Charmed, Page 2

  * * *

  Restless, Ana thought as she strolled along the rocky beach at twilight. She simply wasn’t able to stay inside, working with her plants and herbs, when she was dogged by this feeling of restlessness.

  The breeze would blow it out of her, she decided, lifting her face to the moist wind. A nice long walk and she’d find that contentment again, that peace that was as much a part of her as breathing.

  Under different circumstances she would have called one of her cousins and suggested a night out. But she imagined Morgana was cozily settled in with Nash for the evening. And at this stage of her pregnancy, she needed rest. Sebastian wasn’t back from his honeymoon yet.

  Still, it had never bothered her to be alone. She enjoyed the solitude of the long, curved beach, the sound of water against rock, the laughing of the gulls.

  Just as she had enjoyed the sound of the child’s laughter, and the man’s, drifting to her that afternoon. It had been a good sound, one she didn’t have to be a part of to appreciate.

  Now, as the sun melted, spilling color over the western sky, she felt the restlessness fading. How could she be anything but content to be here, alone, watching the magic of a day at rest?

  She climbed up to stand on a driftwood log, close enough to the water that the spray cooled her face and dampened her shirt. Absently she took a stone out of her pocket, rubbing it between her fingers as she watched the sun drop into the flaming sea.

  The stone warmed in her hand. Ana looked down at the small, waterlike gem, its pearly sheen glinting dully in the lowering light. Moonstone, she thought, amused at herself. Moon magic. A protection for the night traveler, an aid to self-analysis. And, of course, a talisman, often used to promote love.

  Which was she looking for tonight?

  Even as she laughed at herself and slipped the stone back into her pocket, she heard her name called.

  There was Jessie, racing down the beach with the fat puppy nipping at her heels. And her father, walking several yards behind, as if reluctant to close the distance. Ana took a moment to wonder if the child’s natural exuberance made the man appear all the more aloof.

  She stepped down from the log and, because it was natural, even automatic, caught Jessie up in a swing and a hug. “Hello again, sunshine. Are you and Daisy out hunting for fairy shells?”

  Jessie’s eyes widened. “Fairy shells? What do they look like?”

  “Just as you’d suppose. Sunset or sunrise—that’s the only time to find them.”

  “My daddy says fairies live in the forest, and usually hide because people don’t always know how to treat them.”

  “Quite right.” She laughed and set the girl on her feet. “But they like the water, too, and the hills.”

  “I’d like to meet one, but Daddy says they hardly ever talk to people like they used to ’cause nobody really believes in them but kids.”

  “That’s because children are very close to magic.” She looked up as she spoke. Boone had reached them, and the sun setting at his back cast shadows over his face that were both dangerous and appealing. “We were discussing fairies,” she told him.

  “I heard.” He laid a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. Though the gesture was subtle, the meaning was crystal clear. Mine.

  “Ana says there are fairy shells on the beach, and you can only find them at sunrise or sunset. Can you write a story about them?”

  “Who knows?” His smile was soft and loving for his daughter. When his gaze snapped back to hers, Ana felt a shudder down her spine. “We’ve interrupted your walk.”

  “No.” Exasperated, Ana shrugged. She understood that he meant she had interrupted theirs. “I was just taking a moment to watch the water before I went in. It’s getting chilly.”

  “We had chili for dinner,” Jessie said, grinning at her own joke. “And it was hot! Will you help me look for fairy shells?”

  “Sometime, maybe.” When her father wasn’t around to stare holes through her. “But it’s getting too dark now, and I have to go in.” She flicked a finger down Jessie’s nose. “Good night.” She gave a cool nod to her father.

  Boone watched Ana walk away. She might not have gotten chilled so quickly, he thought, if she’d worn something to cover her legs. Her smooth, shapely legs. He let out a long, impatient breath.

  “Come on, Jess. Race you back.”

  Chapter 2

  “I’d like to meet him.”

  Ana glanced up from the dried petals she was arranging for potpourri and frowned at Morgana. “Who?”

  “The father of this little girl you’re so enchanted with.” More fatigued than she cared to admit, Morgana stroked her hand in a circular motion over her very round belly. “You’re just chock-full of information on the girl, and very suspiciously lacking when it comes to Papa.”

  “Because he doesn’t interest me as much,” Ana said lightly. To a bowl filled with fragrant leaves and petals she added lemon for zest and balsam for health. She knew very well how weary Morgana was. “He’s every bit as standoffish as Jessie is friendly. If it wasn’t obvious that he’s devoted to her, I’d probably dislike him instead of being merely ambivalent.”

  “Is he attractive?”

  Ana lifted a brow. “As compared to?”

  “A toad.” Morgana laughed and leaned forward. “Come on, Ana. Give.”

  “Well, he isn’t ugly.” Setting the bowl aside, she began to look through the cupboard for the right oil to mix through the potpourri. “I guess you’d say he has that hollow-cheeked, dangerous look. Athletic build. Not like a weight lifter.” She frowned, trying to decide between two oils. “More like a … a long-distance runner, I suppose. Rangy, and intimidatingly fit.”

  Grinning, Morgana cupped her chin in her hands. “More.”

  “This from a married woman about to give birth to twins?”

  “You bet.”

  Ana laughed, chose an oil of rose to add elegance. “Well, if I have to say something nice, he does have wonderful eyes. Very clear, very blue. When they look at Jessie, they’re gorgeous. When they look at me, suspicious.”

  “What in the world for?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  Morgana shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Anastasia, surely you’ve wondered enough to find out. All you’d have to do is peek.”

  With a deft and expert hand, Ana added drops of fragrant oil to the mixture in the bowl. “You know I don’t like to intrude.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “And if I was curious,” she added, fighting a smile at Morgana’s frustration, “I don’t believe I’d care to see what was rolling around inside Mr. Sawyer’s heart. I have a feeling it would be very uncomfortable to be linked with him, even for a few minutes.”

  “You’re the empath,” Morgana said with a shrug. “If Sebastian was back, he’d find out what’s in this guy’s mind anyway.” She sipped more of the soothing elixir Ana had mixed for her. “I could do it for you if you like. I haven’t had cause to use the scrying mirror or crystal for weeks. I may be getting stale.”

  “No.” Ana leaned forward and kissed her cousin’s cheek. “Thank you. Now, I want you to keep a bag of this with you,” she said as she spooned the potpourri into a net bag. “And put the rest in bowls around the house and the shop. You’re only working two days a week now, right?”

  “Two or three.” She smiled at Ana’s concern, even as she waved it off. “I’m not overdoing, darling, I promise. Nash won’t let me.”

  With an absent nod, Ana tied the bag securely. “Are you drinking the tea I made up for you?”

  “Every day. And, yes, I’m using the oils religiously. I’m carrying rhyolite to alleviate emotional stress, topaz against external stresses, zircon for a positive attitude and amber to lift my spirits.” She gave Ana’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’ve got all the bases covered.”

  “I’m entitled to fuss.” She set the bag of potpourri down by Morgana’s purse, then changed her mind and opened the purse herself to slip it insi
de. “It’s our first baby.”

  “Babies,” Morgana corrected.

  “All the more reason to fuss. Twins come early.”

  Indulging in a single sigh, Morgana closed her eyes. “I certainly hope these do. It’s getting to the point where I can hardly get up and down without a crane.”

  “More rest,” Ana prescribed, “and very gentle exercise. Which does not include hauling around shipping boxes or being on your feet all day waiting on customers.”

  “Yes, ma am.”

  “Now, let’s have a look.” Gently she laid her hands on her cousin’s belly, spreading her fingers slowly, opening herself to the miracle of what lay within.

  Instantly Morgana felt her fatigue drain away and physical and emotional well-being take its place. Through her half-closed eyes she saw Ana’s darken to the color of pewter and fix on a vision only Ana could see.

  As she moved her hands over her cousin’s heavy belly and linked with her, Ana felt the weight within her and, for one incredibly vivid moment, the lives that pulsed inside the womb. The draining fatigue, yes, and the nagging discomfort, but she also felt the quiet satisfaction, the burgeoning excitement and the simple wonder of carrying those lives. Her body ached, her heart swelled. Her lips curved.

  Then she was those lives—first one, then the other. Swimming dreamlessly in that warm, dark womb, nourished by the mother, held safe and fast until the moment when the outside would be faced. Two healthy hearts beating steady and close, beneath a mother’s heart. Tiny fingers flexing, a lazy kick. The rippling of life.

  Ana came back to herself, came back alone. “You’re well. All of you.”

  “I know.” Morgana twined her fingers with Ana’s. “But I feel better when you tell me. Just as I feel safe knowing you’ll be there when it’s time.”

  “You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She brought their joined hands to her cheek. “But is Nash content with me as midwife?”

  “He trusts you—as much as I do.”

  Ana’s gaze softened. “You’re lucky, Morgana, to have found a man who accepts, understands, even appreciates, what you are.”

  “I know. To have found love was precious enough. But to have found love with him …” Then her smile faded. “Ana, darling, Robert was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t think of him. At least not really of him, but of a wrong turn on a particularly slippery road.”

  Indignation sharpened Morgana’s eyes. “He was a fool, and not in the least worthy of you.”

  Rather than sadness Ana felt a chuckle bubble out of her. “You never liked him. Not from the first.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Frowning, Morgana gestured with her glass. “And neither did Sebastian, if you recall.”

  “I do. As I recall Sebastian was quite suspicious of Nash, too.”

  “That was entirely different. It was,” she insisted as Ana grinned. “With Nash, he was just being protective of me. As for Robert, Sebastian tolerated him with the most insulting sort of politeness.”

  “I remember.” Ana shrugged. “Which, of course, put my back up. Well, I was young,” she said with a careless gesture. “And naive enough to believe that if I was in love I must be loved back equally. Foolish enough to be honest. And foolish enough to be devastated when that honesty was rewarded with disbelief, then outright rejection.”

  “I know you were hurt, but there’s little doubt you could do better.”

  “None at all,” Ana agreed, for she wasn’t without pride. “But there are some of us that aren’t meant to mix with outsiders.”

  Now there was frustration as well as indignation. “There have been plenty of men, with elfin blood and without, who’ve been interested in you, cousin.”

  “A pity I haven’t been interested in them.” Ana laughed. “I’m miserably choosy, Morgana. And I like my life just as it is.”

  “If I didn’t know that to be true, I’d be tempted to work up a nice little love spell. Nothing binding, mind,” she said with a glint in her eye. “Just something to give you some entertainment.”

  “I can find my own entertainment, thanks.”

  “I know that, too. Just as I know you’d be furious if I dared to interfere.” She pushed away from the table and rose, regretting for a moment her loss of grace. “Let’s take a walk outside before I head home.”

  “If you promise to put your feet up for an hour when you get there.”

  “Done.”

  The sun was warm, the breeze balmy. Both of which, Ana thought, would do her cousin as much good as the long nap she imagined Nash would insist his wife take when she returned home.

  They admired the late-blooming larkspur, the starry asters and the big, bold zinnias. Both had a deep love of nature that had come through the blood and through upbringing.

  “Do you have any plans for All Hallows’ Eve?” Morgana asked.

  “Nothing specific.”

  “We were hoping you’d come by, at least for part of the evening. Nash is going all out for the trick-or-treaters.”

  With an appreciative laugh, Ana clipped some mums to take inside. “When a man writes horror films for a living, he’s duty bound to pull out the stops for Halloween. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good. Perhaps Sebastian will join you and me for a quiet celebration afterward.” Morgana was bending awkwardly over the thyme and verbena when she spotted the child and dog skipping through the hedge of roses.

  She straightened. “We have company.”

  “Jessie.” Pleased but wary, Ana glanced over to the house beyond. “Does your father know where you are?”

  “He said I could come over if I saw you outside and you weren’t busy. You aren’t busy, are you?”

  “No.” Unable to resist, Ana bent down to kiss Jessie’s cheek. “This is my cousin Morgana. I’ve told her you’re my brand-new neighbor.”

  “You have a dog and a cat. Ana told me.” Jessie’s interest was immediately piqued. Then her gaze focused, fascinated, on the bulge of Morgana’s belly. “Do you have a baby in there?”

  “I certainly do. In fact, I have two babies in there.”

  “Two?” Jessie’s eyes popped wide. “How do you know?”

  “Because Ana told me.” With a laugh, she laid a hand on her heavy stomach. “And because they kick and squirm too much to be only one.”

  “My friend Missy’s mommy, Mrs. Lopez, had one baby in her tummy, and she got so fat she could hardly walk.” Out of brilliant blue eyes, Jessie shot Morgana a hopeful glance. “She let me feel it kick.”

  Charmed, Morgana took Jessie’s hand and brought it to her while Ana discouraged Daisy from digging in the impatiens. “Feel that?”

  Giggling at the movement beneath her hand, Jessie nodded. “Uh-huh! It went pow! Does it hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think they’ll come out soon?”

  “I’m hoping.”

  “Daddy says babies know when to come out because an angel whispers in their ear.”

  Sawyer might be aloof, Morgana thought, but he was also very clever, and very sweet. “That sounds exactly right to me.”

  “And that’s their special angel, forever and ever,” she went on, pressing her cheek to Morgana’s belly in the hope that she could hear something from inside. “If you turn around really quick, you maybe could get just a tiny glimpse of your angel. I try sometimes, but I’m not fast enough.” She peered up at Morgana. “Angels are shy, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I’m not.” She pressed a kiss to Morgana’s belly before she danced away. “There’s not a shy bone in my body. That’s what Grandma Sawyer always says.”

  “An observant woman, Grandma Sawyer,” Ana commented while wrestling Daisy into her arms to prevent her from disturbing Quigley’s afternoon nap.

  Both women enjoyed the energetic company as they walked among the flowers—or rather as they walked and Jessie skipped, hopped, ran and tumbled.

  Jessie reached for Ana’s hand as t
hey started toward the front of the house and Morgana’s car. “I don’t have any cousins. Is it nice?”

  “Yes, it’s very nice. Morgana and Sebastian and I practically grew up together, kind of like brothers and sisters do.”

  “I know how to get brothers and sisters, ’cause my daddy told me. How do you get cousins?”

  “Well, if your mother or father have brothers or sisters, and they have children, those children are your cousins.”

  Jessie digested this information with a frown of concentration. “Which are you?”

  “It’s complicated,” Morgana said with a laugh, opting to rest against her car for a moment before getting in. “Ana’s and Sebastian’s and my father are all brothers. And our mothers are sisters. So we’re kind of double cousins.”

  “That’s neat. If I can’t have cousins, maybe I can have a brother or sister. But my daddy says I’m a handful all by myself.”

  “I’m sure he’s right,” Morgana agreed as Ana chuckled. Brushing her hair back, Morgana glanced up. There, framed in one of the wide windows on the second floor of the house next door, was a man. Undoubtedly Jessie’s father.

  Ana had described him well enough, Morgana mused. Though he was more attractive, and certainly sexier, than her cousin had let on. That very simple omission made her smile. Morgana lifted a hand in a friendly wave. After a moment’s hesitation, Boone returned the salute.

  “That’s my daddy.” Jessie pinwheeled her arms in greeting. “He works up there, but we haven’t unpacked all the boxes yet.

  “What does he do?” Morgana asked, since it was clear Ana wasn’t going to.

  “Oh, he tells stories. Really good stories, about witches and fairy princesses and dragons and magic fountains. I get to help sometimes. I have to go because tomorrow’s my first day of school and he said I wasn’t supposed to stay too long. Did I?”

  “No.” Ana bent down to kiss her cheek. “You can come back anytime.”

  “Bye!” And she was off, gamboling across the lawn, with the dog racing behind her.

  “I’ve never been more charmed, or more worn out,” Morgana said as she climbed into her car. “The girl’s a delightful whirlwind.” Smiling out at Ana, she jiggled her keys. “And the father is certainly no slouch.”

  “I imagine it’s difficult, a man raising a little girl alone.”

  “From the one glimpse I had, he looked up to it.” She gunned the engine. “Interesting that he writes stories. About witches and dragons and such. Sawyer, you said?”

  “Yes.” Ana blew tousled hair out of her eyes. “I guess he must be Boone Sawyer.”

  “It might intrigue him to know you’re Bryna Donovan’s niece—seeing as they’re in the same line of work. That is, if you wanted to intrigue him.”

  “I don’t,” Ana said firmly.

  “Ah, well, perhaps you already have.” Morgana put the car in reverse. “Blessed be, cousin.”

  Ana struggled with a frown as Morgana backed out of the drive.

  * * *

  After driving to Sebastian’s to give his horses their morning feeding and grooming, Ana spent most of the next morning delivering her potpourris, her scented oils, her medicinal herbs and potions. Others were boxed and packaged for shipping. Though she had several local customers for her wares, including Morgana’s shop, Wicca, a great portion of her clientele was outside the area.

  Anastasia’s was successful enough to suit her. The business she’d started six years before satisfied her needs and ambitions and allowed her the luxury of working at home. It wasn’t for money. The Donovan fortune, and the Donovan legacy, kept both her and her family comfortably off. But, like Morgana with her shop and Sebastian with his many businesses, Ana needed to be productive.

  She was a healer. But it was impossible to heal everyone. Long ago she had learned it was destructive to attempt to take on the ills and pains of the world. Part of the price of her power was knowing there was pain she could not