“He had two blades,” Keenan said (7 page)

“Channel my powers?” Serena whispered.

“Aye, I feel,” the woman hesitated. “I feel something in ye, something,” the woman’s eyes narrowed as if trying to see more clearly, “something like me.”

“Thank you,” Serena said to the woman.

“I am Merewin of Northumbria. Who are ye?” the woman asked as the mist came up again around her. “I know ye.”

“Merewin? Wait,” Serena called and waved her hands futilely against the fog. “Don’t go,” she said and pawed at the white diaphanous clouds. “I need the crystal.”

A weight clamped down on her shoulders, fingers pushed firmly into skin. She smelled pine and leather. Keenan. Her eyes still closed, he shook her gently. He took one of his large, rough hands and circled his palm along her cheek. Serena felt a flush run down her neck and through her entire body.

“Wake up, lass.”

Serena blinked several times and opened her eyes to stare into stormy gray ones. “Where am I?”

“In the lowlands, still, with me.”

The highland burr brought her fully awake, and she glanced around the clearing. The mist and the two women were gone. The ancient oaks still arched knowingly over her, allowing only a little ray of sun to come down through their branches. Several dragonflies flitted around and shot off into the trees. She tilted her face up to the sun and blinked several times.

Keenan pulled her closer, and grasped her chin. He tilted her head so that the rays of light warmed her face. Serena tried to move to block the blinding light, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Lass, yer eyes…” he hesitated. “They are…they are not a natural color.”

Serena pulled her chin from his grasp. “They are unusual, but not unnatural,” she said and scowled at him. He stood watching like she had grown talons and a tail. “They’re mostly blue with some little flecks of red in them,” she said waving her hands as if it were trivial. “The colors blend making them look rather, well violet.” She was used to the strange looks from people over the color of her eyes. Mari said they were beautiful like blue amethyst, but Serena would give just about anything to have brown eyes instead. Although she withstood the scrutiny from most, somehow she didn’t want Keenan to think her unnatural.

Keenan reached out and touched her hair where the sun warmed it. “And yer hair,” he said and swallowed hard. “Yer hair, it is as if it flamed with fire.”

“It is reddish in the sun,” Serena said, yanking her hair from his fingers. She didn’t like the strange look on the warrior’s face. He looked almost frightened, this mighty man, sword strapped to his broad back.

“Why did ye come to this clearing? Ye seemed to be in a trance,” he said suspiciously.

“I was dreaming. I walk in my slumber at times, especially as I travel north.” Serena shrugged. “It is one of my,” she hesitated. “oddities.” It was the word Mari used with love to explain her differences.

Keenan rubbed his hand through his hair, eyes shuttered, lips tight. “It seems ye have many oddities.”

Serena was about to start naming some of his oddities, but she couldn’t think of any. She glanced down at her feet and gasped. Scattered all around the grove grew clumps of feverfew and burdock. Right in front of her were two bunches in a heap, their exposed roots muddy. The sun sparkled on something among them. Serena bent down and fished out the small crystal. Her heart thumped up into her ears.

“Thank you,” she murmured and tucked the rock in her skirt pocket.

“What is that ye have?”

“It is but a rock I found that can help ease William’s pain. And these plants, quickly help me harvest some. As many as you can hold.”

Serena led a frowning Keenan, arms filled with feverfew and burdock, back toward the cottage. The sun began its descent. Robert had gathered some dry twigs to start a fire. Outside in the remaining light, Serena spoke to herself as she recited the recipes for the cures.

Turning, she caught Robert and Keenan watching. It didn’t matter if they thought her peculiar. She had a brother to save.

“Ye can roast these,” Keenan said to Robert and handed him two hares. “I’ll rest for a few hours before we ride.”

Serena looked up at the retreating figure of the warrior. He had remained awake all day to guard them. Would illness seize him with so little rest? Serena went inside to brew the herbs for William in the lapping firelight. Serena mixed the ground burdock with whisky and sieved it through a relatively clean piece of cloth. She placed the poultice on William’s wound and bound it in fresh linen.

Serena poured small sips of the feverfew and burdock between William’s lips. He seemed to drink it. She turned toward the opposite corner where Keenan rested. He lay with his face to the wall, a mountain of sleeping warrior. Robert turned the skewered rabbits over the flame. No one watched her.

Serena fished out the crystal and laid it on William’s cleaned and bandaged wound. She covered it loosely with her hands, closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts into a single thread. Instead of pulling images out, she pushed positive thoughts, her life energy down the strand and into William. The crystal warmed against her palm until it burned. Serena pulled back on her thoughts and the crystal cooled. She concentrated again, this time controlling how much energy she funneled through the stone into the wound. Would it help William?

After long minutes of concentration a pressure began to push into Serena’s forehead. Her limbs ached and seemed to weigh more than they should. Channeling magic took effort. A little more sleep would rejuvenate her. She let the flow of magic die away and tucked the stone into her pocket. Serena surrendered to exhaustion as she lay down next to William’s pallet, her eyes moving involuntarily to the mountain in the corner.

The fire snapped behind her, shooting red splashes of light across the back wall. The mountain of sleeping warrior had moved. Firelight and shadow sliced across Keenan’s face, his eyes open, unblinking, assessing. Serena’s breath hitched in her chest as the warrior stared. How long had he been watching?

Chapter 4

Keenan pushed them hard through two more nights, stopping to rest during the day. The Romany lad seemed to be stable. Serena continued to pour drinks down him. Keenan watched closely. Since he’d found her talking to trees in the clearing and seen her violet eyes in sunlight, he had tried to keep his distance. Which had been impossible, since they rode the same horse.

She rode snug up against Keenan over the dark windy moors and through the narrow paths that lead to his homeland. Her head lay back nestled below his shoulder over his heart. She hadn’t moved, and her gentle breathing told him she had fallen asleep. His arm tightened to better support her soft body. He breathed in the scent radiating from her and stared out into the starry night as the clouds chased one another across the open sky.

“She must be the one,” he whispered. The tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. She was the witch in the prophecy, and he was bringing her home to his brother. As he should.

When they reached the western Highlands, Keenan bade them sleep the rest of the night in a familiar glade of trees. They would travel the rest of the way by daylight. He purposely settled Serena across the fire from him. Distance, he needed distance to erase the feel of her soft body and alluring smell from his mind.

Keenan woke to the sound of light footsteps on the stone strewn path next to their crude camp. Dawn was just a dim light to wash the east silhouetting the spine of a mountain range. Serena disappeared into the shadows of the trees onto the moors beyond. Perhaps she only sought some privacy. But she could get lost on the moors in the darkness or twist her ankle on the spongy peat.

Keenan rose. William slept across from the gray remains of their small fire. Robert slept propped up against a comfortable boulder. They didn’t stir as Keenan moved noiselessly past them, past the boulder, past the copse of trees at the edge of the moor. Serena walked slowly several yards ahead of him.

“Serena, where are ye roaming to? Ye should still be asleep,” he called loud enough that she should have heard him easily above the gentle breeze that skidded constantly across the land. She continued without slowing, without a backwards glance.

“Serena lass, stop. Ye could fall,” he said louder, his voice sounding like a shout in the quiet so pronounced just before dawn. Still she walked. He looked behind him at the dawn edging the mountain range. She walked west, directly west. She said that she tended to sleepwalk the farther north she traveled. One of her oddities.

In a slow jog across the spongy earth, he caught up to Serena. He stopped in front of her. She walked on. Her eyes, half open, did not register him at all. Her tangled mass of hair caught the glow of sun as it topped the edge of the world behind her. She breathed slowly, her lips parted as if she slumbered.

“Serena.” He stood directly in her path, and she walked right into his chest. He gripped her shoulders and stooped to look into her half closed eyes. “She’s still asleep,” he murmured and shook her softly. No change. He stepped aside and Serena began to walk again.

Stepping along her side, Keenan turned her to the left. In her sleep, Serena squared herself to the west, and continued. Keenan looked out over the vast moor, west toward the sea. What lay in the direction that pulled at her? Serena of the Faw Romany tribe contained more mystery than clarity.

Keenan caught up and stepped in front only to have her run into his chest once again. There she stood, asleep. He sighed in exasperation, picked her up and carried her back to camp. Robert woke startled as Keenan walked into the clearing with Serena. The older man raised his eyebrows at what must look like two lovers returning from a tryst away from prying eyes and ears.

“She walks west in her sleep,” Keenan said without hushing his voice. The explanation sounded doubtful to his own ears so he nodded for emphasis. Robert looked skeptical.

Keenan shrugged and set Serena back on the woolen blanket. After a moment she sat up again. Keenan and Robert watched as she rose silently and began to walk once again.

“See, man,” Keenan spread his hands wide, palms up. “West, she goes west.”

“Bloody odd that,” Robert said. And then after a moment, “are ye going to fetch her again?”

Keenan followed her out of the grove of trees. Bowing his head, he looked straight into her face. “Wake, Serena.” She didn’t wake. He shook her gently. “Wake, lass,” he shouted. “Time to head north.” She looked entranced. Keenan frowned. What would wake her?

Keenan placed his hands on her shoulders. He wound a hand in thick tresses and pulled to tilt her face. His eyes studied every detail of her lovely translucent skin, how it lay soft against high cheekbones and a delicate nose, how a sprinkling of freckles dotted the contours. Dark lashes were nearly closed. Parted lips pouted slightly, softly pink just for a man’s touch.

So he touched, first with the thumb of his free hand, and then with his mouth. He kissed tentatively at first not wanting to startle. She kissed him back slowly, tilting her face to better meet him. Her response shattered his resolve to keep his distance. He groaned and pulled her against his body, feeling soft curves melt along his length. Perhaps it was he who deepened the kiss, perhaps it was the lass. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the heat igniting between them. The spicy warm smell, the taste, the feel of her lush body pressed against his hardness.

Keenan pulled back and saw violet eyes open. She stared at him, her face flushed. Passion lurked in those brilliant, mythical eyes. Honest passion. He cupped her cheek with his free hand and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. He kissed her again. Serena answered back with as much passion as he gave and molded her body closely. He ran hands down to cup her sweet bottom through the skirts. She reached up on tiptoe and nuzzled intimately against him. Keenan’s mind turned wild as he scanned the terrain in his memory. There must be a secluded place nearby.

The loud coughing dragged him back from the edge of madness. Bloody Mackay. He broke off the kiss and set Serena down. She looked totally befuddled.

“I’ll just break camp since I see yer about ready to head out,” Robert said. “Seems ye found a way to wake the lass.” Robert chuckled and turned back toward their camp.

“What? Where?” Serena looked around. “What happened?”

“Ye walk in yer sleep.”

“West.”

“Aye, west.”

“One of my oddities.”

“Ye have quite a few,” he said.

“So you’ve pointed out.” She frowned. “And kissing someone walking in their sleep?”

Keenan grinned. “I suppose that would be a new oddity for me.”

Serena’s confusion relaxed into a grin. “Good.”

“Good?” He couldn’t help but smile back at her mischievous tone.

“Yes, good. You need a few oddities, else you’d be dull.”

“Dull?” Keenan ran his hand through his hair. “Oh for a life that is dull.” He pulled her hand. “Let’s go. Ye’ll see Kylkern Castle this day.”

As they walked back to camp, Keenan continued to hold her hand as if it were the most natural thing to do. “For future reference, lass, is there any other way to wake ye when ye walk in yer slumber?”

Serena shrugged. “Mari and William used to tie me down until I woke.”

Somehow Keenan found that exceedingly funny, and laughter echoed in the small copse of trees. His laughter was infectious, and Serena began to laugh as they swung their hands back and forth.

****

As they broke through the tree line opposite Loch Awe Keenan halted his horse. Rising above the clear waters sat Kylkern Castle. Its three granite towers rose majestically toward the mountain guarding its back. White spots of wool grazed along the mountainside. The castle sat on a peninsula that jutted into the loch with a small village of sturdy cottages before its walls.

He dismounted and lowered Serena. Keenan walked to the edge of the trees and picked some needles from the pine that bordered the water. Breaking the little needles between the nails of his thumb and forefinger he held them up to his face. He inhaled the fresh pine scent and looked out over the water as the sun began to set behind the beinn. Shadows of violet and red orange reflected on the glassy water.

“It is so beautiful,” she whispered, sounding awestruck.

She was so beautiful. Her open admiration of his home only enhanced it.

He breathed out long, hoping to expel the pain in his chest and turned back to the scene before them. “Aye,
¢
tis a thing of beauty,” he said and placed his other hand on top of hers.

They stood, side by side, with the trees at their backs and Kylkern Castle before them, the prophecy before them. “Welcome to Kylkern Castle, Serena.”

As they approached the castle on the one land route, Serena sighed. “More voices,” she whispered so low that Keenan barely heard her words caught by the wind. She rode before him, leaning back into his arms.

Keenan frowned, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to cushion her in his arms once they reached Kylkern. The horses plodded over a small wooden bridge and among the houses of the village. The smells of home filled the air; peat smoke from chimneys, tilled earth, sheep dung. The village was modest, but the homes were sturdy and clean, with thatched roofs and mud caked sides to keep the highland winds out. The soft glow of cook fires inside gave the small dwellings a cheery look like a multitude of glowing torches over the surface of land to light their path.

“Hail there, Keenan,” Garrett called from beside one cottage.

“Good eve to ye, Garrett,” Keenan called back.

Isabell Pritchard came out of the doorway and waved at him. Her two young girls peeked out from her skirts. Keenan nodded at the widow and gave the bashful girls a quick smile. Serena looked behind Keenan’s shoulder.

“They follow.”

“Aye, they rejoice. Their great protector has returned,” he said evenly, in an attempt to keep the edge from his words.

A chirping melody floated on the breeze. “Chiriklò.” Serena whispered. The sparrow glided from a barely budding tree. Several people gasped as the bird alighted on her stiff shoulder. Reaching up, Serena let the bird move into the palm of her hand where she cradled it next to her cheek. The bird twittered softly.

“Aren’t ye fearful the bird will make a meal for a hawk?” Keenan spoke near her ear as he watched the villagers emerge.

“Chiriklò has been around since I was a little girl. He is not like a normal pet. I would be more afraid for the hawk.”

“Another oddity,” Keenan murmured. She lowered the bird to her lap and looked back at him.

“I have quite a few.” Serena turned back toward the castle.

As she ran her finger down Chiriklò’s feathers, Keenan leaned back to her ear. His grin disappeared as he sought for words. He must warn her. “Ye are welcomed to Kylkern Castle, lass. The people are good souls but curious. Doona take offense.”

“I am used to curiosity from people. I don’t look like a typical Rom.”

Keenan brushed his chin against her hair.

“Lass.” He hesitated. “There will be more than just normal curiosity.” Serena shivered before him, turning, lips open in question.

“Hail, Kennan!” Rus, his first in command, called out and waved.

Serena turned forward again, her question interrupted.

They stopped before the wooden gate guarded by the familiar iron portcullis that rose up to meet the deep azure sky
. Home.
The word settled in his gut, a mixture of anticipation and dread.

His words were low, just above a whisper. “Ye see, lass, ye are the savior of our people, the one who will lead us to peace.”