Page 10 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

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 an unexpected 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 if you were clever and patient.

Take the time to win a Mortal’s heart and she’d do anything you asked of her.

Winning Abigail’s heart should be an easy enough task.

In his experience, Mortals were vastly materialistic.

He had only to shower her with her heart’s desires to win her over, and that was something he could certainly do.

Once he was sure she was the one.

Too often he’d seen the results of mistaking some woman for what she was not. And as for him, he was through making mistakes.

Flynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case.

One glance inside assured him the GPS tracker in his cell phone was functioning properly, giving him an accurate record of wherever Abigail traveled on this little jaunt of hers.

He’d worked far too hard to find her to carelessly allow her to slip away now.

Not that he actually thought she’d run away. Already he could feel her molding to his desires. Even on a day off, she chose to spend her time working on his project, to make it better, to please him.

Rising to his feet, he walked back to the window, staring off into the distance, thoughts of Abigail filling his mind. Filling his senses.

Just a taste.

Once again he rejected the lure of the Bloodlust. There was a better way. Win Abigail’s heart, and she would do his bidding without question. A better way, and though it would take time, he had all the time in the world.