She didn’t regret it, even though after two short weeks he’d turned those same tragic eyes to another woman. After all, she’d had two weeks of storybook romance, and had given up her virginity to a man with some sensitivity, if no sense of monogamy.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she hadn’t loved him. She’d loved the idea of him. After that, his careless rejection hadn’t stung quite so deeply.

Men simply didn’t find her … compelling, she decided. Mysterious or sexy. And unfortunately, the ones she was most attracted to always seemed to be all of that.

With Liam, he was all of that and more.

Of course, there had been Alan, she remembered. Sweet, steady, sensible Alan. Though she loved him, she’d known as soon as they’d become lovers that she’d never feel that wild thrill with him, that grinding need or that rush of longing.

She’d tried. Her parents had settled on him and it seemed logical that she would gradually fall in love, all the way in love, and make a comfortable life with him.

Hadn’t it been the thought of that, a comfortable life, that had finally frightened her enough to make her run?

She could say now she’d been right to do so. It would have been wrong to settle for less than … anything, she supposed. For less than what she was finding now. Her place, her wants, her flaws and her talents.

They wouldn’t understand—not yet. But in time they would. She was sure of it. After she was established in a home of her own, with a career of her own, they would see. Maybe, just maybe, they’d even be proud of her.

She glanced at the phone, considered, then shook her head. No, not yet. She wouldn’t call her parents and tell them what she was doing. Not quite yet. She didn’t want to hear the doubt, the concern, the carefully masked impatience in their voices, and spoil the moment.

It was such a lovely moment.

So when she heard the knock on the front door, she sprang up. It was Liam, had to be Liam. And, oh, that was perfect. He’d brought more work, and they could sit in the kitchen and discuss it, toy with it.

She’d make tea, she thought as she hurried through the cabin. A glass and a half of wine was enough if she wanted her mind perfectly clear. She’d had another idea about the Land of Mirrors and how that red sea should reflect when she’d walked home.

Eager to tell him, she opened the door. Her delighted smile of welcome shifted to blank shock.

“Rowan, you shouldn’t open the door without seeing who it is first. You’re much too trusting for your own good.”

With the spring breeze blowing behind him, Alan stepped inside.

Chapter 7