Powerful Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  Silence.

  Raising her head, Megan realized she was speaking to empty air. The faerie queen had vanished. Rhiannon was gone.

  #

  Though he had an iron control over himself during the bright light of day, Kenric could not keep himself from dreaming. And what dreams they were! In them, Megan and he lay entwined, slaking their passion again and again. When he awoke he was hard and aching.

  Megan still lay sleeping, curled on her side with one hand under her chin. In the faint light of dawn she was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin creamy and glowing, her hair a tousled cap of dark silk. Hell, he admitted, merely looking at her took his breath away. It had taken every ounce of will he possessed to keep from taking her up on the seductive invitation she'd issued the night before.

  And now? Unaware of his hunger, she slumbered, the sensual curve of her shoulder an invitation of its own.

  How had this woman come to mean so much to him? Grimacing, he forced his stiff muscles to rise. Better

  should he ponder the mysteries of the universe. She belonged to him and, conversely, he to her. That was the way of it, and his time would be better spent figuring out a way to have her and his other heart's desire, the land.

  After he'd washed, he went to wake her. Standing over her, his heart pounding in his ears, he knew he dared not touch her. So instead he stomped around, talking out loud to the warhorse, banging the knife against a stone, and in general making enough noise to wake the dead.

  Megan stirred, making mewling sounds of protest. Unable to tear his gaze away from her as she yawned and stretched, he found himself hard again. He cursed under his breath, telling himself to turn away. But he was only human and, though he might deny himself the pleasure of her touch, he could not help but watch her. Even though watching her made him ache.

  When she stood, running her fingers through her short sable hair, and offered him a sleepy smile full of innocent sensual promise, he turned away. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

  "We ride out shortly." He told her, his voice harsh, his breathing raspy, even to his own ears. "Take a few minutes to ready yourself." This was time he would need as well, to get his errant body under control.

  When they were once again mounted on the war horse's broad back, after breaking their fast with chunks of hard bread and leftover rabbit, he held to a surly silence. To his surprise, she did not speak either. He found he liked the quiet, feeling a camaraderie that he had felt with very few people since his father. If only her scent weren't so distracting. The light floral scent of her kept him on the edge of arousal. He wondered how she did it, without scented soap or lotions.

  "Have you talked to your sister lately?"

  The question startled him. They'd been riding two or more hours without exchanging a word, then out of the blue she asked this.

  "My sister?"

  "Yes. Have you spoken with Rhiannon lately?"

  God's blood, with Megan pressed against his back and her soft breath stirring the hairs at the nape of his neck, he could scarcely think.

  "No." Curious, he twisted in the saddle so he could see her eyes. "Why?"

  Her shrug seemed too casual and she would not look at him. Suspicion made him rein the war horse in.

  Before he could ask, she lifted troubled amber eyes. "She came to see me last night." She swallowed hard, biting her bottom lip in a gesture that sent the blood roaring

  through his body, making it difficult to focus.

  “Why?” he managed.

  "I think she has some sort of plan for me and you."

  Pretending her nearness had no affect on him, he nodded thoughtfully. Though she looked boyish in his overlarge tunic and faded cap, he knew what lush curves the ugly clothes hid. Knew and longed to touch them.

  “Kenric?” Her voice brought him back to the present. His sister, he told himself, desperately trying to focus. They’d been talking about Rhiannon.

  "My sister is full of intrigues and schemes. Do not let her distress you over much."

  "She knew Edmyg."

  He frowned. "Who?"

  "Edmyg. The wizard from Lord Brighton's castle."

  "Ah, the old man who had not enough magic to break the spell." He shook his head. "That is nothing to worry about."

  Though she nodded, she still appeared worried. "She knew Myrddin too.” Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin. “Kenric, she told me it was he who led that band of black faeries against your family at Blackstone Keep. "

  As her words registered, he saw red. He could not speak, God's teeth he could not even think. To know that he'd had the man responsible for slaughtering his family in his grasp...

  "I will destroy him." He snarled. “But first, I will make sure he regrets everything he has done.”

  Megan's eyes were huge, the amber turning to pale gold in the bright sunlight. Her voice shook. "He means to kill you. Last night Rhiannon told me it had something to do with an old legend."

  "This is why she came to see you last night?"

  “Partially.” She paled even more. "While you slept, she came to me and asked for my help. She even hinted that she could help me get back home, but only if I would assist her."

  "Get back home." The emotion stabbing through him at the thought was an unfamiliar one. Jealousy was not something Kenric of Blackstone had ever experienced, and he didn’t much like the sensation of it coiling in his cut like a rancid meal. "To Roger?"

  “No, she breathed.” Not to him.” Breaking the gaze, she looked down. "To my time."

  Since this made no sense, he let it pass for now. With his finger he lifted her chin until she faced him once more, battling away the rage the thought of Myrddin brought and the terrible, aching fear that exploded in him at the thought of her leaving.

  "Tell me Megan, do you still want him?"

  "Roger?" Her lips parted as she gazed at him. He saw nothing but truth in her lovely eyes. "No, Kenric. Even before I met you, I’d intended to break it off with him, but before I could I was sent here."

  Relief flooded through him, so intense it nearly made his head spin. But something... there was something in her words, something in the words she used that alerted him that there might be more.

  "Sent here?"

  Expression troubled, she nodded. "I think Rhiannon had something to do with it."

  Another kind of anger filled him at those words. "I suspected this from the beginning, did I not? Next will you be telling me that it is one of Rhiannon's spells that binds me to you?"

  Megan blanched at that, misery and pain shadowing her mobile face. "I would hope not." She told him quietly. "But you cannot swear it is not so."

  "No." Tears filled her expressive eyes.

  He forced himself not to let the sight of them move

  him. His half-sister had talked about legends and prophecy ever since he could remember. She wanted him to embrace that in him which was faerie and renounce mankind forever.

  He, of course, would have none of it. Especially since it had been faeries and their magic who had destroyed his family.

  The idea that Rhiannon might have used Megan to lure him into doing as she wished sat ill with him.

  Still, none of this was Megan’s fault. If anything, she’d been an innocent pawn in Fae schemes.

  "We will speak again later." Turning his back to her to indicate the conversation was done, he once again urged the war horse into a trot.

  Behind him, she heaved a great sigh. "What Rhiannon had to say seemed important, Kenric."

  He didn't answer. Where Rhiannon was concerned, everything seemed important.

  Doggedly, she pressed on. "She said it concerned the entire fate of Rune."

  If she thought to gain his attention by such a statement, she was sorely mistaken. Years of hearing his sister's dramatic pronouncements had inured him to such things.

  "She said," Her voice was soft, so soft he had to strain to hear it, "that you needed me."

  Startled, he nearly turned
to look at her. At the last moment, he stopped himself, knowing if he looked at her now, she would be able to see the depth of his emotion in his eyes.

  Instead, he swallowed and took a deep breath. "Mayhap I do." He told her, his voice steady and calm, thinking of the land and the family he hoped to raise. "In that my sister is correct."

  It was not a declaration of love; he knew she realized that. In time she would come to value his frank

  truthfulness. He would never lie to her, nor speak honeyed words that would ring false upon her ears. This was all he could give her - the truth. And the truth of it was that Rhiannon had been absolutely correct. He needed Megan in a way even he did not pretend to understand.

  "We near the border of England and Wales." He told her, hoping to distract her.

  Instead, she fell silent, lost in her own thoughts. He watched the landscape, alert for any signs of danger, and planning what words he might use when they finally found Megan's Roger. The words would have to be persuasive for, if Roger had half a brain, Kenric knew the other man would not willingly let a prize like Megan go. Even if she had planned to break off their betrothal.

  He longed to put an end to this farce, this search for a man who didn't seem to want to be found. Therefore, though it would be a long ride, he would go to the one place a man of Roger's stature could not hide. London.

  Though Kenric himself had never left Wales, he had many connections there, from his father and half-brother's days at court, and wouldn't hesitate to use them. Even if Roger did not wish to be found, Kenric would work his connections to find him.

  #

  Once Kenric went into his taciturn mode, Megan knew from experience that asking any more questions would be futile. Instead, she pondered his comment that he needed her. Needed her how? Needed her body? Needed her for the reward she had promised him, the land? Did he really intend to return her to Roger, even though she'd told him she intended to break the engagement?

  Her heart grew heavy at the thought. Kenric had taken her body and her heart and soul as well. He had told her that she belonged to him, but in medieval times that could mean anything. He could have meant simply that she was his ward, until he relinquished custody to the man who would become her husband.

  Thinking about such things made her head spin. Feeling the beginnings of a monster headache, she concentrated instead on the scenery.

  This land of so long ago seemed so pristine and untouched. Rolling green hills dotted with sheep, the occasional crofter's hut, and the endless blue sky. No pollution or traffic or noise.

  And the weather! She'd always heard it rained a lot, but so far the stretch of brilliant sunny days seemed unbroken. White fluffy clouds dotted the azure sky, and the light breeze contained the fresh bite of early spring. No doubt it would be different in the cities and the villages. The lack of plumbing and medieval ignorance of hygiene made the thought daunting. She was glad they'd never had to go to a city so far in their travels.

  Then the thought hit her. England. Why would Kenric be taking her there? Because he thought her Lord Roger was English, and meant to find him by any means possible.

  She had to ask. "Where exactly are we going in England?"

  He didn't even turn his head. "London."

  Her heart sank. Great, just great. "Why?" She asked, her voice coming out a squeak.

  "I have connections there."

  "Connections?" This kept getting worse and worse.

  "Aye. Though I am bastard, my father was a Baron. His name is known in London. I will use this to locate your Roger."

  She wished he'd quit saying your Roger in such a brusque tone. After all, she had told him she meant to break off the engagement. In this at least, she hadn't lied.

  “Why? I’ve already told you I have no intention of marrying him.”

  “I wish to make certain he has no claim to you. Now or in the future.”

  Great. Closing her eyes, swaying to the rocking movement of Lancelot's gait, she tried to decide what to do. Kenric would make a fool of himself asking among the noblemen of medieval London for a man who didn't exist.

  She owed it to him to tell him the truth.

  But would he believe her? And would he hate her after he knew?

  "How long will it take to get to London?" Deliberately, she kept her tone light. She needed a time frame so she had to prepare some sort of acceptable way to tell him. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she'd lost her mind.

  "Tis a long ride. But there are many villages between here and there. Mayhap in one of those we will find news of Roger."

  Panic flooded through her. Somehow she would have to find a way to tell him. And make him believe it.

  She had to tell him the truth. Now. But how to say it? Should she just blurt it out, as in Hey Kenric, guess what? I'm from the future? As she ran the words through her mind, she knew one thing. If he didn't immediately question her sanity, he would be furious when he puzzled through to her lie. She knew how important the land was to him; knew too it was only the promise of this land that had kept him traipsing all over the countryside with her.

  She had promised him his heart's desire and now would yank it away. A low ache settled in her breastbone, near her heart. Though she hadn't known Kenric then, dangling such a carrot in front of a man like him now was inexcusable. But what else could she have done? She thought back to her abject terror, waking in the freezing cave with a huge barbarian warrior towering over her. She'd said anything she could think of, anything that would keep him from harming her.

  Then, once she'd realized he would not hurt her, she'd said anything to keep him by her side. She hadn’t realized she’d actually hurt him, hadn’t even conceived of such a possibility until it was far too late.

  Now it was time to pay the piper.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "Kenric," she began, heart pounding so loudly it was a wonder he didn’t hear it. "There is something I--"

  As if in answer to a prayer, or maybe only bidden by her turmoiled thoughts, Rhiannon appeared on the road ahead, shimmering in the muted sunlight.

  Megan's heart skipped a beat. Rhiannon knew the truth. Maybe she could help convince her brother.

  With a muttered oath, Kenric reined Lancelot to a halt.

  The Faerie queen inclined her head. "Greetings my brother, Megan."

  There was no warmth in his reply. "What is it now, Rhiannon?"

  "I must speak with you." Her silver eyes traveled to Megan, doubt and worry clouding them, "Both of you. It is a matter of great urgency."

  He snorted. "Everything is a matter of great urgency where you are concerned."

  She held up one pale hand. "This is truly serious."

  Megan frowned. Was it only her imagination, or did Rhiannon's normal shimmering aura seem dimmed? She also noticed the barely veiled panic in the Faerie woman's voice. She would have to convince Kenric to listen to his sister.

  "Kenric--"

  His voice hard, he cut her off. "We go to London. It has become imperative that I find this Lord Roger who is betrothed to Megan."

  Despite her best efforts, Megan felt herself color. Especially when Rhiannon's piercing gaze found her.

  "You have not told him?"

  Slowly, Megan shook her head. “I was about to, but-.”

  In front of her, he went still. "Told me what?" Though he did not turn his shaggy head, his icy tone left no doubt what his reception to the truth would be.

  A feeling of dread coiling inside of her, Megan opened her mouth to respond. "I--"

  Rhiannon forestalled her. "Let me help. Kenric, you will not find Roger in London."

  "What?" Kenric sounded puzzled. This time he turned, impaling Megan with a furious glare. "Is this true?"

  Shaken, she nodded.

  "When did you think to inform me of this?"

  She swallowed. "I was going to, once we stopped for the night." Best not to tell him she'd spent the day trying to work up the courage and find the right words. Remarka
bly her voice came out steady, totally unlike the jittering mess of nerves that she felt inside.

  "Kenric, Megan." Something in Rhiannon's soft tones silenced them both. "The hour grows late. It is long past time we had a talk, all three of us. What say you to making camp for the night here?"

  "I think it's a great idea." Megan said. Without waiting to hear Kenric's answer, she pushed away from him, sliding down from Lancelot's broad back unaided.

  Afraid to look at him, afraid something in her expression might give her away, she stumbled into the woods. With luck they would think she needed to relieve herself and would give her a few moments of privacy. Which was good, since she didn't want to disgrace herself. Any minute now, the meager contents of her stomach were going to come up her throat.

  Once she'd gained the shelter of the trees, she sat down on a log and tried to think. She didn't know if having Rhiannon there would be a hindrance or a help. Kenric seemed to regard his sister with, if not outright hostility, blatant suspicion. Surely finding out that Rhiannon was privy to Megan's secret while he was not was bound to infuriate him even more.

  Without even trying, she’d somehow made things worse. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath. She might as well get this over with.

  When she made her way back to the clearing, she found Rhiannon seated on a folded blanket, by a small campfire, while Kenric took care of Lancelot.

  "Come." Rhiannon greeted her with a broad smile, "Sit with me."

  Reluctantly, Megan sat. She cast a glance at Kenric, who continued to pretend they didn't exist. One look at his stiff and rigid profile told her he was furious.

  Rhiannon seemed blithely unaware of this. "Kenric," she called, "will you join us?"

  His answer was a indecipherable snarl. But at last, he put away the brush, patted Lancelot's shining coat, and headed towards them.

  When he lowered himself to the ground, it was on the opposite side of the fire. He kept his face averted from both of them, choosing instead to stare into the depths of the crackling flames.

  At once Rhiannon's expression went from solicitous to serious. "It is past time we had this talk."