She splashed out of the stream, trying to remember what happened and how she’d ended up out here with the one person who didn’t like her. When she turned back to him, another question on her lips, she stopped, her mouth hanging open shocked at the look of hatred she saw in his eyes. She closed her mouth and backed away from him, watching as he got slowly to his feet, shaking with cold and fright.
“I’m sure you’d love to know that, wouldn’t you?” he said, advancing toward her. “Then you could tell your Unseelie buddies. Is it hard to communicate with them, Miranda? Is that why you were burning up with fever?”
She could only stare at him in shock as he took a few more steps toward her. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I heard you in the wagon; you were trying to get Sarah to run away, probably right into the arms of the Unseelie,” he sneered at her. “You didn’t know I was there, did you?”
She thought about the wagon and realized that he must have been hiding under the tarp behind them, that he’d heard every word she’d said to Sarah. “If you heard that, then you also heard how much I hate the Unseelie, or weren’t you listening to that part?” she asked, her anger boiling to the surface.
Turning away from him, angry and embarrassed, relieved that she hadn’t confessed the entire truth to Sarah, she waited for him to reply. When there was only silence, she turned back around to find him staring at her, a confused look on his face. But he shook his head as if chasing away his doubts and glared at her again.
“Don’t think I bought that performance for one second,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know you’re working with them; you might as well admit it now,” he said.
“Or what?” she asked, raising her chin.
She was at her breaking point, tired of all the accusations, tired of being scared and confused, tired of being bullied. That night in the clearing, she’d made a choice, a choice that she’d have to live with the rest of her life, and she was done letting anyone push her around. She’d done what she had to, betrayed her mother for her freedom, and she’d do whatever was necessary to keep that freedom.
Jamison closed the distance between them in a few steps and stared down at her, but she wasn’t intimidated. “Do what you want to me; it can’t be any worse than what my mother and those men have already done,” she said. “Did it even occur to you that when I walked away from my mother, I knew what might happen, that I might die? Well, it did to me, and I didn’t care, so do what you will; at least I had some freedom for a little while.”
He sucked in a shocked breath and stepped back; his face full of confusion. “I didn’t know...” he stammered. “What did they...”
Miranda knew that she’d already said too much, and her cheeks began to burn with humiliation. “I just want to be left alone,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering. “I just want to go and live somewhere away from everyone and all of this. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want any of it, including my magic.”
She fought the tears, fought the memories that just wouldn’t go away, hating herself for crying but unable to stop the sobs that began to wrack her body. Taking huge gulps of air, she walked past Jamison, hoping it was the right direction, desperate to get away from him. He let her go, and she felt the sting of disappointment but took a deep breath and continued through the trees.
If he wasn’t going to believe her, there was nothing she could do about it; she’d exposed herself as much as she was willing to, and from here, she’d go on alone. She had no idea where the cabin was or if she’d ever make it there, but she was done relying on someone who didn’t trust her. The temptation to use her magic was strong, but she tramped it down and headed up the mountain, hoping she’d find a village before it got dark.
But it wasn’t long before she heard the sound of a horse approaching from behind; her heart pounding in her chest, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see Jamison following, not Unseelie. “We’ll make better time if you ride with me,” he said when he got close enough.
Chapter Eight
Jamison
Miranda stopped walking and turned to look back at him, her face full of distrust. “No thank you. I’m fine walking,” she said, then turned and started back up the trail.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” he asked, feeling the sting of her words although they’d been said quietly.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Either I’ll find the cabin, or someone will find me.”
“And if it’s the Unseelie that find you?” he asked, beginning to feel the first pangs of frustration.
“Then I’ll fight them until I can’t fight anymore, and hope that the end comes quickly,” she said. “I won’t do what they want. I can’t.”
He wanted to ask again what they’d done to her, but he was afraid she’d answer, and he was sure that he knew what the answer would be. Everyone knew what the Unseelie had planned for Sarah, and just thinking about the same thing happening to Miranda made his blood boil. The need to protect her, to keep her safe, slammed into him again, and he knew that it was time to stop ignoring it and follow his instincts.
“Miranda, I’m sorry,” he said, the words difficult to make come out of his mouth. “I’ve been so blinded by what you are that I didn’t see how much you’ve been hurt.”
She stopped and looked back at him, searching his face for the truth, then her shoulders fell. “Do you know what I want more than anything else in the world?” she asked. “I’d just like to put it in the past. I don’t want to live like this anymore,” she said.
“And you won’t have to if you let me keep you safe until you’re ready to face them,” he said, holding out his hand.
She reached out and let him swing her up into the saddle in front of him, then kicked the horse into a trot, trying to ignore the feeling of her butt pressed up against him. When she started to wiggle to get comfortable, he felt a thrill rush through him and tried to tamp it down, afraid of what she might feel if he let his desire go any farther.
“Stop wiggling,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just lean back against me.”
Miranda looked up at him, a mixture of fear and something he’d never seen before in her eyes, then turned around and slowly leaned back. He wasn’t sure that it was any better with the full length of her body pressed up against his, but as she slowly relaxed, he felt himself get control again. The sigh that escaped her lips when she finally settled in, his arms around her, was almost his undoing, and he kicked the horse to get it moving a little faster.
They reached the little village where he hoped to spend the night just as the sun was setting, so he approached slowly, calling out his greeting long before the small huts came into view. When they stopped in the little common area in the middle of the huts, he was more than happy to pass Miranda off to the women of the village who gathered around her chattering. She glanced over at him nervously, but he gave her an encouraging smile and gestured for her to go with them.
“Who is your friend?” a familiar voice asked. “Did you find her lost on the trail?”
Jamison turned to find his old friend Toby grinning at him. “I wish it were that simple,” he said, turning back to watch Miranda disappear into one of the huts.
“Oh, I see. So that’s how it is,” Toby said, a note of surprise in his voice.
He whipped his head around and looked at Toby. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t like that with Miranda, could never be like that,” he said, then turned and stomped away.
Toby followed him. “Sorry, my mistake,” he said, but Jamison could hear the laughter in his voice. “So, who is she and why have you brought her here? You never bring anyone when you visit.”
Jamison could understand why Toby might think that Miranda was important to him when he looked at it that way. “I need a favor,” he said. “We need a place to sleep tonight and another horse in the morning.”
“One place or two?” Toby asked, wigg
ling his eyebrows at Jamison.
Jamison sighed. “Two places, okay,” he growled.
They reached the meeting house and ducked inside the low-ceilinged building, then made their way to a back corner. After they sat down, Toby leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and looked at Jamison, all the joviality gone. “What have you got going on Jamison? We’ve been hearing rumors about the Unseelie snooping around Ballantine, and stories about a witch hiding in the castle,” he said.
Jamison wasn’t surprised by the abrupt change in his friend; he knew he was quite capable of putting on a good front. “Tell me what you’ve been hearing about the Unseelie. They ambushed us on the road to Rushmore, and we barely got away.”
“You still haven’t told me who the ‘we’ is,” Toby said, sitting back in his chair.
Jamison sighed, knowing that he owed Toby the truth, that he had to know who was hiding in his village. “Miranda is the witch you heard about; she’s Portentia’s daughter and the Unseelie want her back,” he said.
Toby nodded. “I was afraid of that,” he said, “You’d better tell me everything, including how you ended up with her.”
It took him a long time to tell the full story, but Toby didn’t interrupt him, and he discovered that in retelling Miranda’s account or at least what he knew of it, she looked as innocent as she proclaimed to be. Toby was silent for a long time when he finished, and he found himself anxiously waiting to see what he would say, but he wasn’t prepared for what came out of his friend’s mouth.
“So, what are you going to do about being attracted to her?” Toby asked, making him choke on the drink he’d just taken.
“I’m not...that is...she’s a... I can’t...” Jamison trailed off.
Toby burst into laughter. “I never thought I’d see the day you were speechless,” he finally said, still ginning at Jamison.
“Nothing is going to happen,” he growled. “It’s impossible. You know what she is. I can’t believe I’m even attracted to her.”
“Jamison, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love is unpredictable; it hits you when you least expect it,” he said, his face serious again. “I’ve also learned that it’s a fragile thing that takes a lot of care, but believe me, it’s worth it.”
***Miranda***
Miranda emerged from the hut, her face still pink from embarrassment, wearing a long flowing sundress like the rest of the women. It just touched the tops of her sandal-covered feet, and she knew that it made her look even shorter than she was, but she hadn’t been able to refuse, not after she’d seen the clothes she’d been wearing. The white shirt was covered in mud, the black pants had been ripped in several places, and she was afraid they were beyond repair.
After they’d bathed her and washed her hair, the women had gathered around her, peppering her with questions, only satisfied when she poured out her story. She hadn’t meant to tell them so much, but their kindness when she’d seen so little in her life loosened her tongue and filled her with the same kind of warmth being around Darby did.
When they got to the biggest hut in the village, the women led her inside, chattering about their husbands and children. It took a few minutes for her to spot Jamison sitting on the other side of the room; he’d bathed and changed his clothes as well. Dressed in the style of the village men, he looked lithe and powerful in the leather pants and loose-fitting white shirt. His hair was slicked back from his forehead, still wet from his bath, and her body tingled when she thought about him naked.
The voices around her dimmed as she stared at him, the tingle turning into a throbbing that both thrilled and frightened her, but she didn’t banish the picture from her mind. Instead, she let her mind roam, let thoughts that she’d never entertained before spring to life in her mind. When Jamison finally looked over at her, his eyes met hers and a look of shock appeared on his face, followed by a softening of his features as his eyes roamed over her body.
Miranda watched his eyes change, watched the desire fill them, her heart pounding in her chest, unable to look away. Jamison got to his feet and crossed the room, his eyes only leaving hers to sweep over her body, and she wished she had something to cover the top of the dress, which hadn’t felt revealing until now. Suddenly her shoulders felt much too bare, and the fabric covering her breasts much too thin.
Involuntarily stepping back, she waited for him to reach her, trapped by the look in his eyes, butterflies erupting in her stomach. When he reached her, he stopped and looked down at her, his eyes taking in every detail, then he sighed loudly. “You look good in that dress,” he finally said.
“You say that as if it hurts you to give me a compliment,” she said, studying him. “What is it about me that you dislike so much? What have I ever done to you?”
Miranda was just as surprised as he was, and almost wished she hadn’t asked. “Nothing,” he finally said. “You haven’t done anything to me.”
When she just stared at him, he looked away. “I think it’s time for dinner,” he said, still not looking at her. “I saved you a seat next to me.”
She followed him across the room, then settled herself on the floor on the cushion he pointed to. After he’d introduced her to the people around them, his friend Toby leaned over and asked, “What’s it like to be a witch?”
Jamison groaned and said, “Toby, that’s not something you should ask.”
“Why not?” Toby countered. “I’ve never met a witch before; I’m just curious: that’s all.”
“That’s okay,” Miranda said. “I don’t mind. The only problem is that I don’t really know how to answer your question. I have plenty of magic in my blood, but it hasn’t been mine to use for a long time.”
Toby nodded. “Jamison told me,” he said. “He also said that you were looking for Abagail, that Darby sent you to find her.”
Miranda nodded. “Do you know her?” she asked.
Toby shook his head. “I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard plenty about her.”
“She’s supposed to meet us at the cabin,” Miranda said. “But I don’t know how much she’ll be able to help me.”
“Miranda has decided not to use her magic ever again,” Jamison interjected.
Toby looked surprised. “Why not?” he asked.
“I’m tired of my magic being used for terrible things; nothing good has ever come of it, and I think it’s better if I just don’t use it again,” she said, the speech making her slightly breathless. “People have died because of me, and I swore that was never going to happen again.”
Toby looked at her with a mixture of sadness and compassion on his face, and she wondered how someone like him could be friends with Jamison. “Let me ask you something,” he said, and she nodded her head. “Do you think you would use it to save someone you love?”
She didn’t answer right away, trying to imagine what it would be like to love someone so much she’d be willing to kill for them. “I don’t know,” she said, then quietly added, “I don’t have anyone to love.”
There was a long silence, and she couldn’t help notice that Toby looked over at Jamison several times, then he said, “I hope that when you find Abagail, she’ll help you, Miranda; you deserve to happy just like everyone else. Remember that the magic inside you is neither good nor evil; it’s up to you to choose your side, and I think that you’re well on your way to making that choice.”
Chapter Nine
Jamison
Miranda was quiet as the food was passed around the dinner circle, and that was fine with Jamison. Toby’s words were echoing through his brain like a broken record. He’d never questioned his belief that witches were evil, had never wondered why he believed that so strongly, especially since the rest of his family didn’t feel the same way. Letting his mind wander back through the years, he captured a memory as it floated through his brain and gasped when it became clear.
An irrational burst of fear washed over him when the croaking voice of his nursemaid came to life in
his head, along with the frightening stories she told him as a child. Too stunned by the memory to join the conversation, he ate his dinner in silence, ignoring everyone around him. He knew that Toby was shooting questioning glances at him, but he was so absorbed with what was happening inside him, he couldn’t respond.
Finally, exhausted with the struggle, he pushed the memories and the doubt away, afraid of what changing his mind about witches would mean. Toby was telling a story, Miranda hanging on every word, when he surfaced from his thoughts, and to his shock, she was laughing and smiling. He tried to ignore the feeling the flared to life inside him, telling himself that he couldn’t be jealous, but when Miranda reached across him and gave Toby a playful push, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“I think it’s time we got some sleep,” he said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
Miranda seemed disappointed, and the jealousy flared higher. “Oh, well, I guess I am a little tired,” she said. “Will I see you before we leave in the morning, Toby?”
Jamison had to grit his teeth when Toby flashed her a huge smile. “I wouldn’t miss saying goodbye.”
“We’ll see you in the morning, then,” Jamison said, taking Miranda’s arm and hauling her to her feet.
She pulled her arm out of his grip, glared at him, then turned to Toby. “Thank you for dinner, and giving us a place to stay tonight,” she said, smiling like she’d never smiled at him.
Toby grinned at her. “It was my pleasure,” he said.
He saw Miranda’s cheeks pinken and knew that he had to get her away from Toby, and fast, the instinct so strong, he nearly picked her up and carried her out. Instead, he gave her a gentle push, earning him another dirty look, but she moved towards the door. When they got outside, he started for her hut, taking long strides, hoping that he could walk off some of the tangled emotions.
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