Enchanted (3 page)

“You didn’t hear because you were daydreaming.” He arched one sweeping black eyebrow. “And talking to yourself.”

“Oh. It’s a bad habit of mine—talking to myself. Nervous habit.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t.” God, she’d tremble in a moment if he didn’t let her go. It had been a long, long time since she’d been this close to a man other than Alan. And much too long since she’d felt any kind of response to one. She’d never experienced a reaction this strong, this violent or this disorienting, and put it down to nearly tumbling over a cliff.

“You weren’t.” He skimmed his hands down to her wrists, felt the jittery bump of her pulse. “Now you are.”

“You startled me, as I said.” It was an effort, but she glanced over her shoulder and down. “And it’s a long drop.”

“It is that.” He tugged her away another two steps. “Better?”

“Yes, well … I’m Rowan Murray. I’m using Belinda Malone’s cabin for a while.” She would have offered a hand to shake, but it would have been impossible, as he was still cuffing her wrists.

“Donovan. Liam Donovan.” He said it quietly, while his thumbs stroked over her pulse beat and somehow steadied it.

“But you’re not from around here.”

“Aren’t I?”

“I mean, your accent. It’s beautifully Irish.”

When his lips curved and his eyes smiled she very nearly sighed like a teenager faced with a rock star. “I’m
from Mayo, but I’ve had this place as mine for nearly a year now. My cabin’s less than a half mile from Belinda’s.”

“You know her, then?”

“Aye, well enough. We’re in the way of being relations, distant ones.” His smile was gone now. Her eyes were as blue as the wild bellflowers that grew in sunny patches of the forest in high summer. And in them he found no guile at all. “She didn’t tell me to expect a neighbor.”

“I suppose she didn’t think of it. She didn’t tell me to expect one, either.” Her hands were free now, though she could still feel the warmth of his fingers, like bracelets around her wrists. “What do you do up here?”

“As I choose. You’ll be wanting to do the same. It’ll be a good change for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t done what you pleased often enough, have you, Rowan Murray?”

She shivered once and slipped her hands into her pockets. The sun was dipping down toward the horizon and was reason enough for the sudden chill. “I guess I’ll have to be careful what I talk to myself about with a quiet-footed neighbor around.”

“Nearly a half mile between us should be enough. I like my solitude.” He said it firmly, and though it was ridiculous, it seemed to Rowan he wasn’t speaking to her, but to someone, something, in the darkening woods beyond. Then his gaze shifted back to her face, held. “I won’t infringe on yours.”

“I didn’t mean to be unfriendly.” She tried a smile, wishing she hadn’t spoken so abruptly and irritated him. “I’ve always lived in the city—with so many neighbors, I barely notice any of them.”

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said, half to himself.

“What?”

“The city. It doesn’t suit you or you wouldn’t be here, would you?” And what in bloody hell did it matter to him what suited her? he asked himself. She’d be nothing to him unless he decided differently.

“I’m … just taking a little time.”

“Aye, well, there’s plenty of it here. Do you know your way back?”

“Back? Oh, to the cabin? Yes. I take the path to the right, then follow the stream.”

“Don’t linger long.” He turned and started down, pausing only briefly to glance up at her. “Night comes quickly here this time of year, and it’s easy to be lost in the dark. In the unfamiliar.”

“No, I’ll start back soon. Mr. Donovan—Liam?”

He stopped again, his gaze clear enough that she caught the quick shadow of impatience in it. “Yes?”

“I was wondering … Where’s your dog?”

His grin was so fast, so bright and amused that she found herself beaming back at him. “I’ve no dog.”

“But I thought— Are there other cabins nearby?”

“Not for three miles and more. We’re what’s here, Rowan. And what lives in the forest between us.” He saw her glance uneasily at the verge of trees and softened. “Nothing that’s there will harm you. Enjoy your walk, and your evening. And your time.”

Before she could think of another way to stop him, he’d stepped into and been swallowed up by the trees. It was then she noticed just how quickly twilight had fallen, just how chilly the air and how brisk the wind. Abandoning pride, she scrambled down the cliff path and called out to him.

“Liam? Wait a minute, would you? I’ll walk back with you for a bit.”

But her own voice echoed back to her, turning her throat dry. She moved quickly down the path, certain she’d catch a glimpse of him in the trees. There was nothing now but deep shadow.

“Not only quiet,” she mumbled, “but fast. Okay, okay.” To bolster herself she paused to take three deep breaths. “There’s nothing in here that wasn’t here when there was more light. Just go back the way you came and stop being an idiot.”

But the deeper she went, the thicker the shadows. Like a tide, a thin ground fog slid over the path, white as smoke. She would have sworn she heard music, like bells—or laughter. It harmonized with the sound of the water bubbling over rocks, whispered in counterpoint to the
whoosh
and sigh of the wind in the trees.

A radio, she thought. Or a television. Sounds carried oddly in some places. Liam had turned on music, and for some reason she could hear it playing. It only seemed as if it was just ahead of her, in the direction of her
own cabin. The wind played tricks.

The sigh of relief as she came to the last bend of the stream froze in her throat as she saw the glint of gold eyes peering out of the shadows. Then, with a rustle of leaves, they were gone.

Rowan increased her pace to a jog and didn’t break stride until she’d reached the door. She didn’t start breathing again until she was inside and the door was securely locked behind her.

She moved quickly, switching on lights until the first floor of the cabin blazed with them. Then she poured herself a glass from one of the bottles of wine she’d brought along, lifted it in a toast and swallowed deep.

“To strange beginnings, mysterious neighbors and invisible dogs.”

To make herself feel more at home, she heated a can of soup and ate it standing up, dreaming, looking out the kitchen window, as she often did in her apartment in the city.

But the dreams were softer here, and yet clearer. Towering trees and bubbling water, thrashing waves and the last light of the day.

A handsome man with tawny eyes who stood on a windswept cliff and smiled at her.

She sighed, wishing she’d been clever and polished, wished she’d known a way to flirt lightly, speak casually so that he might have looked at her with interest rather than annoyance and amusement.

Which was ridiculous, she reminded herself, as Liam Donovan wasn’t wasting his time thinking of her at all. So it was pointless to think of him.

Following habit, she tidied up, switching off lights as she moved upstairs. There she indulged herself by filling the wonderfully deep claw-foot tub with hot water and fragrant bubbles, settling into it with a sigh, a book and a second glass of wine.

She immediately decided this was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself nearly often enough.

“That’s going to change.” She slid back, moaning with pleasure. “So many things are going to change. I just have to think of them all.”

When the water turned tepid, she climbed out to change into the cozy flannel pajamas she’d bought. Another indulgence was to light the bedroom fire, then crawl under the cloud-light duvet beneath the canopy and
snuggle into her book.

Within ten minutes, she was asleep, with her reading glasses sliding down her nose, the lights on and the last of her wine going warm in her glass.

She dreamed of a sleek black wolf who padded silently into her room, watching her out of curious gold eyes as she slept. It seemed he spoke to her—his mind to her mind.

I wasn’t looking for you. I wasn’t waiting for you. I don’t want what you’re bringing me. Go back to your safe world, Rowan Murray. Mine isn’t for you.

She couldn’t answer but to think,
I only want time. I’m only looking for time.

He came close to the bed, so that her hand nearly brushed his head.
If you take it here, it may trap us both. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?

Oh, she wanted to touch, to feel, and with a sigh slid her hand over the warm fur, let her fingers dive into it.
It’s time I took one.

Under her hand, wolf became man. His breath fluttered over her face as he leaned close, so close. “If I kissed you now, Rowan, what might happen?”

Her body seemed to shimmer with that sudden raw need. She moaned with it, arched, reached out.

Liam only laid a finger on her lips. “Sleep,” he told her, and slipped the glasses off, laid them on the table beside her. He switched off the light, closed his hand into a fist as the urge to touch her, to really touch her, lanced through him.

“Damn it. I don’t want this. I don’t want her.”

He flung up his hand and vanished.

*  *  *

Later, much later, she dreamed of a wolf, black as midnight on the cliffs over the sea. With his head thrown back, he called to the swimming moon.

It became a habit over the next few days for Rowan to look for the wolf. She would see him, most often early in the morning or just before twilight, standing at the edge of the trees.

Watching the house, she thought. Watching her.

She realized, on those mornings when she didn’t see him, that she was disappointed. So much so that she began leaving food out in hopes to lure him closer, to keep him a regular visitor in what she was starting to consider her little world.

He was on her mind quite a bit. Nearly every morning she woke with fading snippets of dreams just at the edge of her mind. Dreams where he sat by her bed while she slept, where she sometimes roused just enough to reach out and stroke that soft, silky fur or feel the strong ridge of muscle along his back.

Now and then, the wolf became mixed in her dreams with her neighbor. On those mornings, she climbed out of sleep with her system still quivering from an aching sexual frustration that baffled and embarrassed her.

When she was logical, she could remind herself that Liam Donovan was the only human being she’d seen in the best part of a week. As a sample of the species, he was spectacular, and the perfect fodder for erotic dreams.

But all in all she preferred thinking of the wolf, weaving a story about him. She liked pretending he was her guardian, protecting her from any evil spirits that lived in the forest.

She spent most of her time reading or sketching, or taking long walks. And trying not to think that it was nearly time to make her promised weekly call home to her parents.

She often heard music, drifting through the woods or in through her windows. Pipes and flutes, bells and strings. Once there was harpsong so sweet and so pure that it made her throat ache with tears.

While she wallowed in the peace, the solitude, the lack of demand on her time and attention, there were also moments of loneliness so acute it hurt the heart. Even when the need for another voice, for human contact, pulled at her, she couldn’t quite gather the courage, or find a reasonable excuse, to seek out Liam.

To offer him a cup of coffee, she thought as twilight slipped through the trees and there was no sign of her wolf. Or maybe a hot meal. A little conversation, she mused, absently twisting the tip of her braid around her finger.

“Doesn’t he ever get lonely?” she wondered. “What does he do all day, all night?”

The wind rose, and in the distance thunder mumbled. A storm brewing, she thought, moving to the door to fling it open to the fast, cool air. Looking up, she watched dark clouds roll and bump, caught the faint blink of far-off lightning.

She thought it would be lovely to sleep with the sound of rain falling on the roof. Better, to curl up in bed with a book and read half the night while the wind howled and the rain lashed.

Smiling at the idea, she shifted her gaze. And looked directly into the glinting eyes of the wolf.

She stumbled back a step, pressing a hand to her throat, where her heart had leaped. He was halfway across the clearing, closer than he’d ever come. Wiping her nervous hands on her jeans, she cautiously stepped out onto the porch.

“Hello.” She laughed a little, but kept one hand firmly on the doorknob. Just in case. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured while he stood, still as a stone carving. “I look for you every day. You never eat the food I leave out. Nothing else does, either. I’m not a very good cook. I keep wishing you’d come closer”

As her pulse began to level, she lowered slowly into a crouch. “I won’t hurt you,” she murmured. “I’ve been reading about wolves. Isn’t it odd that I brought a book about you with me? I don’t even remember packing it, but I brought so many books. You shouldn’t be interested in me,” she said with a sigh. “You should be running with a pack, with your mate.”

The sadness hit so quickly, so sharply, that she closed her eyes against it. “Wolves mate for life,” she said quietly, then jolted when lightning slashed and the bellow of thunder answered by shaking the sky.

The clearing was empty. The black wolf was gone. Rowan walked to the porch rocker, sat and curled up her legs to watch the rain sweep in.

*  *  *

He was thinking about her far too much and far too often. It infuriated him. Liam was a man who prided himself on self-control. When one possessed power, control must walk with it. Power untempered could corrupt. It could destroy.

He’d been taught from birth his responsibilities as well as his advantages. His gifts as well as his curses. Solitude was his way of escaping all of it, at least for short spans of time.

He knew, too well, no one escaped destiny.

The son of princes was expected to accept destiny.

Alone in his cabin, he thought of her. The way she’d looked when he’d come into the clearing. The way fear had danced around her even as she’d stepped outside.