Powerful Magic (39 page)

          
"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."