Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
“What
can’t be right?”
Keely
glanced over at Colin. A layer of dust spoiled the perfection of the once
pristine, white dress-shirt he wore with crisp jeans and glossy, black boots.
The flaw did nothing to spoil the perfection of the man, however. Dark brows
arched over mesmerizing blue eyes as he pulled a fat ledger from one of several
boxes he’d brought down from the attic. He added it to the pile of aged
notebooks on the table at the center of the Quinn’s extensive library.
Mentally
scolding herself for ogling Colin when she was supposed to be searching for
clues, she slid the open notebook she’d been reading across the table. She
pressed a fingertip to an entry on the page.
“My
name is here, and my parents, and Gran and Gramps. Why would we be listed in a
Quinn family genealogy?”
“Possibly
because the O’Brians are
part
of the Quinn genealogy,” he said evenly.
“Get
out!”
She
tugged the notebook back and studied the entries documenting her family line.
Sure enough, an Agnes Quinn was listed as her—she did a quick calculation in
her head—grandmother, with eight greats if front of the title. She sat back on
her heels in amazement.
“Why
didn’t I know this?”
He
leaned over to glance at the page, shrugged, and went back to his search of the
box. “It was a long time ago. Long enough for people to have forgotten the
connection.”
“You
knew of it,” she pointed out.
“I
did. I sat often enough with my mother, as she poured over her charts, to learn
the names tangled with the Quinns over the years. We’re a small community,
Keely.” He pointed a long finger at the notebook. “If you go back far enough,
you’ll find the name of just about every local family in that book.”
A
sly smile curved her lips as she reasoned, “That would make you my cousin,
wouldn’t it?”
His
eyes narrowed on her, but there was humor in them. “Technically,” he agreed.
“But a cousin far, far removed.” His own smile was sly as he crooned, “That
would make us kissin’ cousins, wouldn’t it?”
The
laugh fought to escape her lips and she dropped her head to hide her smile. She
wasn’t surprised at the suggestive comment. From the moment she’d accepted his
offer of help, she’d heard plenty of them—starting with that remark in the
garden about her hopeful, and beautiful, eyes.
As
incredible as it seemed, Colin Quinn was flirting with her. Her! Keely O’Brian.
The smoldering looks and frankly sensual suggestions he’d been tossing her way
were a far cry from the teasing attentions she’d received from him a decade
ago. Back then, her tender heart had lived for glimpses of him, but whenever
he’d turned his bright blue gaze on her that summer, it had been full of the
laughing tolerance of a man for a particularly amusing child.
She
wasn’t a child any longer, and having experienced the full force of his
legendary charm, she had to admit that if he had looked at her then, the way he
was now, she probably would have run screaming into the night. As it was, the
sharp confidence in his eyes, as though he had no doubt of her eventual
surrender to his irresistible, masculine allure, was enough to have her bracing
for flight.
And
that was a big fat lie!
Okay,
so it was thrilling, having him look at her the way she’d seen him look at Nora
all those years ago. Her problem was she wasn’t sure if it would be prudent to
act on that thrill. She’d worked hard to purge her heart of the childhood
fantasies she’d woven around Colin Quinn. Because of the dreams, he already
filled her mind; risking her heart again would be foolish. Still, the sensual
gleam of male appreciation in his eyes was gratifying, and went a long way
toward healing the wound he’d dealt to her seventeen year-old heart.
“Huh,”
she said without looking his way. She shrugged as though that thrill wasn’t
turning her insides to mush. “I’ve always wanted a cousin.”
“It’s
glad I am to hear that, darlin’.” She looked up to find his eyelids lowered to
a sensual half-mast. He leaned over the table. “As it happens, I’ve a want for
a certain cousin myself.”
She
slapped a hand to his wide chest, snickering and trying to ignore the answering
quiver rippling through her body. “So speaks the Don Juan of Dunhaven,” she
said, using the moniker she’d heard whispered by the women of Dunhaven when
she’d been too young to really appreciate its implications.
“Ahh,”
he groaned. “It’s a cruel woman you are, to call up a reputation I gained when
I was little more than a teenager. Experience has taught me to be much more
discriminating these days.”
“It’s
a
smart
woman, I am,” she mimicked in an imitation of his brogue. “And
it’s your experience that has me worried.” He chuckled, and backed off. She
picked up the open notebook once more. “Anyway, I came here to have a look at
your mother’s papers, not to be seduced.”
“Sure,
and I was thinking we could do both.”
His
smile was so boyishly imploring she couldn’t help but laugh. She pointed at the
stack of notebooks on the table. “Research, Quinn. You said you wanted to
help.”
She
bent over the notebook at his exaggerated sigh, and the whisper of turning
pages was the only sound for several minutes.
“Colin
Michael,” she read aloud, “Son of Colleen Quinn.” She met his gaze. “It doesn’t
list your father.”
He
shrugged, turning his attention back to the notebook he’d been reading. “My
parents never married. He returned home to the States, to take up the reigns of
his family’s business long before I was born.”
“What
was his name?”
“Michael
Sterling,” he muttered as though the name left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Colin
Michael Sterling,” she tested the name quietly.
“Colin
Quinn
,” he corrected sharply. “I’ve no connection with the man, nor will
I ever.”
Surprised
by the subtle anger of his tone, Keely glanced his way. She studied his
raven-black hair, those bright blue eyes, and the sharp cheekbones prominent in
his strong bone structure. Recognition widened her eyes.
The
über rich Sterling family practically owned Chicago. They certainly owned
enough of its prime real estate to make the claim. As head of the powerful
family, Michael Sterling’s image had graced enough publication covers to make
Keely surprised she’d never noted the remarkable resemblance before.
“Michael
Sterling of the Chicago Sterlings is your father?” she asked stunned.
“Discussing
my sperm donor wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I offered my help,” he
said without looking her way.
Touchy
subject
, she decided, and reached over to cover his hand with hers. She
waited until he looked up.
“I’m
sorry, Colin. If I’d know the subject was a painful one, I wouldn’t have
brought it up.”
She
could see, actually see, the battle he fought to put away the anger at the
mention of his father, but finally his eyes cleared, and he turned his hand
over to grip her fingers.
“Forget
it. I’d just as soon we get back to your research.” He let her go when she
tugged her hand free, but his voice dropped to a croon of pure carnal intent
when he added, “Or better yet, we could get right to that seducing you
mentioned.”
She
smiled, glad that the angry tension had passed, and shoved one of the notebooks
across the table at him. Ten minutes later, her heart was set to drumming in
her chest as the words on the page all but leaped out at her.
“I
found it!” She didn’t look up as Colin skirted the low table to squat down
behind her. She read from the page. “Saraid, daughter to Fitzgerald and Sarah
Quinn, married to Owein.” She traced the chart with a fingertip. “And look here,”
she said, her voice quivering with emotion. “Ryan and Regan, twin son and
daughter to Saraid Quinn and Owein!”
His
face was inches from hers when she turned her head, his eyes focused on the
documentation. She couldn’t help herself, she shrieked with excitement,
spinning around on her knees and launching herself at him. Her fingers plunged
into his hair, pulling his head down to hers so that she could plant a smacking
kiss of triumph on his surprised mouth.
At
least it started out surprised.
Immediately,
his arms came around her and he slanted his head, taking control of the kiss.
Recognition exploded in her head. His taste, the texture of his lips, were
pleasures experienced once, but never forgotten. She’d been kissed often enough
over the years, by men she’d liked and some who had professed to like her, but
nothing compared to those few moments long ago in the gazebo—until now.
His
tongue dipping into her mouth and tangling with hers was a sweet homecoming
she’d never expected to know. She’d been fooling herself to think she’d left
those memories behind. Jolted, she realized she had no choice where he was
concerned. She had no desire to deny herself the thrill of being with Colin
Quinn at last. If he took her on the floor this very moment, she wouldn’t have
the breath to utter a complaint. One touch of his mouth had shown her the truth
for what it was—she wouldn’t have the restraint.
Fortunately,
she didn’t have the opportunity to test her theory. He broke the kiss and she
opened her eyes to find him watching her. The same need, burning her to her
core, was there in his eyes.
“When
we come together, sweet Keely,” he stated in a rumbling brogue, “it won’t be a
hasty coupling on the floor. We’ll take the time to explore and savor, and
we’ll do it in a bed.”
She
blinked in confusion and frustration when he set her away from him, shifting
until there were several feet between them.
That’s
it? Later babe?
For
the last three hours, he’d been doing his best to get her to agree to put her
search on hold, and climb into his lap. Poised like a bowstring before the
arrow is fired, every muscle in her body was stretched to the point of
snapping, and now he was content to wait?
Who’s
playing games now?
Only
when he reached down to adjust himself beneath the heavy denim of his jeans did
she realize he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed. On closer inspection, raw,
unfulfilled need tightened his mouth until a fine tendon jumped and quivered
along the line of his clenched jaw. His darkened eyes sizzled with male
restraint, and she followed his gaze to the open notebook.
She
frowned. The first real clue to the dreams was right there in front of her, and
he’d managed to make her forget all about it with a single kiss. No doubt about
it, the man was hazardous to her intelligence. She took several cleansing
breaths, ignoring the frustrated tension of her overheated body when the
exercise proved fruitless.
She
reread the names on the page. “Fitzgerald Quinn was Saraid’s father,” she
considered, studying the chart. “I’ve heard the tale about his first love; the
fairie princess who gave him her fortune when her father refused to let her
marry a human. The mystical connection is a little coincidental, don’t you
think?”
“There
are others who claim Fitzgerald Quinn came by his fortune through piracy,”
Colin pointed out.
“Which
do you believe?”
“I
can’t say as I believe either, but then, a man would tend to lean toward a
story of theft on the high seas, while a woman’s heart would sigh at the idea
of lost love.”
“That’s
a bit sexist, don’t you think?”
“Aye,
it is,” he said with a grin, “but I’ll wager it’s true just the same. Either
way, there’s no way of knowing if Fitzgerald was involved in whatever
happened.” He indicated the book. “Not from this, anyway.”
“You’re
right. The point is, they were real, Colin. Saraid and Owein were real, not
just fictional characters from a heartbreaking legend.”
“So
it would seem.”
“They’re
your ancestors.”
“And
yours,” he reminded her. “You’re a descendant of Saraid and Owein, too.”
“I
didn’t miss that detail.”
“Yes,
but has it occurred to you what that means?” At her blank look, he added, “We
carry Owein’s blood, Keely, as well as Saraid’s.”
She
stared at him for a moment. Her disbelieving laughter took care of the residual
tightness in her belly. “Fairie blood?” she scoffed. “Please!” A lifted brow
was his only response. “That’s as ridiculous as it is impossible.”
“As
ridiculous and impossible as sharing your dreams with a handsome Irishman for a
decade?”
She
narrowed her eyes at his taunting grin, but had to admit, he had a point.
Fairie
blood. Good God!
How was she supposed to feel about that? She had no clue.
She was going to need some time to come to grips with all she’d learned in the
past few hours—if coming to grips with the unbelievable was even possible.
“What
happened to them? According to Sean, legend had Owein taking Saraid to live
with him in the fairie realm. Why would she be calling out to him at the Door?
If they were in the realm together, why would she be looking for him on the
surface?”
He
shook his head, giving no answer. With a despondent sigh, she closed the book.
“All
of this is amazing and it’s interesting, but it doesn’t really give me any
answers.” She eyed the library’s darkened window. The day had passed into night
during their search. “We need to visit the Door, Colin,” she said simply.
His
lack of enthusiasm for the idea was clear in his shuttered expression.
“You
may be right,” he said, adding before she could suggest they go immediately,
“but not tonight. I’ve business in Galway in the morning. I’ll be home in a few
days. We’ll talk of it then.” He rose then, reaching for her hand and pulling
her to her feet. He tugged her into his arms, his mouth covering hers in a
gentle kiss that ended more swiftly than she could have hoped. “But for now,
you must be tired, darlin’. Eileen will have left a plate or two warming in the
kitchen. A picnic in bed is what you need at the moment.”