Still, it was preparing her for him, for the night when he would make those half dreams full reality. For the night when it was his hands and not his mind on her.

The thought of it had his stomach knotting, his muscles bunching tight. Infuriated with the reaction, he ordered his mind to clear, his body to relax. And was only more infuriated when even his powers didn’t calm all the tension.

“The day hasn’t come when I can’t handle a physical reaction to some pretty half witch,” he muttered, and walked back inside his cabin.

Damned if he was going to stand on the porch like some starry-eyed lover and watch for her.

So instead he paced and uttered vile Gaelic curses until he heard the knock on his door.

Mood inexplicably foul, Liam flung open the door. And there she stood, with the sun streaming behind her, a delighted smile on her face, her hair coming loose from her braid and a clutch of tiny purple flowers in her hand.

“Good morning. I think they’re wood violets, but I’m not completely sure. I need to buy a book.”

She offered them, and Liam felt the heart he was so determined to defend tremble in his breast. Innocence shined in her eyes, lovely color glowed in her cheeks. And there were wildflowers in her hand.

All he could do was stare. And want.

When he didn’t respond, she lowered her hand. “Don’t you like flowers?”

“I do, yes. Sorry, I was distracted.” For the goddess’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Donovan. But even with the order, his scowl was in direct contrast to his words. “Come in, Rowan Murray. You’re welcome here, as are your flowers.”

“If I’ve come at a bad time …” she began, but he was already stepping back, widening the opening of the door in invitation. “I thought I would come by before I drove into town.”

“For more books?” He left the door open, as if to give her a route of escape.

“For those, and to talk to someone about property. I’m thinking of buying some in the area.”

“Are you, now?” His brow winged up. “Is this the place for you?”

“It seems to be. It could be.” She moved her shoulders. “Someplace must be.”

“And have you decided—how did you put it?—what you’ll do to make your living?”

“Not exactly.” The light in her eyes dimmed a little with worry. “But I will.”

He was sorry to have put that doubt on her face. “I have an idea about that. Come back to the kitchen, and we’ll find something to put your little flowers in.”

“Have you been in the woods? Everything’s starting to pop and bloom. It’s wonderful. And all these marvelous flowers around Belinda’s cottage. I don’t recognize half of them, or the ones around yours.”