by Nora Roberts
“Want one?”
“You bet.” There was the smell of herbs again, from little pots growing on the windowsill. Morgana’s voice rose and fell from the next room. “It’s an interesting shop.”
Sebastian handed her a bottle. “I see you picked up a trinket already.”
“Oh.” She fingered the stone. “Morgana gave it to me. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“So.” She turned to Nash. “I really didn’t get a chance to tell you before. I love your movies. Especially Shape Shifter. It blew me away.”
“Yeah?” He was rooting around in the cupboards for cookies. “It has a special place in my heart. Nothing like a sexy lycanthrope with a conscience.”
“I like the way you make the illogical logical.” She took a sip of beer. “I mean, you make the rules—they might be really weird rules—but then you follow them.”
“Mel’s big on rules,” Sebastian put in.
“Sorry.” Morgana stepped back in. “A slight emergency. Nash, you ate all the cookies already.”
“All?” Disappointed, he closed the cupboard door.
“Every crumb.” She turned to Sebastian. “I imagine you’re wondering if the package came in.”
“Yes.”
She reached into her pocket and took out a small box of hammered silver. “I think you’ll find it quite suitable.”
He rose to take it from her. Their eyes met, held. “I trust your judgment.”
“And I yours.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “Blessed be, Cousin.” In a brisk change of mood, she reached for Nash. “Darling, come out in the shop with me. I want to move some things.”
“But Mel was just feeding my ego.”
“Heavy things,” she said, and gave his hand a tug. “We’ll see you soon I hope, Mel.”
“Yes. Thanks again.” The moment the door closed behind them, she looked at Sebastian. “What was that all about?”
“Morgana understood that I preferred to do this alone.” He rubbed his thumb over the box as he watched her.
Mel’s smile went a little nervous around the edges. “It’s not going to hurt, is it?”
“Painless,” he promised. At least for her. He opened the box, and offered it.
She peeked in, and would have taken a quick step away if she hadn’t been standing with her back to the counter. Inside the ornate little box was a ring. Like the necklace Morgana had given her, it was silver, thin glistening wires woven into an intricate pattern around a center stone of delicate pink with a green rind rim.
“What is it?”
“It’s also tourmaline,” he told her. “What’s called watermelon tourmaline, because of its colors.” He took it out. Held it to the light. “Some say it can transfer energy between two people who are important to each other. On a practical level, which I’m sure will interest you, they’re used in industry for electrical tuning circuits. They don’t shatter at high frequencies like other crystals.”
“That’s interesting.” Her throat was very dry. “But what’s it for?”
Though it was not quite the way he might have liked it, it would have to do for now. “A wedding ring,” he said, and put it into her hand.
“Excuse me?”
“We would hardly have been married five years without you having a ring.”
“Oh.” Surely she was just imagining that the ring was vibrating in her palm. “That makes sense. Sure. But why not a plain gold band?”
“Because I prefer this.” With his first show of impatience, he plucked the ring out of her hand and shoved it on her finger.
“Okay, okay, don’t get testy. It just seems like a lot of trouble when we could have gone by any department store and picked up—”
“Shut up.”
She’d been busy playing with the ring as she spoke, but now she looked up, narrow-eyed. “Look, Donovan—”
“For once.” He lifted her to her toes. “For once, do something my way without arguing, without questioning, without making me want to strangle you.”
Her eyes heated. “I was stating my opinion. And if this is going to work, we’d better get one thing clear right now. There’s no your way, there’s no my way. There can only be our way.”
Since no amount of searching helped him come up with an argument, he released her. “I have a remarkably even temper,” he said, half to himself. “It very rarely flares, because power and temper are a dangerous mix.”
Pouting a bit, she rubbed her arms where his fingers had dug in. “Yeah. Right.”
“There’s one rule, one unbreakable rule, that we live by in my world, Sutherland. ‘An it harm none.’ I take that very seriously. And for the first time in my life I’ve come across someone who tempts me to whip up a spell that would have her suffering from all manner of unpleasant discomforts.”
She sniffed and picked up her beer again. “You’re all wind, Donovan. Your cousin told me you’re lousy at spells.”
“Oh, there are one or two I’ve had some luck with.” He waited until she’d taken a good swallow of beer, then concentrated. Hard.
Mel choked, gasped, and grabbed for her throat. It felt as though she’d just swallowed a slug of pure Kentucky moonshine.
“Particularly spells that involve the mind,” Sebastian said smugly while she fought for breath.
“Cute. Real cute.” Though the burning had faded, she set the beer aside. There was no point in taking chances. “I don’t know what you’re all bent out of shape about, Donovan. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d hold the tricks for Halloween, or April Fools’ Day, or whenever you all break out for a few laughs.”
“Laughs?” He said it much too quietly, taking a step forward. Mel took one to meet him, but whatever they might have done was postponed as the side door swung open.
“Oh.” Anastasia, with her hair blowing into her eyes, held the door open with a hip as she balanced a tray of dried flowers. “Excuse me.” She didn’t need to go any closer to feel the tempers rattling like sabers in the air. “I’ll come back later.”
“Don’t be silly.” Sebastian nudged Mel aside—none too gently—and took the tray from his cousin. “Morgana’s in the shop.”
Hastily, Ana brushed her wayward hair away from her face. “I’ll just go tell her I’m here. Nice to see you again, Mel.” Ingrained manners had her offering a smile. Then her gaze fixed on the ring. “Oh. How beautiful. It looks like …” She hesitated, flicking a glance at Sebastian. “It looks like it was made for you.”
“I’m just kind of borrowing it for a few weeks.”
Ana looked at Mel again, and her eyes were kind. “I see. I doubt if I could bear to give something that wonderful back. May I?” Gently Ana took Mel’s fingertips and lifted her hand. She recognized the stone as one Sebastian had owned and treasured most of his life. “Yes,” she said. “It looks perfect on you.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, I only have a few minutes, so I’d better let you finish your argument.” She tossed Sebastian a quick smile and went out into the shop.
Mel sat on the edge of the table and tilted her head. “Wanna fight?”
He picked up her half-finished beer. “There doesn’t seem to be much point in it.”
“No, there’s not. Because I’m not mad at you. I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything this big before. Not that I’m afraid I can’t handle it.”
He sat on the table beside her. “Then what?”
“I guess it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done, and I really … I really care about making it work. Then there’s this other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“This you-and-me thing. It’s important, too.”
He took her hand in his. “Yes, it is.”
“And I don’t want the lines between these two important things to be blurred or mixed up, because I really care about … I really care,” she finished.
He brought her fingers to his lips. “So do I.”
/>
Sensing that the mood was friendly again, she smiled. “You know what I like about you, Donovan?”
“What?”
“You can do stuff like that—kissing-my-hand stuff. And not look goofy doing it.”
“You humble me, Sutherland,” he said in a strained voice. “You positively humble me.”
* * *
Hours later, when the night was quiet and the moonlight dim, she turned to him in sleep. And in sleep her arms slid around him, her body curved to his. He brushed the hair back from her temples as she nestled her head on his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb over the stone on her finger. If he left it there, let his mind drift, he could join her in whatever dream her heart was weaving. It was tempting, almost as tempting as waking her.
Before he could decide which to choose, he had a flash of the stables, the smell of hay and sweat and the distressed whicker of the mare.
Mel blinked awake as she felt him pull away. “What? What?”
“Go back to sleep,” he ordered, reaching for a shirt.
“Where are you going?”
“Psyche’s ready to foal. I’m going to the stables.”
“Oh.” Without thinking, she climbed out to search for her clothes. “I’ll go with you. Should we call the vet?”
“Ana will come.”
“Oh.” She fumbled with her buttons in the dark. “Should I call her?”
“Ana will come,” he said again, and left her to finish dressing.
Mel hurried after him, pulling on boots on the run. “Should I, like, boil water or something?”
Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and kissed her. “For coffee. Thanks.”
“They always boil water,” she mumbled, trudging into the kitchen. By the time the coffee was scenting the room, she heard the sound of a car. “Three cups,” Mel decided, figuring it was useless to question how Anastasia had known to come.
She found both cousins in the stables. Ana was kneeling beside the mare, murmuring. Beside her were two leather pouches and a rolled cloth.
“She’s all right, isn’t she?” Mel asked. “I mean, she’s healthy?”
“Yes.” Ana stroked Psyche’s neck. “She’s fine. Just fine.” Her voice was as soothing as a cool breeze in the desert. The mare responded to it with a quiet whinny. “It won’t take long. Relax, Sebastian. It’s not the first foal to be born in the world.”
“It’s her first,” he shot back, feeling foolish. He knew it would be all right. He could have told them what sex the foal would be. But that didn’t make it any easier to wait while his beloved Psyche suffered through the pangs.
Mel offered him a mug. “Have some coffee, Papa. You could always go pace in the next stall with Eros.”
“You might keep him calm, Sebastian,” Ana tossed over her shoulder. “It’ll help.”
“All right.”
“Coffee?” Mel eased into the stall to offer Ana a mug.
“Yes, a little.” She sat back on her heels to sip.
“Sorry,” Mel said when she saw Ana’s eyes go wide. “I tend to make it strong.”
“It’s all right. It’ll last me for the next couple of weeks.” She opened a pouch and shook some dried leaves and petals into her hand.
“What’s that?”
“Just some herbs,” Ana said as she fed them to the mare. “To help her with the contractions.” She chose three crystals from the other pouch and placed them on the mare’s quivering side. She was murmuring now in Gaelic.
The crystals should slide off, Mel thought, staring at them. It was gravity, basic physics. But they remained steady, even as the laboring horse shuddered.
“You have good hands,” Ana said. “Stroke her head.”
Mel complied. “I really don’t know anything about birthing. Well, I had to learn the basics when I was a cop, but I never … Maybe I should …”
“Just stroke her head,” Ana repeated gently. “The rest is the most natural thing in the world.”
* * *
Perhaps it was natural, Mel thought later as she, Sebastian, Ana and the mare labored to bring the foal into the world. But it was also miraculous. She was slick with sweat, her own and the horse’s, wired from coffee, and giddy with the idea of helping life into the light.
A dozen times throughout the hours they worked she saw the changes in Ana’s eyes. From cool calm gray to smoky concern. From warm amusement to such deep, depthless compassion that Mel’s own eyes stung in response.
Once she’d been sure she saw pain in them, a wild, terrified pain that faded only after Sebastian spoke sharply to his cousin.
“Only to give her a moment’s relief,” she’d said, and Sebastian had shaken his head.
After that it had happened quickly, and Mel had scrambled to help.
“Oh, wow” was the best she could do as she stared at the mare going about the business of cleaning her new son. “I can’t believe it. There he is. Just like that.”
“It’s always a fresh amazement.” Ana picked up her pouches and her medical instruments. “Psyche’s fine,” she continued as she rolled the instruments in the apron she’d put on before the birthing. “The colt, too. I’ll come back around this evening for another look, but I’d say mother and son are perfect.”
“Thank you, Ana.” Sebastian pulled her against him for a hug.
“My pleasure. You did very well for your first foaling, Mel.”
“It was incredible.”
“Well, I’m going to get cleaned up and head home. I think I’ll sleep till noon.” Ana kissed Sebastian’s cheek, and then, just as casually, kissed Mel’s. “Congratulations.”
“What a way to spend the night,” Mel murmured, and leaned her head against Sebastian’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you were here.”
“So am I. I never saw anything born before. It makes you realize just how fantastic the whole business is.” She yawned hugely, “And exhausting. I wish I could sleep till noon.”
“Why don’t you?” He tilted his head to kiss her. “Why don’t we?”
“I have a business to run. And, since I’m going to be away from it for a couple of weeks, I have a lot of loose ends to tie up.”
“You have one to tie up here.”
“I do?”
“Absolutely.” He swung her up, stained shirt, grubby hands and all. “A few hours ago I was lying in bed thinking about sneaking into one of your dreams with you, or just waking you up.”
“Sneaking into one of my dreams?” She gave him a hand by pushing open the door. “Can you do that?”
“Oh, Sutherland, have some faith. In any case,” he continued, carrying her straight through the kitchen and into the hall. “Before I did either, we were distracted. So, before you go in to work to tie up loose ends, we’ll tie some of our own right here.”
“Interesting thought. You may not have noticed, however, that we’re both a mess.”
“I’ve noticed.” He marched through the master bedroom into the bath. “We’re going to have a shower.”
“Good idea. I think— Sebastian!”
She shrieked with laughter as he stepped into the shower stall, fully dressed, and turned on the water.
“Idiot. I still have my boots on.”
He grinned. “Not for long.”
Chapter 10
Mel wasn’t sure how she felt about being Mrs. Donovan Ryan. It certainly seemed to her that Mary Ellen Ryan—her cover persona—was a singularly boring individual, more interested in fashion and manicures than in anything of real importance.
She had to agree it was a good setup. Damn good, she mused as she stepped out onto the deck of the house and studied the glimmer of Lake Tahoe under the moonlight.
The house itself was nothing to sneeze at. Two sprawling levels of contemporary comfort, it was tastefully furnished, decorated with bold colors to reflect the style of its owners.
Mary Ellen and Donovan Ryan, formerly of Seattle, were a modern couple who knew what they wanted.
What they wanted most, of course, was a child.
She’d been impressed with the house when they’d arrived the day before. Impressed enough to comment on the fact that she hadn’t expected the FBI to be able to provide such cozy digs so quickly. It was then that Sebastian had casually mentioned that it was one of his properties—something he’d had a whim to pick up about six months before.
Coincidence or witchcraft? Mel thought with a grimace. You be the judge.
“Ready for a night on the town, sweetheart?”
Her grimace turned into a scowl as she turned to Sebastian. “You’re not going to start calling me all those dopey names just because we’re supposed to be married.”
“Heaven forbid.” He stepped out on the deck, looking—Mel was forced to admit—about as gorgeous as a man could get in his black dinner suit. “Let’s have a look at you.”
“I put it all on,” she said, struggling not to grumble. “Right down to the underwear you set out.”
“You’re such a good sport.” The sarcasm was light and friendly, and made her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. Taking her hand, he turned her in a circle. Yes, he thought, the red evening pants had been an excellent choice. The fitted silver jacket went quite well with them, as did the ruby drops at her ears. “You look wonderful. Try to act like you believe it.”
“I hate wearing heels. And do you know what they did to my hair?”
His lips curved as he flicked a finger over it. It was sleeked back in a sassy, side-parted bob. “Very chic.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have some maniacal woman with a French accent glopping up your head with God knows what, spraying stuff on it, snipping and crimping and whatnot until you wanted to scream.”
“Hard day, huh?”
“That’s not the half of it. I had to get my nails done. You have no idea what that’s like. They come at you with these little scissors and probes and files and smelly bottles, and they talk to you about their boyfriends and ask personal questions about your sex life. And you have to act like you’re just enjoying the hell out of it. I almost had to have a facial.” She shuddered with complete sincerity. “I don’t know what they’d have done to me, but I said I had to get home and fix dinner.”
“A narrow escape.”
“If I really had to go to a beauty parlor once a week for the rest of my life, I think I’d slit my throat.”
“Buck up, Sutherland.”
“Right.” She sighed, feeling better. “Well, it wasn’t hard to start spreading it around how I had this wonderful husband and this great new house and how we’d been trying for years to have a baby. They just lap that kind of stuff up. I went on about how we’d had all these tests and had been trying these fertility drugs, and how long the lists were at adoption agencies. They were very sympathetic.”