Enchanted by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

them later this evening, and that I’m fine.”
    “I’ll be seeing your father later today.” His voice was stiff now, his way—she knew—of letting her know he was hurt. “I’ll tell him. Please keep in touch.”
    “I will. Of course I will. It was nice of you to call. I’ll, ah, write you a long letter later this week.”
    “I’d enjoy that. Good-bye, Rowan.”
    Her cheerful mood totally evaporated, she hung up, turned and looked at the chaos of the kitchen. As penance, she cleaned every inch of it, then put the cookies in a plastic container, sealing them away.
    “No, I am not going to brood. Absolutely not.” She banged open a cupboard door, took out a smaller container and transferred half the cookies into it.
    Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed a light jacket from the hook by the door and, tucking thecontainer under her arm, stepped outside.
    She didn’t have a clue where Liam’s cabin was, but he’d said he was closer to the sea. It only made sense to hunt it out, she decided. In case of … an emergency. She’d take a walk, and if she didn’t find it … Well, she thought, shaking the cookies, she wouldn’t starve while she was looking.
    She walked into the trees, struck again at how much cooler, how much greener it was among them. There was birdsong, the whisper of the trees and the sweet smell of pine. Where sunlight could dapple through, it danced on the forest floor, sparkled on the water of the stream.
    The deeper she walked, the higher her mood rose again. She paused briefly, just to close her eyes, to let the wind ruffle her hair, play against her cheeks. How could she explain this, just this, to a man like Alan? she wondered. Alan, whose every want was logical, whose every step was reasonable and solid.
    How could she make him, or anyone else from the world she’d run from, understand what it was like to crave something as intangible as the sound of trees singing, the sharp taste the sea added to the air, the simple peace of standing alone in something so vast and so alive?
    “I’m not going back there.” The words, more than the sound of her own voice, had her eyes snapping open in surprise. She hadn’t realized she’d decided anything, much less something that momentous. The half laugh that escaped was tinged with triumph. “I’m not going back,” she repeated. “I don’t know where I’m going, but it won’t be back.”
    She laughed again, longer, fuller as she turned a dizzy circle. With a spring to her step, she started to take the curve of the path to the right. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white. Turning, she stared with openmouthed wonder at the white doe.
    They watched each other with the tumbling stream between them, the doe with serene gold eyes and a hide as white as clouds, and the woman with both shock and awe glowing in her face.
    Captivated, Rowan stepped forward. The deer stood, elegant as a sculpture of ice. Then, with a lift of her head, she turned fluidly and leaped into the trees. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rowan scrambled across the stream, using polished rocks as stepping stones. She saw the path immediately, then the deer, a bounding blur ofwhite.
    She hurried after, taking each twist and turn of the path at a run. But always the deer stayed just ahead, with no more than a quick glimpse of gleaming white, and the thunder of hooves on the packed ground.
    Then she was in a clearing. It seemed to open up out of nowhere, a perfect circle of soft earth ringed by majestic trees. And within the circle, another circle, made of dark gray stones, the shortest as high as her shoulder, the tallest just over her head.
    Stunned, she reached out, touched her fingertips to the surface of the nearest stone. And would have sworn she felt a vibration, like harp strings being plucked. And heard, in some secret part of her mind, the answering note.
    A stone dance in Oregon? That was … certainly improbable, she decided. Yet here it