Charmed by Nora Roberts Page A

fragrant.
    “Tonight to reap, tomorrow to sow. To take only that which I’ve caused to grow. Remembering always what is begun. To serve, to aid, an it harm none.”
    As the charm was cast, she lowered her face to the blooms, drawing in the ripe melody of the fragrance.
    “I wondered if you were real.”
    Her head came up quickly, and she saw him, hardly more than a shadow by the hedge. Then he stepped through, into her garden, and became a man.
    The heart that had leapt to her throat gradually settled again. “You startled me.”
    “I’m sorry.” It must be the moonlight, he thought, that made her look so … enchanting. “I was working late, and I looked out and saw you. It seemed late to be picking flowers.”
    “There’s a lot of moonlight.” She smiled. He had seen nothing it wasn’t safe for him to see. “I would think you’d know that anything picked under the full moon is charmed.”
    He returned the smile. “Got any rampion?”
    The reference to Rapunzel made her laugh. “As a matter of fact, I do. No magic garden is complete without it. I’ll pot some for you, if you like.”
    “I rarely say no to magic.” The breeze fluttered her hair. Giving in to the moment, he reached out, took a handful. He watched the smile in her eyes fade. What replaced it had his blood singing.
    “You should go in. Jessie’s alone.”
    “She’s asleep.” He moved closer, as if the hair he’d twined around his finger were a rope and she were drawing him to her. He was within the circle now, within the magic she’d cast. “The windows are open, so I’dhear her if she called for me.”
    “It’s late.” Ana gripped the basket so tightly that the wicker dug into her skin. “I need to …”
    Gently he took the basket and set it on the ground. “So do I.” His other hand moved into her hair, combing it back from her face. “Very much.”
    As he lowered his mouth toward hers, she shivered and tried one last time to take control. “Boone, starting something like this could complicate things for all of us.”
    “Maybe I’m tired of things being simple.” But he turned his head, just a fraction, so that his lips cruised up her cheek, over her temple. “I’m surprised you don’t know that when a man finds a woman picking flowers in the moonlight, he has no choice but to kiss her.”
    She felt her bones melting. Her body was pliant when she slipped into his arms. “And she has no choice but to want him to.”
    Her head fell back, and she offered. He thought he would take gently. The night seemed to call for it, with its perfumed breezes and the dreamy music of sea against rock. The woman in his arms was wand-slender, and the thin silk of her robe was cool over the warmth of satin skin.
    But as he felt himself sink into that soft, lush mouth, as her fragrance whispered seductively around him, he dragged her hard against him and plundered.
    Instantly desperate, instantly greedy. No rational thought could fight its way through the maze of sensations she brought to him. A sharp arrow of hunger pierced him, bringing on a groan that was only part pleasure.
    Pain. He felt the aches of a thousand pricks of pain. Yet he couldn’t pull himself away from her, couldn’t stop his mouth from seeking more of hers. He was afraid, afraid that if he released her she would disappear like smoke—and he would never, never feel this way again.
    She couldn’t soothe him. Part of her wanted to stroke him and ease him and promise him that it would be all right, for both of them. But she couldn’t. He devastated her. Whether it was her own grinding needs, the echo of his need seeping into her or a mix of both, the result was a complete loss of will.
    She had known, yes, she had known that this first meeting would be wild and strong. She’d craved it evenas she’d feared it. Now she was beyond fear. Like him, she found the mixture of pain and pleasure irresistible.
    Her trembling hands skimmed over his face, into his hair and