She trailed off, realizing she had dreamed of this, exactly this. And of him, of Liam Donovan stepping off the porch of a pretty cottage and moving to her, walking under an arbor of flowers that rained pretty pink petals onto the ground.

He would pluck a rose, white as a snowflake, from a bush as tall as he. And offer it to her.

“I dreamed,” she said again. “When I was a little girl.”

He plucked a rose, white as a snowflake from a bush as tall as he. And offered it to her. “What did you dream, Rowan Murray?”

“Of this.” Of you. So often of you.

“Just for today, you can have your dream.”

She sighed as she traced the rose down her cheek. Just for today, she thought, would be enough. “I was wearing a long blue dress. A robe, really. And yours was black, with gold edgings.” She laughed, enchanted, as she felt the thin silk caress her skin. “Did I do that, or did you?”

“Does it matter? It’s your dream, Rowan, but I’m hoping I kissed you in it.”

“Yes.” She sighed again as she moved into his arms. “The kind of kiss dreams are made on.”

He touched his lips to hers, softly at first. Warming them, softening them, until they parted on a quiet breath. Then deeper, slowly deeper, while her arms came up to circle him, while her fingers slipped lazily into his hair.

As he did, something trembled in his memory as well. Something once seen or once wished for. When he gave himself to it, he began to float in dreams with her. And so drew her closer.

Together they circled, a graceful dance with hearts keeping the beat.

Her feet no longer touched the ground as they spun. The dreams of a romantic young girl shimmered and shaped into the needs of a woman. Warmth skimmed over her skin as she held him tighter, drew him into her heart. As she offered him more. Offered him everything.

There were candles in her dream. Dozens of them, fragrant and white and burning in tall silver stands with gilded leaves winding around them. And a bed, lit by them, draped in white and gold.

When he carried her to it, she was dizzy with love, washed in wonder.

“How could I have known?” She drew him down to her. “How could I have forgotten?”

He wondered the same of himself, but couldn’t question it now, not now when she was so soft, so giving, when her lips were parting for his and her sigh of pleasure slipped into him like wine from a golden cup.

The sun dipped down behind the trees, edging them with fire, shooting color into the deepening sky. In the trees, the birds sang to those last lights.

“You’re beautiful.”