Not one that required incantations, Rowan thought dreamily. Not one that called on mystical powers and forces. She was in love, and that, she supposed, was the oldest and the most natural of magics. She’d never been as comfortable nor as uneasy with any other man. Never been quite so shy, nor ever so bold as she was with Liam. Looking back, gauging her actions, her reactions, her words and her wishes, she realized she’d fallen under that spell the moment she’d turned and seen him behind her on the cliffs. The wind in his hair, annoyance in his eyes, Ireland in his voice. That graceful, muscular body with its power held ruthlessly in check. Love at first sight, she thought. Just one more page of her own personal fairy tale. And after love, her love, they’d found their way to a friendship she treasured every bit as much. Companionship, an ease of being. She knew he enjoyed having her with him, for work, for talk, for sitting quietly and watching the sky change with evening. She could tell by the way he smiled at her, or laughed, or absently brushed a hand through her hair.
