"Possibilities. There are always choices. We each made ours, and have more to make yet. You know something of your heritage and of mine, but not all. In my country, in my family, there is a tradition. It's simplest, I suppose, to compare it to rank, though it's not precisely that. But one takes a place as head of the family. To guide, and counsel. To help in settling disputes should they arise."
Once again he picked up the silver amulet, once again he set it down.
"Your father wears one of those in gold."
"Aye, he does."
"Because he's head of the family?"
She was quick, Liam thought. Foolish of him to have forgotten that. "He is, until he chooses to pass on the duty."
"To you."
"It's traditional for the amulet to be passed down to the oldest child. But there are choices, on both sides, and there are- stipulations. To inherit, one must be worthy of it."
"Of course you are."
"One must want it."
Her smile faded into a look of puzzlement. "Don't you?"
"I haven't decided." He slipped his hands into his pockets before he could pick up the amulet again. "I came here to take time, to think and consider. It must be my choice. I won't be bullied by fate."
The regal tone of his voice made her smile again. "No, you wouldn't be. That's another reason you'd be good at it." She started to go to him, but he held up a hand.
"There are other requirements. If there is marriage, it must be to a mate with elfin blood, and the marriage must be for love, not for duty. Both must enter into it freely."
"That seems only right," she began, then stopped. As Liam had said, she was quick. "I have elfin blood, and I've just told you I'm in love with you."
"And if I take you, my choices diminish."
This time it took her a moment. It had been said so coolly it was like an iced sword to the heart. "Your choices, I see." She nodded slowly while inside she fought to save the scattered pieces of her heart, the pitiful tatters of her pride. "And your choices include accepting this aspect of your heritage or abjuring it. You'd take that very, very seriously, wouldn't you, Liam?"
"How could I not?"
"And I'm more or less like a weight for the scale. You just have to decide which bowl to set me in. How- awkward for you."
"It's not as simple as that," he shot back, off balance by her sudden sharp tones. "It's my life."
"And mine," she added. "You said you knew I was coming here, but I didn't know about you. So I had no choice there. I fell in love with you the minute I saw you, but you were prepared and you had your own agenda. You knew I would love you."
It was hurled at him, a bitter accusation that had him staring at her. "You're mistaken."
"Oh, really? How many times did you slip into my mind to see? Or come into my house as a wolf and listen to me babble? Without giving me the choice you're so damn fond of. You knew I met the requirements, so you studied and measured and considered."
"I didn't know!" He shouted it at her, furious to have his actions tilted toward deceit. "I didn't know until you told me about your great-grandmother."
"I see. So up to that point you were either playing with me or deciding if you could use me as your out should you decide to refuse your position."
"That's ridiculous."
"Then suddenly you've got a witch on your hands. You wanted her-I don't doubt you wanted me, and I was pathetically easy. I took whatever you chose to give me, and was grateful."
It humiliated her to think of it now, to remember how she had rushed into his arms, trusting her heart. Trusting him.
"I cared for you, Rowan. I care for you."
Her cheeks were ghost pale in the flickering light, her eyes dark and deep. "Do you know how insulting that is? Do you know how humiliating it is to understand that you knew I was in love with you while you figured the angles and made your choices? What choice did I have, what choice did you give me?"
"All I could."
She shook her head fiercely. "No, all you would," she tossed back. "You knew exactly how vulnerable I was when I came here, how lost."
"I did, yes. That's why I-"
"So you offer me a chance to work with you," she interrupted. "Knowing I was already dazzled by you, knowing how desperately I needed something. Then, in your own good time, you told me who you were, who I was. At your pace, Liam, always at your pace. And each time I moved exactly as you expected I would. It's all been just another game."
"That's not true." Incensed, he took her arms. "I thought of you, too damn much of you. And did what I thought was right, what was best."
The jolt shot through his fingertips, up his arms, with such heat and power, it knocked him back a full two steps. This time he could only gape at her, shocked to the core that she'd caught him so completely unaware.
"Damn it, Rowan." His hands still stung from the slap of her will.
"I won't be bullied, either." Her knees were jellied at the realization she'd had not only the ability but the fury to shove him back with her mind. "This isn't what you expected, this isn't one of your possibilities. I was supposed to come in here with you tonight, listen to you, then fold my hands, bow my head like the quiet little mouse I am, and leave it all up to you."
Her eyes were vividly blue, her face no longer pale but flushed with anger, and to his annoyance outrageously beautiful. "Not precisely," he said with dignity. "But it is up to me."
"The hell it is. You have to decide what you want, true enough, but don't expect me to sit meekly while you choose or discard me. Always, always, people have made decisions for me, chosen the way my life should go. What have you done but the same?"
"I'm not your parents," he shot back. "Or your Alan. These were different circumstances entirely."
"Whatever the circumstances, you held the controls and guided me along. I won't tolerate that. I've been ordinary." The words ripped out of her, straight from the belly. "You wouldn't understand that, you've never been ordinary. But I have, all my life. I won't be ordinary again."
"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 lay 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 gracef
ul 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 domes 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 Morgan's and Sebastian's and Ana's parents?"
"Yes. I appreciate you 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 goodbye.
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 you."
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 welcome with joy. Don't turn your back on your own happiness just to hug your pr
ide. 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.
Books by Nora Roberts Page 307
