Powerful Magic (37 page)
Authors: Karen Whiddon
Amazed at the lightness of heart this thought brought, he forced himself to think realistically.
Twas not easy, not with her arms wrapped tight around his waist, her full breasts pressing into his back.
God's teeth, he wanted to stop the war horse and take Megan now, in the fragrant grass under the warm spring sun.
Because he knew he would hold her in his arms again that eve, he forced himself to think of other things.
Like his very real problem - if he gave up the promise of land that would have been his reward for bringing her to Roger, how could he marry her?
Where would he keep her, how could they begin a family?
In essence, how could he have both his heart's desires?
"Magic," she murmured behind him.
Her voice sounded low, husky.
Perhaps the warm sun and the rocking motion of his horse's canter had made her drowsy.
He waited for her to continue.
"How is it that magic is so real here?"
He couldn't help it, he had to laugh.
"Is it so different in the place you come from?"
"Yes." She sighed, her breath stirring the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Very few believe in magic in my ti-- er,
place."
"But just because one denies its existence, magic still exists."
Though he spoke arrogantly, with the knowledge of experience, he was not prepared for her response.
"I think there must be belief."
She sounded sad, "For magic to work."
"No."
This time he did rein in the war horse and turn to face her.
"I have spent most of my life trying to deny its existence.
Yet still magic will not leave me.
I think it is there always, hidden just below the surface, waiting for me to tap into it."
She gave a slow nod, without any real enthusiasm.
Her huge golden eyes looked so serious that he wanted to kiss her and make her forget her doubts and fears.
Instead, he found himself recalling to her his sister's words, spoken to him as a child and callously disregarded until this moment.
"Each of us has the potential for magic.
After all, magic is nothing more than enhanced reality.
When you free your higher self from doubts and fears, you free that which has been available to you all along."
Doubt still clouded her face.
"I don't--"
Seized by an urgency he did not understand, he grasped her shoulders.
Why was he, who had spent his entire life denying magic, trying to make her believe in it?
"You led us from Lord Brighton's keep, remember? What was that if not manifestation of your magical potential?"
Her expression cleared.
She favored him with a slow smile so sensual that it set his blood to boiling.
"That was love."
He swallowed, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.
"Magic."
He said firmly.
When she did not dispute this, he reluctantly removed his hands from her and turned away.
If he gave in to the urge to kiss her, they might never go forward.
Her next words however, stopped him cold.
"I love you, Kenric of Blackstone."
He closed his eyes, knowing he must hurt her by his silence, but determined not to make any false declarations.
He needed her, desired her, wanted her - that would have to be enough.
But even so, he could not tell her.
Until he had found her Roger and had the betrothal dissolved, he could not even tell her that he, Kenric of Blackstone, meant to make her his wife.
He was only a landless bastard, and had to right to such lofty expectations.
Until he had the land, until he could keep her safe, he could make no promises.
For now, he had no choice.
He would do nothing to let her think he had turned from his original course.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At first, his silence hurt her.
Heart heavy, feeling like a stone had somehow lodged in her chest, Megan did not speak again. As they rode into the brilliant sunlight, she found herself remembering Rhiannon's words and thinking about the weight of the burdens Kenric carried.
He had lost his entire family.
Too afraid he might lose something if he came to care for it, he hadn't even named his horse.
No wonder he still refused to call the animal the name she'd chosen.
The desperate control that he held over his emotions was rigidly in place.
She could understand that; after all, losing one's entire family would mess anyone up.
Oh. My. God.
She sat up straight.
Myrddin
.
Kenric didn't know that Rhiannon suspected that Myrddin had killed Kenric's human family. She had to tell him about Myrddin.
But when?
How?
One thing she knew for sure - she would have to tell him soon.
One secret between them was more than enough.
After riding hard all day and into the waning sunlight, Megan was relieved when Kenric finally reined in a lathered Lancelot and announced that they were to stop for the night.
The air smelled of lilacs and grass, overlaid with the deep, mysterious scent of the forest.
Of necessity, Kenric had told her, they stayed close to the trees in case they needed to vanish quickly.
She watched as he brushed down Lancelot, enjoying the play of his muscles as he worked, laughing out loud at the way the horse closed his eyes and tilted his massive head in pure sensual enjoyment.
When this was done and Lancelot had begun to graze, they built a small fire.
"Kenric." she whispered, wanting only to be held as she figured out a way to tell him.
But he deftly sidestepped her clumsy attempt at a hug and, with a few muttered words, disappeared into the woods.
He'd said he'd gone to hunt small game for their supper.
This was reasonable, yet she could not shake the empty feeling that had sprung up at the way he avoided touching her.
Had she given her love too freely?
She thought of his lack of response to her avowal of love and the fear inside her became an ache.
Would he hold her tonight?
Make love to her?
He had told her she belonged to him, but what did that mean to a medieval man?
What did that mean to him?
The sky gradually darkened and still she sat, alone but for the war horse munching nearby.
Several times her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked away in determination.
She wanted Kenric.
She
needed
Kenric.
When he finally returned with a rabbit, she held her
breath, still hoping he might come to her, if only for warmth as the night air had grown brisk.
But, avoiding her eyes, he busied himself with making a bed on the other side of the fire.
In stunned silence she watched him, waiting for a look, a word, a smile - anything.
She might have been invisible, for all the attention he paid her.
The rabbit he'd killed turned on the spit, filling the
night air with the scent of roasting meat.
Mouth watering,
glumly she watched him cook it.
His expression grim, he concentrated on their meal as though his life depended on it.
"That smells wonderful."
She ventured.
He grunted.
Ok.
So he had some male version of PMS.
No doubt her declaration of love terrified him.
But why?
Roger
.
Despite his claim that she belonged to him, Kenric must still feel quilty as she was still betrothed to the other man.
Though technically she was, since she hadn't had a chance to break it off before the lightening struck her, if she wanted to split hairs, the engagement had never happened, at least not yet. Roger and modern Dallas were hundreds of years away, not to mention an entire continent.
Kenric removed the rabbit from the spit, slicing it with a wicked looking short dagger on to a hollow, wooden trencher.
This he placed between them, rocking back on his heels and indicating with a sweep of his hand that she was to eat first.
How could she tell him the truth when he acted as if he wished he were somewhere else, anywhere but with her?
Still, she had to try, while she still had this newfound courage.
"Kenric--"
"Not now."
His tone left no room for argument.
"Eat."
Fuming, she grabbed a handful of rabbit meat and crammed it in her mouth.
She nearly gagged, trying not to think of Peter Cottontail.
By pretending it was chicken, she managed to choke it down.
Then it dawned on her - it actually tasted pretty good.
Surprised, she took another handful, smaller this time.
She chewed it slowly, savoring the taste.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Reaching for more, she looked up and found Kenric watching her, a reluctant sort of smile curving his hard mouth.
Ah, the end of hostilities was in sight.
"What?"
She looked at her greasy fingers, popping another piece of meat in her mouth.
"I've never eaten rabbit before."
His silver eyes reflected his disbelief.
"Never?"
"Nope."
She went for another slice, unable to keep her hungry gaze from roaming over him.
"It's not half bad."
He nodded, finally helping himself to some meat.
Though he didn't speak again, his craggy features seemed much more relaxed.
Now was as good a time as any.
"I'm not going to marry Roger."
She blurted out the words, figuring she had to start somewhere.
His head snapped up.
She felt herself color.
Since the fire provided a dim sort of light, with luck he wouldn't be able to tell that she looked like a ripe tomato.
"Of course not."
The arrogant certainty of his tone pleased her.
"I told you, you are mine now."
Ok, that was her cue.
Megan leaned closer, giving in to the temptation to touch him.
She let her hand roam up the corded muscle of his arm, loving the steel she felt underneath the warm skin.
To her delight, he shuddered.
"Megan--"
"There are some things I need to tell you."
She said, nervousness making her voice quiver.
"But first, what do you mean, exactly, when you say I belong to you?"
With a sound of impatience, he captured her hand.
"Tis all that I can say, for now."
He told her, his features once again remote and hard, as hard as his voice.
"Until some things are settled, I cannot make promises."
This sounded suspiciously like the medieval form of "I don't want a commitment."
How could she tell him now, when she had no idea what he meant to do with her?
He still wanted to find Roger, to hand her over to a man he didn't even know, all so he could claim his
land
.
What would he do once he found out she was from another time, that there was no Roger in this time and place, no reward, no land?
Confused, aching, and anxious, she tried to eat more rabbit, the once succulent meant tasting as dry as ashes in her mouth.
When she finally fell asleep, a hard knot of dread coiled inside her stomach.
Hours later, she awoke.
Though it was still dark and the moon still hung full and ripe in the sky, she was wide awake.
Faintly, she could hear Kenric's even breathing, telling her he still slept.
She heard the far off sound of an owl hooting, then nothing.
Still, the skin on the back of her neck prickled, warning her that something had changed.
"You are right."
The soft tones were those of Rhiannon, Kenric's sister and the Queen of the Faerie land of Rune.
"My brother's mind is in as much turmoil as your own."
Slowly, Megan lifted herself up on her elbows, then sat up.
She smoothed her unruly hair with one hand and pulled the blanket around her more securely with the other.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised."
Rhiannon laughed, that lovely tinkling of bells that made Megan smile.
She glanced at Kenric, fully expecting this to wake him, but he slumbered on.
"I have used a light spell."
Rhiannon shrugged, one corner of her shapely mouth lifting in a grin.
"He will not awaken until it is time."
Megan nodded.
"I have come to talk to you about us helping each other."
The older woman's lovely eyes were sharp, her expression both serious and regal.
"Have you given it any thought?"
On the slight breeze, Megan caught the scent of wildflowers.
"I... I don't know."
How could she tell this woman, er faerie, that she had begun to doubt her own destiny?
How could she tell Rhiannon that she was no longer certain she wished to go back to modern day Dallas? How could she state in simple terms the love she now bore for Rhiannon's half-brother?
One look at the Faerie Queen's sympathetic gaze and Megan knew she wouldn't have to.
"You are soul mates."
Rhiannon nodded sagely.
"It was inevitable."
"But I am from the future."
Desperate to make her understand, Megan reached out and touched Rhiannon's hand.
"I am not supposed to be here.
What if something I do changes things in the future?"
"Everything happens for a reason."
So Ed had told her, back in Lord Brighton's castle.
It seemed that neither he nor Rhiannon could understand.
"This distance that separates us is too vast."
"No obstacles are too much for soul mates to overcome.
You must be together, and that is that."
"But this is
time
."
Pleading now, Megan leaned closer.
"Time
and
space."
"Time is relative.
So is space."
"Good Lord."
Agitated, Megan sprang to her feet.
"You sound like Edmyg.
Why is it that no one will give me a straight answer?"
"Edmyg?"
Megan realized that Rhiannon had gone very, very still.
And her skin, normally a soft glowing peach, had become the color of chalk.
"What's wrong?"
"Edmyg.
Where did you hear this name?"
Rhiannon's voice trembled.
A haunted look, deep with sorrow, flashed across her beautiful face.
Stunned, Megan could only stare.
Great, any minute now Rhiannon would tell her that Edmyg, whose name meant
honor
, was some sort of evil wizard or something.
"I met him in an enchanted castle, er keep, a day's ride from here.
Kenric met him too."