Enchanted (16 page)

“I don’t know. No one’s ever felt that for me.”

“I do.” He brought his hands over, slipped the first two buttons free on her simple cotton shirt. “Let me see you, Rowan. Here, in the light of day.”

“Liam.” It was insanity. How could it be real? Yet everything she felt was too intense, too immediate to be otherwise. Nothing, she realized with a dull sense of shock, had ever been more real to her. “I believe this.” Her breath trembled free. “I want this.”

He looked in her eyes, saw both the fear and the acceptance. “So do I.”

The skim of his knuckles over her skin left a hot trail down her skin as he unbuttoned her blouse, slipped it off her shoulders. Her heart tumbled in her chest as he smiled. “You were in a hurry this morning,” he murmured, noting she hadn’t taken the time for a bra.

To please himself he traced a fingertip lightly down the subtle slope, over the tip, and watched her eyes go opaque. “You know I can’t stop you,” she said, watching him.

“Aye, you can.” Through sheer will he kept his touch gentle. “With but a word. I hope you won’t, for it’ll drive me mad not to have you now. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes.” More than she wanted to breathe.

“You said once that it shouldn’t be simple.” With his eyes on hers, he unbuttoned her jeans. “It won’t be.” Skilled fingertips skimmed under denim to tease, to awaken. “Not for either of us.”

It was like a dream, she thought. Just one more glorious dream. “Why do you want this?”

“Because you’re in my mind, in my blood.” That much was true, but he told himself he could block her out of his heart. Leaning forward, he caught her jaw gently between his teeth. “I’m in yours.

Why should she deny it? Why shouldn’t she accept, even embrace, these outrageous sensations, this heat in the belly and flutter in the pulse? He was what she wanted, with a giddy greed she’d felt for no other man.

So take, her mind murmured, and pay whatever price is asked.

Still her fingers shook slightly as she tugged his shirt over his head. Then, with a kind of wonder, she spread her hands over his chest.

Hard, warm. Strength just on the edge of danger, held ruthlessly in check. She knew it, even as her curious fingers traced up, over broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his arms. She heard the soft feline purr before she realized it had come from her own throat.

Her gaze shot up to his, and in her eyes was a mix of shock and delight. “I’ve done this before … in my dreams.”

“With much the same results.” He’d intended his tone to be dry, but there was an edge to it that stunned him. Gently, he ordered himself, she should be treated gently. “Will you move beyond dreams now, Rowan, and
lie with me?”

For an answer she stepped to him, rising onto her toes so that her mouth met his. The beauty of that, just that, had his arms coming hard around her. “Hold tight,” he murmured.

She felt the air shudder, heard a rustle of wind. There was a sensation of rising, spinning, then tumbling, all in the space of a single heartbeat. Before fear could fully form, before the gasp of it could shudder from her mouth to his, she was lying beneath him, dipped deep into a bed soft as clouds.

Her eyes flew open. She could see the polished beams of a wood ceiling, the stream of sunlight. “But how—”

“I’ve magic for you, Rowan.” His mouth moved to the vulnerable flesh of her throat. “All manner of magic.”

They were in his bed, she realized. In the blink of an eye they’d moved from one room to another. And now his hands … oh, sweet Lord, how could the simple touch of flesh to flesh cause such
feeling
?

“Give me your thoughts.” His voice was rough, his hands light as air. “Let me touch them, and show you.”

She opened her mind to him, gasping when she not only felt the heat of his body, the skim of his hands, but saw the images forming out of the mists in her mind, the two of them tangled together on a huge, yielding bed in a path of early-summer sunlight.

Every sensation now, every shimmering layer, was reflected back, as if a thousand silver mirrors shone out of her heart. And so, with a kiss only, one long, drugging kiss, he brought her softly to peak.

She moaned out the pleasure of it, the sheer wonder of having her body slide over a velvet edge. Her thoughts scattered, dimmed, re-formed in a mixed maze of colors, only to fly apart again as his teeth grazed her shoulder.

She was beyond price. An unexpected treasure in her openness, her utter surrender to him and to her own pleasures. Now, at last now, his hands could take, his mouth could feast. Soft, silky flesh, pale as the moon, delicate curves and subtle scents.

The animal that beat in his blood wanted to ravage, to grasp and plunge. She would not deny him. Knowing
that, he wrapped the chain tighter around his own pounding throat and offered only tenderness.

She moved beneath him, all quiet sighs and luxurious stretches. Her hands roamed over him freely, building and banking small fires. Dark and heavy, her eyes met his when he lifted his head.

And her lips curved slowly.

“I’ve waited so long to feel like this.” She lifted a hand to slide her fingers through his hair. “I never knew I was waiting.”

Love waits.

The words came back to him like a drumbeat, a warning, a whisper. Ignoring it, he lowered again to take her breast with his mouth. She arched, gave a little cry, as the movement had been sudden and just a bit rough.

Then she groaned, and the hand that had combed lazily through his hair fisted tight, pressing him urgently against her. Heat flashed, a quick bolt to the center. His tongue tormented, his teeth hinted of pain. She gave herself over to it, to him, trembling again as both mind and body steeped in pleasure.

No one had ever touched her this way, so deep it seemed he knew her needs and secrets better than she herself. Her heart quaked, then soared under his quietly ruthless mouth. And opened wide as love flooded it.

She clung to him now, murmuring mindlessly as they rolled over the bed, as flesh grew damp with desire and minds misted with delight.

She was … glory, he thought dimly while he tumbled to a depth he’d never explored with a woman. His keen senses were barraged with her. Scent like spice on the wind, taste like honeyed wine, texture like heated silk. Whatever he asked for she gave, a rose opening petal by petal.

She rose up when he reached for her, her body impossibly fluid, her lips like a flame on his shoulder, across his chest, against his greedy mouth.

Against his hand she was warm and wet, and her body arched back like a drawn bow when his fingers found her. Eyes sharp on her face, he watched that fresh rush of shock and pleasure and fear flicker over hers as he took her up, urged her over.

Her breath sobbed out, her body shook as that new arrow of sensation pinned her, left her quivering
helplessly. Even as her head dropped limply on the shoulder her nails had just bitten into, he sent her spinning up again.

When they tumbled back, he gripped her hands, waited for his vision to clear, waited for her eyes to open and meet his. The air dragged in and out of his lungs. “Now.”

The word was nearly an oath as he drove into her.

Held there, held quivering to watch her eyes go wide and blind. Held there, held gasping while the thrill of filling her burned in his blood.

Then she began to move.

A lift of the hips, a falling away that drew him down. Slow, achingly slow, with a low moan for each long, deep thrust.

It was his eyes, only his eyes, she saw now, brilliantly gold, stunningly intense as they took each other to a secret space where the air fluttered like velvet on the skin. Her fingers clung to his, her eyes stayed open and aware. Every pulse that beat in her body gathered into one steady throb that filled the heart to bursting.

When it burst, and her mind and body with it, she arched high and hard against him, called out his name with a kind of wonder. Saying hers, he buried his face in her hair and dived with her.

*  *  *

He stretched over her, his head between her breasts, his long body lax. She kept her eyes closed, the better to hold on to that sensation of flying, of falling. Never before had she been so aware, so in tune with her own desires or with a man’s.

And never, she realized, had she been so willing, even eager, to surrender to both.

A small smile curved her lips as she lazily stroked his hair. In her mind she could see them together there. Wantonly sprawled, naked, damp and tangled.

She wondered how long it would be before he’d want to touch her again.

“I already do.” Liam’s voice was thick and low. His tongue skimmed carelessly over the side of her breast and made her shiver.

“Thoughts are private.”

She was so soft and warm in the afterglow of love, and that lazy sip of her flesh so delightful. He slid a hand up, molded her gently and shifted to nibble. “I’ve been inside your thoughts.” Her nipple hardened against a flick of his tongue and needs stirred again. “I’ve been inside you,
a ghra.
What’s the point of secrets now?”

“Thoughts are private,” she repeated, but the last word ended on a moan.

“As you wish.” He slipped out of her mind even as he slipped into her.

*  *  *

She must have slept. Though she remembered nothing but curling around him after that second, surprising slide into heaven. She stirred in bed, and found herself alone.

Sunny morning had become rainy afternoon. The sound of its steady patter, the golden haze that seemed to linger inside her body—both urged her to simply snuggle back and sleep again.

But curiosity was stronger. This was his bed, she thought, smiling foolishly. His room. Shoving at her tangled hair, she sat up and looked.

The bed was amazing. A lake of feathers covered in smooth, silky sheets, backed by a headboard of dark polished wood carved with stars and symbols and lettering she couldn’t make out. Idly she traced her fingers in the grooves.

He, too, had a fireplace facing the bed. It was fashioned of some kind of rich green stone and topped by a mantel of the same material. Gracing that were colorful crystals. She imagined their facets would catch the sun brilliantly. Fat white candles stood at one end in a triad.

There was a tall chair with its back carved in much the same way as the headboard. A deep blue throw woven with crescent moons was tossed over one of its arms.

The tables by the bed held lamps with bases of bronze mermaids. Charmed, she ran a finger along the curving tails.

He kept the furnishings spare, she noted, but he chose what he kept around him with care.

She rose, stretched, shook back her hair. The rain made her feel beautifully lazy. Instead of looking for her clothes, she walked to his closet hoping she would find a robe to bundle into.

She found a robe, and it made her fingers jerk on the door. A long white robe with wide sleeves.

He’d worn it the night before. In the stone dance. Under the moonlight. A witch’s robe.

Closing the door quickly, she spun around, looked around wildly for her clothes. Downstairs, she remembered with a jolt. He’d undressed her downstairs, and then …

What was she doing? What was she thinking of? Was this real or had she gone mad?

Had she just spent hours in bed with him?

And if it was real, if what she’d always thought was fantasy was suddenly truth, had he used it to lure her here?

For lack of anything else, she snatched up the throw, wrapped it around herself. She grasped the ends tight as the door of the bedroom opened.

He lifted a brow when he saw her, draped in the cloth his mother had woven for him when he’d turned twenty-one. She looked tumbled and lovely and outrageously desirable. He took a step toward her before he caught the glint of suspicion in her eyes.

Annoyed, he moved past her to set the tea tray he’d carried up on the bedside table. “What have you thought of that I haven’t explained?”

“How can you explain what should be impossible?”

“What is, is,” he said simply. “I am a hereditary witch, descended from Finn of the Celts. What powers I have are my birthright.”

She had to accept that. She had seen, she had felt. She kept her shoulders straight and her voice even. “Did you use those powers on me, Liam?”

“You ask me not to touch your thoughts. Since I respect your wishes, try to be more specific in your questions.” Obviously irritated, he sat on the side of the bed and picked up a cup of tea.

“I was attracted to you, strongly and physically attracted to you, from the first minute. I behaved with you as I’ve never behaved with a man. I’ve just gone to bed with you and felt things …” She took a long, steadying breath as he watched her, as she saw a little gleam that had to be triumph light his eyes. “Did you put a spell on me to get me into bed?”

The gleam went dark, and triumph became fury so swiftly she stumbled back a step in instinctive defense. China cracked on wood as he slammed the cup down. From somewhere not so far away came the irritable grumble of thunder.

But he got to his feet slowly, like a wolf, she thought, stalking prey.

“Love spells, love potions?” He came toward her. She backed away. “I’m a witch, not a charlatan. I’m a man, not a cheat. Do you think I would abuse my gifts, shame my name, for sex?”

He made a dismissive gesture; the window shuddered and cracked, giving her a clue just how dangerous was his temper. “I didn’t ask for you, woman. Whatever part fate played in it, you came to this place, and to me, of your own will. And you’re free to go in the same manner.”

“How can you expect me not to wonder?” she shot back. “I’m just supposed to shrug and accept. Oh, Liam’s a witch. He can turn into a wolf and read my mind and blink us from one room to the next whenever he likes. Isn’t that handy?”

She whirled away from him, the throw flicking out around her bare legs. “I’m an educated woman who’s just been dropped headfirst into some kind of fairy tale. I’ll ask whatever questions I damn well please.”

“You appeal to me when you’re angry,” he murmured. “Why is that? I wonder.”

“I have no idea.” She spun back. “I don’t
get
angry, by the way. And I never shout, but I’m shouting at you. I don’t fall naked into bed with men or have arguments wearing nothing but a blanket, so if I ask if you’ve done something to make me behave this way, I think it’s a perfectly logical question.”