Enchanted (24 page)

“For what?”

“For—” She baffled him. He dragged his hands free to rake them through his hair. “For what do you think? I’ll take my place in the family, and I want you with me.”

“It’s hardly that simple.”

He started to speak, something ill-advised and much too heated, he realized, and pulled himself back. Control might be shaky—
in the name of Finn, just look at her
—but it was still there. “All right, I hurt you. I’m sorry for it. It was never my intention, and I apologize.”

“Well then, you’re sorry. Let me just jump into your arms.”

He blinked, deeply shocked at the biting tone. “What do you want me to say? I made a mistake—more than one. I don’t like admitting it.”

“You’ll have to, straight out. You took your time deciding if I’d suit you—and your purposes. Once you decided what those purposes would be. When you didn’t know about my bloodline, you considered if you should take me and get out of the duty you weren’t sure you wanted. And when you did know, then it was a matter of deciding if I’d suit you if you did accept it.”

“It wasn’t that black-and-white.” He let out a breath, admitting that sometimes the gray areas didn’t matter. “But yes, more or less. It would have been a big step either way.”

“For me as well,” she tossed back, eyes firing. “But how much did you consider that?”

She whirled away, and had him rushing after her before he’d realized he’d moved. “Don’t go.”

She hadn’t intended to, just to pace off her temper, but the quick desperation in the two words had her turning slowly.

“For pity’s sake, Rowan, don’t leave me again. Do you know what it was for me to come for you that morning and see you were gone? Just gone.” He turned away, scrubbing his hands over his face as he struggled with the pain. “The house empty of you, and still full of you. I was going to go after you, right then and there, drag you back where I wanted you. Where I needed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” He turned to face her. “Because you were right. All the choices had been mine. This was yours and I had to live with it. I’m asking you now not to leave me again, not to make me live with it. You matter to me.”

Everything inside her cried out to go to him. Instead she lifted her brows again. “Matter to you? Those are small words for such a big request.”

“I care for you.”

“I care for the puppy the little girl next door has. I’m not content with that from you. So if that’s all—”

“I love you. Damn it, you know very well I love you.” He snatched her hand to keep her from leaving. Both the gesture and the tone were anything but loverlike.

Somehow she kept her voice steady. “We’ve established I don’t have the gift to see, so how do I know very well what you don’t tell me?”

“I am telling you. Damn it, woman, can’t you hear, either?” His control slipped enough to have sparks snapping in the air around them. “It’s been you all along, right from the start of it. I told myself I didn’t—that I wouldn’t until I decided. I made myself believe it, but there was no one ever but you.”

The thrill of it—the words, the passion behind them driven by as much anger as heart—spun through her like rainbows. Even as she started to speak, he released her hand to prowl the circle much as the wolf he favored.

“And I don’t like it.” He flung the words over his shoulder at her. “I’m not required to like it.”

“No.” She wondered why she should feel delighted rather than insulted. And it came to her that it gave her an unexpected and desperately sweet power over him. “No, you’re not. Neither am I.”

He whirled back, glaring at her. “I was content in my life as it was.”

“No, you weren’t.” The answer surprised both of them. “You were restless, dissatisfied and just a little bored. And so was I.”

“You were unhappy. And the way you’re thinking now, it’s that I should have taken advantage of that. Plucked you up straightaway, told you things you couldn’t have been prepared to hear and carried you off to Ireland. Well, I didn’t and I won’t be sorry for that much. I couldn’t. You think I deceived you, and maybe I did.”

He shrugged now, a regal motion that made her lips want to curve into a smile. “You needed time, and so
did I. When I came to you as a wolf it was to comfort. It was as a friend. And so I saw you naked—and enjoyed it. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Why indeed?” she murmured.

“When I loved you in dreams, we both enjoyed it.”

Since that was issued as a challenge, she merely inclined her head. “I don’t think I ever said otherwise. But still, that choice was yours.”

“Aye, it was, and I’d make it again if only to touch you with my mind. It’s not easy for me to admit that I want you as I do. To tell you that I’ve suffered being without you. Or to ask you to forgive me for doing what I thought was right.”

“You’ve yet to tell me what it is you expect from me now.”

“I’ve been clear enough on it.” Frustration shimmered around him. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Yes,” she said after a very cool, very thoughtful moment.

His eyes went bright gold with shock, then dark with what she thought was temper. When he started toward her, her knees began to tremble. Then, eyes narrowed, he was down on his.

“Then I will.” He took her hands, which had gone numb. “I’ll beg for you, Rowan, if that’s what it takes to have you.”

“Liam—”

“If I’m to humble myself, at least let me get on with it,” he snapped. “I don’t think you were ordinary ever. Weak is something I don’t believe you could be. What I see in you is a woman with a tender heart—too tender at times to think of herself. You’re the woman I want. I’ve wanted before, but I’ve never needed. I need you. You’re who I care for. I’ve cared before, but never loved. I love you. I’m asking that it be enough for you, Rowan.”

She’d been struck speechless, but found her voice as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Why did you never ask before?”

“Asking’s not easy for me. If it’s arrogance, that’s how I am. Damn it, I’m asking you to take me as I am.
You love me. I know you do.”

So much for begging, she thought, and had to fight back a smile. He managed to look arrogant and not a little fierce even on his knees. “I never said I didn’t. Are you asking me for more?”

“For everything. I’m asking you to take me on—what I am and what I’ll do. To be my wife, leave your home for mine and understand that it’s forever. Forever, Rowan.” The faintest of smiles touched his mouth. “For wolves mate for life, and so do I. I’m asking you to share that life, to let me share yours. I’m asking you here, in the heart of this sacred place, to belong to me.”

He pressed his lips to her hands, held them there until she felt his words turn to feelings and the feelings rush through her like magic.

“I’ll have no other but you,” he murmured. “You said to me that I held your heart in my hands, and that I’d never have another like it. I’m telling you now you have mine in yours, and I swear to you, Rowan, you’ll never have another like it. No one will ever love you more. The choice is yours.”

She studied him, the way his face lifted to hers, how the light from the fire he’d taught her to make danced over it. She didn’t need to see his thoughts now. All she wanted was there, in his eyes.

She made her choice, and lowered to her knees so their eyes were on level. “I’ll take you on, Liam, as you’ll take me. And I’ll take nothing less than forever. I’ll share the life we make together. I’ll belong to you, as you belong to me. That’s my choice, and my promise.”

Swamped with emotion, he lowered his brow to hers. “God, I missed you. Every hour of every day. There’s no magic without you. No heart in it.”

He found her mouth with his, pulling her close, swaying as the force of feeling rocked him. She wrapped her arms around him, gave him every answer to every question.

“I could drown in you.” He rose to his feet, lifting her high, and her laughter rang out pure and bright as she threw her arms up.

Starlight dazzled her eyes. She watched one shoot across the sky as he spun with her. A trail of gold, a shower of silver. “Tell me again!” she demanded. “Tell me now. Right now!”

“I love you. Now”—he lowered her until their mouths met again—“and ever.”

She held him close, heartbeat to heartbeat. “Liam of Donovan.” Leaning back, she smiled at him. Her prince, her witch. Her mate. “Will you grant me a boon?”

“Rowan of O’Meara, you have only to ask what you will.”

“Take me to Ireland. Take me home.”

Pleasure swirled into his eyes. “Now,
a ghra
?” My love.

“In the morning.” She drew him back to her. “It’s soon enough.”

And when they kissed with the firelight glowing, the stars shimmering, the fairies danced in the forest. In the hills far away, pipes played in celebration, and songs of joy were sung.

Love no longer waited, but found its mark.

If you liked
Enchanted
, look for the other novels in the Donovan Legacy series:
Captivated
,
Entranced
, and
Charmed
, available as eBooks from InterMix.

June 2000

Elizabeth Fitch’s short-lived teenage rebellion began with L’Oreal Pure Black, a pair of scissors and a fake ID. It ended in blood.

For nearly the whole of her sixteen years, eight months and twenty-one days she’d dutifully followed her mother’s directives. Dr. Susan L. Fitch issued
directives
, not orders. Elizabeth had adhered to the schedules her mother created, ate the meals designed by her mother’s nutritionist and prepared by her mother’s cook, wore the clothes selected by her mother’s personal shopper.

Dr. Susan L. Fitch dressed conservatively, as suited—in her opinion—her position as Chief of Surgery at Chicago’s Silva Memorial Hospital. She expected, and directed, her daughter to do the same.

Elizabeth studied diligently, accepting and excelling in the academic programs her mother outlined. In the fall, she’d return to Harvard in pursuit of her medical degree. So she could become a doctor, like her mother; a surgeon, like her mother.

Elizabeth—never Liz or Lizzie or Beth—spoke fluent Spanish, French, Italian, passable Russian and rudimentary Japanese. She played both piano and violin. She’d traveled to Europe, to Africa. She could name all the bones, nerves and muscles in the human body and play Chopin’s Piano Concerto—both One and Two—by rote.

She’d never been on a date or kissed a boy. She’d never roamed the mall with a pack of girls, attended a slumber party or giggled with friends over pizza or hot fudge sundaes.

She was, at sixteen years, eight months and twenty-one days, a product of her mother’s meticulous and detailed agenda.

That was about to change.

She watched her mother pack. Susan, her rich brown hair already coiled in her signature French twist,
neatly hung another suit in the organized garment bag, then checked off the printout with each day of the week’s medical conference broken into subgroups. The printout included a spreadsheet listing every event, appointment, meeting and meal scheduled with the selected outfit, shoes, bag and accessories.

Designer suits and Italian shoes, of course, Elizabeth thought. One must wear good cut, good cloth. But not one rich or bright color among the blacks, grays, taupes. She wondered how her mother could be so beautiful and deliberately wear the dull.

After two accelerated semesters of college, Elizabeth thought she’d begun—maybe—to develop her own fashion sense. She had, in fact, bought jeans
and
a hoodie
and
some chunky heeled boots in Cambridge.

She’d paid in cash, so the purchase wouldn’t show up on her credit card bill in case her mother or their accountant checked and questioned the items, which were currently hidden in her room.

She’d felt like a different person wearing them, so different that she’d walked straight into a McDonald’s and ordered her first Big Mac with large fries and a chocolate shake.

The pleasure had been so huge she’d had to go into the bathroom, close herself in a stall and cry a little.

The seeds of the rebellion had been planted that day, she supposed, or maybe they’d always been there, dormant, and the fat and salt had awakened them.

But she could feel them, actually feel them sprouting in her belly now.

“Your plans changed, Mother. It doesn’t follow that mine have to change with them.”

Susan took a moment to precisely place a shoe bag in the pullman, tucking it just so with her beautiful and clever surgeon’s hands, the nails perfectly manicured. A French manicure, as always—no color there either.

“Elizabeth.” Her voice was as polished and calm as her wardrobe. “It took considerable effort to reschedule and have you admitted to the summer program this term. You’ll complete the requirements for your admission into Harvard Medical School a full semester ahead of schedule.”

Even the thought made Elizabeth’s stomach hurt. “I was promised a three-week break, including this next week in New York.”

“And sometimes promises must be broken. If I hadn’t had this coming week off, I couldn’t fill in for Dr.
Dusecki at the conference.”

“You could have said no.”

“That would have been selfish and shortsighted.” Susan brushed at the jacket she’d hung, stepped back to check her list. “You’re certainly mature enough to understand the demands of work overtake pleasure and leisure.”

“If I’m mature enough to understand that, why aren’t I mature enough to make my own decisions? I want this break. I need it.”

Susan barely spared her daughter a glance. “A girl of your age, physical condition and mental acumen hardly
needs
a break from her studies and activities. In addition, Mrs. Laine has already left for her two-week cruise, and I could hardly ask her to postpone her vacation. There’s no one to fix your meals or tend to the house.”

“I can fix my own meals and tend to the house.”

“Elizabeth.” The tone managed to merge clipped with long-suffering. “It’s settled.”