Page 25 of Enchanted
It was hearing simple truth that softened her heart—and made it tremble just a little. She didn’t speak for a moment, but stared down at the fingers she’d locked together in her lap while waves crashed below and gulls soared overhead.
“Maybe I understand that, a little. I’m at an odd place in my life,” she said slowly. “A kind of crossroads, I suppose. I think people are most vulnerable when they come to the end of something and have to decide which beginning they’re going to take. I don’t know you, Liam.” She made herself shift back to face him again. “And I don’t know what to say to you, or what to do.”
Was there a man alive who could resist that kind of unstudied honesty? he wondered. “Offer me tea.”
“What?”
He smiled, took her hand. “Offer me tea. Rain’s coming and we should go in.”
“Rain? But the sun’s—” Even as she said it, the light changed. Dark clouds slipped through the sky without a sound and the first drops, soft as a wish, fell.
His father wasn’t the only one who could use the weather for his own purposes.
“Oh, it was supposed to be clear all day.” She stuffed the bottle of water back into her bag, then let out a quick gasp when he pulled her to her feet with casual, effortless strength that left her limbs oddly weak.
“It’s just a shower, and a warm one at that.” He began to guide her through the rocks, down the path. “Soft weather, we call it at home. Do you mind the rain?”
“No, I like it. It always makes me dreamy.” She lifted her face, let a few drops kiss it. “The sun’s still shining.”
“You’ll have a rainbow,” he promised, and tugged her into the sheltering trees, where the air was warm and wet and shadows lay in deep green pools. “Will I have tea?”
She slanted him a look, and a smile. “I suppose.”
“There, I told you.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “You don’t know how to hold a grudge.”
“I just need practice,” she said, and made him laugh.
“I’m likely to give you plenty of cause for practice before we’re done.”
“Do you make a habit of annoying people?”
“Oh, aye. I’m a difficult man.” They strolled by the stream, where damp ferns and rich moss spread and foxglove waited to bloom. “My mother says I’m a brooder, and my father that I’ve a head like a rock. They should know.”
“Are they in Ireland?”
“Mmm.” He couldn’t be sure unless he looked—and he damn well didn’t want to know if they were lingering nearby, watching him.
“Do you miss them?”
“I do, yes. But we … keep in touch.” It was the wistfulness in her voice that had him glancing down as they walked into her clearing. “You’re missing your family?”
“I’m feeling guilty because I don’t miss them as much as I probably should. I’ve never been away alone before, and I’ m—”
“Enjoying it,” he finished.
“Enormously.” She laughed a little and fished her keys out of her pocket.
“No shame in that.” He cocked his head as she unlocked the door. “Who are you locking out?”
Her smile was a little sheepish as she stepped inside. “Habit. I’ll put the tea on. I baked some cinnamon rolls earlier, but they’re burned on the bottom. One of my misses.”
“I’ll take one off your hands.” He wandered into the kitchen behind her.
She kept the room neat, he noted, and had added a few touches—the sort he recognized as a kind of nesting. Female making a home. Some pretty twigs speared out of one of Belinda’s colorful bottles and stood in the center of the kitchen table beside a white bowl filled with bright green apples.
He remembered when she’d scouted out the twigs. The wolf had walked with her—and had regally ignored her attempts to teach him to fetch.
He sat comfortably at her table, enjoying the quiet patter of rain. And thought of his mother’s words. No, he wouldn’t look that deeply. He didn’t mind a skim through the thoughts, but that deliberate search was something he considered an abuse of power.
