Charmed

by Nora Roberts

  repeated the command. After five frustrating minutes—during which he tried not to remember how simple it had been for Ana—he managed to hold the dog’s hindquarters down. Daisy gobbled up the bread, pleased with herself.

  “She did it, Daddy.”

  “Sort of.” He rose to pour himself some coffee. “We’ll take her outside in a little while and have a real lesson.”

  “Okay.” Jessie munched happily on her toast. “Maybe Ana’s company will be gone, and she can help.”

  “Company?” Boone asked as he reached for a mug.

  “I saw her outside with a man. She gave him a big hug and a kiss and everything.”

  “She—” The mug clattered onto the counter.

  “Butterfingers,” Jessie said, smiling.

  “Yeah.” Boone kept his back turned as he righted the mug and poured the coffee. “What, ah, sort of a man?” He thought his voice was casual enough—to fool a six-year-old, anyway.

  “A really tall man with black hair. They were laughing and holding hands. Maybe it’s her boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend,” Boone repeated between his teeth.

  “What’s the matter, Daddy?”

  “Nothing. Coffee’s hot.” He sipped it black. Holding hands, he thought. Kissing. He’d get a look at this guy himself. “Why don’t we go out on the deck, Jess? See if we can get Daisy to sit again.”

  “Okay.” Singing the new song she’d learned in school, Jessie gathered up toast. “I like to eat outside. It’s nice.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice.” Boone didn’t sit when they were on the deck, but stood at the rail, the mug in his hand. He didn’t see anyone in the next yard, and that was worse. Now he could imagine what Ana and her tall, dark-haired boyfriend might be doing inside.

  Alone.

  He ate three more pieces of toast, washing them down with black coffee while he fantasized about just what he’d say to Miss Anastasia Donovan the next time he saw her.

  If she thought she could kiss him to the point of explosion one night, then dally with some strange guy the next morning, she was very much mistaken.

  He’d straighten her out, all right. The minute he got ahold of her he’d—

  His thoughts broke off when she came out the kitchen door, calling over her shoulder to someone.

  “Ana!” Jessie leapt up on the bench, waving and shouting. “Ana, hi!”

  While Boone watched through narrowed eyes, Ana looked in their direction. It seemed to him that her hand hesitated on its way up to return the wave, and her smile was strained.

  Sure, he thought as he gulped down more coffee. I’d be nervous, too, if I had some strange man in the house.

  “Can I go tell her what Daisy did? Can I, Daddy?”

  “Yeah.” His smile was grim as he set his empty mug on the rail. “Why don’t you do that?”

  Snatching up some more toast, she darted down the steps, calling for Daisy to follow and for Ana to wait.

  Boone waited himself until he saw the man stroll outside to join Ana. He was tall, all right, Boone noted with some resentment. Several inches over six feet. He drew his own shoulders back. His hair was true black, and long enough to curl over his collar and blow—romantically, Boone imagined a woman would think—in the breeze.

  He looked tanned, fit and elegant. And the breath hissed out between Boone’s teeth when the stranger slipped an arm around Ana’s shoulders as if it belonged there.

  We’ll see about this, Boone decided, and started down the deck stairs with his hands jammed in his pockets. We’ll just see about this.

  By the time he reached the hedge of roses, Jessie was already chattering a mile a minute about Daisy, and Ana was laughing, her arms tucked intimately around the stranger’s waist.

  “I’d sit, too, if someone was going to feed me cinnamon toast,” the man said, and winked at Ana.

  “You’d sit if anyone was going to feed you anything.” Ana gave him a little squeeze before she noticed Boone at the hedge. “Oh.” It was useless to curse the faint blush she felt heating her cheeks. “Good morning.”

  “How’s it going?” Boone gave her a slow nod. Then his gaze moved suspiciously to the man beside her. “We didn’t mean to interrupt while you have … company.”

  “No, that’s all right, I—” She broke off, both confused and disconcerted by the tension humming in the air. “Sebastian, this is Jessie’s father, Boone Sawyer. Boone, my cousin, Sebastian Donovan.”

  “Cousin?” Boone repeated, and Sebastian didn’t bother to control the grin that spread over his face.

  “Fortunately you made the introductions quickly, Ana,” he said. “I like my nose precisely the way it is.” He held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Ana was telling us she had new neighbors.”

  “He’s the one with horses, Daddy.”

  “I remember.” Boone found Sebastian’s grip firm and strong. He might have appreciated it if he hadn’t seen the gleam of amusement in the man’s eyes. “You’re recently married?”

  “Indeed, I am. My …” He turned when the screen door slammed. “Ah, here she is now. Light of my life.”

  A tall, slim woman with short, tousled hair strode over in dusty boots. “Cut it out, Donovan.”

  “My blushing bride.” It was obvious they were laughing at each other. He took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “Ana’s neighbors, Boone and Jessie Sawyer. My own true love, Mary Ellen.”

  “Mel,” she corrected quickly. “Donovan’s the only one with the nerve to call me Mary Ellen. Great-looking house,” she added, with a nod toward the neighboring building.

  “I believe Mr. Sawyer writes fairy tales, children’s books, much in the manner of Aunt Bryna.”

  “Oh, yeah? That’s cool.” Mel smiled down at Jessie. “I bet you like that.”

  “He writes the best stories in the world. And this is Daisy. We taught her to sit. Can I come see your horses?”

  “Sure.” Mel crouched down to ruffle the pup’s fur. While Mel engaged Jessie in conversation about horses and dogs, Sebastian looked back at Boone.

  “It is a lovely house you have,” he said. Actually, he’d toyed with buying it himself. Amusement lit his eyes again. “Excellent location.”

  “We like it.” Boone decided it was foolish to pretend not to understand the meaning behind the words. “We like it very much.” Very deliberately, he reached out to trail a fingertip down Ana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale this morning, Anastasia.”

  “I’m fine.” It was easy enough to keep her voice even, but she knew very well how simple it would be for Sebastian to see what she was thinking. Already she could feel his gentle probing, and she was quite certain he was poking his nosy mental fingers into Boone’s brain. “If you’ll excuse me, I promised Sebastian some hawthorn.”

  “Didn’t you pick any last night?”

  Her gaze met his, held it. “I have other uses for that.”

  “We’ll get out of your way. Come on, Jess.” He reached for his daughter’s hand. “Nice meeting both of you. I’ll see you soon, Ana.”

  Sebastian had the tact to wait until Boone was out of earshot. “Well, well … I go away for a couple of weeks, and look at the trouble you get into.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Ana turned her back and started toward an herb bed. “I’m not in any sort of trouble.”

  “Darling, darling Ana, your friend and neighbor was prepared to rip my throat out until you introduced me as your cousin.”

  “I’d have protected you,” Mel said solemnly.

  “My hero.”

  “Besides,” Mel went on, “it looked to me as though he was more in the mood to drag Ana off by the hair than tackle you.”

  “You’re both being absurd.” Ana snipped hawthorn without looking up. “He’s a very nice man.”

  “I’m sure,” Sebastian murmured. “But, you see, men understand this territorial thing—which is, of course, an obscure concept to the female.”

  “Oh, please.” Mel shoved an
elbow in his ribs.

  “Facts are facts, my dear Mary Ellen. I had intruded on his territory. Or so he thought. Naturally, I would only think less of him if he had made no effort to defend it.”

  “Naturally,” Mel said dryly.

  “Tell me, Ana, just how involved are you?”

  “That’s none of your business.” She straightened, deftly wrapping the stems of the hawthorn. “And I’ll thank you to keep out of it, cousin. I know very well you were poking in.”

  “Which is why you blocked me. Your neighbor wasn’t so successful.”

  “It’s rude,” she muttered, “unconscionably rude, the way you peek into people’s heads at the drop of a hat.”

  “He likes to show off,” Mel said sympathetically.

  “Unfair.” Disgusted, Sebastian shook his head. “I do not poke or peek at the drop of a hat. I always have an excellent reason. In this case, being your only male relative on the continent, I feel it’s my duty to survey the situation, and the players.”

  Mel could only roll her eyes as Ana’s spine stiffened. “Really?” Eyes bright, Ana jammed a finger into Sebastian’s chest. “Then let me set you straight. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I need protection or guidance or anything else from a male—relative or otherwise. I’ve been handling my own life for twenty-six years.”

  “Twenty-seven next month,” Sebastian added helpfully.

  “And I can continue to handle it. What’s between Boone and me—”

  “Ah.” He held up a triumphant finger. “So there is something between you.”

  “Stuff it, Sebastian.”

  “She only talks like that when she paints herself into a corner,” Sebastian told Mel. “Usually she’s extremely mild and well-mannered.”

  “Careful, or I’ll give Mel a potion to put in your soup that’ll freeze your vocal cords for a week.”

  “Oh yeah?” Intrigued by the idea, Mel tilted her head. “Can I have it anyway?”

  “A lot of good it would do you, since I do all the cooking,” Sebastian pointed out. Then he scooped Ana up in a hug. “Come on, darling, don’t be angry. I have to worry about you. It’s my job.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” But she was softening.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  Instantly she stiffened. “Really, Sebastian, I’ve only known him for a week.”

  “What difference does that make?” He gave Mel a long look over Ana’s head, “It took me less than that to realize the reason Mel irritated me so much was that I was crazy about her. Of course, it took her longer to understand she was madly in love with me. But she has such a hard head.”

  “I’m getting that potion,” Mel decided.

  Ignoring the threat, he drew back to consider Ana at arm’s length. “I ask because he definitely has more than a neighborly interest in you. As a matter of fact, he—”

  “That’s enough. Whatever you dug out of his head, you keep to yourself. I mean it, Sebastian,” she said before he could interrupt. “I prefer doing things my own way.”

  “If you insist,” he said with a sigh.

  “I do. Now, take your hawthorn and go home and be newlyweds.”

  “Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Taking a firm grip on her husband’s arm, Mel tugged him back. “Leave her alone, Donovan. Ana’s perfectly capable of handling her own affairs.”

  “And if she’s going to have one, she should know—”

  “Out.” On a strangled laugh, Ana gave him a shove. “Out of my yard. I have work to do. If I need a psychic, I’ll call you.”

  He relented and gave her a kiss. “See that you do.” A new smile began to bloom as he walked away with his wife. “I believe we’ll stop by and see Morgana and Nash.”

  “That’s fine.” Mel shot a last glance over her shoulder. “I’d like to hear what they have to say about this guy myself.”

  Sebastian laughed and hugged her close. “You are a woman after my own heart.”

  “No, I’m not.” She kissed him soundly. “I’ve already got it.”

  * * *

  For the next several days, Ana busied herself indoors. It wasn’t that she was avoiding Boone—at least not to any great extent. She simply had a lot to do. Her medicinal supplies had become sadly depleted. Just that day, she’d had a call from a client in Carmel who was out of the elixir for her rheumatism. Ana had had just enough to ship, but that meant she had to make more as soon as possible. Even now she had dried primrose simmering with motherwort on the stove.

  In the little room adjoining the kitchen through a wide archway, she had her distilling flasks, condensers, burners and bottles, along with vials and silver bowls and candles, set up for the day. To the casual eye, the room resembled a small chemistry lab. But there was a marked difference between chemistry and alchemy. In alchemy there was ritual, and the meticulous use of astrological timing.

  All of the flowers and roots and herbs she had harvested by moonlight had been carefully washed in morning dew. Others, plucked under different phases of the moon, had already been prepared for their specific uses.

  There was syrup of poppy to be distilled, and there was hyssop to be dried for cough syrup. She needed some oil of clary for a specialty perfume, and she could combine that with some chamomile for a digestive aid. There were infusions and decoctions to be completed as well as both oils and incense.

  Plenty to do, Ana thought, particularly since she had the touch of magic from the flowers picked in moonlight. And she enjoyed her work, the scents that filled her kitchen and workroom, the pretty pink leaves of the flowering marjoram, the deep purple of foxglove, the sunny touch of the practical marigold.

  They were lovely, and she could never resist setting some in vases or bowls around the house. She was testing a dilution of gentian, grimacing at the bitter taste, when Boone knocked on her screen door.

  “I really do need sugar this time,” he told her with a quick, charming grin that had her heart pumping fast. “I’m homeroom mother this week, and I have to make three dozen cookies for tomorrow.”

  Tilting her head, she studied him. “You could buy them.”

  “What homeroom mother worth her salt serves the first grade class store-bought? A cup would do it.”

  The image of him baking made her smile. “I probably have one. Come on in. Just let me finish this up.”

  “It smells fabulous in here.” He leaned over to peek into the pots simmering on the stove. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t!” she warned, just as he was about to dip a finger in a black glass pan cooling on the counter. “That’s belladonna. Not for internal consumption in that form.”

  “Belladonna.” His brows drew together. “You’re making poison?”

  “I’m making a lotion—an anodyne—for neuralgia, rheumatism. And it isn’t a poison if it’s brewed and dispensed properly. It’s a sedative,”

  Frowning, he looked into the room behind, with its chemical equipment and its bubbling brews. “Don’t you have to have a license or something?”

  “I’m a qualified herbal practitioner, with a degree in pharmacognosy, if that relieves you.” She batted his hand away from a pot. “And this is not something for the novice.”

  “Got anything for insomnia—besides belladonna? No offense.”

  She was instantly concerned. “Are you having trouble sleeping? Are you feverish?” She lifted a hand to his brow, then went still when he took her wrist.

  “Yes, to both questions. You could say you’re the cause and the cure.” He brought her hand from his brow to his lips. “I may be homeroom mother, but I’m still a man, Ana. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He turned her hand over, pressing those lips to the inside of her wrist, where the pulse was beginning to jerk. “And I can’t stop wanting you.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m giving you restless nights.”

  His brow quirked. “Are you?”

  She couldn’t quite suppress the smile. “I’m trying to be
. It’s hard not to be flattered that thinking about me is keeping you awake. And it’s hard to know what to do.” She turned away to switch off the heat on the stove. “I’ve been feeling a little restless myself.” Her eyes closed when his hands came down on her shoulders.

  “Make love with me.” He brushed a kiss on the back of her neck. “I won’t hurt you, Ana.”

  Not purposely, she thought. Never that. There was so much kindness in him. But would they hurt each other if she gave in to what she wanted, needed, from him, and held back that part of herself that made her what she was?

  “It’s a big step for me, Boone.”

  “For me, too.” Gently he turned her to face him. “There’s been no one for me since Alice died. In the past couple of years there was a woman or two, but nothing that meant any more than filling a physical emptiness. No one I’ve wanted to spend time with, to be with, to talk to. I care about you.” He lowered his mouth to hers, very carefully, very softly. “I don’t know how I came to care this much, this quickly, but I do. I hope you believe that.”

  Even without a true link, she couldn’t help but feel it. It made things more complicated somehow. “I do believe you.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Seeing as I haven’t been sleeping, I’ve had plenty of time for it.” Absently he tapped a loosened pin back into her hair. “The other night, I was rushing you, probably scared you.”

  “No.” Then she shrugged and turned back to filter one of her mixtures into a bottle, already labeled. “Yes, actually, I guess you did.”

  “If I’d known you were … If I’d realized you’d never …”

  With a sigh, she capped the bottle. “My virginity is by choice, Boone, and nothing I’m uncomfortable with.”

  “I didn’t mean—” He let out a hissing breath. “I’m doing a great job with this.”

  She chose another funnel, another bottle, and poured. “You’re nervous.”

  With some chagrin, he noted that her hands were rock-steady when she capped the next bottle. “I think terrified comes closer. I was rough with you, and I shouldn’t have been. For a lot of reasons. The fact that you’re inexperienced is only one of them.”

  “You weren’t rough.” She continued to work to hide her nerves, which were jumping every bit as much as his. As long as she had to concentrate on what she was doing, she could at least pretend to be calm and confident. “You’re a passionate man. That’s not something to apologize for.”

  “I’m apologizing for pressuring you. And for coming over here today fully intending to keep things light and easy, and then pressuring you again.”

  Her lips curved as she walked to the sink to soak her pans. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “I told myself I wasn’t going to ask you to go to bed with me—even though I want you to. I was going to ask if you’d spend some time with me. Come to dinner, or go out, or whatever people do when they’re trying to get to know each other.”

  “I’d like to come to dinner, or go out, or whatever.”

  “Good.” That hadn’t been so hard, he decided. “Maybe this weekend. Friday night. I should be able to find a sitter.” His eyes clouded. “Somebody I can trust.”

  “I thought you were going to cook for me and Jessie.”

  A weight lifted. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “I think I’d enjoy it.”

  “Okay, then.” He framed her face in his hands. “Okay.” The kiss was very sweet, and if it felt as if something inside were going to rip in two, he told himself, he could deal with it. “Friday.”

  It wasn’t difficult to smile, even if her system felt as if it had been rocked by a small earthquake. “I’ll bring the wine.”

  “Good.” He wanted to kiss her again, but he was afraid he’d scare her off. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Boone.” She stopped him before he’d reached the door. “Don’t you want your sugar?”