"Kenric!" She gasped, even as she shattered against his hand.
With one swift stroke he entered her then, possessing her completely as she clenched around him.
He was huge and hard and powerful. "You are mine." He told her fiercely, moving inside her. She arched to meet his thrusts, thrilling to the sensation of this man - with her, in her, of her.
They moved together, she matched his tempo, until she could no longer tell where she ended and he began.
"God's blood." Curse or prayer, she could not tell, only watch as he relinquished the last shred of his self-
control, no longer able to control his movements.
He became fury then, motion and heat and fire as he took her. This time the tremor built slowly, white flame flashing, then burst like exploding stars from deep inside her. She cried out her release, feeling the flood of it surround him, even as he shuddered and, with one last thrust, pulsed inside of her, filling her with his essence.
"Megan." He said her name like a benediction, gathering her close and stroking her hair. "My Megan."
And with those words she knew with an earth-shattering certainty that Kenric had claimed more than her body; he'd claimed her heart.
A few hours later, standing awkwardly in the courtyard, Megan watched as Kenric shook hands with a smugly grinning Lord Brighton. Edmyg watched also, his expression guarded. No one else in the keep had turned out to bid them farewell. It reminded her, in a way, of their lonely departure from the faerie castle.
She knew no one believed they would really be able to go.
The drawbridge had been lowered. Taking her arm, Kenric led her out the stone gate. Their footsteps thudded on the wooden bridge and the morning air had a hint of mist. She smelled the freshness of the dew on the grass and the distant scent of the forest. Holding tight to his arm, she reflected that she'd never felt so in tune with life, so alive.
Finally, they reached the end. Ahead of them lay endless rolling fields of untilled green. To the east the forest rose, shady and welcoming.
Releasing her arm, Kenric put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, a piercing, sharp sound. Lancelot, his white coat gleaming in the bright sunlight, came charging from the trees. Running full out, the war horse was both beautiful and terrifying. When he reached the rocky path where the drawbridge touched the ground, he reared, pawing the air.
Kenric strode forward - and staggered back as if he'd run into a brick wall.
Startled, Megan stopped too. "What is it?"
"They weren't lying." Running a hand through his dark hair, Kenric reached out a hand to take his horse's bridle, and couldn't. He pushed against the invisible barrier, muttering oaths under his breath. On the other side, Lancelot pranced towards them, then stopped at the end of the drawbridge, tossing his head and snorting.
"Edmyg was correct - we cannot leave this place. There is an evil spell at work here."
"Are you serious?" Megan couldn't believe it. She had no desire to remain in Lord Brighton's castle for the rest of her life, endlessly dodging the large man's determined pursuit.
"Try it and see."
"Ok." Flashing him her most confident smile and hoping he didn't notice how it trembled around the edges, Megan stepped forward.
No problem. She felt nothing - no barrier, no invisible wall, nothing but the faint dampness of the mist and the coolness of the morning breeze.
Glancing at Kenric over her shoulder, she took another step. Then another. Until finally she reached Lancelot's side and stood close enough to lay a hand on his thick neck.
Triumphant, she turned to face Kenric and flashed him the thumbs up sign before she realized he probably had no idea what that meant. Instead, she inclined her head like a queen and grinned, beckoning to him.
"Come on."
Instead of smiling back, Kenric frowned. "How did you do that?"
She didn't understand. "Do what?"
"How did you get past the barrier?"
"There was no barrier." She shrugged. "Maybe it's all in your mind."
Setting his jaw resolutely, Kenric took a running step forward. He growled in frustration as he hit the same invisible barrier and was thrown backwards.
"I told you." Lord Brighton yelled from the castle gate, his booming voice filled with glee. "How did Megan get through it?"
"Lady Megan to you." Kenric snarled, then glanced at Megan quickly. "I don't know."
Heart pounding, Megan grabbed Lancelot's bridle and led him forward. Maybe Kenric could ride through whatever stopped him. Encountering no barrier this time either, she stepped easily across the drawbridge, but the warhorse stopped, nearly jerking her off her feet.
Try as she might, she couldn't make the horse go any further. Evidently, Lancelot felt the invisible boundary too.
Helpless, she let the horse go and crossed to Kenric's side. "I don't get it. Why can't you come with me?"
He watched her with narrowed eyes. "What magic do you possess, Megan of Dallas, that you have thought to keep hidden from me? Tell me the truth now. Are you Faerie?"
Stunned, she stared up at him. His craggy face wore a furious expression. "Magic? I don't have any."
She could see from his set expression that he didn't believe her.
"Really." She insisted. "I didn't even believe in magic until I met you." And until she'd found out she'd somehow traveled to the long distant past.
On the other side of the barrier, Lancelot tossed his head and pawed the ground. If horses could talk, Megan would have sworn this one urged them to hurry.
With a clenched fist, Kenric reached out towards his war horse. Only to come up against the same barrier. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get his hand through.
"Walk through it again." He ordered.
With a sigh, she did as he bid. She felt no barrier,
no tingle of magic, nothing.
Lancelot snorted. She reached up and patted his long, muscular neck. "Come on." She held out her hand to Kenric.
"I cannot." His low voice echoed his rage.
She didn't understand. "Use your magic."
"My magic."
"Yes. The same magic that somehow transported me to the dungeon of this castle, er keep."
His expression darkened. "Mayhap you got yourself to this place."
She'd had enough experience dealing with men to realize his male pride had been offended. Searching her brain for a way to make him understand, she realized what she would have to do.
"Ok." Flashing him a bright smile, she remembered he might not understand her twentieth century slang. "All right. I guess I'll just have to go on without you. I'm sure you won't mind if I borrow Lancelot here, will you?"
"What?" He roared.
Trying not to laugh, she affected a serious, wide eyed expression. "I still have to find Roger."
"I will deal with Roger. You are mine." He stated arrogantly. "As is the war horse. You will go nowhere without me."
Despite herself, she liked his warrior's confidence. Eying the magical sword, she wondered if it would somehow help him break the spell. Hands clasped in front of her, she waited, confident that her warrior would find a way to her.
Her warrior. Her heart skipped a beat. She liked the sound of that, liked too the way Kenric claimed her as his own.
Under his breath, he muttered a few words.
The breeze picked up. He drew his sword. The weapon began to glow. He rushed forward, sword ahead of him. His steel pierced the invisible barrier. He did not. He reeled back from the force of the blow, his sword clattering to the ground on Megan's side of the barrier.
With an apologetic look, she stepped forward and picked it up. The sword was heavier than it looked, so she could barely lift it. Instead, she held it gingerly by the engraved handle, point pressing in to the ground. Though it may have been her imagination, it seemed to vibrate.
She chewed her bottom lip, trying to figure this out.
Kenric's magic - indeed, all magic - seemed to
her to be a hit and miss thing. She would have thought it would be more, well, controllable.
Raking his hand through his hair, he shot her a frustrated glare. "Any other ideas?"
Silently, she shook her head. Beside her, Lancelot whinnied. Evidently the horse didn't understand why his master wouldn't leave the drawbridge.
Why could she cross and he couldn't? Did the spell somehow recognize that she wasn't from this place, from this time? That was the only valid explanation.
Telling Lancelot to wait, she lifted the heavy sword with both hands and crossed the barrier to Kenric's side. Without a word she handed him the sword, watching as he grimly sheathed it.
Behind them she could see Lord Brighton doubled over, his large belly shaking with laughter. Only the mage continued to watch as if he still believed something else could be done.
Something had to be done. They had to come up with a way out of here. She wasn't about to stay here, nor would she leave Kenric.
"Take my hand." She ordered softly.
He stared at her, his stormy expression reflecting his disbelief. As she slipped her hand in his, his pupils dilated.
She felt her own breathing quicken as she realized he was remembering the lovemaking they'd shared. She shivered, amazed that he could arouse her with merely a look, but accepting it. After all, that was the way of it when you were in love.
In love? Gasping, she tried to pull her hand free, but he would not release her. Though she'd sort of known it after they'd made love, thinking the words like this shocked
her.
Why had this happened and what could she do about it? She didn't belong here, though she'd thought to stay until she... she what? What exactly had she thought? That this was infatuation, or lust? That Kenric would be a casual affair, the kind her North Dallas friends giggled and gossiped about so easily? But Megan had never been that kind of woman, never been able to pretend or lie, which was why she'd been breaking it off with Roger in the first place.
She loved Kenric. She loved a man from nine hundred years in the past. God help her. Rhiannon, with her faerie magic had been right. Megan now knew Rhiannon's words had been true. Kenric was her soul mate, the other half of her heart. How on earth did she think she could live without him?
Something must have shown in her face.
"What is it?" Low voiced, he cradled her chin in his other hand, his silver eyes searching her face. "Are you all right?"
Numb, she nodded, though she wasn't all right. Not by a long shot. Pushing away her rioting emotions, she focused on the problem at hand - getting him off the drawbridge.
He pulled her close, letting her pillow her head on his broad chest. Closing her eyes, she let herself pretend for a moment that everything was normal, that everything would be all right.
"Megan." He muttered her name, one hand smoothing down the back of her hair. It was a gesture of love, of need, even as she felt his body thicken against her. "Do not forget that you are mine."
It came to her then, with this declaration, spoken so boldly without heed of the consequences. She knew how to get him through the magical barrier. He might not know it yet, or admit it, but she believed he loved her as deeply as she loved him. And she'd always heard that love was the most powerful magic of all. Though she had no knowledge of magic, no idea where even this thought had come from, she knew it to be true. After all, it had brought her to this place, this man.
She raised her head to look at him. "Hold me close." She whispered.
Since he was already doing so, he merely smiled, the smile so full of masculine arrogance that it took her breath away.
"Walk with me, this way, to the end of the bridge."
He merely lifted a brow and did as she requested.
They moved like they were slow-dancing, stopping and embracing and gazing deep into each other’s eyes. She felt a slow heat begin inside her, making her languid and feverish, desire for him strong and fierce. She forgot about spells or castles or old wizards. She forgot about everything but the ruggedly beautiful warrior who held her in his arms, the man that she loved.
It was only when they bumped into Lancelot that she realized they had made it across the drawbridge.
Kenric released her when he realized it. "You did it." He told her, the heat in his silver eyes becoming wariness. "Yet you claim you have no magic."
Both statement and question. She knew he required an answer. "I did not do it alone," she told him, finding herself suddenly unable to look at him. What if he didn't feel the same as she, what if lust alone drove him, or some other masculine emotion for which she had no name.
"Explain."
She decided to take a chance. After all, he had told her that she belonged to him. For now, that would have to be enough.
"Love did it, Kenric. Love is more powerful than any magic."
He was silent for so long that she had to raise her head and look at him. Instead of outright shock, or horror, or any of the expressions she might have expected, he merely looked thoughtful.
"I--"
Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off. Shouting, Lord Brighton galloped towards the drawbridge. Moving at a more sedate pace, Edmyg followed close behind.
"How did you do it?" Lord Brighton asked excitedly. From the speed of his pace, Megan saw that he expected to find the barrier dissipated. She was afraid that he was about to be sadly mistaken.
Behind him, Edmyg struggled to keep up. For an old man, Edmyg could move fast.
Lips drawn back from his prominent teeth in a triumphant grin that was nearly a grimace, Lord Brighton crashed into the barrier at full speed. The impact was enough to toss him back on to his ample rear end.
Edmyg screeched to a halt before running into him.
Megan couldn't help it; she started laughing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kenric turn away to hid his own grin.
Plainly shocked, a red-faced Lord Brighton picked himself up. Glaring at Kenric, he advanced as far as the barrier would allow, Edmyg trailing along after him.
"How did you do it?" Lord Brighton demanded again, his hands clenched into fists, his face mottled with impotent rage.
"Love." Kenric replied. "She has told me that is the manner in which she broke through the spell."
"There is no such thing!" Lord Brighton roared. "Only warbling bards and simpering women believe in that nonsense!"
With those words Megan knew that Lord Brighton might not ever be able to leave his enchanted keep.
Edmyg moved forward, stretching out one hand towards them. "I knew such a love, once." He said, his voice quavering. "But it has gone now, never to return except in my dreams."
"Only love is strong enough to conquer this kind of
magic." Megan spoke quietly, when Kenric held his silence.
All three men looked at her, bewilderment and shock plain on Lord Brighton and Edmyg's, a stony stubbornness on Kenrics.
"We ride now." Kenric pronounced, tight lipped. Then, helping her up on to Lancelot's broad back, he swung up after her.
Heart sinking, she wondered if he was as stunned by what had happened as she. As to the depths of her feelings, love was an emotion she'd never before believed she would feel for any man. Until this man, now.
With Lord Brighton gaping after them, and Edmyg sadly shaking his gray head, Kenric urged Lancelot forward. Gladly, the war horse stepped out, tossing his head and looking for all the world like a proud papa carrying his two children on his shining white back.
Before too long Lord Brighton's keep had faded in the distance. Once again the fertile land began to show signs of human activity, the occasional crofters huts and plowed fields welcome sight.
They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Then, reining the horse to a stop, Kenric turned in the saddle, capturing Megan's mouth with a hard kiss. His lips moved over hers, slow, drugging, possessive, until she grew breathless, until her head swam and she could no longer think straight. When he finally lifte
d his mouth from hers, he grinned broadly.
"What was that for?" She whispered, wishing she were bold enough to pull him back and make him kiss her some more.
"For the gift you have given me." He told her cryptically, turning and urging Lancelot on once more.
Did he speak of love? More than anything she wanted him to say the words, to tell her that he felt the same as she. She thought of demanding, but fear held her back, fear and the knowledge that she had bound him to her with a lie. Until she was truthful with him, she had no right to want more. So she held her tongue, pushing away the guilt and the longing, so raw, so new.
#
For the first time in his life, Kenric knew uncertainty. Always before, he'd been able to fixate on a goal and stay with it. Up until he had made love to Megan's sweet body, he had actually believed he would be able to find her Roger, relinquish her to his care, claim his land, and continue on with his life.
Now he knew that to be a lie. He wanted Megan more than he'd ever wanted anything or anyone. He would have to find this Roger and see if the other man would relinquish his claim on her. He, Kenric, would of course relinquish his reward - the land.
The land. Briefly, he closed his eyes. He hungered for Megan, yet still he yearned for the land. He could not help it - it was what he was.
Though greed had never been one of his faults, he wanted both - Megan and the land. God help him. One would be meaningless without the other. He needed land to build his keep, to raise his family. He needed Megan to keep him sane. And, he concluded smiling to himself, be his helpmate and bear their children.
But love? Despite her claims of its power, he was not certain he believed in such a thing. Respect, admiration, even fondness he could well understand, having shared such a thing with his human father. But love? Nay - it had to be--
Only love could save the land of Faerie.
The thought came out of nowhere, blindsiding him. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, willing the thought away. Rhiannon again, with her faerie trickery and her misguided claims that Rune needed him. No, best he concentrate on what was real, in the here and now. Best he focus on how he could get Megan's intended to break his betrothal.
Powerful Magic Page 17
