Powerful Magic (33 page)

          
Kenric's arms tightened around her and he groaned, deep in his throat.
 

          
The sound excited her.
 
This time though, she remembered where they were.
 
Taking his hand, she pulled him along with her towards her room.
 
Edmyg watched them go, never pausing in his argument with Lord Brighton, who never noticed as Megan led Kenric out of the hall.

          
Silent, he wore a shuttered expression as he allowed her to pull him along.
 
It was only when they reached the heavy oak door of her room that she paused, weighing the risk against her aching desire.
 
She could get pregnant since they had no protection.
 
What did people do for protection in this time?
 
Condoms hadn't even been invented yet.
 
In her other life, in the normal world, she'd been on the pill, though naturally she hadn't been able to take any since the lightening strike had sent her here.

          
If this were only a dream, she wouldn't have to worry about such mundane facts as birth control.
   

          
Her entire body throbbed, protesting the direction her thoughts had taken.
 
Kenric released her hand, waiting,

watching, leaving it up to her to make the choice.
 
Absurdly, this touched her.
 
A medieval warrior such as he must be used to simply taking what he wanted.
 

          
Damn
.
 
She made a sound, a small cry of protest, a
no
that wasn't quite a
no
.
 

          
That apparently was enough for Kenric.
 
With a slight nod of his head, he spun on his heel and vanished down the hall.

          
Stunned, Megan could only gape after him.
 
He'd wanted her, she knew.
 
She'd felt the force of his arousal, seen it in the darkening of his eyes, the harshness of his quickened breathing.

 
         
He'd wanted her yet he'd walked away.
 
Why?
 
Was it possible he felt something for her, something more than just lust, something like she was beginning to feel for him?

          
He'd touched her with more than his body.
 

          
She'd never known a man like him.
 
And she was very much afraid she never would again.

#

          
By the time he reached his room, Kenric's entire body hurt.
 
With the scent of Megan still on him, he could barely walk.
 
He felt as hard and randy as a lad of six and ten.
 

          
Megan's body fit his as though she were made for him.
 

          
Yet, despite the consuming desire he felt for her, he wanted more.
 
More than he had a right to want, more than he could ever have, with her promised to another.
 

          
For the first time since he'd agreed to help her, he almost wished that this Roger would never be found.
 
Almost, if it weren't for the promise of land, his reward.
 

          
All that he had ever wanted was within his grasp, yet now it no longer seemed enough.
 
He felt hollow, confused.
 
When he closed his eyes, instead of visions of verdant fields and rolling hills, he could only see Megan's amber eyes, dark with passionate promise.
 

          
By all that was holy, how had this happened?
 

          
Stalking to the window, he wanted to punch something, anything.
 
If Lord Brighton had lists, Kenric would have been first in line to fight.
 
As it was, he stared out into the
 
moonlit night, over the oddly barren fields, and tried to make himself remember his dream, his plans.
 
Doing so had always calmed him in the past, he would force it to be that way now.
 

          
Somehow, he would have to banish these foolish desires and stick to the task at hand.
 
Somehow he had to put thoughts of Megan, and the conflicting feelings she evoked in him, far from his mind.

          
That night he slept not a wink.

          
At first light Kenric paced the confines of his room.
 
He had been dressed for hours, dressed and spoiling for a fight.
 
Sleep had eluded him, instead of a respite from the day's demands, he had been tormented by erotic thoughts and a rebellious, needy body.
 

          
He needed to fight in the lists.
 
He would see Lord Brighton and have something organized.
 
Maybe once he'd trounced a few dozen men, he would be able to regain his normal calm demeanor.

          
As long as he avoided Megan, that is.
 
Though how on earth he could manage to do that, he didn't know.
 

          
He headed down toward the great hall in search of something with which to break his fast.
 
Lord Brighton was there before him.
 
Thankfully, he saw no sign of Megan.
 

          
Standing before Lord Brighton, Kenric outlined his needs in a tone that brooked no argument.

          
Still, Lord Brighton had no desire to cooperate.
 
"Lists?"
 
he repeated, his scornful tone mirroring the disbelief on his florid features.
 
"What need have we of lists?
 
No one can leave.
 
There will never be a reason to fight."

          
Gods teeth, was the man so blind to what went on in the world around him?
 
Even now, Baron Aldridge to the West used armies to amass land.
 
Who was to say when he may decide to turn his attention to Lord Brighton's unoccupied and unused estates?

          
Then Lord Brighton's words hit home. Though he had mentioned this "spell" before, Kenric had thought it mere nonsense.
 

          
"You truly believe this, that no one can leave?"

          
The other man laughed, a guffaw so hearty his belly shook.
 
"Edmyg told you.
 
That's part of the spell.
 
Anyone who enters this keep can never leave it."

          
Kenric didn't want to believe him, but something in Lord Brighton's voice bespoke the truth.
 

          
"Edmyg believes you can help us."
 

          
Narrowing his eyes, Kenric shook his head.
 
"A spell such as this must be a powerful one.
 
I have little practice with such things.
 
I am a warrior, a fighter.
 
Not a mage.
 
I don't think that I--"

          
All traces of humor vanished from Lord Brighton's face.
 
Uncaring that Kenric's hand still rested on the hilt of his sword, the older man gripped Kenric's arm.
 

          
"You have to."
 
His stark expression reflected his desperation.
 
"For if you don't, we shall never be free from this place."

          
The import of the other man's words sunk in.
 
Kenric refused to believe them.
 

          
"Go ahead and try."
 
Releasing Kenric's arm, Lord Brighton waved a hand towards the window.
 
"It is always thus, at first.
 
My daughter's new husband thought to take her back to his own keep, until he found he could not leave. Mayhap you should go and talk to him."

          
"Talk?"
 
Kenric spat the word, "I am tired of talk.
 
I will have Lady Megan make ready and we will leave this morn."

          
Shrugging, the other man flashed him a wan smile.
 
"Go ahead.
 
Try.
 
Seek me out when you have finished."
 
Shaking his shaggy red head, Lord Brighton moved away.
 

          
Kenric stared after him.
 
The certainty of the other man's convictions bothered him.
 
Yet it made no sense.
 
Why would anyone want to cast a spell to imprison people in a keep?
 
Even a keep as large and prosperous as this one?
 
With no crops from outlying fields, and no cattle nor sheep, he wondered how they managed to eat and clothe themselves.
 

          
Grimacing, Kenric cursed. For a moment he'd almost fallen into the trap of believing in this spell nonsense.
 
He snagged a hunk of cheese and a piece of bread and went in search of Megan.
 

#

          
After an exhausting night of tossing and turning, it was nearly dawn before Megan finally fell into an fitful sleep.
 
Even then, she dreamed; dreams of Kenric, dreams that made her moan and writhe in the narrow, lumpy bead.
 

          
When she could stand it no more, she rose and splashed some water on her face.
 
Running her hand through her tangled hair, she supposed she should be glad there was no mirror.
 
If she looked as bad as she felt, then she must appear a hag.
 
No wonder Kenric didn't want her.

          
She couldn't believe how badly it had hurt when he walked away after kissing her.
 
Kissing her
?
 
Hah!
 
It had been more of a possession than a kiss, as if he'd reached into her very soul with his touch and his lips.
  
She'd been more aroused, more enchanted, than ever before in her life.

          
And then he'd strode away without a backward glance.
 
As if he hadn't wanted her at all.

          
His body, at least, wanted her.
 
She knew she hadn't imagined his arousal.
 
Sadly she realized that would not be

enough where he was concerned.
 
She wanted more.
 
She wanted... but then she had no right to want anything when she fully intended returning home to her own time, her own people.
 
To a life without Kenric.

          
Stunned, she froze.
 
In desperation she tried to conjure up pictures of her trendy North Dallas condo, of the cute red BMW she drove.
 
Of the clubs she frequented, the charity organizations where she volunteered, and the friends she hung out with, even the hair salon where she had her hair routinely highlighted and her nails done.
 

          
But it all seemed distant, like someone else's history.
 
How meaningless, how trivial, it all seemed now.
 
Her unpainted nails were ragged and uneven and the highlights had no doubt faded from her hair.
 
But she felt alive, carefree.
 
And happier than she could ever remember being.
 
This place, this time with its unlimited possibilities, gave her peace and joy.

          
This man, Kenric of Blackstone, gave her all she'd ever wanted in a mate.
 
Did she really want to give this all up to return to her former existence?
 
To her bank statements and stock dividends, to the charities where she sat on the board, to the meaningless social functions and faithless friends among Dallas's social elite?
 
To traffic and nine-to-five and pollution and all the other harem-scarum things that made up life in the modern world?
 
To Roger, with his thousand cruelties and his burning desire to be made beneficiary in her will?