Free Conall's Legacy by Kat Wells Page A

went straight to her. It nuzzled her cheek, allowed her to slide a gentle hand down its neck, and then it began to eat from a bucket in her arms.
    Contentment radiated from Luisa. He might not be able to see it, but he felt it. She remained quiet, soaking up the peace that surrounded the creatures. He’d been wrong. This was not a woman he’d call lonely. She was more content here with her creatures than he’d ever been in the midst of Los Angeles chaos. Would he ever know contentment at this level?
    Luisa pulled at her braid, tucked loosened strands of hair into it, and drew his attention back to her face. Drake wished she didn’t feel the need to hide from him. Didn’t she know how beautiful she was? As though feeling his thoughts, the corners of her lips lifted and curved into a smile. She again touched the deer that ate from the bucket she held.
    Envy tugged at his heart. She had found true peace and inner strength here on the ranch she called her doorway to Paradise. Judging by the ranch name, he assumed it was a spiritual thing for her. He thought of Conall and Rebecca’s beliefs, of the faith they said would protect them, and of Conall’s funeral. How could Luisa find peace in believing in a deity who did such terrible things to good people? Drake doubted he’d ever get back his faith and the beliefs blown to hell by a maniac.
    Suddenly uncomfortable watching her in this setting, Drake turned and moved silently into the house. He closed the door on the scene, on her, and on his desires.
    Would he ever know peace? Would something--or someone--trust him as much as that deer trusted her? Perhaps Luisa would come to have faith in him and look at him with love in her eyes. Would he deserve that kind of blind trust again? Even he didn’t know the answer.
    His gut twisted into knots at the idea of Luisa falling in love with him. No. As long as he kept to himself, he’d never hurt anyone, never let anyone down, and never again kill someone who meant so much to him.
    Despair thickened the air trying to seep into his lungs. Pain thrummed through his body, pulsing like blood. He had to stay away from Luisa Montoya, to protect her.
    There was only one problem with that theory. The essence of Luisa vibrated on this ranch. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be alive, and not be aware of her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    The mid-morning sun roasted Luisa through the glass walls of her sunroom. Even the drawn shades couldn’t keep it cool. She saved her file, turned off the monitor, and pushed back from the desk. Pulling off her glasses, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. The harsh sound of crashing metal drifted in through the open window. He must have taken the padding off the mallet for some reason . She absently wondered if perhaps it created a different effect on the metal.
    Odd, she thought. Drake usually finishes by now. A smile spread across her face as she thought of the fun they’d had sharing stories over chocolate cake. She hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. Taking down two large glasses, she filled them with ice and tart liquid.
    She added a few homemade cookies to a tray, knowing, but not caring, that they would only make the lemonade more sour. She hadn’t baked all summer and now she’d done so twice in two days. Domesticity apparently arrived at the ranch with Drake.
    Luisa pushed the screen door open with her hip and let Rooster run out before letting it slap closed. She crossed the yard, cringing with each hammer-fall. She turned the corner of the shed where Drake worked and slid to a stop, glasses skidding precariously on the tray she carried.
    Her hands trembled, and she fought to steady them. Drake was naked from the waist up, his shirt thrown in a heap on the dirt floor. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his chest finding their way through dark, curly hair to race toward the waist of his jeans. He continued to pound the metal, the muscles in his shoulders and arms