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this scene. Later.
    Forcing herself away from the bed, she grabbed a sticky note from her desk. Scribbling her phone number and name on a sheet, she stuck it on top of his folded clothes.
    She wanted to kiss him good-bye, but then thought better of it. Instead, she ran a hand through his silky short hair and yelped in surprise when he clamped a hand, none too gently, on her wrist.
    Niall lifted his head and blinked the hazy look of sleep from his eyes. When his gaze fell on his hand shackling hers, he immediately released her. “Sorry.”
    â€œIt’s all good.” She surreptitiously rubbed at the ache. “I gotta go. Feel free to use my shower. Lock up when you leave.”
    He blinked at her. Confusion in those lovely green eyes. “You’re leaving? What time is it?”
    â€œIt’s six in the morning. And yeah, I’m headed out. I promised my folks I’d help set up breakfast at the church this morning. Maybe I’ll see you later?”
    Okay, that had been slightly pathetic because she already knew he was leaving. But a girl had to try. And seeing him again would be a great excuse to put off that conversation with her parents.
    Niall twisted and sat up. The sheet fell to his waist, affording her another glimpse of his incredible body. And suddenly helping at the church or talking to her parents didn’t seem all that important. No. Wait. Those things
were
important. Darn it.
    â€œIt sounds cliché and gauche to say thank you for last night,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. “But thank you.”
    He lifted her left hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, sending her pulse dancing. And sending messages to nerve endings nowhere near her wrist but much farther south.
    Could you orgasm from a guy tonguing your wrist?
    Before she could find out, he let go.
    With the morning sunlight streaming in through her thincurtains, Niall appeared bathed in a lovely red light. It made her feel warm and safe. It also made her want to crawl back into bed with him. So she backed to the doorway. “I left my number on the sticky note on top of your clothes. If you make it back to Fincastle, give me a call.”
    Niall rose from the bed sporting a healthy morning erection that had her seriously rethinking her exit strategy. Then she stopped thinking altogether when he crossed to her. Cupping her face in his hands he pressed a light kiss to her lips. It was gentle and soft and reminiscent of the closeness they’d shared last night.
    All too soon, he released her and stepped back. The sadness that had been in his eyes when he had come into the bar last night returned.
    Not a good sign.
    Despite the knot in her belly, she kept her tone light when she said, “See you around, Marine.”
    She wasn’t surprised when he replied, “Good-bye, Hannah.”

CHAPTER 2

    THE FOLLOWING JUNE
    Tidewater, Virginia
    Y OU SHOULDN’T DO this . . . Sinner. Freak. Whore!
    But she wasn’t a freak. She wasn’t. She was Mercy. And she had to silence the voices in her head that screamed at her. Voices that sounded remarkably like her mother’s.
    She grabbed her head and sank to the floor. The handle of the chef’s knife she clutched in her left hand banged against her temple but did nothing to quiet the storm raging in her mind.
    â€œBe quiet, you bitch. Be quiet, you bitch.” She chanted and rocked against the plywood framing of the house under construction. Crickets and spring peepers competed with ocean waves in the distance but even they didn’t silence the fucking bitch’s words ringing in Mercy’s head. The voices, always so full of condemnation and ridicule, like her mother’s. God, how she hated that woman.
    Even dead and buried beneath the rosebushes she’d adored, the bitch came back to taunt her just when Mercy had found her calling.
    â€œMercy.” Her lover moaned. “What happened?”
    His slurred words