When he reached the stone circle, he pulled her directly to the center. She was out of breath, from the quick walk and from what she could feel swimming in the air.

“The circle’s cast and so it begins. I ask that all be safe within. This woman comes that she may see. As I will, so mote it be.”

As the chant ended, the wind swept through the stones, wrapped like a warm caress around Rowan’s body. Startled, she crossed her arms over her breasts, gripped her own shoulders. “Liam—”

“You should be calm, but that will be hard for you. Nothing here will harm you, Rowan, I swear to you.” He laid his hands over hers and kissed her, gently but deeply, until the stiffness of her body softened. “If you won’t trust yourself, trust me.”

“I do trust you, but this—I’m afraid of this.”

He stroked a hand down her hair, and realized that in many ways what he was doing was like initiating a virgin to love. It should be done sweetly, patiently, and with thoughts only on her.

“Think of it as a game.” He smiled at her as he stepped back. “A more basic one than you imagine just now.” He drew her down to her knees. “Breathe deep and slow until you hear your heartbeat in your head. Close your eyes if it helps, until you’re steady.”

“You tell me I’m going to make fire out of nothing, and then ask me to be steady.” But she closed her eyes. The sooner she could prove to him he was mistaken, the sooner it would be over.

“A game,” she said on the first long breath. “All right, just a game, and when you see I’m no good at it, we’ll go home and finish breakfast.”

Remember what you weren’t told, but knew. Liam’s voice was a quiet murmur inside her mind. Feel what you always felt but never understood. Listen to your heart. Trust your blood.

“Open your eyes, Rowan.”

She wondered if this was like being hypnotized. To be so fully, almost painfully aware, yet to be somehow outside yourself. She opened her eyes, looked into his as sunlight streamed between them. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you?” There was the faintest lilt of amusement in his voice now. “Open yourself, Rowan. Believe in yourself. Accept the gift that’s been waiting for you.”

A game, she thought again. Just a game. In it she was a hereditary witch, with power sleeping just under the surface. Waking it was only a matter of believing, of wanting, of accepting.

She stretched out her hands, stared at them as if they belonged to someone else who watched them tremble lightly. They were narrow hands, with long slender fingers. Ringless, strangely elegant. They cast twin shadows on the ground.