Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  “I bribed them with free drinks at the Coven.” He jerked his head toward the hotel.

  “Ah. Replaced by a cold beer.”

  “Want to go to Trinidad?”

  “No.”

  He took her hand. “Want an ice cream cone?”

  She shook her head. “I have to go to the bank, make a night deposit. Which, I’ll point out, isn’t being stuffy but responsible.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll walk with you.”

  “What are you doing in the village?” she asked as they started toward the bank. “Working late?”

  “Not particularly. I went home about an hour ago. I was restless.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Came back.” And, he thought, had timed it exactly as he’d planned. Just as she’d be closing.

  He glanced over, studied a small group of people on the opposite side of the street. They were decked in flowing robes and weighed down with silver chains and crystal pendants.

  “Amateurs,” he commented.

  “They’re harmless.”

  “We could call up a storm, turn the street into a meadow. Give them a real thrill.”

  “Stop it.” She drew out her key for the deposit slot.

  “See—stuffy.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s painful to see such a bright hope turn into a rule book.”

  “Really.” Efficiently, she made her deposit, tucked her copy of the transaction into her cash bag. “I don’t recall you ever so much as looking at a rule book.”

  “When they look like you, I study them in depth.”

  His moods, she thought, were many and varied. Tonight’s seemed to be foolish.

  She could do with some foolishness.

  And as the group of would-be witches approached a window box filled with struggling dahlias, she gave a graceful turn of her hand. The flowers sprang up like jewels, full and bright.

  “And the crowd goes wild.” Sam acknowledged the reaction across the street, the shouts, the gasps. “Nice touch.”

  “Stuffy, my butt. I’ll take that ice cream now.”

  He bought her a frothy swirl of orange and cream and talked her into enjoying it during a walk on the beach. The moon was nearly full. It would be fat and round by the weekend, and the solstice.

  And a full moon on the solstice meant bounty, and promise. And the rites of fertility that lead to harvest.

  “Last year I went to Ireland for the solstice,” he told her. “There’s a small stone dance there, in County Cork. It’s more intimate than Stonehenge. The sky stays light until nearly ten, and when it begins to fade, toward the end of the longest day, the stones sing.”

  She said nothing, but paused to look out to sea. Over it, she thought, thousands of miles away, was another island. And the stone circle where he had been a year ago.

  She had been here, where she always was. A solitary witch. A solitary celebration.

  “You’ve never gone,” he said. “Never gone over to Ireland.”

  “No.”

  “There’s magic there, Mia. Deep in the soil, bright in the air.”

  She continued to walk. “There’s magic everywhere.”

  “I found a cove, on the rocky western coast. And a cave, nearly hidden by the tumble of the rocks. And I knew it was where he’d gone when he left her here.”

  He waited until Mia stopped again, turned to him. “Three thousand miles across the Atlantic. He’d been pulled back by his own blood. I knew how it felt, to be pulled that way.”

  “Is that why you go to Ireland? You’re drawn by your blood?”

  “It’s why I go there, and why I came back here. When you’ve done what you need to do, I’d like to take you. To show you.”

  She licked delicately at her ice cream. “I don’t need to be taken anywhere.”

  “I’d like to go with you.”

  “You learn fast, don’t you?” Mia said. “I may go one day.” She shrugged and wandered closer to the surf. “We’ll see if I want company. I will say, though, you were right about one thing. It’s a hell of a night.”

  She threw back her head, drank in the stars and sea air.

  “Take off your dress.”

  She kept her head back. “Excuse me?”

  “Let’s go swimming.”

  She nipped into the cone. “I realize it may seem fussy to a sophisticated urbanite like yourself, but there are laws against nude swimming on the public beach in our little world.”

  “Laws—that would be the same as rules, right?” He scanned the beach. They weren’t alone, but there was hardly a crowd. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”

  “Circumspect,” she corrected.

  “Okay, we’ll preserve your dignity.” He spread his hands and conjured a bubble around them. “We see out, but nobody sees in. It’s just you and me in here.”

  Stepping to her, he reached around, slowly lowered the zipper in the back of her dress. He could see her thinking, considering, as she finished off the cone. “A moonlight swim’s a nice way to cap off the evening. Haven’t forgotten how to swim, have you?”

  “Hardly.” She slipped out of her shoes, then let the dress slither down. She wore nothing but amber beads and a glitter of rings. Turning, she strolled into the surf, then dived into the dark sea.

  She swam strong, cutting cleanly through the breakers and reveling in the sensation of streaking through the water as unencumbered as a mermaid. Until her spirit began to hum—with pure joy—she hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this.

  Freedom, fun, and foolishness.

  She circled a buoy, listening to its hollow clang, then rolled over to float lazily on her back under a bejeweled sky. The water lapped gently over her breasts as he swam to her.

  “You ever beat Ripley in a swim race?”

  “No. Much to my regret.” Mia trailed her fingers through the water. “Putting her in water’s like putting a bullet in the air.”

  “I used to watch the two of you in the inlet over at the Todds’. I’d be hanging out with Zack and pretending not to notice you.”

  “Really? I never noticed you.”

  It didn’t surprise her to find her head underwater. She’d expected it. And because she had, she turned like an eel in the water and jerked him under by the ankles.

  She surfaced, slicked back her hair. “You always were a sucker for that move.”

  “It got your hands on me, so who’s the sucker?” He treaded water in circles around her, his hair black and glossy as a seal. “I remember the first time I maneuvered you into wrestling with me wet. You had on this blue number, cut so high up on the hips that I speculated your legs went clean up to your ears. That sexy pentagram birthmark like gold on your thigh, driving me nuts. You were fifteen.”

  “I remember the suit. I don’t recall being maneuvered.”

  “You were cooling off with Rip in the water. Zack was fooling around with his boat at the dock. He’d just gotten that boat. Fast little fourteen-footer.”

  She remembered that well enough. Remembered perfectly how her heart had slammed into her ribs when Sam, long and tanned a summer gold, had sauntered out onto the dock wearing nothing but cutoffs and a teenage smirk.

  “There were a number of times I swam with Ripley in the inlet while Zack tinkered with his boat. And you came along.”

  “This particular day,” Sam continued, “I bided my time, fiddling on the boat with Zack, plotting out my moves. I got him to take a break, and in we went. That meant a lot of splashing, which meant you and Ripley had to bitch about being splashed. And doing so, you fell right into my clever hands.”

  Like Sam, Mia began to tread and circle. She’d always enjoyed him in these playful moods. They’d been rare in his youth. She imagined they were rare still.

  “I believe you have delusions of grandeur in your faulty memory.”

  “Memory’s clear as a bell on this one. I egged Zack into challenging Rip to a race, which left the two of us bobbing around. Which meant, naturally, I could challenge you to a race.”

 
“Oh, yes. I do seem to recall something of that sort.”

  Perfectly. She remembered perfectly, the nervy thrill of floating in the water with him, of having him focus on her with those sea-toned eyes. And the longing that had swept through her like a summer storm.

  “Of course, I held back, paced myself so it was close, so I beat you by only a stroke.”

  “Held back?” She dipped back her head, studied the stars. “Please.”

  “Oh, yeah, I knew what I was doing. You said it was a tie, and I said I’d crushed you. When you got huffy, I dunked you.”

  “When I protested your bad call, you dunked me,” she corrected.

  “You retaliated, as I’d anticipated, by locking your arms around my knees and hauling me under. Whereby, I could engage you in the sort of battle that allowed me, at last, to get my hands on your excellent young ass. It was a moment for me. Then you giggled.”

  She made a derisive sound. “I’ve never giggled in my life.”

  “Oh, yeah, you did. You giggled and squirmed and wriggled around until I was so worked up I thought I’d explode.”

  She let her feet come up and floated again. “Foolish, foolish boy. When you wrestle naked with a female, she’s bound to discover just where your brain cells have gathered.”

  “You were fifteen. What did you know?”

  Now she smirked. “Enough to wriggle and squirm until I obtained a satisfactory result.”

  “You did it on purpose?”

  “Of course. Then Ripley and I discussed it in some detail.”

  “That better be a lie.” He reached across the water, grabbed a handful of her hair.

  “We were both fascinated and amused. And if it soothes your ego, I’ll finish this walk down memory lane by telling you I had hot, disturbing, and imaginative dreams for a week afterward.”

  He tugged at her hair until their bodies bumped. Then he skimmed his hand over the wet white slope of her breast. “So did I.” He trailed a fingertip down her torso, back up again. “Mia?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I bet I can still make you giggle.”

  Before she could evade, he nipped her by the waist and turned her facedown in the water. Taken by surprise, she flailed for a moment, then rolled when his fingers moved unerringly up her ribs.

  “Stop it.” Her hair was in her face, saltwater in her eyes.

  “Giggle,” he insisted, tickling ruthlessly. “And squirm and wriggle.”

  “You idiot.” She couldn’t see or catch her breath. Despite her struggles the helpless and foolish laughter escaped. It rolled out of her and over the waves as she slapped at him and tried to wiggle free.

  She managed to get a grip on his hair and yank, while trying to shove her own out of her face. But he only rolled them over and over into the waves until she was dizzy, disoriented, and brutally aroused.

  “Damn octopus.” His hands were everywhere.

  “You’ve got a hell of a squirm. And it still works. Only this time”—he gripped her hips—“why just dream?” And plunged into her.

  He went home with her, and they ate bowls of cold pasta like ravenous children. With hunger unabated, they fell into bed and fed off each other.

  Tangled with him, she slipped into sleep, and into dreams of floating in a dark sea as peacefully as the moon sailed the night sky. She drifted on her own pleasure, the water cool, the air sweet. In the distance, the shadows and shapes of her island rose out of the sea. It slept, with only the beam from the cliff light guarding it from the dark.

  The music of the waves lulled her until she, too, slept.

  And the stars erupted into bolts of lightning, stabbing down at the shadows and shapes of her island. Around her the sea began to thrash and heave, pulling her helplessly away from home.

  She fought, striking out with hard, desperate strokes toward the fog that had begun to build a dirty wall at the shore. Waves swamped her, spun her into that breathless black, slapped her back, dragged her under.

  Roaring filled the night, and the screams that followed it ripped at her heart. With what strength she had left, she reached for the fire inside her. But she was too late to beat the dark.

  She watched the island fall into the sea. Even as she wept, it pulled her down with it.

  She woke curled away from Sam, drawn into a tight ball and clinging to the edge of the bed. Trembling, she rose, walked to the window to soothe herself with the view of her garden, of the steady beam of the island light.

  Would it come to that? Would she do everything that could be done, and have it still not be enough?

  Through the night she heard the long, triumphant howl of a wolf. Knowing that it wanted her to cower, she stepped out onto her little balcony.

  “I am fire.” She said it softly. “And what’s in me will, one day, purge you.”

  “Mia.”

  She turned and saw Sam sitting up in bed. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She came back in, but left the doors open to the night. “Just restless.”

  “Come back to bed.” He held out a hand. “Let me help you sleep.”

  “All right.” She slid in beside him, turned her body to his. Invitation.

  But he only drew her close, stroked her hair. “Close your eyes. Let your mind go. Let it go for one night.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Let it go,” he repeated, and stroking her hair, he charmed her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Thirteen

  “This,” Mia said as the sun broke the sky in the east with an arrow of fire, “is for us. The Midsummer sabbat, the celebration of the earth’s coming bounty, the warmth of the air, and the full power of the sun. We are the Three.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Ripley yawned hugely. “And if we can get on with this, I might be able to get home and catch another hour’s sleep.”

  “Your reverence is, as always, inspiring.”

  “You’ll remember, I voted against standing around up here at dawn. Since it’s Sunday, both of you can go back to bed. I’m on duty all day.”

  “Ripley”—Nell managed to make her voice mild and patient—“it’s the solstice. Celebrating the longest day should begin when the day begins.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Ripley scowled at Nell. “You’re awfully bright and chipper for a pregnant woman. Why aren’t you flat out with morning sickness?”

  “I’ve never felt better in my life.”

  “Or looked happier,” Mia said. “We’ll celebrate fertility today. The earth’s and yours. The first balefire has burned since sunset. The dawn fire is for you to light.”

  She lifted a circlet she’d woven from lavender and set it on Nell’s head. “You’re the first of us to carry life, and to take what we are to the next generation. Blessed be, little sister.”

  She kissed Nell’s cheeks, then stepped back.

  “Okay, that gets me misty.” Ripley moved up, kissed Nell in turn, then linked her hand with Mia’s.

  Nell lifted her arms and let the power ripple into her. “From dawn until the day is done, this fire we make glows bright as the sun. As light grows strong across the sky, I call the flames from air to fly. Burn no flesh, no feather nor tree. As I will, so mote it be.”

  Fire spewed up from the ground, bright as gold.

  Mia lifted another circlet from the white cloth on the ground. Set it on Ripley’s head.

  Though she rolled her eyes for form, Ripley lifted her arms. The power was warm, and welcome.

  “In the earth we sow our seed that she may grant us what we need. Across her breast the dawn brings light, all through this day to shortest night. We celebrate her fertility. As I will, so mote it be.”

  Wildflowers sprang up through the earth to ring the circle.

  Before Mia could reach for the third circlet, Ripley picked it up, and kissed her. “Just to make it official,” she said and settled the flowers on Mia’s hair.

  “Thanks.” She, in turn, lifted her arms.
Power was like breath. “Today the sun holds its full power. Its strength and light grow hour by hour. Its bright fire warms the air and earth. Its cycle sustains us birth to death to birth. I celebrate the fire in me. As I will, so mote it be.”

  From her fingertips beams shot, to the sun, and from the sun to her. Until the circle in the clearing shimmered with the birth of the day.

  She lowered her arms, joined hands with Nell, with Ripley. “He watches,” she told them. “And he waits.”

  “Why don’t we do something about it?” Ripley demanded. “The three of us are here, and like both of you keep hammering home, it’s the solstice. That’s a lot of punch.”

  “It isn’t the time to—” Mia broke off when Nell squeezed her hand.

  “Mia. A show of force, of solidarity and strength. Why not make a point? Our circle is whole.”

  A point, Mia thought. Perhaps the unbroken circle was the point. At least for the moment. She could feel, through the link, Nell’s determination, Ripley’s passion.

  “Well, then, let’s not be subtle.”

  She gathered herself, and the pooled strength of her sisters.

  “We are the Three and of the blood,” Ripley began, moving like her sisters in a ring within the ring. “From us the force and light will flood.”

  “With might that strikes the waiting dark.” Nell’s voice rose to echo on the air. “An arrow of light toward what bears our mark.”

  “Here we stand so you can see.” With hands still joined, Mia lifted her arms. “And beware the wrath of the sisters three.”

  Light spewed up from the center of the circle like a funnel, whirling, roaring as it geysered up. Like the arrow Nell had called, it shot out of the circle, out of the clearing, and into the shadows of the summer trees.

  From those shadows came a single furious howl.

  Then there was only the quiet breeze and the musical call of crystals hanging from branches.

  “So he slinks away,” Mia remarked.

  “That felt good.” Ripley rolled her shoulders.

  “It did. It felt positive.” Letting out a long breath, Nell looked around the clearing. “It felt right.”

  “Then it was right. Today, he can’t touch us or ours.” Whatever came after, Mia thought, they had made a stand.