Page 38 of Enchanted
Something … called her. She could hear it, a murmur in the mind, a question. Stirring in sleep, she searched for the answer. But there was only wonder.
She rose, stretching luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the silky new nightshirt against her thighs. It was so nice to be out of flannel. Smiling to herself, she slipped into a robe of the same deep blue as her eyes, tucked her feet into slippers.
Anticipation shivered along her skin.
In that half dream, she walked down the steps, trailing her fingertips along the banister. The light in her eyes, the smile on her lips, were those of a woman going to meet her lover.
She thought of him, of Liam, the lover of her dreams, as she walked out of the house and into the swirling white fog.
The trees were curtained behind it, the path invisible. The air, moist and warm on her skin, seemed to sigh, then to part. She moved through it without fear, into that soft white sea of mist with the full white moon riding the sky above, and the stars glimmering like points of ice.
Trees closed in like sentinels. Ferns stirred in the damp breeze and shimmered with wet. She heard the long, deep call of an owl and turned without thought or hesitation toward the sound. Once, she saw him, huge and grand and as silver as the mist, with the glint of gold on his breast and the flash of green eyes.
Like walking through a fairy tale. A part of her mind recognized, acknowledged and embraced the magic of it, while another part slept, not yet ready to see, not yet ready to know. But her heart beat strong and steady and her steps were quick and light.
If there were eyes peeking from between the lacy branches of the ferns, if there was joyful laughter tinkling down from the high spreading branches of the firs, she could only enjoy it.
At each step, each turn of the path, the fog shimmered clear to open the way for her.
And the water sang quietly.
She saw the lights glowing, little fires in the night. She smelled sea, candle wax, sweet, fragrant flowers. Her soft smile spread as she stepped into the clearing, to the dance of stones.
Fog shivered at the edges, like a foamy hem, but didn’t slide between stone and candle and flowers. So he stood in the center, on clear ground, his robe white as the moonshine, the jewels belting it flashing with power and light.
If his heart jerked at the sight of her, if it trembled on the edge of where he’d vowed it would not go, he ignored it.
“Will you come in, Rowan?” he asked, and held out a hand.
Something in her yearned. Something in her shuddered. But her smile remained as she took another step. “Of course I will.” And walked through the stones.
Something throbbed on the air, along her skin, in her heart. She heard the stones whisper. The lights of the candles flickered, swayed, then flamed straight up again.
Their fingertips brushed. Her eyes stayed on his, trusting, when those fingers linked firm. “I dream of you, every night.” She sighed it, and would have moved into him, but he laid a hand on her shoulder. “And long for you through the days.”
“You don’t understand, neither the rewards nor the consequences. And you must.”
“I know I want you. You’ve already seduced me, Liam.”
A tiny finger of guilt scraped up his spine. “I’m not without needs.”
She reached up, cupped his cheek. And her voice was soft where his had been rough. “Do you need me?”
“I want you.” Need was too much, too weak, too risky.
“I’m here.” She lifted her face to his. “Won’t you kiss me?”
“Aye.” He leaned down, kept his eyes open and on hers. “Remember this,” he murmured when his lips were a breath from hers. “Remember this, Rowan, if you can.” And his mouth brushed over hers, once, then again. Testing. Then a gentle nip to make her shiver.
When she sighed, one long, quiet breath, he covered her mouth with his, drawing out the moment, the magic, sliding into the taste and texture of her. The warm, slow tangle of tongues thickened his pulse, called to his blood.
On either side of them, the cool blue fire burned bright.
“Hold me. Liam, touch me. I’ve waited so long.”
The sound he made in his throat was caught between growl and groan as he dragged her to him and let his hands roam.
Take her here, take her now, in the circle where we’ll be bound. It would be done. That primal urge to cover her, to bury himself in her, warred viciously with his honor. What did it matter what she knew, what she wanted or believed? What did it matter what he gained or lost? There was now, only now, with her hot and eager in his arms and her mouth like a flame against his.
