The Welcoming by Nora Roberts Page A

shimmering beauty she had never known existed. Tenderness did what passion had not yet accomplished. As freely as a bird taking wing, her heart flew out to him.
    Love, first experienced, was devastating. She felt tears burn the back of her eyes, heard her own quiet moan of surrender. And she tasted the glory of it as his lips played gently with hers.
    She would always remember that one instant when the world changed—the music, the rain, the scent of fresh flowers. Nothing would ever be quite the same again. Nor would she ever want it to be.
    Shaken, she drew back to lift a hand to her spinning head. “Roman—”
    â€œCome with me.” Unwilling to think, he pulled her against him again. “I want to know what it’s like to be with you, to undress you, to touch you.”
    With a moan, she surrendered to his mouth again.
    â€œCharity, Mae wants to—” Lori stopped on a dime at the top of the stairs. After clearing her throat, she stared at the painting on the opposite wall as if it fascinated her. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to . . .”
    Charity had jerked back like a spring and was searching for composure. “It’s all right. What is it, Lori?”
    â€œIt’s, well . . . Mae and Dolores . . . Maybe you could come down to the kitchen when you get a minute.” She rushed down the stairs, grinning to herself.
    â€œI should . . .” Charity paused to draw in a steadying breath but managed only a shaky one. “I should go down.” She retreated a step. “Once they get started, they need—” She broke off when Roman took her arm. He waited until she lifted her head and looked at him again.
    â€œThings have changed.”
    It sounded so simple when he said it. “Yes. Yes, they have.”
    â€œRight or wrong, Charity, we’ll finish this.”
    â€œNo.” She was far from calm, but she was very determined. “If it’s right, we’ll finish it. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you, but you’re right when you say things have changed, Roman. You see, I know what I’m feeling now, and I have to get used to it.”
    He tightened his grip when she turned to go. “What are you feeling?”
    She couldn’t have lied if she’d wanted to. Dishonesty was abhorrent to her. When it came to feelings, she had neither the ability nor the desire to suppress them. “I’m in love with you.”
    His fingers uncurled from her arm. Very slowly, very carefully, as if he were retreating from some dangerous beast, he released her.
    She read the shock on his face. That was understandable. And she read the distrust. That was painful. She gave him a last unsmiling look before she turned away.
    â€œApparently we both have to get used to it.”
    ***
    She was lying. Roman told himself that over and over as he paced the floor in his room. If not to him, then certainly to herself. People seemed to find love easy to lie about.
    He stopped by the window and stared out into the dark. The rain had stopped, and the moon was cruising in and out of the clouds. He jerked the window open and breathed in the damp, cool air. He needed something to clear his head.
    She was working on him. Annoyed, he turned away from the view of trees and flowers and started pacing again. The easy smiles, the openhanded welcome, the casual friendliness . . . then the passion, the uninhibited response, the seduction. He wanted to believe it was a trap, even though his well-trained mind found the idea absurd.
    She had no reason to suspect him. His cover was solid. Charity thought of him as a drifter, passing through long enough to take in some sights and pick up a little loose change. It was he who was setting the trap.
    He dropped down on the bed and lit a cigarette, more out of habit than because he wanted one. Lies were part of his job, a part he was very good at. She hadn’t lied