Enchanted (23 page)

“Rowan.” He would try calm, he told himself. He would try reason. “All I wanted for you was what you wanted for yourself.”

“And what I wanted most was for you to love me. Just me, Liam, whatever and however I am. I didn’t let myself expect it, but I wanted it. My mistake was in still not thinking enough of myself.”

Tears shone in her eyes now, unmanning him. “Don’t weep. Rowan, I never meant to hurt you.” He took her hand now, and she let it lie limply in his.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” she said quietly. The force of her fury had passed. Now she was only tired. “That only makes it sadder. And me more pathetic. I told you I loved you.” Tears still trembled on the edge of her voice. “And you know I do. But you can’t tell me. You can’t decide if it … suits you.”

She swallowed the tears, reached deep for the pride she’d used too rarely. “From here, I decide my own fate.” She drew her hand from him, stood back. “And you yours.”

She turned to the door, bringing him a fresh and baffling wave of panic. “Where are you going?”

“Where I please.” She glanced back. “I was your lover, Liam, but never your partner. I won’t settle for that, not even for you.” She let out a quiet breath, studying him in the shifting light. “You had my heart in your
hands,” she murmured. “And you didn’t know what to do with it. I can tell you, without the crystal ball, without the gift, you’ll never have another like it.”

As she slipped away from him, he knew it was not only prophecy; it was truth.

*  *  *

It took her a week to deal with the practicalities. San Francisco hadn’t changed in the months she’d been gone, nor in the days she’d been back. But she had.

She could look out her window now, at the city, and realize it hadn’t been the place that had dissatisfied her, but her place in it. It was doubtful she’d ever live there again, but she thought she could look back and find memories—good and bad. Life was made up of both.

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Rowan?” Belinda asked. She was a graceful woman, with dark hair, short as a pixie’s, and eyes of misty green.

Rowan glanced up from her packing and looked into Belinda’s concerned face. “No, but I’m doing it just the same.”

Rowan had changed, Belinda mused. She was certainly stronger, more than a little wounded. Guilt nagged at her. “I feel some responsibility in this.”

“No.” Rowan said it firmly, and smoothed a sweater into her suitcase. “You’re not responsible.”

Restless, Belinda wandered to the window. The bedroom was nearly empty now. She knew Rowan had given many of her things away, stored others. In the morning, she would be gone. “I sent you there.”

“No, I asked if I could use your cabin.”

Belinda turned. “There were things I could have told you.”

“You weren’t meant to—I understand that, Belinda.”

“If I’d known Liam would be such a jackass, I—” She broke off, scowled. “I should have. I’ve known him all my life. A more stubborn, thickheaded, irritating man has yet to be born.” Then she sighed. “But he’s kind
with it, and most of his stubbornness comes from caring so much.”

“You don’t have to explain him to me. If he’d trusted me, believed in me, things might be different.” She took the last of her clothes from the closet, laid them on the bed. “If he’d loved me, everything would be different.”

“Are you so sure he doesn’t?”

“I’ve decided the only thing I can be sure of is myself. It was the hardest and most valuable thing I learned while I was away. Do you want this blouse? It never flattered me.”

“It’s more my color than yours.” Belinda wandered over, laid a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Did you speak with your parents?”

“Yes. Well, I tried.” Thoughtfully Rowan folded trousers, packed them. “On one level it went better than I ever expected. They were upset at first, and baffled, that I’m going away, that I’m giving up teaching. Naturally, they tried to point out the flaws, the consequences.”

“Naturally,” Belinda repeated, just dryly enough to make Rowan smile.

“They can’t help it. But we talked a long time. You know, I don’t think we’ve actually talked like that before. I explained why I was going, what I wanted to do and why—well, not all the why.”

“You didn’t ask your mother about what you are?”

“In the end, I couldn’t. I mentioned my grandmother, and legacies, and how being named after her had turned out to be so … appropriate. My mother waved it off. No,” Rowan corrected with a sigh, “closed it off. It’s as if she’d blocked it off—if she ever even really knew or suspected. What runs through my blood, and even through her own, simply doesn’t exist in her world.”

“So you left it at that?”

“Why should I push her on something that makes her uncomfortable or unhappy?” Rowan lifted her hands. “I’m content with it, so that’s enough. If I’d insisted on stripping away whatever barrier she’d put up, what purpose would it serve?”

“None. You did the right thing, for yourself and your mother.”

“What matters is, in the end, my parents understood as much as they’re able about the decisions I’ve made. Because in the end all they want is for me to be happy.”

“They love you.”

“Yes, maybe more than I ever gave them credit for.” And she smiled. “It helps some that Alan’s been seeing someone else—a math instructor. My mother finally broke down and told me she’s had them over for dinner and they’re charming together.”

“We’ll wish them well.”

“I wish them very well. He’s a nice man and deserves to be happy.”

“So do you.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Giving it one last look, Rowan closed the last suitcase. “I intend to be. I’m excited, Belinda, nervous but excited. Going to Ireland like this. One-way ticket.” She pressed a hand to her uneasy stomach. “Not knowing if I’ll stay or where I’ll go or what I’ll do. It’s thrilling.”

“You’ll go first to Castle Donovan in Clare? See Morgana’s and Sebastian’s and Ana’s parents?”

“Yes. I appreciate your contacting them, and their asking me to stay.”

“You’ll enjoy them, and they you.”

“I hope so. And I want to learn more.” Rowan stared into the middle distance. “I very much want to learn.”

“Then you will. Oh, I’ll miss you. Cousin.” With this, Belinda caught Rowan in a hard embrace. “I have to go, before I start blubbering. Call me,” she ordered, scooping up the blouse as she hurried out of the room. “Write, whistle in the wind, but keep in touch.”

“I will.” Rowan walked her to the door of the empty apartment, exchanged one last fierce hug. “Wish me luck.”

“That and more. Blessed be, Rowan.” Already sniffling, she dashed out.

Weepy herself, Rowan closed the door, turned and looked. There was nothing left here, she thought. Nothing left to do. She’d be moving on in the morning. Moving in a way she’d never imagined. She had family in Ireland, and roots. It was time to explore them, and in doing so, to explore herself.

What she’d already learned gave her the foundation to build more.

And if she thought of Liam, if she pined for him, so be it. She could live with heartache, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—live with distrust.

The knock on the door surprised her; then she smiled. Belinda, she imagined, not quite ready to say good-bye.

But the woman at the door was a stranger. Beautiful, elegant in a simple dress of mossy green. “Hello, Rowan. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

The voice, that lilt of Irish hills. The eyes, warm, deep gold. “No, not at all. Please come in, Mrs. Donovan.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.” She stepped inside, smiled. “Since my son’s made such a fool of himself.”

“I’m glad to meet you. I’m sorry—I can’t even offer you a chair.”

“You’re leaving, then. Well, I’ll give you this as a going-away present.” She held out a box of carved apple wood. “And as a thank-you for the drawing of Liam. They’re chalks, the pastels you wanted.”

“Thank you.” Rowan took the box, grateful to have something to do with her hands. “I’m surprised you’d want to see me since Liam and I … since we argued.”

“Ah.” The woman waved a hand in dismissal and wandered the room. “I’ve argued with him enough myself to know it’s impossible not to. He’s a head like a brick. But his heart isn’t hard.” When Rowan looked away, she sighed. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s all right.” Rowan carried the box to the narrow counter that separated the living area from the kitchen. “He’s your son and you love him.”

“I do, very much. Flaws and all.” She laid a gentle hand on Rowan’s arm. “He’s hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. Oh, I could box his ears for it,” she snapped in a lightning change of mood that had Rowan smiling uncertainly.

“Have you ever?”

“Boxed his ears?” This time Arianna laughed, light and free. “Oh, with Liam what choice do you have? He
was never an easy one. Girl, the stories I could tell you would curl your hair. Takes after his father, he does, and can go royal on you in a blink. Now Finn would say it’s my temper running through him, and he’d be right. But if a woman doesn’t have spine and temper, men like that will march right over her.”

She paused, studying Rowan’s face, and her own eyes filled abruptly with tears. “Oh, you love him still. I didn’t want to look and offend you. But I can see it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

But before she could turn away, Arianna gripped her hands, gave them an impatient squeeze. “Love is all that matters, and you’re smart enough to know it. I’ve come to you as a mother only, with no more than a mother’s right, and a mother’s heart. He suffers, Rowan.”

“Mrs. Donovan—”

“Arianna. It’s your decision to make, but you need to know. He’s hurt as well, and missing you.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made so many foolish mistakes. I know his heart, Rowan.” She said it softly and with such simple faith, Rowan felt a flutter in her stomach. “It’s yours if you’ll have it. I don’t say it because I want him to step into his father’s place. Whoever he loved would have been welcomed with joy. Don’t turn your back on your own happiness just to hug your pride. One’s cold without the other.”

“You’re asking me to go to him.”

“I’m asking you to listen to your heart. Nothing more or less.”

Rowan crossed her arms over her breasts, rubbed her own shoulders as she paced the bare room. “I still love him. I always will. Maybe part of me recognized him in that first instant. And my heart just fell at his feet.”

“And he didn’t treasure it as he should have, because he was afraid of it.”

“He didn’t trust me.”

“No, Rowan, he didn’t trust himself.”

“If he loves me …” Even the thought of it weakened her, so she shook her head, turned back with her eyes level, her hands steady. “He’ll have to say it. And he’ll have to accept me on equal grounds. I’ll take nothing
less.”

Arianna’s smile was slow, and it was sweet. “Oh, you’ll do, Rowan Murray, for yourself and for him. Will you go back and see?”

“Yes.” She let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Will you help me?”

*  *  *

The wolf raced through the woods, as if trying to outrun the night. The thin crescent of the moon offered little light, but his eyes were keen.

His heart was burdened.

He rarely sought sleep now, for the dreams would come no matter how he willed them away. They were always of her.

When he reached the cliffs, he threw back his head and called out for his mate. Even as the sound swept away the silence, he grieved for what he’d so carelessly lost.

He tried to blame her, and did. Often. Whatever form he took, his mind worked coolly, finding dozens of ways, small and large, to shift the burden to her.

She’d been too impulsive, too rash. She’d twisted his motives, his logic. Deliberately. She’d refused to see the clear-cut sense in everything he’d done.

But tonight that line of thinking did nothing to ease his heart. He turned away from the cliffs, outraged that he couldn’t stop yearning for her. When the voice whispered,
Love waits
in his head, he snarled viciously and blocked it out.

He prowled the shadows. He sniffed the air, snarled again. It was Rowan he scented, some trick of the mind, he thought, infuriated with his own weakness. She’d left him, and that was the end of it.

Then he saw the light, a gold glimmer through the trees. Tawny eyes narrowed as he moved toward the circle of stones. He stepped through them, saw her standing in the center. And went very still.

She wore a long dress the color of moondust that foamed around her ankles. Her hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders, with hints of silver shining in it from the jewels wound through. There was silver at her wrists as well, at her ears.

And on the bodice of her dress lay a pendant, an oval of moonstone in a setting of hammered silver.

She stood slim and straight behind the fire she’d made. Then she smiled at him.

“Waiting for me to scratch your ears, Liam?” She caught the quick flash of temper in his eyes, and only continued to smile.

The wolf stepped forward, became a man. “You left without a word.”

“I thought we had plenty of words.”

“Now you’ve come back.”

“So it seems.” She arched a brow with a studied coolness even as her stomach jumped with raw nerves. “You’re wearing your amulet. So you’ve decided.”

“Aye. I’ll take my duty when it comes. And you wear yours.”

“My great-grandmother’s legacy to me.” Rowan closed her fingers around the stone, felt it calm her nerves. “I’ve accepted it, and myself.”

His hands burned to touch her. He kept them lightly fisted at his side. “I’ll be going back to Ireland.”

“Really?” She said it lightly, as if it meant nothing to her. “I’m planning on leaving for Ireland myself in the morning. That’s why I thought I should come back and finish this.”

“Ireland?” His brows drew together. Who was this woman? was all he could think, so cool, so self-possessed.

“I want to see where I came from. It’s a small country,” she said with a careless shrug, “but large enough for us to stay out of each other’s way. If that’s what you want.”

“I want you back.” The words were out before he could stop them. He hissed out a curse, jammed his fisted hands into his pockets. So he’d said it, he thought, humbled himself with the words and the needs. And the hell with it. “I want you back,” he repeated.