, an addiction picked up on one of his visits to the States many, many years ago.
His shirt still lay on the floor where he’d tossed it last night. With his freshly brewed coffee in hand, he walked over and picked it up, flipping it over his shoulder on his way out the glass doors to the patio.
After setting down his cup, he walked over to have a look around the French doors. He and Daniel had checked the area last night, but found nothing. He was hoping something would show up in the morning light.
Ian was convinced that whoever was stalking Sarah was no figment of her imagination, especially after she admitted that she’d seen the same man in town yesterday watching them while they had lunch. Her description of the man she’d seen through those doors last night seemed very like Daniel’s description of the elusive Mr. O’Dannan.
Later this morning, he planned to walk up to the manor house and make a point of meeting the man. If he was the one spying on Sarah, then Ian had a score to settle with him. First, for frightening her so badly. Second, for ruining what had been a very promising evening.
Ian smiled and picked up his coffee, enjoying his first sip.
Although logic told him he couldn’t afford any involvement with Sarah, to his warrior’s mind last night had felt like the right time and the right place for what had almost happened.
He refused to tarnish that now by worrying about what a bad idea it was to let his relationship with her go any further. She was a forever type of woman and he couldn’t afford to be mixed up with one of those. His forever was already spoken for. He knew what he needed to do. He just wasn’t sure if he could do it—or, more accurately, not do it.
The interfering Peeping Tom had simply prevented something that shouldn’t have happened anyway.
Ian walked to the door where the mystery man had stood. The only thing out of place was a crumpled piece of paper wedged under the roses. He leaned over and picked it up, hoping it might be some type of clue, but it was only the note he had left for Sarah yesterday.
There were no other signs. No footprint of any kind marred the soft dirt on either side of the doors. But he had no doubt someone had been there, and with the vibrations he was sensing so fresh, that left only one possibility. Their voyeuristic visitor was Faerie. A Nuadian Faerie.
Thinking of the Fae brought the memory of his father and the dream rushing back to him.
He sat down at the small iron table and propped his bare feet on the chair across from him, savoring his coffee once more.
It was only a dream.
Only a dream? Who was he kidding? His dreams were never just dreams. Every single dream he’d ever experienced had come to pass at some point. This one was a warning. They always were.
Now he merely needed to figure out what it warned of before something terrible happened.
* * *
The smell of coffee tickled at Sarah’s nose, pulling her from the safe cocoon of sleep. She stretched and sat up. Heat flooded her face as the memory of last night washed over her.
The memory of Ian.
He made her feel things, want things she’d never felt before, never wanted before. Was this how it was supposed to feel, those things she wrote about but had never experienced for herself?
She crawled from the bed and headed downstairs, drawn by the fresh-perked aroma filling the cottage.
At the foot of the stairs she paused. Ian was nowhere to be seen. She continued to the counter and poured her coffee, determined not to think about last night—not Ian, not the face in the door—none of it.
Her good intentions lasted only until she turned from the counter and caught sight of Ian through the open glass door. Her heartbeat quickened until she could feel the blood pulsing through her body. Even doing something so mundane as sitting, he was majestic.
The early morning sunlight shone on his bare chest, highlighting his muscles with each tiny move. He ran his hand across a piece of paper on the table, flattening it, over and over, his brow wrinkled as if in deep thought about what he saw there. Then he took a drink from his cup and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed.
Sarah couldn’t stop staring at the scene in front of her. Couldn’t stop remembering. Her fingers could feel the soft texture of the dark hair that curled against his neck. When she breathed in, she could still smell the heady masculine scent of him.
In that moment she admitted that she wanted him as badly as she knew he had wanted her last night. Ian McCullough had touched her, the real her, like no one she had ever known.
But while she wanted him, she was terrified of that wanting, terrified of him. Just as he had the power to make her feel things she’d never felt, he also had the power to hurt her as no other ever had.
Her father’s rejection had come as no surprise. He had left his family long before her mother’s accident. She was surprised more than anything when he came to visit, still the beautiful, tall blond god she remembered from her mother’s stories. For a long time after, she liked to pretend it was longing she’d seen in his green eyes when he took his leave of her, but eventually she accepted the truth, and she felt no pain as she went on with her life.
Her grandmother, embittered by her own husband’s desertion, was angry at the role life had given her—angry at having to raise her daughter’s child. Sarah never had any illusions about her grandmother’s wanting her. She always knew the woman raised her as a duty, not out of love. That early knowledge enabled her to steel herself, to protect her emotions.
Even in her marriage, she’d managed to keep an important part of herself separate, tucked away and untouched. Brad had been able to embarrass her, to disappoint her, to make her doubt her own worth, but never to really damage the core of her. When their marriage ended, she picked herself up and continued on.
Sarah turned and headed back up the stairs. The hand holding her coffee shook.
Ian was different.
If she let him in, when Ian walked away she might not be able to pick up the pieces and go on.
Ian had the power to break her heart.
* * *
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Ian turned to glare at his friend.
“Exactly what I said.” Daniel glared back. “Gone. As in no longer here. I stopped by his room this morning and when I got no answer to my knock, I let myself in. Nothing to show the man was ever here except for his note.”
“How the bloody hell did he manage to leave without anyone knowing? How did he get through yer security?”
“How the bloody hell should I know?” Danny asked pointedly.
“Sorry.” Ian’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve no call to yell at you. I’m frustrated.”
“From what I saw when you called me down to the cottage last night, I don’t doubt that you are.” Danny watched him expectantly.
“That’s a subject no open to discussion. What excuse did he give for leaving so soon?”
“None, really. His note merely relayed his regrets at being called away.”
“If he was the one at the window last night—”
“From Sarah’s description of the man,” Daniel interrupted, “I’m certain it was Flynn O’Dannan who stood outside the cottage.”
“I checked carefully at first light this morning. There was nothing. No prints in the dirt, no smudges on the glass, not a leaf disturbed. Nothing.”
“You think he’s our man? The one we’ve been looking for?” Danny sat down hard in his chair.
“No.” Ian sat down across from him. “I think he’s the Fae we’ve been looking for. Or at least one of them. I felt him on everything he’d touched. He might cover his tracks, but he canna cover his essence.”
“And now he’s gone, and we have no idea where.” Danny leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “This whole time wasted.”
“No necessarily. There are still others coming. I’d suspect O’Dannan was naught more than the advance scout.”
Daniel sat quietly, obviously thinking over the possibilities. “A scout?”
“If it were me, I’d want to send someone in advance of my arrival. Someone to verify who is here. Someone to verify the lay of the land.”
“Makes sense. So tell me. What exactly did their ‘scout’ see in that cottage last night that frightened him away?”
“There was nothin’ he could have seen that had anything to do with this operation. Last night was purely personal.”
“I’m sure it was,” Daniel murmured, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
“I’m warning you, Danny, we’ll no be talking about my private life.”
“Well, perhaps we’d better, because something certainly frightened that man away.”
“I dinna think so.” Ian stood and pulled an object from his pocket. “I’m thinking fear has nothing to do with it. I’m thinking the scout simply did his job. I’ve a bad feeling it’s all about Sarah.”
“You’ve lost me, Ian. I’m not following you here.”
“Think about it. What if this O’Dannan was at the window as a test, simply to verify whether or not Sarah could see him? She said it was the same man who’d watched us at lunch. The same one she saw outside Thistle Down when she first arrived. What if O’Dannan was the one who followed us down from Scotland?”
Danny nodded slowly. “He did arrive in a car similar to the one you described.” He stood up and faced his friend. “If, as you suspect, he’s Fae, Sarah’s scream last night would prove without a doubt that she’d seen him. And that would be a dead giveaway of her lineage.”
“It’s how we found out, her seeing Dallyn in his own form. And I’ve no doubt but that O’Dannan is Fae.”
“Then Dallyn was correct. They’re going to try to use her.”
“That and more. I suspect Henry was right as well—that she has abilities she’s no even aware of.” Ian extended his hand with the paper he’d fished from his pocket. “Have yerself a look at this.”
Daniel took the paper his friend offered and glanced up questioningly.
“It’s a note I left for her yesterday. When I came back to the cottage, she was sitting outside, surrounded by a red glow, her hand upon this paper.”
Daniel hesitated, fingering the note. “I don’t understand. You saw an aura around her?”
“No, it was no an aura. The verra air around her glowed red, charged in some manner. Yet she seemed to be totally unaware of it.”
“Ian, this is incredible. Here in the middle, this looks like…” He stopped and looked up, amazement clear on his face.
“Aye.” Ian took the note back and lightly ran his finger across it.
There in the center of the paper was a handprint. Sarah’s handprint. Burned into the paper.