Page 56 of Enchanted
“You should be asleep.”
Ana simply held out a hand. “I thought you’d want to talk.”
But, taking her hand, he sat beside her and contented himself with silence. He knew of no one more comfortable to sit with, to be with, than Anastasia.
Overhead the moon winked in and out of clouds, the stars glimmered. The house where Rowan slept was dark and full of dreams.
“I didn’t know how much I missed you, all of you, until I saw you again.”
Ana gave his hand a supportive squeeze. “You needed to be alone for a while.”
“Aye. It wasn’t because you didn’t matter that I blocked you all out for a time.” He touched her hair. “It was because you did.”
“I know that, Liam.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek, felt his conflict in her own heart. “Your mind’s so troubled.” Her quiet gray eyes looked into his and her lips curved gently. “Must you always think so hard?”
“It’s the only way I know.” Still, he felt the strain ease as he sat with her, sliding away knot by knot. That was Ana’s gift. “You’ve a lovely family, Ana, and have made a lovely home here. Your mate is your match. Your children your joy. I can see how happy you are.”
“Just as I can see how unhappy you are. Isn’t a family and a home what you want, Liam? What would make you happy?”
He studied their linked fingers, knowing he could and would say things to her he wouldn’t to another. “I might not be good at it.”
Ah, she realized, of course. Liam’s standards for himself were always higher than anyone else’s could be. “What makes you think that?”
“I’m used to thinking for and of myself. Used to doing as I please. And I like it.” He lifted his gaze to hers, smiled. “I’m a selfish man, and fate’s asking me to take the responsibility my father’s borne so well, to take awoman who’ll understand only pieces of what that means.”
“You’re not giving either of you credit for who you are.” There was impatience in her voice now, all the more effective as it was so rare. “You’ve been stubborn, and you’ve been proud, but you’ve never been selfish, Liam. What you are is too bloody serious about too many things. And so you too often miss the joy of them.” She sighed, shook her head. “And Rowan can and will understand a great deal more than you seem to think.”
“I like going my own way.”
“And your own way led you straight to her, didn’t it?” This time Ana laughed. He looked so irritated that logic had turned back and nipped him. “Do you know one of the things I’ve always admired most about you? Your instinct to question and pick apart everything. It’s a fascinating and annoying trait. And you do it because you care so much. You’d rather not, but you care.”
“What would you do, Ana, if you were standing where I am?”
“Oh, that’s easy for me.” Her smoky eyes were soft, her smile gentle. “I’d listen to my heart. I always do. You’ll do the same when you’re ready.”
“Not everyone’s heart speaks as clearly as yours.” Restless again, he drummed his fingers against the bench. “I’ve shown her who I am, but I haven’t told her what that might mean to her. I’ve made her my lover, but I haven’t given her love. I’ve shown her my family without telling her about her own. So yes, it troubles me.”
“You can change it. It’s in your hands.”
He nodded, stared into the night. “I’m taking her back in the morning, when she wakes. And I’ll show her what’s sleeping inside her. As for the rest, I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t only show her the obligations, Liam, the duties. Show her the joys, too.” She rose, keeping her hand in his. “The baby’s stirring. He’ll be hungry. I’ll make your good-byes in the morning if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it.” He got to his feet, gathered her close. “Blessed be, cousin.”
“Don’t stay away so long.” She kissed his cheeks before she drew away, and at the door paused, looked back. He stood in a shower of moonlight. Alone. “Love waits,” she murmured.
***
It waited, Liam thought when he slipped into bed beside Rowan. Here, in dreams. Would it wait in the morning, when he awakened her to all she was?
Like the princess in the fairy tale, he thought, stirred to life by a kiss. The fact that he was, in his way, a prince made him smile humorlessly into the dark.
Fate, he supposed, enjoyed its ironies.
Those thoughts, and others, kept him awake and waiting for dawn. At first light he slipped a hand over hers, linked fingers and took them back to Rowan’s own bed.
She murmured, shifted, then settled again. Rising, he dressed, studying her as she slept. Then he went quietly downstairs to make very strong coffee.
