Powerful Magic (4 page)

          
"A horse."
 
The woman sounded surprised, like she had just noticed the animal.
 
"He's huge.
 
And so gorgeous too.
 
I didn't know angels rode horses."
 

          
She frowned, her gaze traveling over him again, heating his blood despite his intentions.
 
"And fur.
 
You're wearing fur.
 
Aren't you guys supposed to be vegetarians and anti-fur or something?
 
Man, what a messed up dream."

          
Angels.
 
From Demon to Viking to this, a messenger of God. And she kept talking about dreams.

 
         
Though she made no sense, and her accent made the strange English she used difficult to understand, until he knew more Kenric decided to act as if he took her words seriously.
 

          
"I am no angel."
 
He laughed, a bitter sound, even to his own ears. "Far from it, in fact."

          
Then, to his disbelief, she crawled towards him, still shivering, but with fierce resolve plain in her small face.

          
"I want to touch you."
 
She said, kneeling before him knee to knee.
 
"This is my dream and I want to enjoy it before I have to go back to the real world.
 
Except for in the movies, I've never seen a man as beautiful as you."

          
Tilting her head, she laid her hand on his arm, stroking the hard muscles there, knitting her brow in concentration.

          
Kenric found himself holding his breath, trembling - yes, trembling! as he allowed her touch.
 

          
When she moved her hand to his chest, parting the laces of his tunic and touching him with an untrained sensuality that drove him wild, he felt the last of his control slipping despite his earlier resolve.
 

          
"Roger is nothing like this..." she breathed.

          
Roger.
 
With an oath he put her from him, cursing his own unruly body.
 

  
       
"Know this, woman,"
 
he snarled, "the storm outside is a mighty one.
 
If your man is out in it, unless he has found some sort of shelter, he will not survive."

          
She gasped at this, her full lip trembling.
 
"But it was warm when I went to meet him, and I didn't get a chance to tell him--"
 

          
So she had been having a tryst with her lover.
 
Ah, still Kenric found her alluring, with the fresh color that bloomed in her cheeks, and the way her exotic eyes glowed.

          
"You really think that Roger is out in this?" she asked.

          
Roger.
 
To regain a measure of steadiness, he fixed on the name.
 
It was a good English name.
 

          
"Who is this Roger to you?"
 
Folding his arms across his chest, he waited to hear her answer.

          
"My, uh..."
 
she fumbled with the words, telling him again that this odd sort of English she spoke was not her original tongue.
 
"I was supposed to marry him."
 
She muttered, turning her magnificent gaze away to stare at the fire.

          
"Your betrothed?"
 
His voice sharp, Kenric cursed under his breath.
 
With her graceful, long fingered hands and pampered skin, she was no serf.
 
A noblewoman?
 
That meant her Lord would be trying like hell to find her.
 

          
Kenric narrowed his eyes and studied her again, trying to determine if she lied.

          
As if to mock him, a gust of snow blew into the cave, making the fire sputter.
 
They were trapped here together.
 
There would be no leaving until the storm abated.

          
One thought cheered him slightly.
 
He doubted anyone could find them either.
 
His secret was safe, at least for now.

          
Moving closer to the fire, she held out her hands towards the warmth.
 
Raising her gaze again, her golden eyes were wide with the uncertain fear of a cornered doe.

          
"I am dreaming, aren't I?"

          
He ignored the question.
 
In the space of seconds, she had gone from sensual temptress to frightened girl.
 
It made no sense.
 
Few knew of his goal.
 
It would take more than a beautiful woman to turn him from his path.

          
Then she stood, the threadbare blanket falling from her slender shoulders and his mouth went dry.
 
He couldn't move.

          
Firelight reflected off her satiny skin, making it golden and warm.
 
With her chest heaving and her head tilted up at him, her full, parted lips were more than even he, no angel at all, could resist.

          
So he bent his head and kissed her.

CHAPTER TWO

          
In her glittering castle, Rhiannon, Queen of Rune and all the lands that encompassed Faerie, paced.
 
Though she tried to hide it, she knew her agitation was plain to those who loved her well, for she could no longer keep her impatience and pain hidden inside.

          
The pain was old, though usually she kept it locked away.
 
The impatience, now this was a new thing, and it brought great hope to her inner circle of advisors and friends.
 
It seemed an eternity since their beloved Queen had allowed any hint of emotion to cross the frozen perfection of her face.

          
"She is here."
 
Rhiannon said, bitterness warring with hope in her bell-like voice.
 
"And he is with her."

          
The three others assembled in her private chamber murmured among themselves; words of joy, of anticipation. Words that had not been spoken in the long, grey years since their Queen had lost her one true love, her own soul-mate.
 

          
Arwydd, a wizened faerie who was perhaps the oldest of them all, spoke.
 
"So what has been foretold, will come to pass."

          
Rhiannon smiled fondly on her former nursemaid.
 
"Yes."
 
She knew the simple answer would be enough.
 
No one in the Faerie Kingdom of Rune was unschooled in the prophecy.
 

          
"And your half-brother, the changeling who is human-raised, will be the instrument all of our hopes are pinned on?"
 
          
The bitter tone came from Vychan, who had been most against any kind of relations with mankind.
 
He did not believe the words of prophecy which said that the land of Faerie would die unless it came to terms with the land of Humankind.
 
But he was alone in this, for Rhiannon and the others believed.
 
It was for this reason that Rhiannon, like her mother before her, had gone many years ago into the land of man and mated with a human male, the soul mate she had loved and lost.
 

          
Now, her half-brother was heir to all she ruled, though he claimed not to want it.
 

          
Rhiannon had hoped it would be a woman of Faerie who would win her brother's heart.
 
But in a vision she had seen that this was not to be so.
 
For it was a very human woman she had brought to him, a beautiful human female from another time and place.
  

          
"What of Myrddin?"
 
This from Drystan, whose very name echoed his sorrowful nature.

          
At the name of their dreaded nemesis, the faeries fell silent.
 
Unutterably weary, Rhiannon made circles in the air in front of her in much the same manner as a Christian might make the sign of the cross.
 
"He watches also."
 

          
None of them liked hearing this, indeed it damped the very spirit of festivity that had been present a mere moment ago.
 

          
"And his power?"
 
Vychan asked glumly.
 

          
She could tell them nothing but the truth.
 
"Daily it increases."

          
"As ours weakens."

          
"Yes, but perhaps my half-brother will be able to change that."
 
Rhiannon had to interject a bit of optimism into the group.
 
After all, this long awaited event was the hope of all Faerie.
 

          
"Can you hasten it?"

          
Rhiannon shook her head.
 
"You know better.
 
Kenric and his woman both have free will.
 
The choice must be freely made or it will have no power."

          
"And the love."

          
Her heart ached.
 
"My brother does not believe in love.
 
Not yet."

          
"Love must flow between them for the magic to begin.
 
Can you hasten that?"

          
Sadly, Rhiannon shook her head.
 
"It must come to both of them naturally.
 
Or not at all."

          
Vychan and Drystan exchanged glances.
 
Each of them wore expressions of uncharacteristic gloom.
 
"Then all would be lost."

          
A murmur of sorrow, laced with the faint hint of tears, swept through those assembled.
 

          
Choking up, Rhiannon could not speak.
 
To do so would betray her unseemly emotion.
 
She was Queen.
 
They looked to her for answers.
 
So it was doubly important that she show no doubt, that she believe.
 
There was no need for her to answer that bleak statement.
 
Every faerie in Rune knew that it was the truth.

#

          
It wasn't a gentle kiss, not by any means.
 
Stunned at first, Megan froze as his lips covered hers.
 
But, as his mouth claimed hers,
plundered
actually, she began to respond, not totally against her will.