Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  Boone watched her come back. He rose automatically from the chair to bring her the medication Morgana had left with him.

  "Here." He supported her, holding the cup to her lips. "You're supposed to drink this."

  She obeyed, recognizing the scent and the taste. "Jessie?"

  "She's fine. Nash and Morgana picked her up this afternoon. She's staying with them tonight."

  With a nod, she drank again. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Asleep?" He gave a half laugh at her prosaic term for the comalike state she'd been in. "You've been out for twenty-six hours." He glanced at his watch. "And thirty minutes."

  The longest journey she'd ever taken, Ana realized. "I need to call my family and tell them I'm well."

  "I'll do it. Are you hungry?"

  "No." She tried not to be hurt by his polite, distant tone of voice. "This is all I need for now."

  "Then I'll be back in a minute."

  When he left her alone, she covered her face with her hands. Her own fault, she berated herself. She hadn't prepared him, had dragged her feet, and fate had taken a hand. On a tired sigh, she got out of bed and began to dress.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Boone demanded when he walked in again. "You're supposed to rest."

  "I've rested enough." Ana stared down at her hands as she meticulously buttoned her blouse. "And I'd just as soon be on my feet when we talk about this."

  His nerves jittered, but he only nodded. "Have it your way."

  "Can we go outside? I could use some air."

  "Fine." He took her arm and led her downstairs and out on the deck. Once she was seated, he took out a cigarette, struck a match. He'd hardly closed his eyes since he'd carried Ana upstairs, and he'd been subsisting on tobacco and coffee. "If you're feeling up to it, I'd appreciate an explanation."

  "I'm going to try to give you one. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before." Ana linked her hands tight in her lap. "I wanted to, but I could never find the right way."

  "Straight out," he said as he dragged deeply on smoke.

  "I come from a very old bloodline-on both sides. A different culture, if you like. Do you know what wicca is?"

  Something cold brushed his skin, but it was only the night air. "Witchcraft."

  "Actually, its true meaning is wise. But witch will do." She looked up, and her clear gray eyes met his tired, shadowed ones. "I'm a hereditary witch, born with empathic powers that enable me to link emotionally, and physically, with others. My gift is one of healing."

  Boone took another long drag on his cigarette. "You're going to sit there, look me in the face and tell me you're a witch."

  "Yes."

  Furious, he flung the cigarette away. "What kind of a game is this, Ana? Don't you think after what happened here last night I deserve a reasonable explanation?"

  "I think you deserve the truth. You may not think it reasonable." She held up a hand before he could speak. "Tell me how you would explain what happened."

  He opened his mouth, closed it again. He'd been working on that single problem for more than twenty-four hours without finding a comfortable solution. "I can't. But that doesn't mean I'm going to buy into this."

  "All right." She rose, laid a hand on his chest. "You're tired. You haven't had much sleep. Your head's pounding and your stomach's in knots."

  He lifted a brow derisively. "I don't think you have to be a witch to figure that out."

  "No." Before he could back away, she touched a hand to his brow, pressed the other to his stomach. "Better?" she asked after a moment.

  He needed to sit down, but he was afraid he wouldn't get up again. She'd touched him, barely touched him. And even the shadow of pain was gone. "What is it? Hypnotism?"

  "No. Boone, look at me."

  He did, and saw a stranger with tangled blond hair billowing out in the wind. The amber enchantress, he thought numbly. Was it any wonder it had reminded him so much of her?

  Ana saw both shock and the beginning of belief on his face. "When you asked me to marry you, I asked you to give me time so that I could find the right way to tell you. I was afraid.'' Her hands dropped away. "Afraid you'd look at me exactly the way you're looking at me now. As if you don't even know me."

  "This is bull. Look, I write this stuff for a living, and I know fiction from fact."

  "My skill for magic is very limited." Still, she reached into her pocket, where she always carried a few crystals. With her eyes on Boone's, she held them out in her palm. Slowly they began to glow, the purple of the amethyst deepening, the pink of the rose quartz brightening, the green of the malachite shimmering. Then they rose, an inch, two inches, up, circling, spinning in the air and flashing with light. "Morgana is more talented with such things."

  He stared at the tumbling crystals, trying to find a logical reason. "Morgana is a witch, too?"

  "She's my cousin," Ana said simply. "Which makes Sebastian-"

  "Sebastian's gift is sight."

  He didn't want to believe, but it was impossible to discount what he saw with his own eyes. "Your family," he began. "Those magic tricks of your father's."

  "Magic in its purest form." She plucked the crystals out of the air and slipped them back in her pocket. "As I told you, he's very accomplished. As are the rest of them, in their own ways. We're witches. All of us." She reached out to him, but he backed away. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry?" Rocked to the core, he dragged both hands through his hair. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. But he was standing on his own deck, feeling the wind, hearing the sea. "That's good. That's great. You're sorry. For what, Ana? For being what you are, or for not finding it important enough to mention?"

  "I'm not sorry for being what I am." Pride stiffened her spine. "I am sorry for making excuses to myself not to tell you. And I'm sorry, most sorry of all, that you can't look at me now the way you did only a day ago."

  "What do you expect? Am I supposed to just shrug this off, pick up where we were before? To accept the fact that the woman I love is something out of one of my own stories, and think nothing of it?"

  "I'm exactly what I was yesterday, and what I'll be tomorrow."

  "A witch."

  "Yes." She folded her hands at her waist. "A witch, born to the craft. I don't make poisoned apples or lure children into houses of gingerbread."

  "That's supposed to relieve my mind?"

  "Even I don't have the power to do that. As I told you, all of us are responsible for our own destinies." But she knew he held hers in his hands. "You have your choice to make."

  He struggled to get a grip on it, and simply couldn't. "You needed time to tell me. Well, by God, I need time to figure out what to do about it." He started to pace, then stopped dead. "Jessie. Jessie's over at Morgana's."

  Ana felt the crack in her heart widen. "Oh, yes, with my cousin the witch." A single tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. "What do you think Morgana's going to do? Cast a spell on her? Lock her in a tower?"

  "I don't know what to think. For Lord's sake, I've found myself in the middle of a fairy tale! What am I supposed to think?"

  "What you will," Ana said wearily. "I can't change what am, and I wouldn't. Not even for you. And I won't stand her and have you look at me as if I were a freak."

  "I'm not-"

  "Shall I tell you what you're feeling?" she asked him as another tear fell. "Betrayed, angry, hurt. And suspicious of what I am, what I can do, or will do."

  "My feelings are my own business," he shot back, shaken. "I don't want you to get inside me that way."

  "I know. And if I were to step forward right now, reach out to you as a woman, you'd only back away. So I'll save us both. Good night, Boone."

  When she walked off the deck, into the shadows, he couldn't bring himself to call her back.

  CHAPTER 12

  "I guess you're still a little dazed." Nash lounged against the rail of Boone's deck, enjoying a beer and the cool evening breeze.

  "I was never a little dazed," Boone
told him. "Look, maybe I'm just a narrow-minded sort of guy, Nash, but finding out the lady next door is a witch kind of threw me off stride."

  "Especially when you're in love with the lady next door."

  "Especially. I wouldn't have believed it. Who would? But I saw what she did with Jessie. Then I started piecing other things together." He laughed shortly. "Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night and think I dreamed the whole thing." He walked over to the rail, leaning out toward the sound of water. "It shouldn't be real. She shouldn't be real."

  "Why not? Come on, Boone, it's our business to stretch the envelope a little."

  "This blows the envelope wide open," Boone pointed out. "And what we do, we do for books, for movies. It's entertainment, Nash, it's not life."

  "It's mine now."

  Boone blew out a breath. "I guess it is. But didn't you- don't you even question it, or worry about it?"

  "Sure, I did. I thought she was pulling my leg until she tossed me up in the air and left me hanging there." The memory made him grin, even as Boone shut his eyes. "Morgana's not the subtle type. Once I realized the whole thing was on the level, it was wild, you know?"

  "Wild," Boone repeated.

  "Yeah. I mean, I've spent most of my life making up stories about this kind of thing, and here I end up marrying an honest-to-goodness witch. Elfin blood and everything."

  "Elfin blood." The term had Boone's head reeling. "It doesn't bother you?"

  "Why should it bother me? It makes her who she is, and I love her. I have to admit I'm a little dubious about the kids. I mean, once they get going, I'll be outnumbered."

  "The twins." Boone had to force his mouth to close. "Are you telling me those babies are- will be-"

  "A pretty sure bet. Come on, Boone, they aren't going to grow warts and start to cackle. They just get a little something extra. Mel's expecting, too. She just found out for sure. She's the most down-to-earth lady I know. And she's handling Sebastian as if she's been around a psychic all her life."

  "So you're saying, 'Loosen up, Boone. What's your problem?"

  Nash dropped down on the bench. ''I know it's not that easy."

  "Let me ask you this- How far into the relationship were you when Morgana told you about her-what do I call it?-her

  "Pretty much right off the bat. I was researching a script, and I'd heard about her. You know how people are always telling me about weird stuff."

  "Not that I believed it, but I thought she'd make a good interview. And-"

  "What about Mel and Sebastian?"

  "I can't say for sure, but she met him when a client of hers wanted to hire a psychic." Nash frowned into his beer. "I know what you're getting at, and you've got a point. Maybe she should have been straight with you earlier."

  He gave a choked laugh. "Maybe?"

  "Okay, she should have been. But you don't know the whole story. Morgana told me that Ana was in love with this guy a few years back. She was only about twenty, I think, and really nuts about him. He was an intern at some hospital, and she got the idea that they could work together, that she could help him. So she told him everything and he dumped her. Hard. Apparently he was pretty vicious about it, and with her empathic thing she's really vulnerable to, well- bad vibes, let's say. It left her pretty shaky. She made up her mind she'd go it alone." When Boone said nothing, Nash blundered on. "Look, I can't tell you what to do, or how to feel. I just want to say that she wouldn't have done anything to hurt you or Jessie on purpose. She's just not capable of it."

  Boone looked toward the house next door. The windows were blank and dark, as they had been for more than a week. "Where is she?"

  "She wanted to get away for a little while. Give everybody some room, I guess."

  "I haven't seen her since the night she told me. For the first few days, I figured it was better if I stayed away from her." He felt a quick pang of guilt. "I kept Jessie away from her, too. Then, about a week ago, she took off."

  "She went to Ireland. She promised to be back before Christmas."

  Because his emotions were still raw, Boone only nodded. "I thought I might take Jessie back to Indiana before the holidays. Just for a day or two. Maybe I'll be able to work all this out in my head by the time we all get back."

  "Christmas Eve." Padrick sampled the wassail, smacked his lips and sighed. "No better night in the year." Filling a cup, he handed it to his daughter. "Put color in your cheeks, my darling."

  "And fire in my blood, the way you make it." But she smiled and sampled. "Isn't it incredible how the twins have grown?"

  "Aye." He wasn't fooled by the bright note in her voice. "I can't stand to see my princess so sad."

  "I'm not." She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine, Papa. Really."

  "I can turn him into a purple jackass for you, darling. I'd be pleasured to."

  "No." Because she knew he was only half joking, she kissed his nose. "And you promised we wouldn't have to talk about it once everyone got here."

  "Aye, but-"

  "A promise," she reminded him, and moved away to help her mother at the stove.

  She was glad her house was filled with the people she loved, with the noise of family. There were the scents she had always associated with this holiday. Cinnamon, nutmeg, pine, bayberry. When she'd arrived home a few days before, she'd thrown herself into a flurry of preparations. Tree trimming, present wrapping, cookie baking. Anything and everything to take her mind off the fact that Boone was gone.

  That he hadn't spoken to her in more than a month.

  But she would survive it. She had already decided what to do, and she refused to let her own unhappiness ruin the family celebration.

  "We'll be pleased to have you home with us back in Ireland, Ana." Maureen bent to kiss her daughter's head. "If it's truly what you want."

  "I've missed Ireland," Ana said simply. "I think the goose is nearly ready." After opening the oven and taking a heady sniff, she nodded. "Ten minutes more," she predicted. "I'll just go see if everything's on the table."

  "Won't even discuss it," Maureen said to her husband when Ana slipped out.

  "Tell you what I'd like, my dove. I'd like to take that young man and send him off to some nice frozen island. Just for a day or two, mind."

  "If Ana wasn't so sensitive about such matters, I could brew up a nice potion to bring him around."

  Padrick patted his wife's bottom. "You have such a delicate touch, Reenie. The lad would be bound by handfast before he could blink-which would be the best thing to happen to him and that darling child of his." He sighed, nibbling his way up his wife's arm. "But Ana would never forgive us for it. We'll have to let her work this out her own way."

  Frustrated by a day of canceled flights and delays, Boone slammed the car door. What he wanted was a long hot bath, and what he had to look forward to was an endless night of dealing with those terrifying words Some Assembly Required.

  If Santa was going to put in an appearance before morning, Boone Sawyer was going to have to put in some overtime.

  "Come on, Jess." He rubbed his tired eyes. He'd been traveling for more than twelve hours, if you counted the six he'd spent twiddling his thumbs in the airport. "Let's get this stuff inside."

  "Ana's home." Jessie tugged on his arm and pointed toward the lights. "Look, Daddy. There's Morgana's car, and Sebastian's, and the big black car, too. Everybody's at Ana's house."

  "I see that." He felt his heart begin to trip a little faster. Then it all but stopped when he saw the For Sale sign in her front yard.

  "Can we go over and say merry Christmas? Please, Daddy. I miss Ana." She closed her hand around the zircon she wore. "Can we go say merry Christmas?"

  "Yeah." Glaring at the sign, he gripped his daughter's hand. "Yeah, let's go do that. Right now."

  Move away, would she? he thought as he strode across the lawn. In a pig's eye. Sell her house when he wasn't looking and just take off? They'd just see about that.

  "Daddy, you're walking too fast." Jessie ha
d to trot to keep up. "And you're squeezing my hand."

  "Sorry." He drew in a long breath, then let it out again. He scooped her up and took the stairs two at a time. The knock on her door wasn't so much a request as a demand.

  It was Padrick who answered, his round face wreathed in a fake white beard, and red stocking cap on his balding head. The minute he saw Boone, the twinkle in his eyes died.

  "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Brave enough to take us all on at once, are you, boyo? We're not all as polite as my Ana."

  "I'd like to see her."

  "Oh, would you now? Hold it right there." He gave Jessie his charming smile and lifted her out of Boone's arms. "Looks like I got me a real elf this time. Tell you what, lass, you run right on in and look under that tree. See if there's not something with your name on it."

  "Oh, can I?" She hugged Padrick fiercely, then turned back to her father. "Please, can I?"

  "Sure." Like Padrick's, his smile faded as soon as Jessie raced inside. "I came to see Ana, Mr. Donovan."

  "Well, you're seeing me. What do you think you'd do if someone took your Jessie's heart and squeezed it dry?" Though he was more than a head shorter than Boone, he advanced, fists raised. "I won't use nothing but these on you. You've my word as a witch. Now put 'em up."

  Boone didn't know whether to laugh or retreat. "Mr. Donovan-"

  "Take the first punch." He stuck his whiskered chin out, looking very much like an indignant Santa. "I'll give you that much, and it's more than you'd be deserving. I've listened to her crying in the night over the likes of you, and it's boiled my blood. Told myself, Padrick, if you get face-to-face with that weasel of a man, you'll have to demolish him. It's a matter of pride." He took a swing that spun him completely around and missed Boone by a foot. "She wouldn't let me go after that other slimy bastard when he broke her poor heart, but I've got you."

  "Mr. Donovan." Boone tried again, dodging the peppery blows. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Hurt me! Hurt me!" Padrick was dancing now, fueled by the insult. His Santa cap slipped over his eyes. "Why, I could turn your insides out. I could give you the head of a badger. I could-"

  "Papa!" With one sharp word, Ana stopped her father's babbling threats.