“Oh, my grandfather’s retired now. They live in San Diego. My grandmother does beautiful needlework, so I suppose that’s a kind of art.” Her lips pursed for a moment as she stirred her tea. “Now that I think of it, her mother—my great-grandmother—painted. We have a couple of her oils. I think my grandmother and her brother have the rest. She was … eccentric,” Rowan said with a grin.

“Was she, now? And how was she eccentric?”

“I never knew her, but children pick up bits and pieces when adults gossip. She read palms and talked to animals—all decidedly against her husband’s wishes. He was, as I recall, a very pragmatic Englishman, and she was a dreamy Irishwoman.”

“So, she was Irish, was she?” Liam felt a low vibration along his spine. A warning, a frisson of power. “And her family name?”

“Ah …” Rowan searched back through her memory. “O’Meara. I’m named for her,” she continued, contentedly drinking tea while everything inside Liam went on alert. “My mother named me for her in what she calls an irresistible flash of sentiment. I suppose that’s why she—my great-grandmother—left me her pendant. It’s a lovely old piece. An oval moonstone in a hammered silver setting.”

In a slow and deliberate move, Liam set aside the tea he could no longer taste. “She was Rowan O’Meara.”

“That’s right. I think there was some wonderfully romantic story—or else I’ve made it up—about how my great-grandfather met her when he was on holiday in Ireland. She was painting on the cliffs—in Clare. That’s odd—I don’t know why I’m so sure it was Clare.”

She puzzled over that for a moment, then shrugged it away. “Anyway, they fell in love on the spot, and she went back to England with him, left her home and her family. Then they immigrated to America, and eventually settled in San Francisco.”

Rowan O’Meara from Clare. By the goddess, fate had twisted around and laid one more trap for him. He picked up his tea again to wet his throat. “My mother’s family name is O’ Meara.” He spoke in a voice that was flat and cool. “Your great-grandmother would be a distant cousin of mine.”

“You’re kidding.” Stunned and delighted, Rowan beamed at him.

“In matters such as family, I try not to joke.”

“That would be amazing. Absolutely. Well, it’s a small world.” She laughed and lifted her cup. “Nice to meet you. Cousin Liam.”

In the name of the goddess, he thought, and fatalistically tapped his cup to hers. The woman currently smiling at him out of those big, beautiful eyes had elfin blood, and didn’t even know it.