* * * *
Meryl left the keep and strolled out onto the field where games of strength and cunning dominated the day. Maisri saw to it the children had their own activities to occupy them. By mid afternoon, Tristan sank down on a log next to Meryl.
"Whatever ... made me think ... I could best Ian.” The sentence was broken by gasps for breath. He accepted the goblet offered him and drank deeply of the warm ale.
Meryl laughed. “Spring, makes you believe you can do things you shouldn't."
Tristan reached over, laced his fingers with hers and studied their joined hands. “You made a promise to me, lass, one you said would be fulfilled this day.” He didn't look up at her, just in case he saw something he preferred not to. “Do you still mean to keep it?"
"I do, Tris. I never make promises I cannot, or don't intend to keep."
"Then it's time we made our declaration.” He put the cup aside and stood then easily pulled Meryl from the log. He led her to the rest of the villagers where they were enjoying the food prepared in the last few days. Tables from the great hall had been brought out earlier to accommodate the feasting. Two women stood before the lone table laden with all sorts of goodies. Meryl grabbed a small tart and took a bite. Juice from the fruit filling dribbled down her chin. She quickly wiped it up with her finger then licked the sticky digit. “Can't take me anywhere,” she grumbled and looked up to see Tristan glancing at her, laughter in his eyes.
"Maisri, were you about to say something?” Tristan asked quickly, then continued. “Please forgive our interrupting whatever you're about to say, for just a moment."
"Of course, Tristan. I'm sure what you have to say will be welcome news.” Maisri gave them a knowing grin.
Meryl glanced from one face to another and questioned the looks of anticipation. Could they have somehow discovered her and Tristan's plans? She didn't see how it was possible. Then again, when it came to Maisri, one never knew.
"To make it simple and not take anything from Maisri ... Meryl has agreed to handfast with me during this celebration. Therefore, we do declare, before one and all, our intentions to live as husband and wife."
Rose stared, open mouthed, at Tristan.
Meryl held out the pendant she always wore and fiddled the back of it until she released the catch. She glided her fingers upward along the chain to the catch at the back of her neck. All the time she never took her eyes from Tristan's. Holding the delicate chain by its ends she brought it to him and fastened the ends about his neck. “Let this be a sign of my acceptance of this union.” Tristan studied her, a question in his eyes. Meryl shrugged. “It feels right,” she whispered, and smiled in response to his.
Graeme's eyes narrowed as he stared at the couple. Meryl could have told him the night before of her intentions, instead of making a fool of him. He roughly shook off the hand resting lightly on his arm and ignored Ena as she stepped away from him. The tale of the Legend never said anything about the pendant being split between the Legend and her mate. So that's where the power was. He didn't really need her ... he needed the pendant. But having Meryl on his arm would assure his right to the power she held.
For a moment, a stunned silence hovered over the announcement, then words of congratulations flowed over and around the couple.
"I can't say, I'm really surprised,” Maisri remarked. “But that changes what I was about to say, and makes it a wedding gift of sorts."
Maisri began her little speech. “We are from different clans, having left or been outcast for one reason or another. No one knows what all those reasons are and they're not any one person's concern. What does concern us is establishing a sense of family. If we are to work together, and truly make this valley our home, then we need a symbol of our unity. We've been discussing this for some time and..."
Maisri turned to several other women and, with their help, unfolded a new plaid. They held up the long length of cloth so everyone could see it. “This, will declare to the world the beginning of a new clan. Pearl gray will set us apart from all other clans. In no way, will this plaid be confused with any other. Bright yellow for sun and warmth, pale yellow for the moon.” She pointed to each color and the narrow stripes intersecting the pale gray field. “Royal blue is leadership and green for growth."
"It's beautiful, Maisri,” Meryl remarked softly, stunned. The color combination was enchanting. She stepped closer to the spread cloth, viewing it from different angles. She ran her hand lightly over the tight weave of the soft wool. For the first time since joining the villagers, Meryl felt a sense of belonging. She hugged the older woman and quickly blinked away the tears filling her pale eyes.
Meryl turned to the villagers to gauge their reaction to the idea of a new clan and plaid. They stared silently at the wool before them. “What say you?” Meryl asked. “Do we create a new clan?"
Ian surveyed the rest of the people. No one knew them as well as he did. He saw brief nods and accepting smiles, then turned to the dark haired woman. “Aye, we create a new clan. And how are we to be known?"
Maisri spoke up. “We will be known as Clan MacEmrys.” The older woman turned her gaze to Meryl, waiting for a response.
The name struck a familiar chord with Meryl, like a distant memory, but she couldn't pull it to the front of her mind. No matter. MacEmrys was a good name and if the people accepted it, who was she to reject it?
"To Clan MacEmrys,” Ian shouted, raising his cup of ale. Other voices joined his in boisterous good cheer. The sound of their happiness echoed off the mountains.
Meryl laughed when she realized something. “Maisri, you are something else.” She stood beside the older woman and spoke just above a whisper. “You made the green to match Tristan's eyes."
Maisri's eyes danced with amusement. “What better way to form the base of the plaid, than to honor those who have led us here to our new home?"
Meryl turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at Tristan where he stood quietly at one end of the plaid. He smiled at Meryl and raised his cup in salute. They truly did have a new beginning.
* * * *
The leader lowers the child and smiles at it. Meryl stands by the woman's side. Her curiosity has gotten the better of her. The child is female and lies quietly in the leader's hands. She opens her eyes to stare at Meryl. Meryl looks at the child, stunned, then glances to the moon and back again. The baby's eyes are pale, almost milky, the color of moonbeams.
Meryl bolted upright, disoriented, her breath shallow and quick. She tried to convince herself it was only a strange dream, but she knew there was more to it than that. She was suddenly chilled. Every time the dream came to her, something was added to it, revealing ... what? What was so important about a ritual and a newborn?
Tristan sleepily turned over and wrapped one arm about her drawing her down beside him. “Too early to get up,” he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep. Meryl snuggled closer to his warmth.
The dream faded, to be replaced by thoughts of the previous night. Meryl blushed. She didn't want to go there, not even in her thoughts—she wasn't ready for that. She had to get used to this handfasting thing. Did she love Tristan? She cared for him, she was sure of that. But love was something she didn't yet understand. No matter. They would work together as a team for the sake of the new clan. Who knew where their relationship would end up-if it survived.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Meryl rested one knee on the bench next to the head table in the great hall. A single goblet brimming with a dark liquid sat in the middle of the table. She smiled and read the note in her hand.
'Honeyed mead can never compare to my sweet Meryl.
-T'
She looked up as Tristan strode toward her. “How did you know I love honeyed mead?” Her silver eyes shone with delight at his thoughtfulness.
The question puzzled her handsome husband. “I didn't know,” he replied slowly. He looked from the note in her hand to the cup.
Meryl leaned over to pick up the goblet and savor
the medieval drink. Enchantra had conjured it up a couple times, but now Meryl was about to taste the original recipe.
"Meryl! Don't!” Tristan commanded.
She barely touched the cup when he knocked it out of her hand. The liquid flew from the cup. For a moment, she couldn't believe what he'd done. A hissing sound drew her attention and she watched in silent amazement. Black burn marks appeared on the wood table. Tristan quickly brushed at the spots on her skirt; small holes appeared where drops of liquid ate at the cloth, ruining her dress. The rushes on the floor soaked up the liquid, then hissed and smoked until they were blackened char.
"That was too close, Meryl. I was hoping this was done with, but I guess I was wrong. Can you still say no one wants to harm you? There have been too many attempts on your life."
Meryl stared at him, not knowing what to say.
"If anything happened to you...” He pulled her close and held her in a protective embrace. “I'm taking you back, Meryl. You're not safe here."
"Taking me back where?” Nothing was making sense to her. All those times she tried to find a way to return home and he managed to stop her. Now he wanted to send her back? Too late. She was here to stay.
"As much as I want to see you help these people, I won't let it be at the cost of your life."
Meryl pushed away from him. This man, who so recently handfasted with her would send her away? “No, I won't go back. You brought me here for a reason and I won't leave it undone."
She saw the frustration in his eyes. “If you won't go back, then I'll assign someone to guard you when I can't be with you."
"No, Tristan, I don't want a bodyguard. I can't work that way. I can't have someone following me everywhere I go."
"Be sensible. There have been too many attempts all ready. Eventually, whoever is behind the accidents, will succeed."
"I don't want a bodyguard. The point is not negotiable."
"Meryl...” Tristan reached for her, but she backed away.
"Not negotiable, Tris.” She repeated emphatically, then stepped around him, keeping just out of his reach. She headed toward the main entrance.
"Where are you going?” he called after her.
"Going for a ride, to let off some steam. Then maybe we can discuss this rationally, later."
"Meryl..."
"I'll just have to be more careful,” she called over her shoulder and slipped out the door.
A stableboy saddled her highland pony. The day was warm and bright, but Meryl felt as if one of Enchantra's storm clouds loomed over her head. She glanced up to be sure and was relieved to see a clear sky. She led the mare into the bailey and climbed into the saddle.
Meryl glanced back at the keep, just in time to see Tristan stroking his fingers across Rose's cheek. Neither he nor Rose noticed her. “So much for our handfasting,” she murmured. “If a simple disagreement sends him to her, than I'm better off without him.” Meryl kicked the mare's sides and sent it out of the bailey before her anger had a chance to get the better of her. She didn't need an audience to see the hurt she felt at his betrayal.
* * * *
Tristan stopped short of the top step just outside the hall door. Rose's attention was focused on the basket she carried, sorting through the colorful blossoms she'd picked for the center table in the great hall. She bumped into a solid wall, then looked up quickly and her heart beat faster. Tristan held her steady while she regained her balance.
"What do you know about a cup of mead left for Meryl?” he asked without preamble.
Rose looked up at the warrior, confused for a moment. “I didn't know there was any mead in the keep."
"Best tell the truth, lass. I know you're jealous of her. Would you let your jealousy push you to poisoning?"
"I admit I did those other nasty things to her, hid her possessions, deliberately spilled ale on her gown, but I never would have done anything to hurt her. She took you away from me. I just wanted her to go away.” Rose's eyes filled with tears and longing.
Tristan's tone softened and he brushed away a tear. “Ah, Rose. I should have seen this long before now. I'm flattered you feel as you do, but I was never yours to begin with. I'm sorry I can't return those feelings. I love Meryl.” Tristan surprised himself with the admission.
"But she's an outsider, Tristan. She doesn't belong here.” Rose insisted, knowing it would do her no good. Tristan was too honorable a man to turn his back on his responsibilities. That's all Meryl was to him. Rose had to believe that.
"She belongs here more than you or I realize. I can't tell you how or why because I don't know. It's something I feel. Someone wants to see her dead and I don't know the reason. But I intend to find out.” He paused briefly. “Two things I'll be asking of you, lass.” He smiled and Rose's face brightened. “First, you're not to repeat this conversation to anyone. Second, when next you see Meryl, I would ask you to make peace with her."
Rose frowned, but nodded agreement to the second request. For his sake alone, she would do as he asked.
"You may find,” Tristan concluded, “Meryl can be a very good friend. Rose, one day soon, you'll find a lad who is meant for you."
Rose sighed. “I'll do what you ask. I won't say anything and I'll beg her forgiveness when I see her.” The young girl blushed when the warrior lightly kissed her cheek.
Tristan stood straighter, thinking about what he had to do. It wasn't going to be easy for him to apologize to Meryl. He let out a sigh, wondering where she'd gone off to. “I'd best find the lass and straighten out my own mess,” he mumbled, unconcerned with Rose's surprised reaction.
* * * *
Tristan followed a slightly worn trail marked out by thinning grass. It led him through the valley until he reached a far meadow. Meryl's highland pony stood in the midst of heather and chewed contentedly on young blades of grass. She was nowhere to be seen.
He patted the mare's neck and stood by the animal, trying to find some clue to Meryl's disappearance. There were no signs of a struggle, no matted grass or bent stalks of heather. A flash of blue caught his attention and Tristan bent down to retrieve it. The sapphire blue ribbon was similar to one he'd given her. It was folded in half and held together with a pin. He didn't have to see the other side to know what was attached to the ribbon.
He flipped over the satin strip and found Meryl's frustrated wizard, pinned securely to it. She might have been angry enough with him when she left the keep to have discarded the ribbon, but she would never toss away the pin her aunt had given her.
Tristan studied the pin a moment and something jogged at the back of his mind. Could sorcery be involved in her disappearance? That same thought had occurred to him before, but until now, all the little accidents she had, seemed to have a natural cause. This was different; Meryl had vanished without a trace.
"Meryl!” he shouted, and visually searched the meadow. Her name came back to him on an echo. Calling out to her was a useless gesture, but he did it anyway.
Could the tumble down the cliff path have given her the idea to stage all those little accidents? He didn't think she was devious enough to come up with such a plan. She was too straightforward in her dealings with everyone. She hadn't wanted to return with him but did so most reluctantly. Maybe she found a way to return to her own time, one he knew nothing about. Tristan pocketed the pin and ribbon then led the mare back to his own mount. Wherever she was, Meryl was definitely no longer in the valley.
He sent up a silent prayer, hoping he hadn't lost her for good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"We should tell her who she is,” the male voice decided firmly. “She needs to know something to better protect herself."
"No,” the female interjected. “To tell the child now, would put her in greater danger. We no longer know what our enemy is capable of doing. Better the girl discovers answers for herself, then she can keep them hidden. For us to impart the knowledge at this point, would tell our enemies of her arrival. It would also alert them to our continued
existence, and undo everything we've done."
"Is it right she be tossed about time this way?” the male asked pointedly, on the verge of anger. He didn't like the answers his companion gave him, no matter how much sense she made.
"Better to be tossed about and grow strong with the experience, than to be handed the knowledge and face utter defeat. When our enemy learns the child survives, it will be too late to take counter measures."
"We should take measures now,” he argued, “not wait until it is too late."
"No,” the female replied. She had no intention of changing her mind, or letting her mate soften her decision.
The male sighed resignedly. “Perhaps you are right. She will need to be strong of will to face her destiny. I suppose there are more subtle ways to guide her. I will abide by your wisdom, my love—for now.” He chuckled lightly.
* * * *
Meryl heard the strange conversation in her mind but could make no more sense of it than the spinning and tumbling she was experiencing at the moment. She kept her eyes tightly closed against the brightness pressing against her eyelids, and her arms wrapped about Dinks’ body as he rested in her arms. The cat remained still and calm, as if events like this were an everyday occurence. He shook his head; if only she would loosen her grip on him, just a smidge.
The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes Page 16
