Powerful Magic (30 page)

          
"One of these will surely be to your liking, milady." The older of the two said, flashing a shy smile and bobbing her head.

          
Despite herself, Megan moved closer. The materials were finely made, rich and heavy, and embroidered with a finer stitch than any machine could ever make.

          
Everyone of them looked exactly her size.

          
And the colors - there was every shade of blue imaginable, a deep, forest green, and some lovely mahogany browns.
 
But the gown that drew her, almost like a magical spell had been cast on it, was a dress of shimmering amber, that looked almost golden in the fading light.
 

          
It was a dress for a fairytale princess, a magical garment that seemed to promise to make the woman lucky enough to wear it more beautiful than any dream.

          
Though she somehow knew it would fit perfectly, it

suddenly seemed important that she try this dress on.
 
Just to see how it looked.
 
Of course, any of the others would surely do just as well, it was only that this one seemed, well...
made for her
.
 

          
Megan shook her head.
 
She certainly wasn't foolish enough to think an article of clothing would possess magical powers, not at all.
 
Though in light of all that had happened to her so far, she wouldn't say anything was impossible.
 
Not here.

          
Before she could change her mind, she reached for it. One of the maids gasped.
 

          
"What?"
 
Clutching the dress to her, Megan's heart sank.
 
Both women wore identical looks of horrified fascination.

          
"Nothing, my lady."
 
The older one stammered, her voice shaking as she looked down.
 
"Tis just that..."

          
Megan waited.
 
When it became apparent that the woman wasn't going to finish her statement, she sighed.
 
"Please tell me."

          
"That kirtle, milady."
 
The younger girl came closer,

pointing to the gorgeous gown Megan still held in her arms.

"It was to be for her wedding.
 
She changed her mind at the last moment and wore another."

          
"A wedding dress?"
 
Regarding the golden dress dubiously, Megan couldn't see it.
 
"Did she not wear white?"

          
The two women goggled at her like they thought she'd lost her mind.
 

          
"White, milady?"
 
The older woman said hesitantly.
 
"That would not have been a good portent."

          
Maybe things were different in this time.
 
"So she didn’t wear this dress?
 
Why not?"

          
"Her husband bought her another one.
 
A suitable gown, of deep midnight blue."

          
Since they appeared to think she should understand this, Megan nodded.
 
"Why did she not take this with her to wear another time, if it was her choice for a wedding gown?"

          
An expression of sadness came over the elder's worn face.
   
"Take it with her?"
 
She shook her head.
 
"Like all of us, she could not leave.
 
They have moved to new chambers.
 
Aye, she is still here, and her husband grows more unhappy each day."

          
Could not leave?
 
Megan didn't comment, not understanding enough of the customs to say anything.
 
And, if Lord Brighton's daughter and her new husband were here, she did not want to gossip about them before even meeting them.
 

          
She fingered the beautiful material of the golden dress, not sure what to do.
 
More than anything, she wanted to wear it.
 

          
Decision made, she lifted her chin.
 
"Then, if it wasn't worn in the wedding, and she did not take it, I will wear it."

          
The two women exchanged a quick glance but didn't comment.
 
Instead, they came forward to help her, showing her the undergarment she must wear and offering to do her hair for her.
 
Since she had no earthly idea what hairstyle might be fashionable, Megan agreed.
 
When Kenric finally saw her he wouldn't know what to do with her.
 
She remembered the warmth in his gaze when he'd seen her in the sapphire gown at his sister's castle, er, keep.
 
Though he hadn't said so in words, he hadn't been able to keep the admiration from his expression.
 
That night, she'd known he found her beautiful.
 
Not some boyish looking girl wearing his too-large clothes, but a desirable woman.
 

          
For some reason, she wanted him to see her so again.

          
When she'd dressed and they'd put her hair up in some elaborate coil, the two serving women led her down the hall.
 
Stopping in front of an ornately carved oak door, they informed her in breathless whispers that this was Lord Brighton's room.

          
From the blushes and giggles, Megan gathered that both women found their Lord to be uncommonly attractive.
 
And, she mused, he might be, if one liked freckled, red haired, blue eyed giants.

          
Just as she thought that, the massive door swung open.
 
Clad in a sky blue tunic that matched his eyes, Lord Brighton gazed at her, his mouth pursed in a soundless oh.
 

          
"My lady."
 
Taking her hand, he pressed a light kiss to the back of it.
 
Then, instead of releasing her as she

expected, he kept her hand trapped within his huge paw and

stared at her, a smile playing on his lip.
 
"You are lovely."

          
Megan wanted to fidget.
 
Instead, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to unobtrusively tug her hand away.
 
She met with no success.

          
"Absolutely stunning."
 
He breathed. "I had no idea."
 

          
Darting a quick glance at his face, Megan's heart sank.
 
In her desire to make herself beautiful for Kenric, she'd forgotten his instructions that she blend into the background.
 
She'd wanted to see admiration on Kenric's face.
 
Instead, she saw reverence on the florid face of the Lord of this keep.
 
Admiration and more.
 
Megan saw, quite clearly as she stared back at the man who gripped her hand so tightly, an arrogant sort of lust.
 
In that instant she realized Lord Brighton had decided to possess her, no matter what obstacles lay in his path.

          
Telling herself it was her overactive imagination, Megan finally succeeded in tugging her hand free.
 
Immediately as she did so, Lord Brighton took her arm.
 

          
"We go to eat."
 
He announced, the silky undertones of his voice letting her know that he had plans for her.
 
He furthered this by squeezing her arm and hauling her up against his side so tightly that she might have been plastered there.

          
Megan swallowed and nodded, wishing with all her heart that she chosen one of the other dresses, or perhaps remained in her drab and overlarge disguise.
  
This could make things more difficult when Kenric arrived, which she prayed would be soon.

          
They descended into the same great hall that Lord Brighton had dragged Megan across earlier.
 
Now great long tables had been placed at intervals throughout the room, reminded her of a company banquet in some hotel room.
 
She'd attended several of those with Roger, dressed in glittering designer dresses.
 
Though none of those dresses, she thought with a sigh, were even a tenth as fine as the one she now wore.
 
Which, judging from the gleam of lust she saw in Lord Brighton's gaze, wasn't a good thing.

          
One table had been elevated above the others.
 
As Lord Brighton pulled her along with him up the dias, she realized it was his table and he expected her to sit up there with him.
 
Though she knew it would be considered a position of honor to these people, his also meant she would be on display.
 
Everyone in the room would be able to study every move she made while she tried to eat.

          
Lord Brighton pulled out a chair and courteously helped her sit, all the while trying to look down the front of her dress.
 
When he lowered his bulk into the chair next to her, he made a point out of moving his leg so that his massive thigh rested against hers.
 

          
Megan scooted her chair a little to the right.
 

          
Smirking, Lord Brighton did the same.
 
Then, as she

prepared to try and move her chair again, he put his arm around her shoulders, effectively trapping her.

          
"You are my honored guest."
 
He growled, his expression stern.
 
"All of my keep will see this as we sup tonight."

          
Megan began to pray that Kenric would hurry.

          
The hall began to fill.
 
Fascinated, despite her uncomfortable position next to Lord Brighton, Megan watched as people of every sort filed into the room.
 
Closest to the dias were large groups of men.
 
Huge men, some in sweat stained, bloodied tunics, others in some rough material that looked uncomfortable, even though it was clean.
 
Something about the way they carried themselves reminded her of Kern and the mercenaries she'd met.
 
And of Kenric, though none of them was nearly as good to look at as he.

          
They looked like what they were, warriors.
 
No doubt these men made up Lord Brighton's fighting force, knights or something.
 
Fervently she hoped Kenric would not have to fight them all at once.

          
Servants began bringing the food.
 
Since she sat at the high table, they were served first.
 
The aroma of spices and roasted meat filled the air.
 
She noticed that most of the

people below shared odd shaped, long bowls.
 
The bowls were
 
made of wood and more than once she heard them referred to as trenchers.
 

          
Through it all, Megan barely ate.
 
Instead, she watched the door for Kenric. Surely he would show up soon.

          
Lord Brighton squeezed her shoulders in a vise-like grip.
 
           
"Expecting someone?"
 
He asked, still grinning.
 
She saw from the expression in his eyes that he believed himself besotted by her.
 
Realizing she would have to say something, do something to discourage him, she racked her brain for an idea.
 
She had to simply turn him off, not make him hate her, because she certainly didn't want to end up in the dungeon.

          
Slowly, Megan nodded, still thinking.
 
"I am."

          
"Kenric of Blackstone?"

          
"Yes."
 
Tight lipped now, the overpowering odor of the meat made her feel ill.
 
"He will come for me."