Page 61 of Enchanted
“An hour.” She blinked as he rose and hauled her to her feet. “It seems like just a few minutes.”
“It took you a while to get down to things. It won’t take you so long the next time.” With a thought, he put out the fire. “We’ll see if we can find where your talents lie once I’ve had my meal.”
“Liam.” She turned to him for a moment, pressed her lips to his throat. “Thank you.”
***
She learned fast. Liam had never considered himself a good teacher, but he supposed it had something to do with the student.
This one was open and eager and quick.
It didn’t take long to determine that her talents channeled into magic, as Morgana’s did. Within a day or two, they determined she had no real gift for seeing. She could give him her thoughts, but could read his clearly only if he put them into her head.
And while she couldn’t, even after more than an hour of sweaty concentration, transform herself, she turned a footstool into a rosebush with laughing delight.
Show her the joy, Ana had told him. But he understood that she was showinghimas she danced around the clearing, turning the early-summer flowers into a maze of color and shape. Rocks became jewel-colored crystals; infant blooms exploded into huge fireworks of brilliant hues. The little stream rose into an elegantwaterfall of luminous blue.
He didn’t rein her in. She deserved to ride on the wonder of it. Responsibilities, choices, he knew, would come soon enough.
She was creating her own fairy tale. It was so easy all at once to see it perfectly in her mind. And, in seeing it, to make it real. Here was her little cottage in the forest, with the stunning witch garden spread out, the sweep of water rising, the whip of the wind blowing free.
And the man.
She turned, unaware how devastating she looked just then with her hair streaming, glossy and wild, her arms flung out and the light of young power in her eyes.
“Just for today. I know it can’t stay like this, but just for today. I used to dream of being in a place just like this, with water and wind rushing, and flowers so huge and bright they dazzled your eyes. And the scent of them …”
She trailed off, realizing she had dreamed of this, exactly this. And of him, of Liam Donovan stepping off the porch of a pretty cottage and moving to her, walking under an arbor of flowers that rained pretty pink petals onto the ground.
He would pluck a rose, white as a snowflake, from a bush as tall as he. And offer it to her.
“I dreamed,” she said again. “When I was a little girl.”
He plucked a rose, white as a snowflake from a bush as tall as he. And offered it to her. “What did you dream, Rowan Murray?”
“Of this.” Of you. So often of you.
“Just for today, you can have your dream.”
She sighed as she traced the rose down her cheek. Just for today, she thought, would be enough. “I was wearing a long blue dress. A robe, really. And yours was black, with gold edgings.” She laughed, enchanted, as she felt the thin silk caress her skin. “Did I do that, or did you?”
“Does it matter? It’s your dream, Rowan, but I’m hoping I kissed you in it.”
“Yes.” She sighed again as she moved into his arms. “The kind of kiss dreams are made on.”
He touched his lips to hers, softly at first. Warming them, softening them, until they parted on a quiet breath. Then deeper, slowly deeper, while her arms came up to circle him, while her fingers slipped lazily into his hair.
As he did, something trembled in his memory as well. Something once seen or once wished for. When he gave himself to it, he began to float in dreams with her. And so drew her closer.
Together they circled, a graceful dance with hearts keeping the beat.
Her feet no longer touched the ground as they spun. The dreams of a romantic young girl shimmered and shaped into the needs of a woman. Warmth skimmed over her skin as she held him tighter, drew him into her heart. As she offered him more. Offered him everything.
There were candles in her dream. Dozens of them, fragrant and white and burning in tall silver stands with gilded leaves winding around them. And a bed, lit by them, draped in white and gold.
When he carried her to it, she was dizzy with love, washed in wonder.
“How could I have known?” She drew him down to her. “How could I have forgotten?”
