Free Haunting Beauty by Erin Quinn Page B

again and wasn’t the least bit surprised that his feet, like every other part of him, had chosen to come here. While Danni’s crazy little dog worked herself into a fury on the other side of the door, Sean made himself comfortable in the chair on the porch. The afternoon breeze danced through the shrubs and grass, bringing with it the fragrance of roses blooming in a neighbor’s garden. A few houses down, someone started a mower and soon the sharp scent of cut grass joined the mix. If not for the lunatic dog, it would have been peaceful, calming even. He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to block out the annoying barking. He needed some calm. He needed some perspective.
    But all he could think of was the pale glow of her skin, the scent of her hair, the delicate shape of her ears. How it might feel to lean close to her, breathe her in like a fine wine. He remembered how she’d watched him with that bewildering anticipation. As if she’d been waiting for him. As if she’d expected him.
    He shook his head, confused by the very clarity of the feeling.
    He saw a flash of movement to his right and glanced over in time to see the yellow cat stalking him from the bushes. When it realized he’d seen it, the enormous creature bolted across the lawn and up the tree like the Hound of the Baskervilles was on its tail. Were all of Danni’s animals mad? At least the dog seemed to be giving up. She gave a final, hoarse yap and then there was silence.
    He didn’t know how much time had passed with him sitting there, soaking in the tranquility of the place, before he heard her car turn down the street. A moment later she pulled into the driveway. He remained seated on the porch, unsure of what to do now that she was here, certain that he shouldn’t have come, but convinced he couldn’t have stayed away.
    The day had warmed and she’d taken off the blue sweater, leaving just a thin white T-shirt and black trousers. Her hair had been twisted up and was held, he saw with amusement, by a pencil. She looked flushed, disheveled. Beautiful. As alive and earthy as the riot of flowers blooming all around him. As unattainable and mysterious as the fairies that lived beneath the hills of his homeland. He wanted to lose himself in her. Strange enough, he felt that in doing so he might actually find the missing pieces of the man he wanted to be.
    She’d taken several steps up the walk before suddenly her back stiffened and her shoulders squared. She hadn’t seen him yet, but she’d obviously sensed his silent perusal. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his and the look on her face, the wariness in her expression . . . it cut him to the bone.
    She knew about his father—that he was the one held responsible for the MacGrath murders.
    It was there in the hardening of her lips and the angle of her chin. In the coldness that seeped into the glittering gray of her eyes, turning them into a stormy sky ready to erupt. He’d seen the look before, every day of the past twenty years to be exact. When they deigned to notice him at all, the people of Ballyfionúir— his people— did so with the same suspicion and apprehension Danni showed him now. He’d grown used to it. Convinced himself that it didn’t bother him anymore.
    But on Danni’s face, the look was like slivers of glass in his gut.
    “Hello,” he said.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was flat, but her eyes . . . Ah, her eyes. They were bright with emotions she wouldn’t let surface. Lightning bolts should have shot from them. Perhaps they still would.
    “I wanted to speak with you,” he said, taking a deep breath as she passed him on the way to the door.
    She glanced back. “To explain?”
    He shook his head, drowning in the condemnation on her face. It was nothing less than he deserved. He’d come to her lying. He couldn’t even say he wouldn’t leave that way, too. He’d do whatever it took.
    “There aren’t many ways to explain that everyone