The Magic Knot

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Michael looked at Rose. “May the luck of the leprechauns be with you.”

  Rose glanced out the window at Niall and fluffed her hair. “Better tell Merlin the Magician out there the pictures have arrived. I’ll go and check them.”

  She strode through the bar to the parking lot and found the driver unfastening the back of his delivery truck. The man lowered the tail lift. Rose stepped on the metal platform, drew a breath, and steeled herself as he raised the two of them into the truck.

  Each portrait stood over six feet tall. Rose stepped into the truck and stared at the stacked wooden cases containing the pictures as the man scanned the bar codes labeling each box. Part of her simmered with morbid fascination, wanting to open the cases and view the portraits. Part of her shied away. Jacca had told her the piskies could see out of the pictures and were aware of their surroundings. She couldn’t get her mind around that concept—didn’t want to. The thought of being shut in a dark, narrow space sent her pulse racing.

  Niall walked up to the back of the truck. With an effortless jump, which left the delivery driver gaping, he vaulted up and wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist. “Don’t go unpacking them here, lass. Wait till we get them to Trevelion Manor.”

  There were seventy-eight wooden cases. Seventy-two of the paintings depicted members of her pisky troop, and the remaining six, animals. The secret fear she’d kept buried since she’d learned what the pictures really were bubbled to the surface. Would they be angry she hadn’t rescued them earlier?

  She wriggled back into the comfort of Niall’s embrace and laced her fingers between his. Solid and steady as a rock, his strength anchored her. “I hope they’ll be a bit friendlier to me than Ciar’s lot were,” she whispered.

  Niall cupped her chin and turned her face up. “They’ll be sure to like you, me love. You are of sound body and good heart, and madness has yet to invade your brain.” He smiled and touched his lips to hers. “I’m not at all sure what they’ll make of meself, though.”

  The truck driver finished scanning the codes on the boxes. Rose signed to accept delivery of the paintings and the rental truck. As a taxicab drove into the parking lot, Niall pulled a roll of fifty-pound notes from his pocket and peeled off a wad. He counted the notes into the man’s hand, then pointed at the cab. “That’ll deliver you to the train station in Plymouth.”

  Twenty minutes later, Rose sat in the front of the truck beside Niall as he started the engine. Michael gunned the Porsche behind them and followed as Niall swung the vehicle out of the empty parking lot. They headed along the dirt track beside the estuary and out of the village toward the manor. Rose linked her fingers in her lap and took deep breaths to stay calm. The thought of facing her father again sent a prickling chill over her skin. And she couldn’t shake the fear that Niall was keeping something from her.

  “Niall.” She watched for his reaction. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I need to know?”

  His lips thinned; then he shook his head once. “No, lass. Not right now.”

  “It’s just that the plan sounds too simple. I think you’re underestimating Tristan.”

  Niall frowned and cut her a brief, troubled glance. “Don’t you go worrying about things. Leave it to me.”

  She still wasn’t happy, but Michael had assured her Niall would be well prepared. The image of the Ten of Swords floated into her mind. The more she tried to forget the prediction, the more the card plagued her. She reached beneath her shirt to clutch her stones for reassurance. When her fingers closed around the cool weight of the rings, she remembered they were Niall’s and not hers.

  Her stones were tucked beneath Niall’s shirt against the solid warmth of his chest. The essence of her being rested in his control. When they’ exchanged Magic Knots, she’d found the idea romantic and arousing. Now she wasn’t so sure. Fear of betrayal whispered in her head, stroked cool fingers down her spine. She shivered, pushed the thoughts away, and hardened her resolve to face her father. There was no room for doubts. She and Niall were a team.

  As the delivery truck arrived, the front door of Trevelion Manor opened and Tristan stepped out, followed by Jacca.

  When Rose opened her door to climb down, Niall gripped her hand.

  “Hang on.” His lips twitched in an attempt at a smile, but his eyes remained uneasy. “What ever happens in there, trust me.”

  “You’re king of the cryptic comment, you know,” she said, but he’d already released her and was jumping out. Foreboding curled through her. She reached for him psychically and sensed dark tendrils of apprehension leaking around his mental shield. Why hadn’t she pumped him for more information during the journey? Now they were out of time.

  After jumping down from the vehicle, Rose jogged to catch up with him as he walked toward the house. For Tristan’s benefit, she eyed Jacca warily, as if she didn’t know him.

  Niall gave her shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze as they halted, and he said, “We’ve got the paintings. Where’s me sister?”

  “Let’s do this in a civilized manner.” Tristan extended his arm, indicating that they should enter.

  With a shudder of reluctance, Rose followed Tristan along the hall, Niall behind her, Jacca bringing up the rear. She hesitated before stepping into the drawing room, a premonition of disaster whispering in her mind.

  Tristan looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow. “My daughter has blossomed since last I saw her.” He gave Niall a speculative glance. “Your doing, I take it?”

  Niall gripped Rose’s elbow and pulled her to his side. “Where’s Ana?”

  “You do have a tediously single-track mind for someone with such a rich and creative heritage.” Tristan held up a decanter. “Don’t suppose I can tempt you?”

  Niall scowled, and Tristan placed the decanter back on its tray with a sigh.

  Rose leaned into the strong warmth of Niall. He obviously didn’t intend to let Tristan separate them this time. Despite Niall’s attempt to block her out, spikes of his anger darted into her as he glanced around the room.

  Tristan crooked a finger at Jacca. “Bring the little creature in.”

  Niall’s grip on Rose’s arm tightened to the point of pain as he stared at the door. When Ana trotted in, dark curls bouncing around her wrinkled face, Niall released Rose and dropped to his knees. He took Ana’s hands. “Are you hurt?”

  “Naw, lad.” She stroked his cheek, then smiled at Rose. “I’m right as rain now that you’re here for me.”

  Niall stood, Ana’s hand clasped in his, and glanced at the door. “Michael’s waiting for you. I’ll take you out.”

  “Not yet,” Tristan said. “The girls stay with me until you’ve unloaded the paintings and taken them downstairs.”

  Niall cast Tristan a fierce look that made the hair prickle on the back of Rose’s neck, but he didn’t argue. He led Ana across to Rose. With a silent brush of caution across her senses, he gave her a meaningful look and put Ana’s rough little hand into hers. “I’ll not be long.”

  Rose glanced nervously at her father as Niall and Jacca walked out. She didn’t want Niall to leave her, but he obviously didn’t have any choice. She remembered now that the last time she was here her father had told her he wouldn’t let her go. She’d never discovered why. Tristan smiled, razor sharp with victory, and her skin crawled.

  Backing away, Rose pulled Ana to a leather sofa at the far end of the room. They huddled together in silence while Tristan poured a drink and sank into a chair by the fire.

  “Me lad won’t leave us for long,” Ana said. She smiled again, folding her wrinkled brown face into a mass of crinkles. With a stubby finger, she brushed the bump of Niall’s stones beneath Rose’s shirt. “I do so love being right,” she whispered, and chuckled. “That lad would have you thinking he’s got no heart, but don’t go believing him. ’Tis soft he is inside.” She nodded to herself. “Aye, soft as thistledown, and equally fragile. You’re a lucky lass. There’s no finer fellow, believe
me. He won’t go letting you down, like some scoundrels.”

  Ana’s total belief in Niall helped relieve Rose’s sense of unease, but didn’t squelch it altogether. Chills of foreboding raced up and down her spine as Tristan watched her with an air of confidence that made her think he knew something she didn’t.

  Niall and Jacca seemed to take forever, but eventually the men returned to the room, looking dusty and hot. “All done,” Jacca said to Tristan.

  “Well, then, Niall. It seems you’ve fulfilled nearly all your part of our bargain. Nightshade will escort your sister out to Michael. You have my word she’ll be safe now.”

  Rose stood at Niall’s side and watched Jacca leave with Ana. “Aren’t we going as well?” she whispered to him.

  He cut her a quick sideways glance. “There’s one more thing.”

  After downing the last of his drink, Tristan rose from his seat. Niall stepped behind her and curled his arm around her waist. Welcoming the reassurance of his presence with her father so close, she leaned against Niall.

  Tristan’s nostrils flared like those of a predator scenting prey. “I hope you haven’t gotten cold feet, Niall,” he said, his eyes sharp with anticipation.

  Fear streaked through her. Something wasn’t right. “Niall?” She pressed back against him, seeking safety.

  “Shh, love,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

  Before she could summon questions, Jacca returned and cast an apprehensive glance her way. She clutched Niall’s arm and snapped her head around toward Tristan. He grinned with a tight malevolence that turned her blood to ice water.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on. Niall?” Out of the corner of her eye she caught the glint of a blade in Niall’s hand. With sudden horrific clarity, she sensed what he was about to do.

  Still as death, Rose froze, the chill in her blood invading her heart. Time slowed. She opened her mouth in slow motion. Words bumped around her brain, but didn’t make it past her numb lips. The Ten of Swords had spoken true.

  “I love you,” Niall whispered against her ear. His presence flowed into every cell of her body, overwhelming her senses. Despite her fugue, she felt pain lance her side, so hot and sharp it forced the air from her lungs in a keening wail. Fire invaded her belly. Ice filled her chest, splintering her heart and piercing her soul. Niall’s essence floated away like mist on the wind as the room faded. Rose strained to hold on to him as darkness sucked her down toward oblivion. Betrayal hadn’t required ten swords in the back. One knife in the side was just as deadly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rose opened her eyes. For a moment she wondered if she really had raised her eyelids or just imagined doing so, because the darkness was impenetrable. A flutter of cool, salty air brushed across her skin. Dense silence hummed in her ears. She moved and became aware of cold, unyielding rock beneath her.

  For a few seconds she was disoriented; then the darkness pressed against her like invisible hands. Panic snatched her breath. Where was she? Underground? In a tomb? Instinctively she extended her consciousness, seeking Niall as the terror of being trapped tightened around her chest. The reassuring glow of his presence was close, but shielded from her. A little spurt of anger shot through her. Why did he always shut her out?

  Then the memory of what had happened trickled back like ice water into her grave.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and Rose fought to breathe past the burn in her chest. Had Niall been working with Tristan all along? How bad was her wound? The pain had been horrendous when the knife went in. Now she couldn’t feel anything. Gingerly she touched her side and found a dressing taped beneath her shirt. She pressed her fingers against the gauze and was surprised the wound didn’t hurt. Maybe they’ given her painkillers.

  The tender words Niall had breathed against her ear as he’d made love to her the previous night fluttered in her mind. How could he stab her after all they’ been through together?

  Righteous anger seared away her pain. She smacked her palm against the rock. Damn him! She’d kill him if he had betrayed her, and she’d bloody well kill him if he hadn’t and this was all some ploy. Oh, yes, knowing Niall, that made more sense. No wonder he hadn’t explained everything to her. He’d swamped her with his presence as the blade went in, probably trying to distract her from the pain. Well, it had still hurt like crap. She had half a mind to walk out and leave them all to it. Except there was nowhere she wanted to go.

  Her bravado collapsed, leaving her hollow. Her human life, the career she’d worked so hard for, her past, all seemed like a dream. She belonged here now, with Niall and the piskies—or she’d thought she did. Although she’d tried to change and fit in, she still didn’t understand how the fairy world worked. Ignorance had nearly gotten her killed in Ireland. Maybe now it would be the death of her.

  Rose rubbed her eyes. Niall had never shown her the note listing Tristan’s demands. Stabbing her must have been part of the bargain to release Ana. For a few seconds jealousy and anger swirled through her, overwhelming reason. Did Niall love Ana so much more than he loved her? Was it possible he’d sacrifice Rose’s life to save his sister’s?

  But Niall had risked his own life to save her in Ireland. None of this made sense. The sweet memory of the previous night rolled through her. He loved her. He could not hide his emotion when they were joined physically, mentally, and spiritually. Why would he hurt her?

  A faint scraping sound made her freeze. She opened her eyes and stared into the pitch darkness. Jacca’s presence brushed her senses, darkly sweet like a blossom opening at twilight. A hand landed on her arm and she jumped.

  “It’s me, Rosenwyn,” Jacca whispered in the darkness.

  “And there’s me thinking it was room service with the champagne and caviar.” Despite her bravado, she tensed beneath his touch. What part had he played in her predicament? “I hope you haven’t changed sides again.”

  “No.” The edge of distress in his voice reassured her more than the word. “You’re my queen. I’ll protect you.”

  “Huh! I think your definition of protect must be slightly different from mine.”

  “Check the wound, Rosenwyn.”

  She frowned and pressed her fingers against the dressing again. “Niall stabbed me. I felt the blade go in.”

  “Wait.” Cool air replaced his heat as Jacca moved away. An oil lamp flared to life on a scrubbed wooden table, illuminating the damp walls and gray dome roof of a small cave. He lifted the lamp and carried it closer, the light chasing ghoulish shadows across the speckled granite. “Examine your wound.”

  Rose shivered as she imagined what she’d find. His encouraging smile persuaded her to peel back the dressing and check. Her skin was pink, but showed no damage. She pushed up on her elbow for a better look and poked at the spot. “That’s impossible.”

  “Niall’s smoky quartz blades can be enchanted to cut away bad energy from people without leaving physical damage.”

  “He stabbed the blade into my side.”

  “Penetrating your body with the blade cleansed your energy field.”

  “Unbelievable.” Rose sat up, ripped off the dressing, and tucked in her shirt. “He stabs me and you’re trying to tell me it was for my own good. I wasn’t born yesterday. Let’s have the truth.”

  “Don’t think too badly of him. Tristan had to believe Niall was going to betray you so he could stay for the ritual. Niall also needed your blood on the blade to raise the piskies.”

  “Why the hell didn’t he warn me?”

  Jacca gazed at his feet and shrugged. “He thought it would be worse if you knew what was coming. This way you didn’t worry about it beforehand.”

  Anger at Niall’s twisted male logic warred with the flood of relief that his motives were good. She stared at the flickering shadows cast by the oil lamp, and goose bumps rushed across her skin. If he did stupid things like this, how could she ever trust him again?

  She crushed the wound dressing in her hand. “I thought he’d betrayed
me.” For a moment tears burned her throat. “It hurt.”

  “I’m sorry…” Jacca touched her hand. Anguish filled his eyes, sending a frisson of fear skating through her.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “I must take you to the great hall for the ritual.”

  “The one Niall wanted to stay for?”

  Jacca nodded.

  “To free the piskies?”

  “We must play along with Tristan’s plans. He wants to sacrifice you with a ritual blade before the paintings to show the piskies they have no hope of rescue.”

  Fear fisted in her belly. One taste of a blade was enough. She shook her head.

  “Niall’s planning to release the piskies while Tristan’s occupied with the ceremony. We won’t allow any harm to come to you.”