“Spirit?” Seerah whispered, glancing at Tristan. “Aye. Negative energy is, indeed, harmful to me spirit,” she mumbled.
Brigit and Gareth followed her gaze. “Aye,” Brigit said with a nod.
“Seerah is coming to you now, laddie,” Greum said, his worried gaze beckoning Seerah.
Seerah nodded and walked slowly forward. “Aye, Zeth. I'm right here. Tell me, how do you fare, now?” With Gareth's help, she knelt at Zeth's side, next to Colin.
“Peculiar.” Zeth gazed wearily up at her. “'Tis as if ... I'm no longer whole inside. What happened?"
Tristan glared at Seerah, his implied warning apparent. Seerah ignored him and gently touched Zeth's hand. “You were fevered, but you'll be fine now,” she said.
“But I felt...” Zeth swallowed hard. “'Twas as if the Devil himself had come for me. So very black and cold.” He shivered. “Then you spoke to me. I saw a green light and you were there, pulling me up from the depths of..."
“'Twas merely the fever,” Seerah said. “Frightening dreams and images oft times accompany a high fever. But, ‘tis over now. Take some of the broth from Greum. Then, you will get a good night sleep. I'm most certain you'll feel more yourself in the morning."
Zeth frowned. “'Twas was so real, though. I was certain—"
“'Tis due to all those superstitious notions you carry in your head,” Colin began. “They came to haunt you while you were fevered. Listen to the lass, she would na’ lie to you.” Colin winked at Zeth.
“I'll leave him in your capable hands, then,” Seerah nodded to Colin. Rising slowly, she walked back to the hearth.
As Brigit and Gareth turned to follow her, Tristan rose abruptly, and strode past them. He intercepted Seerah halfway across the room. Grasping her by the shoulder he wheeled her around to face him. “Why did you say these things to Zeth? ‘Tis obvious you do na’ believe them.” he whispered, his voice gruff.
“Would you prefer that I tell him he was right? That a wicked spirit tried to steal his soul?” Seerah whispered back, angrily.
Tristan scowled.
“I thought not,” Seerah continued. “Well, believe or not, but you be the only one who does na'. Even Greum and Colin see the truth."
Tristan glanced at his men. Then, he studied Brigit and Gareth who had already moved to flank Seerah on either side.
“Aye.” Tristan sighed deeply. “It seems as though the loyalties of those around me have fled completely. I suppose I should bow humbly to you,” he said, his gaze cynical and calculating.
“I wish not to usurp your position, Tristan,” Seerah said.
“Nay? What exactly do you wish for, then?"
“Och! Am I so very difficult, Tristan? Do me looks displease you so? Or be it simply me beliefs that irritate you beyond measure?” Seerah sighed dismally. “Why, me only wish is to honor me grandmother's wishes. I promised her I would do everything in me power to fulfill the prophecy. She has put all of her faith in me, but all this conflict between us simply drains my energy. ‘Twill not do if I am to conquer the Serpent."
Tristan remained silent.
Bowing her head Seerah blinked back the tears burning her eyes. “Believe what you will, but I'm very tired. I must try to gain some sleep if we are to leave here at dawn.” Without glancing up, she walked slowly away.
* * * *
“She has the power, Tristan,” Brigit whispered as she watched Seerah cross the room, then climb into the bed. “But she needs your help. All of our help.” She glanced at Gareth.
He nodded in agreement, then they both gazed at Tristan, who stood, scowling back at them.
Brigit said, “Do you not feel the evil forces around us? Why, you have lost the trust of your men. You also look upon Gareth as a rival rather than a brother. And all because you be afraid to accept the truth."
“I fear nothing,” Tristan sneered. “And, I believe not in fairy nonsense or witchery. I wish only to protect my men from her and her conniving ways."
Gareth shook his head dismally. “'Tis no use.” He walked away and lay down on a mat near Zeth and the other warriors.
“Tristan Kincaid, you are the most stubborn man I have ever known!” Brigit softly declared. Balling her fist at her sides, she looked deep into his eyes. “Aye, there are evil forces at work here, and I'm beginning to think they foster in your cold heart. Why, you care for her and that scares you to death."
“You could na’ be further from the truth,” Tristan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So you say,” Brigit scoffed. Narrowing her eyes she studied him cynically. “Then why does jealousy rot in your gut like tainted meat? For God's sake, Tristan, open your eyes. You are losing the respect of your men, and severing you kinship with Gareth. Have you totally forgotten how to care? Does the magic of love mean nothing to you?"
“I have no use for, or belief in, love—or magic."
Brigit's face fell. “You are a human being, Tristan. You cannot survive without love. Look deep inside yourself and you will see ... this ... this burden of revenge you carry will soon turn you heart black. I fear it's already begun to claim your soul.” She held a beseeching hand out to him.
Tristan ignored her offered hand. “Indeed. Mayhap, it already has. But then, that's my problem. ‘Tis na’ your business, or Gareth's, or anyone else's,” Tristan replied.
Brigit allowed her hand to fall limply to her side. “I do na’ believe that.” She shook her head. “But if you do, then the Devil's will has already been done. I will pray for you, Tristan.” Turning her back to him, she crossed the room. Then, glancing sadly over her shoulder she whispered, “Apparently, ‘tis all that's left for any of us to do."
Tristan watched silently as Brigit climbed into bed next to Seerah. After making sure the front door was secured, he went to the hearth where he sat and thought long into the night.
When sleep finally came, many strange images haunted his fitful slumber. Troubling memories from his past that he'd buried away suddenly surfaced with vivid clarity.
The horror-filled screams of women and children assaulted him first. Fighting men died protecting their own. Ships burned, casting an eerie glow into the sky. Then, he saw the young, dark-haired lass. She stood frozen with fear as a Norse raider swooped down on her. When she gazed at Tristan, her blue-green eyes seemed to fill with worry and compassion. But her concern was not for herself—it was for Tristan.
Bright light flashed in his mind, and suddenly the image changed. Catrin stood before him, young and alive. She took his hand, turned away, and tugged him playfully toward the water. She laughed merrily, her auburn hair dancing in the breeze. Tristan experienced her joy, her love. He laughed and followed after her, remembering the way it felt to be young, alive and in love.
When Catrin looked back at him, however, her smile faded. Suddenly, she clutched his hand and cried out, “Help me, Tristan!” Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her pleading expression turned to one of panic. A gash opened at the base of her throat and blood gushed like water from a broken dam. Next, images of his parents flooded his mind's eye. He saw only their brutalized bodies, limp and bloodied in death; aye, these were the disquieting, vivid images that had shattered a young boy's dreams and turned his heart to stone.
Alone in the engulfing blackness, Tristan experienced the incredible pain of heartache, intense grief, and all-consuming guilt. Then, came the misery of loneliness, and finally, deep dark despair. Suddenly he was falling; it felt as if the earth no longer existed and he was plummeting downwards into the bowels of nothingness—alone. Tristan knew that no one could fight this battle for him. No one could help him now. Not Brigit. Not Gareth. Not the warriors, or even their laird.
“Reach out to the light with your heart, Tristan,” a spectral voice echoed in the distance. White light flashed, then glowed from above. He tried to reach out and touch it, but it eluded his grasp. “Banish the demons, and feel the magic, only then will you achieve that which is in your grasp.” As the
light vanished, Seerah's image melted into his brain. “Reach out to the light.” The voiced faded.
* * * *
Tristan woke to the appetizing aroma of freshly baked laver bread, and the sound of sizzling meat. His body was cramped from sleeping in the hardwood chair, so he stretched his limbs slowly, trying to ease the kinks from his muscles and joints.
Everyone else sat near the hearth breaking their fast. Everyone except Seerah. Tristan stood. “Where is she?"
“Seeing to her needs. Egosh and Meegan be with her,” Brigit offered without looking at him.
“She should na’ be outside a'tall. I told you Nevil and his men be near.” He shot Gareth a censuring glare and strode toward the front door, prepared to storm outside after her.
“I was careful to stay hidden in the trees,” Seerah announced, drawing Tristan's attention.
He was struck dumb by the sight of her, dressed as she was, in one of Brigit's muslin gowns. Unlike the billowy, satin frock the Dananns had given Seerah, the dark green material hugged every curve of her form. The scoop neck revealed an enticing, though modest view of the swell of her breasts.
Though he tried to halt in time, momentum carried him forward.
Seerah couldn't have moved quick enough if she had tried. Tristan engulfed her within his arms and twisted, somehow managing to land on his back and taking the brunt of the fall. “Oomph!"
Seerah looked into his eyes. “A-are you hurt?"
As the refreshing scent of heather from her damp hair wafted about him, his gaze traveled lower. The sight of her milky white bosom pressed against his bare chest left him speechless. Then she moved. Her hips pressed against him seductively as she shifted her weight. Tristan groaned.
She went completely still. “Oh—did I hurt you? Where does it hurt?” She tried to slide off of him.
“No. Do na’ move.” He held her steady, captivated by the twinkling green light in her eyes. Reach out to the light. The voice from his dreams echoed in his mind like a whisper on the breeze.
“Please, tell me where it hurts so I may help. I am a healer, Tristan. Tell me what you need."
Where it hurts, indeed. Tristan gazed at her parted lips. Mmmm, what I need.
“Can you hear me? Tristan?” When Seerah tried to move again, her bent knee jabbed his thigh, barely missing his groin. Tristan flinched and grabbed her leg. He sighed with relief, then said, “I am na’ injured—yet. And I plan to remain that way. Roll to your side. No. Do na’ bend your knee like that. Simply roll off. Colin, help her up."
When they were both standing, it took all of Tristan's resolve to tear his gaze from her shapely figure. He glared at her, then. “Where did you get that dress?"
Cosmo scampered toward Seerah and leapt into her arms. Cradling Cosmo in her right arm, Seerah glanced down at herself. “Brigit loaned it to me. Why? Is there something wrong with it? Brigit felt it would serve better for travel than the frock the Dananns gave me.” Looking back up, she continued, “'Tis more practical. The others I own are so old they're practically threadbare."
Tristan didn't reply. He knew he'd never be able to keep his vow concerning her virtue if she insisted on dressing in such an enticing manner. But he wasn't about to admit his weaknesses to her, or to anyone. He simply stood there frowning at her with disapproval.
“Och!” Seerah rolled her eyes with apparent frustration, then brushed past him.
Tristan's eyes remained fixed on her as she moved across the room. He thought it was strange that even in the muted light of the cabin, her freshly washed hair appeared to glisten and her face seemed to glow. As she moved toward the hearth, his gaze followed the gentle sway of her hips.
After setting Cosmo in a nearby chair she bent forward and began combing her fingers through her hair to dry it. The firelight seemed to rival her radiance. Her light, Tristan thought. Every muscle in his body grew tense as passion slowly warmed his gaze, but Ecne's words seemed to reverberate in his head. “What you desire is within your grasp,” Tristan mumbled. “Banish the demons. Reach out to the light with your heart, and allow your spirit to feel the magic."
“What's that you said, Tristan?” Colin asked.
When Tristan didn't reply, Colin cleared his throat and repeated himself, “Ahem! Tristan. You were saying something about demons and light?"
“Huh?” With a shake of his head, Tristan glanced at Colin. “Uh, demons—light. Aye. Nevil, the demon, is near. And ... now that the light of day is upon us, we should be well on our way,” Tristan said, allowing his gaze to settle on Seerah again.
“Seerah looks nice this morn, does she not, Tristan?” Gareth asked from his seat near the hearth.
Brigit spoke next, “Aye. She looks quite nice, I'd say. She does an ordinary ol’ dress a world of wonder, does she not, Tristan?"
Jerking his head in Brigit's direction, Tristan scowled at her. Next, he strode to the front door and stopped. Staring out the open threshold, he tried to concentrate on the horizon, but Seerah's image seemed to be branded in his mind. Oh, her ample bosom, the curve of her hips and those tempting lips.
“What be your plan about Nevil?” Greum spoke up, crashing into Tristan's deep thoughts.
“Nevil?” Tristan turned and looked at Greum. “Aye. Nevil. I will allow him to follow us, for now. I find that knowing Nevil's whereabouts is to our advantage. Let us gather our supplies and ready the horses. We will depart shortly. I expect everyone to be ready.” Tristan stepped outside, abruptly closing the door behind him.
* * * *
“Oooh!” Seerah cried as Zeth, Colin and Greum swiftly followed Tristan outside.
“Do na’ let him discourage you this morn.” Brigit wagged her head. “Remember, you need to draw on pleasant emotions to better focus your energy."
“But, his temper seems to be more foul than last night. How can I be expected to ignore such ... such evilness?” Seerah sighed.
Brigit looked to Gareth as if for the answer. “'Tis a dilemma, indeed. What do you suggest?"
Gareth gazed at the door, “Aye his mood be foul as ever.” Rising from his seat by the hearth, he advanced until he stood next to Brigit. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “Seerah's appearance this morn seems to have brought out the worst of his nature. To my knowledge, there be only one cure for what ails him."
“Indeed,” Brigit nodded. “I had hoped he would be pleased with her looks, but the opposite effect? ‘Tis a telling sign as well."
“Aye, quite telling.” Gareth frowned.
Seerah looked down at herself. “If you think the gown displeases him, I'll gladly find another. Be it the color he has an aversion to?"
Brigit grinned and shook her head. “Nay, Seerah. Poor lass. He favors the way you look just fine. ‘Tis why he's so ... gruff."
“If he likes the gown, then why—"
“It has not to do with the gown itself, so much as the way you look in it,” Gareth explained.
“But, I thought ... Well, I had thought I looked rather pleasant."
Gareth smiled at Brigit. “She has na’ a clue, does she?"
Brigit shook her head. “She's as blind to it as he his. I believe he's close to going mad with desire.
“Aye.” Gareth nodded. “But, he pledged to honor her virtue."
“Aye.” Brigit frowned thoughtfully. “To acquire what he needs, yet keep his vow. ‘Tis quite a riddle."
Seerah glanced back and forth between them, trying to make sense of their curious conversation.
“On the contrary. The answer is quite obvious,” Gareth said. “If he would simply claim her, the problem would be solved."
“Oh, aye, but he'll never...” Brigit cocked her brow at Gareth. “Unless..."
“Unless?” Gareth asked.
“If he truly believe she might be claimed by another..."
“Do na’ look to me to on that matter. Knowing that she is most likely my sister—well, I could na’ act anymore enamored with Seerah than I could of you. Besides, Tris
tan has already threatened to run me through twice, because he believed I had designs on her."
“Claim me!” Seerah asked.
Gareth nodded. “'Tis the only way."
“Aye,” Brigit agreed. “But, convincing him of that is another matter all together. I fear, the only way he would ever wed, is if he compromised her virtue. And he vowed..."
“Wed! Compromise my virtue? Have you both gone mad?” Seerah cried with disbelief. “Why, I would na’ wed him, or...” A deep red blush crept into her face. “Or allow him to ... compromise me, if he was the last man to live and breathe!"
“Come now, Seerah, we've all witnessed the way you respond to each other,” Gareth said.
“With contempt!” Seerah balked.
“Nay, with passion,” Brigit began. “God's teeth! Do you not see it? ‘Tis a bitter-sweet passion as of yet, but the signs be clear as the light of day."
“Signs? For Heaven's sake, what signs?” Seerah cried.
“The way you irritate each other for one thing,” Brigit declared. “Then there's the way you look at each other when you believe no one be watching. Sparks fly between you whenever you touch. I've seen them with me own eyes. Why, we all have. And, let's see, there's the way you described how you felt when he kissed you."
“I felt dizzy, Brigit!” Seerah protested.
“Aye. ‘Tis a clear sign, as is the way he hungered after the sight of you this morn. Why, he looked like a starving man eyeing a succulent meal. There's only one thing left for you to do. You must seduce him, Seerah."
“Nay! I will na'. I ... I can na',” Seerah sputtered. “I feel for him, aye. He has much misery inside of him, but I do not feel that way towards him. I feel compassion for him, mayhap pity for his black soul, but..."
“Och! You be as stubborn as him! And to think, I believed you were a smart lass. Why do you think he enrages you so?"
“Because he's arrogant, commanding, stubborn and..."
“Nay! He's under you skin, Seerah. Why, you need him as much as he needs you,” Brigit declared.
Cosmo scurried from the chair by the hearth. Climbing swiftly up Seerah's skirts to her shoulder, he began chattering and persistently nudging her head with his nose. “Stop, Cosmo!” Seerah chastised. When Cosmo hissed and bared his teeth at her, Seerah gasped. “Och! You have gone as mad as them!"
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