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HIGHLAND EYES: THE SPELLBINDER A Romantic Fantasy By MARISSA ST. JAMES A Renaissance E Books publication ISBN 1-58873-563-X All rights reserved Copyright 2005 by Marissa St. James This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission. For information: Email editors@renebooks.com PageTurner Editions A Heart-Swept Romance

A Note about Pronunciation: Dun Ceathach; (doon ke-akh) n. fort of mist Laoch; (lay och) n. hero Famhair: (faver) n, giant

Dream your dreams, Magician mine, Within your crystal cave. The thoughts of men you can't define; Our ways you cannot save. A price you'll pay for what is done, The truth will out at last. When you dared betray our art The die was surely cast. She will come from future time, This girl with mystic pow'r, To lead her people in the past Out of their darkest hour. While eyes are windows to the soul, If one dares look that deep; When one comes who loves her most, Her power will he keep. Share your dreams with me, my love, I would recall the past. For magic is a dying art And we are but the last. Till one comes with moonbeam eyes, Our magic to endow. The legacy belongs to her; Magician, sleep for now.

PROLOGUE Scotland, 1305 The coppery smell of blood permeated the still air. An uneasy quiet dominated the moor. One man stood apart from the other survivors and took in the battle's aftermath; the bodies, the blood soaked earth, the stench of death invading every breath. The odor clung to the skin, seeping into every pore, a grim reminder of the devastating carnage. Tristan's sword, the blade dull with dried blood, hung loosely in his right hand. The tip of the weapon rested carelessly on matted grass. Shouted commands and death screams echoed in his memory. The clash of swords still rang in his ears. He wondered if he would ever again feel clean. Many of the men who had fought along with him, back to back and by his side, lay motionless. Some stared unseeing at the bright morning sky. Last night they were confident, with no doubt they would win this battle. As always before a battle, theirs had been a quiet, but nervous anticipation. They looked forward to returning to their homes and families. He heard the moans of men who would not live through the day. They had trusted him, willingly followed him to rout the English invaders. He survived. They hadn't. Tristan listened more carefully to a whining barely heard on the breeze. It could only mean one thing. He shoved his sword into its sheath and ran toward the sound. He knelt beside Angus, who lay dying on the moor. Tristan cursed himself, unable to do anything for his closest friend and teacher. If it hadn't been for the man's beloved dog, Famhair, Tristan would have found the warrior too late. Tristan gave the dog's massive head a pat of assurance, then turned his attention to its master. He raised Angus's head and rested it against his knees. "You can do nothing for me, boy, Angus rasped, knowing his wound was mortal. He raised a feeble hand but dropped it to his chest. We have waited too long ... The time is now. If we are to win, you must act now. His words were slow in coming, while he struggled for every breath. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and Tristan quickly wiped it away, as if trying to deny the inevitable. As the old warrior continued to speak, Tristan was vaguely aware of someone standing behind him. Famhair growled. Angus held a fistful of Tristan's shirt with as tight a grip as his dying body would allow, determined to get this last promise from his student. "I wouldn't know where to begin looking, Angus. I don't have the right or the authority." "I give it to you. You will be my successor, the next clan chieftain." "Angus, you are a good friend and teacher, but I can't accept." "You must and you will, the old man insisted, his voice fading. Promise me you will start a search." "I promise, Angus, Tristan reluctantly gave his word. A brief smile touched Angus lips then he sighed and released his last breath. Famhair growled again and stood protectively over his master Tristan eased Angus head to the ground, then stood wearily to face new accusations.

"You canna have the chieftainship. Tis my right by birth, the newcomer raved. My father had no right handing it to you. What control have you had over him that he should do such a thing, and deny his own blood?" "None at all. Don't worry Dougal, the chieftainship is still yours. I have something more important to do. Tristan stared at the new chieftain for a moment, disgusted with him. A man who would stay clear of a battlefield till the fighting is done, is no man in my book. You never were and never will be a man to fight for his beliefs. Heaven help the clan with you at its head. Tristan gazed at Angus body once more, said a silent farewell, then turned and walked away. "What is it that's more important? If it's clan business than I should know of it. Dougal's voice grew louder, taking on the tone of a petulant child. Tristan stopped and glared over his shoulder. A man who will not defend his father's back has no right to know his father's last words. I will tell you it has nothing to do with you or your clan. Not directly, at least, he finished thoughtfully. He wanted nothing more at the moment, than to put distance between himself and the arrogant son of his respected teacher. He heard Famhair's growl become louder and more menacing. "Get this monster away from me before I run a blade through it." Tristan shook his head and whistled sharply. Famhair growled once more at Dougal then loped away in Tristan's direction. Looks like you have a new master, Famhair." **** Tristan knew he would remember this day as long as he lived. The sounds of fighting and dying were stuck in his memory and would follow him, haunt his dreams for years to come. What went wrong? He kept asking himself that question over and again, trying to find some explanation for their failed plans. They had carefully worked out every detail of the raid. The attack on the English camp should have been a surprise, quick and thorough. Instead, the English had been armed and ready, waiting for the Scots. How did they know, unless...? No, he didn't want to believe such a possibility could exist, yet it seemed the only answer. Tristan reached the end of the field and breathed a weary sigh. Famhair settled down close beside his new master. This would not be the last battle. The Scots had a long way to go to gain their freedom. He spun around quickly, as if someone had called to him. A chill ran down his spine, one which had nothing to do with the early morning cold. Change was in the wind; he could feel it. Another warrior approached him and he straightened, choosing, for the moment, to ignore what could be an omen. "We were betrayed, Tristan told the newcomer. The battle should have been over quickly. We should have been able to take prisoners. They were waiting for us." "Are you sure about that? the newcomer asked. A frown crossed his sharp aristocratic features. "Think about it, Graeme. They should have been half asleep when we rushed the camp. They were alert and ready for us. Tristan ran his free hand through his sweat dampened hair. He stared into the distance for a moment, not seeing anything. I'll find the traitor and deal with him personally. I swear I will. He paused for a moment. Angus was right. The time has come to seek out the Legend." Graeme stared incredulously at his friend. You don't believe that tale, do you? That's all it is, you know just a great deal of foolishness. You can't take it seriously." "I'm very serious. Things are not going as they should. Come, there is much to be done. Tristan's long

strides took him toward his wounded men. He would give what comfort he could. Graeme watched Tristan walk away with the huge grey dog close by his side. What was the tale about the Legend? Ah, yes. His grandmother used to tell him the story when he was a small boy. The legend told of a young woman, from another place and time. She had dark hair, and eyes so pale they appeared the silvery color of the full moon. Her ability to come and go as she pleased would deny any man the right to say her nay. The tale claimed her to be a witch, one of the ancient wise ones, capable of using her magic to unite the highland clans and drive out the English. Her strange ways were sure to make many enemies, but her kindness, win her many more friends. The Legend promised to be the first of a special clan of women, with those who followed bearing a remarkable resemblance to her. Each, in turn, would use her own special kind of magic to guide the highland clans. Then, one day, Scotland would be free. The soldier scoffed at the tale. It was just as he'd told Tristan, nothing but a fanciful story to amuse and entertain. Graeme considered Tristan's last words before following him. Tristan was wrong. But, if he did seek the legend and prove it true, Graeme would have to do something about it. Let Tristan do all the work. In the end, everything would be as it should.

CHAPTER ONE Present day Meryl pulled the brush slowly through the long strands of black hair and studied her reflection in the mirror. Pale silver eyes stared back at her and she wondered, once again, why she looked so different from the other family members. Well, not different really, except for those weird eyes. Nobody else had eyes like hers. She felt like an outsider, one without an ounce of witchcraft. Maybe she was a changeling. That must be it; someone played a trick and left her with a family of witches. She rested her arms on the dressing table and leaned forward. The pendant at her throat dangled free of her shirt. She lightly ran her fingers over the engraved design, then flicked it with one finger to set the heat shaped pendant gently turning on its double chain. Two moonstones were set in one half of the heart, appearing like eyes. Diagonally set on the other half was a turquoise. The heart was actually two halves held together by a catch on the back of the pendant. She never understood the meaning of the strange emblem. Her aunt Enchantra had told her she was to wear it always, for it had marked her future. Beyond that advice, Enchantra could give her no further explanation, except to say it was a sign of her witching legacy. Meryl laughed at the idea but believed one day she would have the answers. Today would not be the day. Meryl made a face at her reflection in the mirror, then tied her hair back and sighed. A good run might do wonders for her mood. So, why was she sitting there feeling sorry for herself? She tucked the pendant inside her light blue tee shirt, then tucked the bottom of the shirt into her cut-off jeans and went around to the back of the mansion where a cliff path led down to the beach. She stopped a moment at the top of the path to look out at the mist floating above the water. The morning fog burned off slowly and the air remained cool. Another deception. The day would quickly heat up and in a few hours the beach, south of the mansion, would be crowded with sun worshipers. Part of the shoreline always remained deserted. Townsfolk weren't afraid of the mansion's residents, but neither did they want to become too friendly with them. One never knew what a Spellbinder might do at any given moment. Meryl scurried down the steep path then walked briskly along the shoreline, taking pleasure in the gentle breeze floating in above the tide. Plovers left tiny prints on the wet sand in their search for food. The small birds scattered when she approached them. "Morning, Dinks, Meryl called to the large black cat loping along the water's edge. Meryl puffed while she tried to keep her footing on the dry sand, feeling the grains slide beneath her feet. She quickly tired of the battle and headed for the high tide mark where the sand was packed and wet. Dinks easily kept pace with his mistress and her familiar routine. Meryl adjusted the headphones and set the Walkman's volume to a comfortable level. Celtic music always lifted her mood, especially bagpipes. She loved to read about the old ways and often imagined herself living centuries earlier. It wasn't just the reading; she often felt a pull to that time, as if someone or something beckoned her to the past. At those times, she felt warmth from the pendant she couldn't explain. She used to imagine the necklace being the key to an ancient power trying to gain her attention. Meryl shook her head and cleared her mind of the fanciful idea. Power indeed! She couldn't cast a simple spell, never mind control something like the pendantif there was something to be controlled. Meryl concentrated on the music while her feet pounded into the wet sand. The tread from her shoes left deep distinctive marks. At first, she thought the dull thudding beneath her feet was her doing, until she

noticed a difference in the rhythm. She paused to catch her breath and figure out what caused the vibrations. Meryl's eyes widened at the sight of a horse cantering toward her out of the mist. While that was a surprise in itself, her gaze was riveted on the large animal keeping pace with the horse. From this distance she wasn't quite sure what it was, being almost half the size of it's companion. Dinks stood by her side, sniffing the air, watching the strangers approach too quickly for his liking. Remnants of mist swirled about in the warming air, still making a clear view impractical. She shut off the Walkman and removed the headphones. Hooves splashed in waves along the lower waterline. The rider wore a style of kilt from hundreds of years ago. He slipped off the horse's bare back and patted the animal's neck in a gesture of assurance, then strolled closer to her. They studied one another in silence. He wasn't very tall, a bit under six feet if she was any judge of height. Dark hair hung loosely about his shoulders except for the narrow braid on one side of his head, a warrior's braid. He was no Kevin Sorbo but she thought he could hold his own in a fight. He'd have no problem handling a broadsword. She could picture him in the thick of battle on some Scottish moor. His soft leather boots were cross-tied and she could see the hilt of a sgian dhu in the top of one boot. The three-inch knife might be small but it was just as deadly as its larger cousins. The stranger's eyes were the green of emeralds and Meryl found she couldn't look away from them. She felt captured by their spell. She finally glanced at the animal standing beside the horse and tried to hide the nervousness she suddenly felt. It had started moving forward, but a hand signal from the stranger kept it in place. You're trespassing on private property, she warned the warrior when she was finally able to speak. No one ever came onto Spellbinder land. For every step she took backward, the stranger moved a step closer to her. He moved cautiously and kept a wary eye on the cat by her side. Meryl vaguely wondered what he was seeing when he looked at Dinks. She got an impression of his dislike for cats, and her cat in particular. She sensed a seed of doubt in his mind and knew when he'd pushed it away. She had the strangest feeling the doubts he harbored had something to do with her. Meryl sensed his relief in having found the woman he'd been searching for, and yet, her youth puzzled him. This wasn't the chance meeting it appeared to be. To Meryl's surprise, she could no more turn from his stare, than he could from hers. He stepped closer and raising his hand, carefully slipped two fingers beneath the delicate chains to lift the pendant she wore. How do you come by this?" Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed it. The question and her response to his light touch, startled Meryl. Her heart beat a little faster, a bit harder. How did he know about the pendant and why would he be interested in it? The heirloom belonged to a mother she couldn't remember. "Not that it's any of your business, she replied tartly, feeling defensive. I've always had it. He made her nervous and intrigued her at the same time. She stared intently into his green eyes, until he released the jewelry. What interest do you have in my pendant?" Tristan ignored the question. **** While the humans carried on their awkward conversation, Famhair kept a close watch on the approaching cat. The animal seemed capable of making itself appear larger than it actually was. Famhair yawned widely, as if bored, then snapped his jaws shut. I eat creatures like you for breakfast, he growled softly. Dinks stopped, surprised he hadn't intimidated the strange intruder. Then again, he'd never seen an animal as big as this oneat least not one that wasn't a horse. What are you?" "Deerhound, the newcomer replied bluntly.

"Never seen anything like you before." "Not surprised. The panting dog raised his muzzle and sniffed the air, as if talking with the cat were a waste of time. "What's your name?" "Famhair. That's grey haired in human language." "I'm Houdini, but everybody calls me Dinks." "Strange name." Dinks sat before the dog and bobbed his head slightly as if trying to shrug his shoulders. It was the closest he could come to emulating the way humans would respond to a comment that didn't necessarily require a verbal response. He raised one paw and groomed his face, then set the paw back on the sand. You don't say much." "I talk when I have something to say." "Makes sense." Dog and cat continued to sniff the air between them, getting to know and remember the other's scent. "I don't like your master, Dinks announced. He glanced over his shoulder at the humans and Famhair stared over Dinks head. "I don't trust your mistress, but then, I don't trust much of anyone since my first master died." Dinks curiosity was piqued. What happened to your first master?" Famhair gave an uncharacteristic whimper. He died in battle. His pup would have run me through, but my new master claimed me for himself." Dinks was unfamiliar with that sort of grief, having had only one mistress. You loved your first master. I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to my mistress." "I hope you never have to find out, Famhair concluded with a sigh. Dinks turned again to the humans, keeping a watchful eye on the stranger. One false move and he'd be all over him like mice on cheese. What does your master want?" "I don't know for certain. Before we got here, he was talking about a legend." Dinks thought about that for a moment. It seemed to strike a long ago memory. Look. I don't like your master and you don't care for my mistress, but I get a feeling we're going to be spending a lot of time together. What say we call a truce between us so we can watch them. He nodded his head in the direction of the humans. They don't have to know." "Good thinking. If they think we can't get along, it might keep them from getting too close, and out of trouble." Both animals stood and shook their heads. Despite the fact that Famhair was a good deal larger than Dinks, dog and cat circled each other warily. Low growls emanated from their throats while they appeared ready to bite the other's head off.

Famhair backed off when Tristan called out a Gaelic command. The canine smirked and sat beside the stallion leaving Dinks to stare at him. **** Tristan raised Meryl's hand to his lips, stopped a moment to issue a command to the great hound without looking back, then pressed a gentle kiss against the back of the lady's fingers. Releasing her hand slowly, he stepped away; a startled expression flashed across his face. He quickly schooled his features and, with a flourish, presented her with a red rose. The flower seemed to appear out of nowhere. He forced a smile, then nodded his head once. Until we meet again, my lady. He stepped back and glanced at the cat that had returned to her side. Tristan leaped onto his horse's back and set the animal to a gallop, north along the shore. The hound fell into an easy lope beside horse and rider. Meryl watched him ride away, along the surf's edge. Wait! Who are you? Even as she called after him demanding an answer, she knew there would be none. She slowly twirled the rose between two fingers, enjoying the delicate fragrance being released on the breeze. She didn't like this sudden intrusion into her life. She felt as if she'd suddenly lost control of her life. He wanted something from her and the idea didn't settle well. She'd show him she wasn't one to play games. She watched man and horse disappear into the remaining mist and absently touched the pendant. The unexpected jolt that had passed between them affected her pendant, radiating a warmth that hadn't been there before. Meryl glanced up but the rider was gone. "What did you do to it? she asked softly and shook her head. She didn't really spend the last few minutes talking with a Scottish warrior. Had his presence been a figment of her overactive imagination? She didn't imagine the rose in her hand, with its delicate fragrance, so he had to be real. She didn't want him to be real. She wanted to clear away all thoughts of him and the discomfort his presence made her feel. Instinct told her he brought trouble with him, and she had an uneasy feeling she was about to end up in the middle of it. The black cat gave a low growl and rubbed its head against Meryl's bare leg. Meryl reached down and scratched behind Dinks ear. Jealous, are we? No reason to be, my friend. Somehow, I don't think he'll be back. We better head back to the house. Enchantra and Daryn are due back from their honeymoon in a few days and we still have a lot to do. Meryl glanced once more in the direction the horseman had taken, wondering again if she'd imagined the Scot's appearance. She replaced the headphones and switched on the Walkman, then turned toward the mansion. Her pace quickened and she splashed through the water. The cold, salty droplets felt good against her bare skin in the rising morning heat. The remaining mist burned off in the bright sunlight. Images of the stranger came to mind, keeping pace with her run back to the mansion. She didn't want to think about how the encounter left her feeling confused. She tried to concentrate instead, on the Celtic music, willing it to push all other thoughts out of her mind, but there were more sounds in her head than just the ancient tunes. Metal against metal, shouting, screams of dying men, a Scottish moor littered with bodies. Meryl slowed down, then stopped running, and winced at the sight in her mind. The vision continued. One man stood alone surveying the carnage. He turned slowly and she heard him say something, but couldn't make out the words at first; they were in another language. We must find her now. We need the legend. Meryl's breath caughtthe stranger. Intense green eyes stared at her. He seemed to be standing before her. She blinked and he vanished, along with the rest of the vision. "Who is he and how did he get into my head? Why am I seeing this? Nothing like this had ever

happened to her before, and it left too many questions with no answers. Meryl pulled the pendant away from her body, as far as the double chain would allow, and studied the intricate design. The delicately designed silver was still warm and she tried to convince herself it was from her own body heat, but knew the truth of the matter. The small, pale moonstones seemed to stare at her like a pair of knowing eyes. Diagonally from the stones, the turquoise lay in the silver setting of the other half, it's blue color deep and and pulsing with warmth. "I don't understand what's going on, Dinks, but he's got something to do with it. He did something to the pendant when he touched it. Meryl hesitated briefly, then gingerly tucked the pendant inside her tee shirt. The warmth of the silver seeped into her skin, awakening new sensations. Her eyes widened at the feel of the light warmth spreading throughout her body. It was a pleasant feeling, like being wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket, but she tried to shake it off, fearful of what it might do to her. I don't trust him; he's managed to get into my head and I can't get him out. What does he want?"

CHAPTER TWO The Spellbinder house was a grand old mansion no two groups of people saw the same way. Meryl had no proven explanation for the differences in opinions. The older people in town believed the house was neglected and should be razed. The younger people saw an architect's dream with clean, modern lines. Meryl saw the house the way it truly existed. The great mansion was at least two hundred years old and well kept. Only two years before, the most recent coat of paint had been applied to the outside of the building. There were no termites in the basement, no wood rot anywhere. All the shutters were in place. They were more than just decoration; they were actually functional. Some of the second story windows were actually french doors leading out to small balconies. Every pane of glass sparkled in the sunlight. Wrought iron railings guarded the edges of the balconies against possible disaster. Her own room was here on the south side, overlooking the garden. She had already set out a wicker chair on her own balcony so she could enjoy mornings like this after her run on the beach. The wraparound veranda, which encircled the entire house, wasn't part of the original structure but Meryl loved it anyway. It gave the house a southern look. She'd been considering adding planters on each side of the supporting posts. She pictured morning glories climbing up the posts, trumpeting the arrival of the morning summer sun. Geraniums, marigolds and coleus would add color to the planters and a bit of trailing ivy would give the setting a soft look. She planned to give it more thought before she made a final decision. The gardens were another thing. The townsfolk thought the grounds were either overgrown with weeds or meticulously kept. It depended on whom you talked to; not that anyone came here, especially when Spellbinders were in residence. She had to admit, no matter how they saw it, the gardens did need some tending. It was late spring, after all... When she went into town, the residents tended to speak freely around her. No one knew her to be a Spellbinder. Sometimes it was better that way. She had yet to earn the family name and her Aunt Enchantra didn't believe Meryl ever would. Despite her age, Meryl hadn't yet given up all hope. Her thoughts drifted back to recent conversations that had gone on around her. The townsfolk believed things had been too quiet up on the hill. They spoke in conspiratorial whispers about the strange goings on when the owner was around. They didn't know the owner would arrive soonor owners, plural. Meryl hoped that particular problem had been solved with the new marriage. If not, she didn't want to think about the problems in store for everyone. One thing she was sure of ... when Enchantra returned, it wouldn't be quiet for long. **** Meryl managed to keep thoughts of the stranger at bay. She didn't want to think about his shoulder length black hair with its warrior braid, or his deep green eyes, the way they looked at her. She didn't want to remember how his courtly manner left her flustered. For the last few days, she'd stayed away from the beach, half hoping he would give up and go away. She gathered up her loose hair and tied it at the back of her neck, then went off to the garden. She loved the feel of the soil. It felt crumbly but not really dry. It smelled ... earthy. She grinned at her redundant choice of words. The clumps of earth were dark and rich, warm from the sun. If she'd been able to, she would have given the fertilizer a little boost. This year, she was in a hurry to see the garden thrive. A prickly sensation ran up her spine. She sensed someone hiding in the woods, not thirty feet away, watching her. She looked in the direction where the source seemed strongest. The dense woods let

through little sunlight; everything remained cast in shadow, making it hard to tell where someone could be hiding. Pine needles blanketed the ground in a light brown covering, and easily muffled footsteps. She could hear Dinks running through the low brush. Why didn't he sense anyone there? Nothing else moved. Meryl began to think her imagination was working overtime; it'd been some time since she'd been at the mansion alone. "I can feel eyes on me and I don't like it, she muttered. Meryl jumped a foot when a hand touched her shoulder. She fell backward, scared silly, and glanced up at the intruder. A pixie face surrounded by long blond hair grinned down at her. Meryl closed her eyes when she recognized the visitor. "Lord, Cara, you just took ten years off my life. My heart's racing like a thoroughbred running the Kentucky Derby. She paused, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Next time, kindly announce yourself. Meryl looked down at the mangled plant in her hand and sighed. Cara laughed. I did. Apparently you were too absorbed in your gardening to hear me. What were you saying about eyes?" Meryl glanced up at her best friend before answering. The two young women had been friends for what seemed forever. Meryl couldn't recall a time when one or both of them weren't up to mischief. Cara's innocent look belied her ability for getting into trouble. She hadn't yet realized the potential of what she would be and Meryl wondered how her best friend would react when she finally faced that reality. She hoped she was around to see it. Cara was a petite woman, smaller than Meryl. No one would have believed her to be anything but a teenager, and she used the opinion to full advantage. Her blue eyes twinkled with merriment while she waited for Meryl to respond to her question. The small upturned nose and bow shaped mouth completed the pixie-like features. Her skin had a rosy glow Meryl envied. Cara's gray oversized sweatshirt hid her slight frame. In contrast, her snug fitting jeans emphasized her slim figure. Meryl felt like a giant next to her. Since they had discovered certain common elements in their lives, they had become almost inseparable. Only Cara's occasional journeys put distance between the two friends. "Well, are you going to answer my question? Cara asked again, her impatience showing. "Answer what? Meryl asked innocently. She got up and dusted the dirt from her own jeans and looked at her friend. She knew only too well how Cara hated to have a question answered with another question. "You were saying something about eyes when I came up behind you." "Oh. That... Meryl shrugged it off as nothing important. "Yes, that. Are you going to tell me or not?" "I'd say not, but I know you'll keep badgering me until you finally get an answer." "You've got that right. So, tell me what you meant. Cara had never really learned patience, at least not where Meryl and secrets were concerned. Meryl glanced back to the trees and spotted Dinks racing across the blanket of pine needles. The feeling of being watched faded. If someone had been hiding among the trees, surely the cat would have warned

them off. His perceived size alone would be enough to scare anyone. "I don't know, she said finally, almost in a whisper. A few minutes ago, I felt someone staring at me, someone who didn't want me to know they were there. I don't understand why Dinks didn't sense it." "He's too busy enjoying his freedom at the moment, from what I can see. Cara looked up and watched the cat dive into some underbrush. Maybe you imagined it?" "Maybe, Meryl hesitantly agreed, then changed the subject. I have to get weeds pulled before they choke out the herbs. Give me a hand with it then we'll have something cold to drink." Both young women worked side by side, in silence for a few moments. They turned over dirt and pulled weeds, then placed seedlings into the dark soil, tamping down the earth to secure them in their new home. This was something new to Cara and she glanced at her friend, then gave the soil around her seedling a final pat. "Since when have you been interested in herbs?" "Since ... I don't know. I suppose my recent trip piqued my curiosity. It's amazing what different herbs can do, besides spice foods. Meryl caught the gleam in Cara's eyes at the mention of food. No one would have guessed how much the blond loved to experiment with cooking. Meryl sighed. Cara would never have a weight problem. Even at age fifty, she would still look like a teenager. When they finished planting the new herbs and pulling old weeds, they gathered the garden tools and went into the kitchen for the promised drinks. **** Tristan watched from a distance, well hidden in the shadows within the treeline. For a moment, he thought the newcomer might pose a threat to the young woman tending the garden. He took a step backward, reminding himself he couldn't interfere ... Not yet. He watched carefully and decided the newcomer posed no problem, after all. They seemed to be close friends. It had taken him some time to locate Meryl. Their meeting a few days ago, hadn't been chance; he had watched her and planned carefully. The result of their first meeting had been unexpected. He didn't understand then, or now, why he couldn't look away from her. He remembered feeling as though she had pulled the breath from him as their eyes had locked in that strange moment of attraction. He had a sinking feeling someone forgot to tell him something before he set out on this quest. He glanced about the thick trees, listening. Famhair's ears were also tuned to the sound, and he grumbled. Tristan wasn't sure if the dog was warning of the impending intruder, of if he complained at not being allowed to run after it. Meryl's cat was crashing through the underbrush, chasing who knew what. It surprised him the animal hadn't sensed his or Famhair's presence yet. Tristan knew he intruded on private landagainbut he had to complete his mission. There wasn't a lot of time left to do what needed to be done. He couldn't approach the girl again, especially now that she had company, but it would have to be soon. He rested a hand lightly on the dirk sheathed in his belt, listening to a low growl from a cat. He'd best leave before the animal discovered where he was. He gave the dog a hand signal to follow. Tristan knew there was a reason he didn't care for cats. Glancing once more at the two young women, he turned and faded into the forest's shadows. **** Cara always made herself at home in the Spellbinder house. She rummaged about the refrigerator, pulled out two cans of soda and a tray of ice cubes. Being in this kitchen brought back pleasant memories, times when she and Meryl sat here with their homework, looking for excuses to not get it done. She smiled.

Meryl washed her hands and stared out the window above the kitchen sink. She loved the peace and quiet of the property and realized how much she'd missed it. A kind of magic existed about the place which had nothing to do with Aunt Enchantra. Daylight faded to black leaving her floating in a sea of nothingness. What was happening? She could hear it again, just like the morning on the beach. The sound of clashing metal filled her mindthe sound of swords? She heard a whimpering and saw the stranger's huge dog in a protective crouch over a body. Other men were wounded. She wanted to flee from the vision but couldn't move. She heard them scream in pain. She knew they were dying, but they were so far away, and she didn't have the courage to run from the horror. She was rooted where she stood, but she had to do something. Someone spoke of a woman. A familiar voice whispered in her ear; a pleasant voice, deep and hypnotic. The words repeated in her mind, like an echo, I will come for you soon. We need you." The slamming of the refrigerator door jolted Meryl back to the present. Where were you just now? Cara grinned, then placed ice cubes in two tall glasses and slowly poured soda over them. The liquid against the ice created a thick foam. Cara waited for it to settle before filling the glasses. "Don't know, Meryl muttered. She hesitated a moment then added more clearly. I have a feeling I'm about to face something I may not be ready for."

CHAPTER THREE "Do you think he could be the one? a male voice asked. "Perhaps, a female responded. I sensed a change in her pendant. He may be the one to guide her, but we will wait and see what becomes of their next meeting. She remained silent for a moment then added, Time is growing short. There are enemies who will soon be aware of her presence and attempt to stop her before she takes her rightful place." "Then we should help her, the male insisted. "No. To help her now is to bring unwanted attention to her. That would defeat our goal. She must survive on her own. She must prove herself worthy." "And him?" "He may be chosen to guide her, but anything more ... We will have to wait and see." **** Meryl walked along the beach to clear her head of all the confusing thoughts. Enchantra would be unhappy to find the house not ready when she returned from her honeymoon but Meryl had no worries on that score. What did bother her were constant thoughts of the handsome stranger filling her mind. He haunted her day and nightand she didn't even know his name. The colorful sunrise failed to penetrate her thoughts. Peach, amethyst and gold ribbons in the dawn sky faded with the brilliance of the rising sun. The huge orb pushed itself out of the sea, but the gorgeous sunrise couldn't replace a pair of emerald green eyes or a set of dimples. Dinks chased sea gulls scouring the shore for their breakfast. The cat would never learn to leave the birds alone. One good thrust of a sharp beak could do serious damage he wouldn't easily forget. Dinks, you're asking for trouble, she warned him as he continued to harass the birds. Meryl finally turned away from her pet and considered events of the previous day. Yesterday had been strange to say the least. She had gone to town to do some shopping and stopped to admire an eighteenth century gown on display in the window of the dressmaker's shop. The gown was a gorgeous replica. She studied the detailed work of lace, and embroidery, and was startled to see his face reflected in the window. Meryl spun around to demand why he followed her. No one stood behind her. She glanced about for a place he may have hidden but found nothing. There were no deeply recessed doorways, and most shops had picture windows, allowing passersby to look into the businesses. She turned back to the window, where his reflection remained a moment longer, then vanished. Thinking about it now, she felt goose bumps raise on her arms, and she steeled herself against the shiver. Could he be a magician? Another one in town could mean trouble. The townsfolk tolerated the Spellbinders, but the family had been around for ages as had Enchantra's new husband's family. Now they would have to tolerate the two at the same time. But a stranger? Not likely. Meryl felt unsettled by the reflection and tried to shrug it off as her imagination working overtime again. I suppose I'd best head back to the mansion and get some work done. Dinks! Come! Time to go back." Being home did nothing to dispell the constant eerie feelings. Meryl kicked at the incoming wave in frustration, then stared at the cold seawater lapping over her bare feet. Dinks returned, but waited on the dry sand for his mistress. Meryl reached up to put her headphones in place. Hopefully, a rousing Celtic

tune would improve her mood and put things in perspective. She hooked the Walkman to the waistband of her jeans and depressed a button to start the tape rolling. Despite her nearness to the water, Dinks bounded to her side and pushed his weight against her legs. Dinks, stop that! Meryl glanced up, startled to find she had company. She neither heard nor saw the Scotsman approach. His mount stood at the waterline and the dog remained by its side, sitting on firmly packed sand. "You never told me your name, she pouted, and could have kicked herself for sounding petulant. It was his fault. He made her uncomfortable, staring at her the way he did, as if she were a favorite dessert. Her gaze locked with his, his green eyes holding a hint of amusement. He took the headphones from her and leaned forward slightly to listen for a moment. Meryl's knees threatened to become as fluid as the waves washing over her feet. She broke free of his stare and flushed with embarrassment, then frowned and thrust her hands against her hips, trying to compose herself. He held out the headset to her and she took it quickly, almost snatching it from his hand. "I don't suppose I did. He smiled again and almost laughed when Meryl looked away quickly. He liked her reaction better than when they'd first met. He didn't think she was naive, but neither was she worldly wise. The rosy blush became her. Walk with me. He turned away and strolled along the sand, expecting her to follow him without question. Dinks kept his distance, never straying far from his mistress. He watched the stranger who insisted on intruding in his mistress world and subtly demanded her full attention. Dinks ignored Famhair who stayed by the horse. The stallion trailed behind the couple, leaving deep imprints in the wet sand. The hoofmarks quickly filled with foamy water as each wave covered it, smoothing out the wet sand a little more, until the marks finally disappeared. Plovers scattered out of the couple's way. Dinks could tell Famhair was tempted to chase after the small birds, but the well-trained dog kept his pace beside the horse. "My name is Tristan. He bowed slightly with the introduction. I come from another place and time. He paused, half expecting her to respond to the last comment. The silence between them grew uncomfortable. He watched her staring downward as they strolled parallel to the shoreline. Meryl glanced up at him, her eyebrows raised in doubt. She tried to figure out why he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. What did he have to hide? Not that what he was saying made any sense to her. Another time and place? Who did he think he was kidding? "Tell me something about yourself, he prompted. "Tristan. Nice name. It can mean sorrowful or noisy. Which are you? It was her turn to ignore his question. She knew he was trying to not give her time to consider what he'd just told her. Two could play the same game. She was just as determined to not let him control the conversation. "And it also means a knight." "Well, you certainly don't look unhappy, so you must be a noisy knight." Tristan laughed, appreciating her sense of humor. I've done my share of hell raising. Now, tell me about yourself, your family." "Nothing to tell. Never knew either of my parents. My grandmother raised me for a short time and when

she died, Enchantra became my guardian. I'm of an age I no longer need a guardian and my aunt recently married, so my life is my own now. Meryl didn't like the way she felt compelled to answer his questions. Tristan considered that bit of information and was satisfied it fit into his plans. If her life held no intimate ties, then no one would miss her for a while if she suddenly disappeared. They stopped walking when they reached the foot of the cliff behind the mansion. Tristan tucked wayward strands of black hair behind her ear. Then, out of nowhere, he offered a pale pink rose, its petals tipped with a hint of deeper pink. "This poor rose doesn't compare to the blush of your cheek. He declared gallantly, and slid the soft petals along her jaw, then paused a moment. I must go, my lady fair. If you like, I will return." Meryl nodded, entranced. If you want. She sensed a vague restlessness about him and wondered if it had anything to do with her cautious attitude. He intrigued her, but at the same time she felt wary, warning her to keep some distance between them. He wasn't being totally open with her. "Good day to you, my lady." Meryl left him at the foot of the cliff and climbed the steep path to the top. She turned to glance below. He was gone. He had to be a wizard or something, to disappear so quickly and completely. She searched the beach, but found no trace of man, horse or hound, and nothing to show they'd ever been there. Even hoof prints in the wet sand were gone. There was nothing, except for the rose. She slowly twirled the flower between her fingers and smiled. He was most interesting, but she wasn't about to admit it aloud. **** Days later, Meryl stared wistfully out into the morning rain. Cara sat with her on the sheltered veranda, enjoying hot chocolate. The treat suited the weather perfectly. Cara sighed. Think I'll dye my hair green and buy some really crazy clothes." "That's nice. Meryl continued to stare at the woods. "Okay, Meryl, Cara slapped her free hand against the arm of her chair, startling her companion. Let's have it. Something's been distracting you since I got here. You haven't heard a word I've said in the last ten minutes." Meryl blushed. She did a lot of that lately. She couldn't decide whether or not to tell her best friend. After all, she had no idea how the situation would turn out, and some secrets were hard to share. Cara's eyes widened with sudden understanding. There's a man in your life! she squealed with delight. It's about time, girl. Tell me all the juicy details. She leaned toward her best friend. Wait a minute ... the roses? Meryl nodded. Do I know him?" "Okay! Okay! Meryl laughed. No, you don't know him. He's not from around here. I met him on the beach." "For goodness sake, don't trust him. I mean, he could be a serial killer for all you know. Cara's sudden disapproval startled Meryl. Her warning came out just as strongly as her stated desire to know what was going on. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, I don't quite trust him. He wants something. Meryl turned to her friend. Don't look at me like that, she laughed, then became serious again. I don't sense anything predatory about himand you know I'm a pretty good judge of character. She stared out into the

pouring rain, as if mesmerized by its steady rhythm. Not to worry, Dinks is always with me, and you know how he gets on with strangers." The cat lazily raised his head, blinked and yawned broadly, showing off a set of very sharp teeth. "Yeah. I know. He's not any ordinary cat. He doesn't exactly like me either, and you and I have known each other forever. Cara nodded. She looked down at the panther-like cat, stretched out on the other side of Meryl. Once again he slept soundly, oblivious of the rain and the humans. At least he seemed to be sleeping soundlyCara had her doubts. "He gave you the roses. The stranger, I mean, not Dinks. What's with the color?" Meryl shrugged. Nothing I know of. Anyway, he hasn't said much about himself, but he is curious about my pendant. I've got a feeling he knows something I should know." "That's not saying much. What's he look like? At least tell me that." "Black hair down to here, Meryl suggested a length just below her shoulder. With a side braid like the medieval warriors wore. He has the greenest eyes I have ever seen. And dimples. She laughed. I couldn't believe the dimples!" Cara sighed. He sounds almost perfect. I should be so lucky." "Yeah, he does. Almost too perfect, I think." "If you decide you don't want him, send him my way. Cara hinted impishly. The rain fell harder, adding to puddles and splashing on the veranda's wood railings. Might as well go inside. This isn't going to let up anytime soon. Dinks stood and stretched lazily, then followed the girls into the house. "Meryl? Cara arrived in the kitchen first and stared at the table, but kept a safe distance from it. A pale pink rose lay in the center of the table, its soft petals touched by raindrops. How did that get here?" Meryl checked the floor around the kitchen door and found it dry. The kitchen door was bolted. He didn't get in this way and we were sitting by the front door. Anyway, Dinks would have known. He's better than a watch dog any day." "Do you think your stranger could be a witch or a wizard? The idea fascinated Cara and set her imagination in a whirl of possibility. "Not likely. Meryl placed the rose in the vase with the other two. What did he want from her? **** Three days passed and the rain continued intermittently. The gray days were depressing and kept Meryl inside. She busied herself with getting the house ready for her aunt's return, and still had time to wonder how a rose appeared each morning. The petals were softer than velvet, and tipped with raindrops. Each night she dreamed of rose bouquets hiding laughing green eyes, a broad smile and dimples. Her thoughts warred with one another. Her curiosity begged to know more about Tristan, while her sense of caution warned her not to trust him. She kept herself busy during the day, not wanting to give any thought to him. When she did think about him, which turned out to be most of the time, she decided she liked the medieval sounding name and wished she knew something more about the man.

For the first time in almost a week, the early morning sky cleared, and bright sunshine warmed the soaked earth. The herb garden needed work; the weeds had grown like, well, weeds. Meryl wasn't in the mood to play in the mud, so the gardening would have to wait until the ground dried out a bit. Many herbs and flowers appeared battered from the occasional downpour. Meryl wanted to run, to feel the warm sun on her face and sand beneath her feet. She called to Dinks and together they descended the path behind the mansion, down to the beach. He was waiting there, watching the tide as if contemplating the mysteries of the sea. He turned his back to the water as she approached and patted the deerhound's shoulder. Did he ever go anywhere without the dog? It wasn't a fair question, really, when she rarely went anywhere without Dinks. How could the warrior have been so sure she would be on the beach now? Was he a mindreader as well? There were mysteries, and there were mysteries. Meryl couldn't decide how she felt about this one. She did know the sight of him always made her heart beat faster, and now was no exception to that observation. She caught her breath while Dinks shied away from the man and his horse, not liking either of them. She couldn't figure out his reaction to Famhair. Meryl stood silently for a moment, watching the surging white capped waves. The tide foamed and sloshed, reaching its highest point on the shore, just before her. Thank you for the roses, she said without looking at him. Tristan held out a single red rose. The flower had partially opened, its delicate fragrance at odds with the salty tang of the sea. The roses can't compare to a lady as lovely as you." Meryl thought his comment was rather old worldly, and that only added to the aura of mystery surrounding him. You like to embarrass me." "Perhaps I like to see you blush. It's most becoming. Tristan realized he liked teasing her and smiled at her discomfort. The unusual pin on the collar of her shirt caught his attention. He stepped closer to examine it more carefully. The small bearded figure, dressed in a blue robe and hat, seemed frustrated or upset, while it held out a wand. Tristan laughed softly. "A frustrated wizard, Meryl explained. On rare occasions my aunt displays a strange sense of humor. It's my favorite pin and I always wear it." "Odd, I never noticed it before. He commented, then turned his attention out to sea, the pin quickly forgotten. What do you suppose lies out there?" Meryl glanced at him, unable to keep up with his abrupt change in conversation. When he seemed to settle on one topic, he quickly turned to something else. She gave his new question a moment's thought. Other countries and people. Sometimes I think about places I'd like to see, things I'd like to do." "My home is in Scotland, but not the country you're familiar with. We need your help, Meryl. Without you, our ways will be lost forever. You have the power to prevent it from happening. Time was growing short and he needed to draw her into his plans as quickly as possible. "You certainly have some strange ideas. I have no magic or power of any kind why else would you be trying to convince me after the strange questions you've asked. I don't see how I can be of help to you or anyone else. What made her think he was looking for that sort of power source? "This led me to you. You are the only one who can help us. Tristan touched the silver chains holding her pendant. A shiver ran through her at his touch. "There are some children who can't croak a note in a family of singers. There are ugly children born into

beautiful families. I am the child who could never sing. I'm the only one in this family who has no witching powers. I couldn't cast a spell if my life depended on it." "The pendant led me to you, he insisted. "This pendant is a family heirloom. As the only daughter in my family, I inherited it. If you want a witch, you should wait until Enchantra returns from her honeymoon. She could whip up a spell for you, do whatever you want, and more. Although, you may not appreciate the storm clouds that often go with it." Tristan laughed. I've seen your aunt's magic and it's definitely not what we need. His voice softened. Say you'll help us, Meryl." "Why is it so important I go with you? Meryl's curiosity had the better of her, but Tristan was intent on her acquiescence. She didn't like the subtle insistence she heard in his voice. "When will you see your twenty-first birthday? Again, he seemed to change the subject as he ignored her question. "What does my age have to do with anything?" "When, Meryl? Time is running out. I have to return soon, with or without you, preferably with. Your importance matters to the future of many people." "Early August, the first, as a matter of fact." "This summer?" "No, next year." "More than a year away, he muttered under his breath. A year to keep her alive, to see no harm comes to her." Meryl listened to his mutterings, in what sounded like another language. If she gave it some thought, she was sure she could figure out what he was saying. She didn't know how she knew thatshe just knew it. He continued to look around as if he spoke to someone she couldn't see. I can't understand a word you're saying, she complained, wishing he would speak plainly. She paused a moment, and getting no response from him, threw her hands up in frustration. Goddess save me from incomprehensible Scots." Caught off guard, Tristan laughed and explained. On your twenty-first birthday, you will receive your inheritance. But you must go with me to claim it. The welfare of many people depends on your acceptance." Meryl stopped listening after the first few words. So you keep saying, but I'm nobody's savior. She eyed him suspiciously. What do you know about my family, anyway? I'm expected to just accept all you say as truth? Why do I have to go to some strange place to claim an inheritance I never knew existed? And why would parents who gave me away want to leave me their worldly goods? The last question was asked with a hint of bitterness. "Too many questions, lass. I know nothing about your family or what waits for you. I was sent to find and fetch you back." "No. I can't go with you. I won't go. Meryl took a step backward, away from him. I can't trust someone I don't know anything about. Anyway, if I up and left with you, Aunt Enchantra would have puppies. Meryl didn't know if his story was true but she felt herself being torn between her instincts and

her attraction to the Scot. His eyebrows shot up at the remark, then he released a sigh of frustration. And if I were to tell you, your aunt and any other relatives you have here would be in danger, what would you say." She raised her chin defiantly. I'd say you're making it up; that you're trying to scare me into going with you. She didn't like the unreadable look in his eyes. Meryl stepped back again, sure he shouldn't be trusted. "I wish it were simple. The fact of the matter is, there are others searching for you. If they succeed, your family will be at risk. There isn't much time left to get you to safety." "Must be quite an inheritance to warrant such action." "I can't answer that; I don't know. I only know time is not in your favor." "How do I know you're not the one who would hurt my family?" "If I were, he replied simply, his patience waning, I wouldn't try to persuade you to leave for their sake, and yours. I'd simply make it impossible for you to claim your inheritance. Tristan took her free hand within his own and rubbed his thumb against her knuckles. I will do everything I can to see you gain your inheritance and remain safe. I have to go. I'll give you time to consider the situation. In two days time I'll return for your decision. I can't give you more than that." Meryl stiffened, too aware of his nearness. She couldn't deny her attraction to him, but how did she know she could trust him? She knew nothing about Tristan, where he came from or what his real motives were. I ... I'll think about it, she replied reluctantly. Tristan raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Think long and hard on it. You have nothing to fear from me, Meryl. You must understand, you are a very important young woman; more than you realize. Your decision will affect many lives." Did he speak the truth? She'd give most anything to learn about her parents. Enchantra could tell her nothing. Meryl had used every means she could think of to find out about her family. Until now, the pendant she wore had been her only legacy. Dinks rubbed against her legs but she ignored him for the moment. "I need more time than that, she told him again and backed away. Dinks growled a warning. Tristan posed no danger to her that she could sense. At the same time, he asked a great deal in the simple request. "That's all I can give you, lass. Two days to make up your mind, he called to her. Meryl turned and ran, clutching the stem of the red rose tightly in her fist. She gasped for breath when she reached the top of the path, then turned and looked down at the beach. Tristan still stood where she'd left him, watching her. In one smooth movement he mounted the stallion and set it cantering north along the shoreline. Meryl glanced down at her hand and stared at the thin smear of blood in her palm. A single thorn, its sharp tip tinted red, contrasted against the green stem. An omen? Of course not! She didn't believe in omens, but the sight of her blood made her uneasy. Meryl watched him ride away at a leisurely pace before she turned toward the house. How could he expect her to ride off with him just like that? He evaded questions about himself, which left her wondering what he had to hide. How could she help the people he mentioned; did she even want to? What of her life here? Enchantra would expect her to be here when she returned from her honeymoon. Who else

could keep Dinks and Daryn's German Shepard, Blackstone, apart? She could think of a hundred excuses to tell him no. There was more to the simple request than Tristan let on. What did he really want? Meryl realized she had more questions than answers. On the other side of it, what did she have here once Enchantra returned and settled in with her new husband? Maybe the time had come for Meryl to start something new. She still hadn't found her place in this family whose members began casting spells and showing special talents when they were quite young. No matter what she decided, one fact remained undisputed: Until she could cast a simple spell, she was of no use to anyone. She might never fully earn the name of Spellbinder. "Let's face it, Dinks, she looked at her pet. I'm a failure as a witch. Even you can do more than I can. Dinks was more than he appeared to be. Meryl laughed at the thought of his ability to be like the Cheshire cat. Instead of becoming invisible and leaving a smile behind, Dinks often forgot about the tip of his tail. It unnerved others, to see a tuft of fur bouncing around in midair, attached to nothing, but Meryl always found it amusing. Now that she thought about it, she wondered if he did it on purpose. Her lack of talent, she supposed, would be the deciding factor. Maybe the answers were elsewhere. Maybe it was time she went searching for herself, so to speak, and her beginnings. She decided to take the chance and accept Tristan's request. She wasn't so hard hearted she couldn't consider what he'd said about his people needing helpif he was telling the truth. After all, she'd have her Houdini by her side for protection. Dinks, like the illusionist she'd named him for, had a talent for getting out of some rather tight spots. He would never let anything happen to her. With her mind made up, Meryl spent the rest of the day cleaning. She would tell Tristan her decision when next she saw him, and let him make plans for their departure. **** Two days later, Meryl raced to the cliff, Dinks close by her side. The calm sea sent lazy waves washing up along the shore, then slowly receded. Gulls cried out while they foraged for breakfast. Dinks watched them circle the beach, dip low into the waves and soar upward again. It looked to be a glorious day. Meryl watched horse and rider move as one, along the shoreline, sending birds screeching into the air. Famhair ran along side, keeping pace. The sleek, fast stallion raced through the surf, sending up sprays of water. His rider leaned forward, giving the horse its head. Dinks made his way down the path and Meryl quickly followed. She lurched forward and tried to regain her balance but couldn't. Her forward momentum sent her tumbling down the path until she fell over the edge. **** "Your insistence we remain uninvolved will cost the young woman her life. The male voiced his exasperation of the situation. "We cannot alter her course, the female insisted. "Do we let her die? We may not change the course of events but we have the right to intrude when someone else interferes." "Her identity will be made known if we interfere." "Apparently her identity is already known by someone or she wouldn't be pursued." "We don't know that she is being pursued. Perhaps she was just clumsy and lost her footing. The female

saw the look of exasperation on her companion's face and sighed. You make a valid point, my love. She is our only hope. We must be careful how we proceed in the future." **** Meryl hit the dry sand with a dull thud and lay still. Tristan watched in horror when Meryl tumbled over the side of the path. The twenty-foot drop would kill her if she hit bottom the wrong way. She tumbled half way down the steep path, then fell over the side. He urged the stallion in her direction and the horse struggled to keep his footing in the loose sand. Dinks stood by his mistress, sniffing, not liking how still she lay. He growled when Tristan approached. "Move, you fool cat. You can't help her." Dinks growled at the human and his warning to stay away. Famhair nudged at the cat, He's right, you can't do anything. Humans do have their uses. Dinks growled once more and took a step backward then sat and waited. Tristan ran his hands along Meryl's arms and legs, searching for broken bones, then sighed in relief when he found none. Meryl, come on, sweetheart, talk to me. He brushed sand and hair away from her pale face. I want to see those beautiful silver eyes of yours." Meryl opened her eyes slowly and looked up into Tristan's worried expression. What happened? He helped her when she struggled to sit up. "You fell from the path." "Oh. Feels like I dived about fifty feet. Her eyes drifted close for a moment and she groaned. "Not quite. Relief rushed over him and he grinned. Only about ten feet." "That's all? I shouldn't have fallen. It felt like someone shoved me down the slope. Something hit me and I lost my balance." "By rights you should have broken your neck, or a few broken bones at the least. If I didn't know better, I'd think someone eased your landing for you. Tristan stood and dusted grains of sand from his hands and clothing while he glanced upward along the path. Stay still a few minutes. I'm going to take a look." Tristan walked along the path to the top. He found nothing which could have tripped her or caused her to stumble, leaving only one possibility. Someone didn't want her going to the past. Could medieval magic reach out through time? He knew one thing for certain; someone knew he'd found her. She couldn't go back to the mansion. She had to leave with him now. She could argue all she wanted, but he had no intention of leaving her behind. When he returned to the base of the cliff, Meryl was brushing sand from her jeans. She winced as she straightened. "I'm taking you with me, now, he told her in no uncertain terms. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Meryl forgot about her previous decision to go with him. She stepped back and stumbled on a partially buried stone. Ever since you showed up strange, things have been going on. That little tumble down the path should never have happened. I don't like it." "You don't have any choice now. It's obvious somebody wants to hurt youor worse."

Meryl's head snapped up at his remark, Go away, Tristan, she warned. I don't want to see you again. I don't trust you. She turned quickly and ran from him. Sand shifted under her shoes, slowing her down. Tristan ran after her, slipping on the dry sand. If the little fool wanted to get away from him, she was heading in the wrong direction. He had no patience for this, no time for games. When he finally caught up with her, he flipped her onto his shoulder and whistled to his horse. Dinks crouched, prepared to leap on the intruder and knock him over, freeing his mistress in the process. Don't try it, Famhair warned. My master knows what he's doing. Someone or something shoved her down that path. Interfere now and you could lose your mistress." Dinks relaxed his posture and looked up at the deerhound, not at all pleased with the warning. He had better not hurt her, or he'll have me to deal with." "Worry about our new enemy, Famhair concluded. Meryl screeched in anger. Put me down. What do you think you're doing? This is kidnapping." "Call it what you will, but you are not staying here. He ignored her questions. You'll be safer with me." His last remark caught her attention and she braced her hands against his back. Safer with you? You kidnap me and have the gall to say I'm safer with you? She flopped against him and pounded her fists on his back, screaming at him, but her upside down position robbed her of breath. Her face reddened with anger and fear. Tristan ignored the pummeling. He couldn't wait to get her back and let her become someone else's problem. He agreed to find the legend; he didn't agree to being abused in the process. If this were typical behavior, then Scotland would be better struggling for survival without the witch. He tossed her onto his horse's back and mounted behind her. He couldn't get back soon enough.

CHAPTER FOUR The male chuckled. This may present an interesting battle of wills. Mayhap the pendant has chosen well this time." "Mayhap, my love, the female replied dubiously, as she looked on. The young female they watched was strong willed in an interesting way. So far she didn't appear to be overbearing, but would she give in to her captor? We must give her a little time to see if she is ready for what lies ahead." **** Meryl rapped the side of her head two or three times near the temple, with the heel of her hand. She shook her head and her hair brushed against her captor, forcing him to turn his head. Did you hear that? she asked. She glanced about wondering who had been talking. Were they talking about her? She wished they wouldn't, whoever they were. Right one for what? "I didn't hear anything, he grunted. For the last hour, she had promised Tristan she would behave, and was allowed to sit up and ride in comfort, before himif riding could be considered comfortable. Her stomach was still sore from riding face down across the horse's withers. At the moment, she felt more sorry for the stallion having to carry a double burden, than she did her own discomfort, but Tristan kept the horse's pace steady. The warrior seemed in no hurry to get to wherever they were going. She was sure her decision to not go with him was the right one. Then again, after her fall from the cliff path, he didn't leave her much choice. She wished she'd stayed in the mansion today instead of running to the beach to see him. She would try to get away, first chance she got. Meryl imagined what Cara would be thinking when she discovered her best friend had disappeared. Cara tended to get overly dramatic at times and Meryl wouldn't be surprised if Cara believed she'd been kidnapped. Her friend would be right. Although Meryl took things in stride, even this was too much for her. Except for his last four words, Tristan remained silent since they'd started on this journey to who knew where. He might give her the impression he was the strong, silent type but she wanted to know what was going on. He was right about one thing; she had too many questions and not enough answers. He'd said her inheritance would help many people. Did he mean her parents had been wealthy? If it were the case, why hadn't they kept her? Had he told her the truth when he said he knew nothing about them? She had a feeling he knew a lot more than he was letting on. She was prepared to pry answers out of him, since she knew for a certainty he would volunteer nothing. Meryl glanced around. The deerhound loped along beside them but Dinks had gone off somewhere again. Where was he when she needed him? She knew the cat didn't like Tristan, proving that his feline instincts were probably better than her own common sense. She shrugged mentally and sighed. Too late now. Sooner or later her pet would return and he would find her; he never strayed very far. The stallion, Laoch, picked his way along the stone strewn coastline. They continued their northward trek and the distance between shore and cliff narrowed. Meryl marveled at the change, while she did her best to hide her reaction from her captor. The breath taking scenery here differed greatly from home. "Where are we going? she demanded and glanced over her shoulder at Tristan. The high cliffs were riddled with caves, surrounded by patches of scrub growing down the craggy sides.

At the very top of the cliffs she saw a line of green where the grasses grew tall and thick. Sea gulls turned and floated lazily on the air currents, occasionally dropping a shell on the rocks to get at a snack. Laoch's hooves thudded along the sand and splashed through the surf when he strayed below the waterline. The steady rhythmic sounds were far too relaxing. "See that distant cliff? Tristan's voice broke into the near silence; he pointed out the tallest one, where dark shadows hovered at its base. We'll be spending the night there. We have to be ready to leave at dawn." Dawn. That didn't leave her much time to formulate a workable plan of escape. There was no place for her to hide along the cliff base. If the scrub roots were deep enough into the side of the cliff, they might be strong enough so she could pull herself up to the top. If she could find some place up there, safe from him, maybe he'd give up searching for her and go back to wherever he came from. She felt his weight shift as he guided Laoch away from the water's edge. She felt uncomfortable with his arms about her waist. She didn't like the way his nearness disturbed her. Unless she could escape, she had a hunch there were a lot of things she'd have to get used to. When they reached the cave entrance Tristan dismounted then helped her down. Meryl didn't see her cat anywhere and wondered how far he'd wandered. Famhair followed Tristan through the entrance, then plopped down by the wall and rested his massive head on his paws. Tristan continued to lead Laoch into what proved to be a large cavern. The Scots warrior had been staying here while he searched for Meryl. Now that he'd found her, they had to return as quickly as possible and hope they weren't followed. He glanced about but found no hint of anyone or anything having been here during his absence. Laoch followed Tristan further into the cavern. "We'll be home soon, my friend. He spoke softly to the horse then searched for a hidden bag. "You speak to him in Gaelic? Meryl stood before Tristan watching him remove a pile of stones near the wall. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the foreign words felt familiar. She subtly took a deep breath and calmed her responses to throw Tristan off track. "Yes. Laoch understands Gaelic better than English." "A multi-lingual mount. She considered the possibility of taking the horse to make her escape. Maybe Tristan would relax his guard and forget about her for a while. He can follow you anywhere in several languages. Is it difficult to learn? The Gaelic I mean, not following you around. I have no intention of following you around." Tristan looked up and gave her an odd look, then shrugged. Depends on the person, I suppose. Some people are quicker, gifted when it comes to languages. He pulled a leather bag out of its hiding place and brushed off the dirt clinging to the surface. Here. Change into this." Meryl looked at him skeptically. He reached into the bag, pulled out a handful of cloth and held out a dress of gray wool. The laces were tangled. Change into this? You must be joking." "You can't go with me dressed as you are. Everything you'll need is in there. While you're changing, I'll find something for our supper. Don't leave this cavern for any reason. Famhair... He used a hand signal and the dog followed him to the cavern entrance, where it once again plopped down just inside the shelter. Without a backward glance, Tristan left the cavern carrying a crude fishing pole. Meryl frowned, not taking kindly to being ordered about. Carefully, she slipped to the entrance giving the dog a wide berth, and glanced about. He followed her with his eyes. She couldn't see Tristan and thought this would be her best chance to run.

"I told you not to leave, he called out, at the same time the dog growled. Man and beast stared at her until she slowly moved back. Meryl angrily kicked at a stone. She'd have to wait until he was asleep if she could get past her canine guard. She grabbed up the dress he'd handed her and looked it over. Wool in mid summer? Meryl rubbed at her bare arms and shuddered at the imagined feel of the coarse material scratching against her skin. She searched the leather bag and found a chemise. That'll help, I suppose. Wonder what else is in here. Curiosity got the better of her and she rummaged further into the bag. There was a pair of soft leather shoes and a neatly folded cloak. She glanced at the cavern's entrance, sure Tristan wouldn't be gone long. She kicked off her shoes, quickly stripped out of her jeans and cotton shirt, then slipped the chemise over her head and let it slide down her slim body. It reached to her knees. The fit surprised her. The soft leather shoes were shapeless, but felt comfortable. Meryl pulled the woolen dress on, then twisted and turned, struggling with the laces. She finally gave up when Tristan returned. You have to be Kali to get one of these things tied up, she complained. Tristan laughed. Here, let me help you. He gently pushed her hands away and with deft fingers quickly untangled the laces, then tied them snugly. Sorry about the rough feel of the material, but it is appropriate for where we're going, and it does look good on you. You should blend in well with other folk, once we reach our destination. He brushed back her long hair and her silver eyes looked up into his own green ones. He stepped back from her wondering if she felt the same confusion that ran riot through him at the moment. He couldn't afford to be attracted to her. She wasn't meant for someone like him. He was a warrior, pledged to defend Scotland from English invaders. He had a responsibility to keep her safe until they reached their destination, then it would be up to others to worry about her safety. Tristan took Meryl's jeans and shoes and shoved them into the leather bag. "Wait a minute! Meryl grabbed the shirt. This stays with me. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, daring her abductor to tell her no. When Tristan remained silent, she removed her wizard pin from the shirt's collar and pinned it inside the neckline of her dress. Tristan shook his head at the importance she placed on the small pin, then stuffed the shirt into the bag and returned it to its hiding place. There were more important things than worrying about a silly little wizard, but if it would get her to cooperate more willingly ... I'd best get supper going. We'll need an early start in the morning. He turned his attention to starting a small fire and pulled out cooking utensils from another bag. "Right. You said we'd be leaving at dawn. Meryl took her time looking around the cavern. Light from the fire offered her a distorted view of their shelter. The ceiling was, she judged despite the distortion caused by the dancing firelight, about fifteen feet above their heads. Dimming daylight wasn't any help either. Over the cavern entrance, near the ceiling, a narrow shaft of light penetrated the darkness. What is that? she asked, looking up at it. It was an odd place for a hole in the wall. Tristan followed her gaze. That's how we leave here. Famhair moved closer to the campfire. Tristan tossed a couple of dried strips of deer meat to the hungry hound then turned his attention to the fish frying in the skillet over the fire. "Sure we are, she replied sarcastically. Like a couple of greased piglets, we'll just climb on up there and wiggle through. I don't imagine we'll get very far, after falling out the other side. There were rocks piled up near the side of the entrance offering a shaky approach to the hole high up in the wall. She

figured Tristan was having a little joke at her expense and silently laughing at her. Well, if he didn't want to tell her anything, then she wouldn't talk to him anymore. He kept far too many secrets, to her way of thinking. She only wanted to get back to the mansion before anyone missed her, if they hadn't already. Famhair lifted his head and stared at the opposite wall. Meryl's eyes widened as she followed his line of vision and watched a nearly invisible shape move stealthily in the shadows. She glanced at Tristan, hoping he hadn't noticed anything, but he ate his supper, practically ignoring her. She broke off a piece of fish and unobtrusively slid her hand toward the shadow. A rough tongue took up the morsel and licked her fingers. Tristan sneezed, once, twice, then got up and left the cavern. Dinks moved out of the shadows and sat next to Meryl, content the other human had left. Meryl fed the cat more tidbits until her plate was clean. "You're deliberately making him sneeze, aren't you? Famhair grumbled. Dinks stared in the canine's direction and hissed. What do you think?" Meryl spoke softly so the sound of her voice wouldn't carry to the front of the cavern. Stop it, you two. None of us likes the situation, but there's nothing we can do about it at the moment. She focused her attention on Dinks. As for you, you should be ashamed of yourself. If he finds out what you've done, he'll skin you alive. She scratched behind the cat's ears and gently rubbed a finger along the side of his face. I know. We're both wishing he'd go away for good. Fat chance. Meryl looked around at the rough-hewn walls and the dancing shadows. There has to be a way out of here, Dinks. I don't know what he's after, but I don't intend to stick around to find out. Meryl saw the feline grin, practically admitting to mischief. Tristan returned to the cavern. You'd better disappear, she whispered to the cat and watched him reluctantly melt into the shadows. Tristan sat by the fire and tossed a few twigs onto the low flames. Get some sleep. It'll be dark soon and we have to be ready to leave before dawn. If we miss this chance, we'll be stuck here for a while." Meryl's thoughts whirled around in her mind. That was the key; if she could stall their departure long enough, miss whatever chance it was he spoke of, maybe it would give her the opportunity to get away from him. No inheritance was worth being kidnapped for. Joking aside, you never said how we were leaving. You made it sound so mysterious." "I wasn't joking, but you'll see in the morning. Some things are better seen than explained. Use that cloak to keep warm. He nodded at the neatly folded garment by her side. It gets chilly in here at night. Tristan stood and stretched, then moved further back into the cavern. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke to his horse. Meryl wrapped the cloak snugly about her and made herself as comfortable as she could on the hard packed dirt floor. Dinks had vanished again, probably prowling around the base of the cliff. It was no problem for him to escape the cavern. She didn't worry about him, knowing he easily became part of the shadows. She sensed the strong dislike between the cat and her kidnapper, a dislike she shared. At least, she tried to convince herself of her dislike for the Scot. She stared into the small campfire, wondering about Tristan's past. Where did he come from? Was any of what he told her, the truth? What stories would he have to tell, if he decided to tell any? Her eyes drifted close while the flames danced within their little circle. How did he plan to leave here with the aid of that hole in the wall? That was the strangest question of all. **** She stood at the top of the cliff looking down. Tristan waited below, his arms outstretched. He

called to her, told her to jump but she didn't want to; it was too high. She sensed someone standing behind her. She couldn't see his face. He said something to her but she couldn't understand the words. Something or someone shoved her and she was falling. There was no one below to catch her and nothing to break her fallp; nothing but empty space. She screamed. Meryl fought to break out of the trap holding her tightly. She couldn't get free, and couldn't understand the voice calling to her. "Meryl, wake up! It's all a dream. Take it easy, nobody's going to hurt you. You're safe." She stopped struggling, opened her eyes and blindly stared up at him. It took a few moments to realize she was on solid ground; a few moments before she saw him clearly. I was falling off the cliff path again, but from the top. Somebody deliberately pushed me over. There was nothing for me to grab onto. I kept falling and falling and you were nowhere around. Meryl shivered with fear. "Shhhhh. It's all right. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I won't let anything happen to you. He held her close, slowly rubbing his hand up and down her back, calming her while she clung to him. He had to get her to their destination. She'd be safe when they reached the end of their journey. Then his quest would be complete and she'd become someone else's problem. **** After a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, Meryl shivered with fear. The remains of her nightmare clung to the edges of her memory. She silently watched Tristan pack the gear into the leather pouch, then put out the small campfire and scatter the ashes. He kicked the stones in different directions, breaking up the protective circle. He made certain they left no hint of anyone ever having been there. She followed him deeper into the cavern and moved aside as he led Laoch out. The stallion waited patiently while being saddled, then followed obediently to the campfire area. Tristan lifted Meryl onto Laoch's back, then stood by the horse's head, holding the reins. Famhair sat by Tristan's other side, waiting for the moment when his new master would give his next command. They waited quietly, standing close to one wall, watching the rear of the cavern as if expecting something to reveal itself from the depths. Meryl pulled the cloak more snugly about her, keeping out a chill she couldn't decide was from the cavern itself, or the unsettling dream. She refused to recall the vivid nightmare that had disrupted her sleep during the night. She stifled a yawn. Curiosity about the means of their leaving the cavern overrode her desire to escape from this stranger. As the sun rose, the dawn light began making its way into the cavern from above. Meryl twisted on her precarious perch and ... A beam of light found its way through the opening above the cavern's entrance and flashed across the space at a high level. The beam reminded her of the light given off by an old fashion movie projector. Meryl studied it, fascinated. Dust motes danced in the light. In time, the beam angled downward, until it was halfway between floor and ceiling and was cut off, as if stopped by an invisible wall. It didn't reach any further into the depths of the cavern. The air began to shimmer and distort. The shaft of light narrowed like a laser beam, and a pinpoint of light floated in midair for a moment. It steadily grew in size until it blocked the rear of the cavern. Meryl stared at the sight, astonished by the scene just beyond the opening. The edges of the doorway were blurred, distorted, like clouded glass. It reminded her of a cheval mirror, only it didn't reflect anything. Her mouth gaped open in surprise as she stared through the doorway into another world. Her heart beat wildly. She glanced at Tristan, unable to say anything. Tristan laughed and mounted the stallion behind her. We have to leave now, before the angle of light changes any more. He gently kicked Laoch's sides and followed the deerhound. A soft gasp escaped Meryl's lips when Laoch stepped forward and the light engulfed them.

"A time portal? Meryl peered over Tristan's shoulder and stared in wonder while the portal zapped closed, just as a black blur came flying through the air and whizzed past them. But how..." "The beam of sunlight is the only way to open the portal. The doorway's always there. The sunlight has to strike it just right to open it. And it only works at certain times of the year. So you can understand why timing is so important." Meryl nodded, still staring at the spot they had come through. No evidence hinted at their passing from one time into another. So much for reality. Her last chance for escape disappeared with the portal's closing. What could she expect to happen next?

CHAPTER FIVE Graeme startled from a fitful sleep, leaving strands of sweat soaked hair sticking against his face. His breathing was labored. He lay back on his hard pallet and stared into the darkness, willing his hammering heart to slow down before it pounded its way out of his chest. The nightmares were back. The dreams, which had left him alone for so many years, returned with a vengeance. Jeannie would haunt him as long as he lived. His beautiful Jeannie. She was the daughter of another clan chieftain and had been promised in marriage to himuntil one day he'd caught her sharing her favors with his brother. Jeannie laughed, mounted her horse and rode off in a gallop, leaving his brother to go off in another direction. Neither of them was aware he had found them. He would deal with his brother later. Graeme called after Jeannie, urging his own mount to a faster pace. Realizing where she was headed and the jump involved, he tried to stop her. The gap was too wide. Jeannie's laughter floated back to him. Her long black hair flowed freely behind her like a banner on the warm summer breeze. Her laughter was cut short. He couldn't recall much after that. Her brothers found him, sitting in the wide ditch, Jeannie's head resting on his thigh. He stroked her tangled hair and told her softly that her brothers had come to fetch her home. She was late for supper and she had to waken. Her brothers gathered her body, her neck broken in the fall. Later, after a fist fight with his younger brother, his own father disowned him and sent him packing, blaming his eldest son for Jeannie's death. Graeme refused to believe she was dead. She was trying to get out of the marriage contract. In anger, Graeme had left, promising to return for his bride. Jeannie was meant to be his wife and no one would stand in his way. He didn't understand the strange stares sent in his direction from those gathered in the great hall, and he didn't care. Graeme had no idea why the dreams started up again but he refused to let them take control of his life, as they had in the past. He made an effort to push away the memory. His meeting later in the day demanded his full attention, if he had any intention of succeeding with his plans. **** Matthew ignored Eleanor's sultry voice grating on his ears. It wasn't that the sound of her voice was unpleasant. Far from it. She was trying to cajole him back into bed, but he'd had more than enough, both of her and what she offered. He straightened his tunic, buckled on his sword belt and gave it a sharp angry tug, then slid his broadsword into its sheath, and the thin sharp dagger into the small sheath at his waist. He gave brief consideration to casting her off and finding a new mistress. If it weren't for a more pressing matter in need of resolution, he'd deal with her now. He tolerated Eleanor this long; a little longer wouldn't matter. Matthew barely glanced at the woman still lying abed. She struck a seductive pose, but refused to look up at him, while appearing to study the parchment in her hands. She wouldn't let the subject go. King Edward approves a marriage between us, Matthew. Why do you refuse to accept it? Her fingertips grazed the bold lettering, feeling the unevenness of the parchment. Watching her fingers glide lightly over the document made him shiver with the memory of what her soft touch did to him. He had matters to attend to, he reminded himself and steeled his determination against giving in to her. Matthew's jaw clenched as he remembered the last time he'd been forced into a betrothal. His father had been determined to forge an alliance with a powerful nobleman, through his daughter. The daughter drove Matthew to distraction and he knew the marriage was doomed before it could ever start. The well kept secret of his birth found its way into the open and the contract was brokennot that Matthew cared. He

wanted nothing to do with the shrew and her machinations, and had told his father as much. He went so far as to suggest the old baron marry the woman himself. His father had blustered with anger at the suggestion, but eventually saw the merit in it. The last Matthew had heard, his former betrothed was now his widowed stepmother. His current mistress turned out to be not much better, but at least there were no ties to bind him to her. As Edward's champion, Matthew had managed to garner a few rewards. Eleanor wanted free rein with the gold he'd managed to save. She would beggar him, given half a chance. If she knew of his bastardy, would she be so anxious to wed with him? Weighing his small fortune against his birthright, Matthew was sure the fortune would win out. Her last words came back to him and he realized she waited for a response from him. "Because I have no desire to marry, Eleanor. Edward is well aware of the fact, as are you. Matthew gave her a cursory glance then finished dressing. "His signature on this document makes it a command, she countered smugly. You are his champion. You would not dare defy your king's wishes. She lay back against the pillow and let her fingers glide suggestively over the bed cover. Her eyes conveyed the hope she could entice him to change his mind and go back to bed. Matthew turned sharply to face her, keeping his features bland. If she knew how truly angry he was, she would be in fear of him. Then again, seeing his anger would probably not deter her from her goal. He had learned the hard way that she thrived on danger and his temper only served as a catalyst to that need. Stepping closer to her reclining figure, he grabbed up his cloak and gave her one more look. He placed one knee on the feather filled bedding and leaned toward her, forcing her back. What did you do to get Edward to sign that? Did you sleep with him? Matthew backed away, satisfied with the telltale blush on her not so delicate features. The blush turned crimson with her growing anger. "How dare you? she screamed at him and threw a pillow as hard as she could. The lumpy pillow landed on the edge of the wide bed and dropped to the floor. She clutched the bedcovers to her as if trying to hide something he had not seen before. "I have business to attend. Be gone from here before I return. I do not wish to see you again. Matthew glanced over his shoulder. Do not force me to humiliate you any more than you have already done to yourself. His hand rested on the door latch. "You can not do this! We are betrothed by the king's decree! she screeched. "Are we? he asked. His voice remained soft and dangerous. His dark eyes narrowed in challenge. He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, then closed the door quietly behind him. Her answering scream and the pitcher breaking against the door gave him no satisfaction. Matthew strode along the hall and down the steep stair, angry that Edward would command him to marry. He had no need to wed for the sake of property or income. Matthew had been acknowledged as his father's only heir, just before the older man died. It was little more than an empty title, but Matthew was content. Being perceived as the accepted heir had its advantages, but not now. He had another problem to deal with. When his dear stepmother had written to him about his father's death, she suggested that a union between them would be to his advantage; his birthright would be secure and they would embark on a marriage that should have taken place years before. Matthew snorted with disgust. She could tell the world about him if she so desired. He didn't care. That thought brought him back to Eleanor once again. What gold he had now, he earned as Edward's first knight and champion. Why would Eleanor want to

marry a lowly baron's bastard son when she could have her pick of Edward's noblemen? Acknowledgement couldn't change the circumstances of his birth. He had no intention of ever again entangling himself with self-seeking women. King's champion or no, Edward might claim Matthew's loyalty and obedience, but he had no intention of letting Edward dictate his private life.

CHAPTER SIX Graeme shifted his position again. The hard bench hurt his backside and the small room grew stuffier by the moment. The empty trenchers from dinner lay stacked to one side of the rough-hewn table. They had ordered the servants not to disturb them. Graeme knew his three companions only as Matthew, Mark and Luke. They either ignored or didn't feel the same discomfort as he did and continued their joking. "You have done well. Matthew, the eldest of the three, got up and clapped Graeme on the shoulder in a comradely gesture. He grinned and leaned forward while he refilled Graeme's cup. He held up the flagon in silent question and his companions held out their cups to be refilled. Matthew replenished his own last of all, then set the flagon to one side and returned to his seat at the other side of the table. There is one less Scottish rebel to deal with and we have you to thank. Without your information, he would have escaped again. Tell us, now, what would you have as your reward?" Graeme took a deep draught of his wine before answering, I want your support to gain the Scots throne." Mark and Luke stared at him for a moment, then at each other and guffawed. Mark choked on his laughter and reached for his cup of wine. That is a grand joke, he declared after he had swallowed the watered down liquid. He smiled at the flush of anger on Graeme's face. "Do you truly believe you can succeed where we have failed? Matthew asked him. "Failed? Graeme's attention riveted on that single word. He studied each man's features and sensed Matthew had not meant to speak of this matter. The man's fleeting expression was one of self-disgust. Now that the matter was in the open he wanted to know more. Mark carefully placed his cup on the table and sat back, leaning against the wall. He gave a deep sigh. Not long ago, we tried to arrange a meeting between Robert Bruce and Red Comyn. With every attempt we found, for one reason or another, we could not manage to get them to the same place at the same time. He shrugged. We will find another way." Matthew nodded in agreement. We do not wish to see a union between Edward and Bruce. But, it would be to our benefit to have Bruce betrayed by one of his own. Better still would be the demise of both men. Matthew's eyes narrowed, What makes you think you would have a chance at the throne?" Graeme gave them a twisted smile. Perhaps I didn't mention ... I too, am a Comyn." His three companions started and half rose. Chair legs scraped the floor. Graeme gestured for them to remain seated. No fear. I have no love for Red Comyn." Matthew shook his head. Scotland is filled with Comyns. You would need more than that to convince us of your worthiness'. The word had a sarcastic undertone to it. "I do. I know how to unite the clans and make them more amenable to England. Graeme gulped down the remainder of his wine. A legend, a woman of unusual power. I will have her by my side." "A woman, you say? And a legend. Matthew's sarcasm was evident. There was no place in his plans for any woman. Pray tell, what is so special about her that in your mind she stands above other women? He and his two companions sat forward, leaning on the table, intent on Graeme's next words. Graeme knew before he met with them that they wouldn't believe him. Despite their cynicism he hoped they had enough curiosity that they would be unwilling to miss any opportunity to further their own cause.

Their features betrayed their thoughts. They had more than politics on their minds. There is a legend in the Highlands which tells of a woman with unusual power. She will help Highlanders put aside their differences and unite them against the enemy to win Scotland's freedom." "What makes you think we would want a free Scotland? Luke laughed. All highlanders are wild and need taming." Graeme met his gaze. Because a friendly ruler, working with Edward, achieves all you want, and keeps the Scots satisfied and quiet." Matthew smiled. Well thought. And you would be this friendly ruler?" "Indeed. Scotland is enough for me. His eyes took on a faraway look and he stared into his empty cup. And beside me, a dark haired woman with moonbeam eyes." "A poet, Luke exclaimed and he and Mark laughed again. He is in love with a legend." Matthew leaned back and stroked his beard. If this be a true telling and this woman exists, you are to find her and bring her to us. We will convince her of the rightness of allying with us. Think you she could use this power to influence Edward?" Graeme didn't appreciate the way they belittled him, but he shrugged and hid his disgust. He hadn't told them of the Legend so they could take advantage of her. He had no intention of sharing this source of power with anyone, let alone these Englishmen who didn't trust him with their true identities. They might be dressed as merchants, but he'd had enough dealings with the ruling class to recognize nobility when he saw them. He wasn't the fool they thought him to be. Graeme rose from his seat, and stretched to ease his stiff body. He moved to the window for a breath of air. A hot breeze stirred the late afternoon heat. Unpleasant odors of waste and sweaty bodies rose from the courtyard. The sun sat low in the western sky, casting deep shadows in the narrow alleys between buildings. Thank the heavens he didn't live here! He much preferred his highland home, with its clean fresh air, rather than the crowded stench of the city. Tomorrow, after the execution, he would be on his way back to breathable air and open space. Tomorrow could not come quickly enough to suit him. Voices drifted from the courtyard below, drawing his attention. One of the stableboys held a stallion's reins while the rider helped a dark haired woman dismount. The man, tall and straight with a soldier's bearing, gave instructions to the boy, then stepped aside to allow his mount to be led away. He watched the hound walk leisurely beside the horse toward the stable, then glanced about the courtyard, as if to assess the lingering activity. The setting sun glared against stone, creating deeper, cooler shadows. "Jeannie, Graeme whispered, shocked, when he saw the woman looking around the courtyard. It can't be. Jeannie is dead. He continued to watch the woman more carefully. She said nothing while waiting patiently, and looked up to study the inn's two floors. A shadow fell across her face but Graeme could see how fair she was. She reached up, using both hands to draw her hair away from her neck for a moment, before letting it again fall against her back. She gazed directly at the window where he stood, as if sensing his presence there. Graeme moved to one side of the window, out of sight, and continued to watch her. A trick of lighting gave her eyes a strange glow. He held his breath. Never had he seen a woman with her exotic features; she was beautiful. She definitely wasn't Jeannie. Graeme looked out the window again, careful not to be seen by anyone below. The woman's companion

joined her and said something, making her frown. She nodded a reply, then a moment later nodded again. The man said something else to her; she punched his arm in response, but still said nothing. Graeme paid little attention to the man, but concentrated his attention on the woman. So, she was mute, Graeme thought when she nodded once more. How convenient that could prove to be, and yet, such a pity. Still, she might be entertaining, and he would like to know her; she might have arrived with a companion, but she kept a distance between them. The man glanced up and, despite the failing light, Graeme recognized him. Tristan. The dark haired Scot had no reason to be here in London when he was supposed to be searching for... Graeme glanced at the dark haired woman again, then turned away from the window and leaned against the wall, his features drained and his breath caught. His heartbeat quickened. Could this be the Legend? Matthew looked from his companions and stared at the Scot. Is something wrong? Is someone out there? He stepped closer to the window and scanned the courtyard. The remaining laborers were already making their way home, leaving the courtyard and street deserted. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones. "No. Graeme regained control, hoping Matthew would ask no further questions. Just a passing ill. A bit too much wine with this heat. It's fair soured my stomach. He quickly revised his plans. I would have to leave the inn and ride all night to gain some time. He couldn't afford to have Tristan find him in London. If he intended to avoid uncomfortable questions, it would be better if he were in the village when Tristan returned.

CHAPTER SEVEN Meryl stared ahead, astonished at the change of scenery, wondering where they were. There were no roads to speak of; mules plodded along a rutted path, pulling heavily laden carts toward the city gates. Several women carried woven baskets filled with goods and walked beside the carts. Small children were perched on some of the more durable goods, watching other people approach the gates and wait patiently to enter the town. Laoch continued his slow, leisurely pace toward the town. Famhair had wandered off, following his nose. Guards were stationed at the entrance and travelers slowly passed through inspection. A guard grabbed one peasant by his tunic and shoved the old man away from the others, knocking him down. Tristan and Meryl were too far away from the guard to hear the words he spat at the old man. Tristan gently pulled on Laoch's reins and brought the stallion to a standstill, then turned his full attention to Meryl. "There is something I want you to do." "I'm here against my will and you want me to do something for you? Meryl sighed at the stern expression on his features. What is it?" "While we're in London, you must remain silent." "You are joking... Her silver eyes flashed and she glared up at him. "Are you familiar with the English spoken here?" "Well, no but..." "I don't have time to teach you sufficient words to get by and we won't be here long enough to justify the time. You've been quick to learn, but we can't use Gaelic. He brushed silky strands of hair away from her face. They would question your speech and we wouldn't be able to explain it. We don't want to draw any more attention to ourselves than is absolutely necessary." "Since you put it that way... she grimaced. All right. I don't suppose I have much choice. Meryl turned away from him. The situation was going from bad to worse, as far as she was concerned. Maybe someone in the town could help her get away. She had to try something, anything to return to the mansion before anyone worried about her. Yet, despite her determination to escape him, Meryl knew, deep down, her efforts were only half hearted. Curiosity could be a strong factor when faced with the opportunity to relive history. Peasants drove small carts up to the gates, then waited for the goods to be inspected. The guards used their swords to poke through items, unconcerned with any damage they caused. The slow process of inspecting each cart before it was allowed to pass through the gates caused grumbling among the impatient travelers. Meryl turned to speak to Tristan and caught the warning gleam in his eye. They were too close to the guards to dare say anything now. She frowned, then quickly assumed a bland expression. If Tristan wanted her to be mute, then mute she would be. "State your business, the guard demanded as Laoch stood before him. He watched Meryl while she leaned forward slightly to pat the stallion's neck. The guard's gaze glided over her slim figure, but he quickly lost interest after appraising the man staring down at him from astride the stallion. Meryl stared at the guard with an uncomprehending expression; Tristan was right. She'd have given herself away if she'd breathed a word. What the guard spoke wasn't any English she had ever heard. She

listened intently while Tristan answered the questions. Somewhere in this town, there had to be someone willing to help her escape. The guard grunted, then let them pass. Meryl could still feel his eyes on her when Laoch passed through the gate. She waited until they were well out of his hearing. What did he ask you?" "He wanted to know about you. I told him you were mute and more than a little touched in the head." Meryl jabbed him with her elbow. Thank you so much for that. Touched am I?" She didn't appreciate his laughter after he'd apparently insulted her. She felt his arms tightened about her for a moment. If she weren't so determined to get away from him, she could learn to like him. The Scots had no idea what they were in for, if they expected her to use her inheritance to help them. It must be very valuable and she wondered how much they were talking about. The couple rode into the inn courtyard where late afternoon shadows made the surroundings dim and indistinct. Meryl waited impatiently while Tristan dismounted, then helped her down. He stepped away from her and handed over Laoch's reins to the waiting stableboy who listened carefully to Tristan's instructions before leading the stallion away, with the dog following. Meryl gazed about the courtyard and up at the inn, waiting patiently in the hot, still enclosure. She stood partially in shadow and felt a welcome breeze, light as it was. She reached up and drew her hair away from her neck, letting the cooler air touch her skin. With a reluctant sigh, she let her long locks fall. A moving shadow at an upper window caught her eye, then quickly disappeared. She shuddered in spite of the heator was it a premonition? Tristan returned. Don't forget what I told you, he quietly reminded her. You're not to speak a word while we're here. Well, at least not until we're alone. Meryl nodded. "Are you ready?" She nodded again. "I think I like you this way ... silent and submissive, he commented, sounding serious. Meryl glared at him and punched his shoulder. Tristan laughed and rubbed at the sore spot. Meryl followed him into a common room filled with noisy, drunken patrons and their boisterous laughter. Many of them fell silent at sight of the strangers. The men eyed the demure, silver eyed, raven-haired girl. She stayed close to her companion's side, all thoughts of escape gone. More than one man stared at her, intrigued by her quiet beauty. Meryl stepped back, wanting to put distance between herself and their unwelcome leers. While Tristan stepped away from her to speak with the landlord, one of the leering men, bolder than his companions, approached her. He held his tankard in one hand and reached with the other to touch her hair. "Well, what's we got ere?" Meryl's nose wrinkled in disgust. He smelled like a brewery, one that hadn't been cleaned in a year. His words sounded strange, but she understood enough; some things didn't need translating. She pushed his hand away and remained silent, although it took some effort. "Too good to talk to us? he sneered and reached out to touch her more intimately. His head jerked up when a hand clamped tightly about his wrist. Strong fingers bit between the bone and slowly squeezed.

He was forced to step backward and the hand released its agonizing grip. "My wife isn't in the habit of talking to strangers, or anyone else for that matter. Tristan glared down at the fellow. His green eyes flashed with warning. "No arm done, just bein friendly is all." "She doesn't need friends. She's got me. Tristan hoped the subtle warning would suffice. He glared at the man before grasping Meryl's arm and pushed her before him, steering her toward the narrow stairs leading to their room. Meryl waited until they reached the safety of the room before she spoke. What was that all about? she hissed at him. "I'm sorry I was rough out there. It's the only way some of those louts understand. Tristan sneezed. The landlord was quick to inform me why the town is so busy. He sneezed again. Meryl muttered an uh oh under her breath. She couldn't see him when she glanced about the room, but Dinks had to be close by. Well, she prodded, what did he tell you is going on?" "There's to be an execution tomorrow. William Wallace." Meryl paled at the horrible thought. Her knees gave out and she sank onto the bed. History had been one of her favorite subjects but it was one thing to read about itanother to live it. She was familiar with most of that particular story. Wallace's own men betrayed him into the hands of the English king. Edward had been relieved to finally rid himself of the Scottish thorn in his regal paw. By midmorning, one of the inn's maids knocked on the door and, receiving no answer, went in to quickly fill the pitcher and leave clean cloths. On the middle of the bed, sat the largest black cat she had ever seen. The cat snarled softly, but didn't move. Its green eyes glowed. The maid backed out of the room quickly and shut the door. No one had brought in any pets the night before; the landlord wouldn't tolerate it. How could anyone sneak in such a large cat without being noticed? Perhaps she was still feeling the effects of too much ale the night before and imagined the animal. The maid listened carefully. Hearing nothing, she slowly opened the door again and glanced in. The bed was empty. She glanced about the room, not wanting to see the cat againif indeed it was a cat. Something made her look down. What looked to be a tuft of fur hanging in mid air floated steadily toward the door, bouncing, as if it dangled on a piece of string. The maid's eyes widened in fright and she threw herself against the wall, crossing herself. She gathered her skirts and ran down the stairs. Someone else could see to the room. **** Tristan tried to avoid the throng but he and Meryl were caught in the surge of spectators moving toward the town square. It was either follow the crowd or be trampled by them. He glanced in the direction of the stable and found the distance growing wider, being filled with more spectators. For a small town, there were a good many people here. He wanted to protect Meryl from the milling, jeering crowd, and was grateful they blocked her view from the gruesome sight. There was nothing he could do to stop the sound. He sensed the fear and disgust weaving themselves about her and felt her shake uncontrollably. She hid her face against his chest. Her arms slipped around his waist and she wept softly. Sounds of the heavy steel axe being driven into the block were mercifully muffled by his shirt, and his cupped hand over her other ear. No one should have to die in such a horrid manner. This shouldn't have happened. How could the Highlands be united with traitors in their midst; men who turned on their leaders and betrayed them to the English? Tristan felt he would never understand how such treachery could take place.

Tristan couldn't hide from the execution. With his height, he could easily see over the heads of the shorter English. He turned his head away. He had watched men die in battle, but the hideous sight turned his own stomach, all the more so because he knew the heroism of the man they put to death. The English made examples of those who defied them, in the hope of ending any ideas of resistance or rebellion. They hadn't counted on the Scots being a stubborn lot. He wrapped his arms around Meryl and held close to him in a protective embrace, offering what comfort he could. He felt the shudder of her despair and the wetness of her tears soaking through the front of his shirt. What had he done in bringing her here? He should have gathered the supplies they needed for the rest of their journey and left London right away, rather than staying the night. Maybe she was right to want to return to her own time. Tristan felt torn between his promise to his dying mentor, and a young woman's vulnerability to the unknown. He sighed softly as his sense of duty won out. He couldn't return her now; he had a job to finish. He harbored some doubt she would be able to help the Scots, but he would give his life, if necessary, to keep her safe. They broke free of the mob at last. Wallace's death was a terrible way for her to face the harsh realities of the times. Better she realize it now, then later, he silently argued with himself. Tristan held a firm grasp on Meryl's wrist and led her toward the stables. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave this place. **** Famhair made himself comfortable on a pile of straw in an empty stall, and rested his head on his paws. He raised only his eyes and looked up at the preening cat sitting before him. You should have seen her! Dinks began. She came into the room expecting to straighten it up and be on her way. She didn't expect to find something like me sitting on the middle of the bed looking so menacing, but innocent" "There is nothing innocent about you, Famhair cut in. Everything you do is calculated to get the most of a situation." "Ah, you already know me too well, Dinks purred with pride. Anyway, as I was saying. She took one look at me and dashed out of the room. I don't think she went very far, because a moment or two later, she entered the room again, very cautiously. By that time I was no longer visible and I left the room, under her very nose. She saw only the tip of my tail and ran to the end of the hall and down the stairs. I think it's highly unlikely she'll return to that room any time soon. Dinks licked one paw and rubbed it over his ear, grooming his fur. What passed for a feline grin showed great satisfaction in his latest adventure. He continued to groom himself as if nothing had happened. A rumble came from Famhair's throat. At least you can play games and get away with it. I sometimes envy you your abilities. Famhair raised his head and growled at the noise coming from the doorway of the stable. You had best disappear if we are to continue this charade. I sense our owners approaching. **** Meryl suddenly decided she'd had enough and pulled back, trying to free herself from Tristan's grasp. Other people pushed and shoved their way through the square. Some were determined to return to their work while others saw the execution as an excuse for a holiday, and made their way toward the inn or the nearest tavern to celebrate. Tristan's hold on her remained taut as he pulled her along, determined to get to the stable. As soon as they had gained access to the building, Meryl dug in her heels and tried to pry his fingers loose. Let me go! she demanded. Tristan half dragged her to the first empty stall, spun her around and shoved her against the nearest wall.

What did I tell you about saying anything? he growled at her. Famhair looked up at his master surprised to hear such a sound emanating from the human. Tristan ignored the dog's interest in their arrival. "Are you trying to get us both arrested? If the wrong people should hear you, we could easily be accused of treason and end up like Wallace. Is that what you want?" "No! I want you to take me back. I don't belong here." "I couldn't take you back, even if I wanted to." "There must be another gateway that can send me back to my time, she insisted. "Get it through your head, Meryl. I cannot take you back. There are several gateways but they all go in one directionhere. There are none to take you back. I have a job to complete. You will continue this journey to its end. Once we arrive at our destination, you will become someone else's problem." Tristan stared down at her, his green eyes dark with anger. Not only was she putting their lives at risk with her attempts to flee him, his anger was also directed at himself. He felt an attraction to her he preferred would die a quick death, or at least go away and leave him in peace. There was no room in his life for any woman, especially a woman as stubborn as this one. He had to give her credit, though, she was no simpering miss, ready to faint at the first sign of trouble. Meryl wished he would release her and back away. She didn't like him being so close to her that he could feel her tremble. Would he think it was from anger or something more? Something more wasn't on her agenda. Her breathing quickened as he closed the small distance between them. She didn't know what she expected then, but a moment later, she felt a cool draught when he stepped away, after releasing her wrists. "Let's go. We're leaving now, as soon as I can get you on Laoch's back. I don't want to be here later when these people are drunk enough to start trouble.and I can promise you, there will be trouble before the day is out." Tristan let the stallion out of his stall. Famhair stood lazily and stretched his sleek body, then waited for a command from his master. Tristan carelessly tossed Meryl onto Laoch's back, forcing her to catch her balance before she tumbled off the other side. He led the stallion out of the stable, just beyond the main door, then mounted behind his reluctant companion and directed the horse to the nearest gates. Meryl glanced about, still hoping for a means to get away. The crowd had thinned a little, leaving a clearer view of the staging where the execution had taken place. Meryl's stomach did a quick flip-flop and she glanced away. In front of one cottage, not far from the inn stood a weathered old man, dressed in dingy grey robes. His gaze met Meryl's and held it for a moment, but he offered no hope. She looked away, disappointed. Then again what could she expect from anyone when she was a total stranger? These English weren't known for their friendliness to strangers. Meryl sat ramrod straight before Tristan. Despite her horror of the day's events he knew she was hiding behind her stubbornness, refusing to give him the satisfaction of giving in to despair. If there were some way he could redirect her thoughts away from the horror of the earlier execution, he'd do so, but at the moment he could think of nothing. Even Laoch's plodding gait seemed to echo the attitude of the couple on his back.

The Scots best hope for unity, William Wallace, was dead, betrayed by a man he trusted. His death was only a small part of what the highlanders were experiencing. Let her have her tears now, they would give her strength to face the battles to come. Tristan's arm about her waist, tightened ever so slightly. It will be all right, he whispered. We aren't beaten yet. No matter what they do, the English will not beat us into submission. His soft voice took on a hard edge. Tristan wished he could believe his own words, but without Wallace, there was no one strong enough, or willing, to take his place. What would become of Scotland? Of the Highlands? Did they have any hope of surviving? "Why did you bring me to this time and place? There's nothing I can do for these people. I don't belong here. She saw no reason to remain. Maybe now, this Scot would change his mind and return her to her home. Her life was seven hundred years in the future. If she did stay, she, herself, could die a witch's death. Tristan's mouth tightened into a thin line. Once again he was tempted to take her back and forget the promise he'd made. He hardened his resolve. You are needed here. Once you've laid claim to your inheritance, you'll be able to help these people." "What can I do that your own people cannot? Meryl turned and looked over her shoulder to stare deeply into the warrior's green eyes. Windows to the soul. He truly believed what he was saying. Meryl's knowledge of Scottish history made her well aware of the Highlanders failure to unite their clans. Despite what she knew, she couldn't use the knowledge to help anyone. She shouldn't change what was. Could history be changed? She pondered the question, but arrived at no sort of conclusion. No matter what the future, what was done here today would live on in infamy and never be forgotten.

CHAPTER EIGHT The last five days of travel were leaving Meryl stiff and sore. If she never got on a horse again, after they arrived at their destination, she would be eternally grateful. The dismal weather managed to keep the sun away, leaving the air damp and dreary. This late afternoon was no exception. "How do you know where you're going? Holding on to the edges of her cloak, Meryl's arms reached around Tristan's waist while she tried to keep from being bounced off Laoch's bare back. She'd finally gotten over her mad and made herself as comfortable as she dared. The thick, chilling mist had become their constant companion, swirling about them and making her shiver in the dampness. Meryl leaned against his back, enjoying his warmth. She was grateful for the woolen gown, that several days earlier she'd thought crazy, and she made a promise to herself that she would never again complain about summer heat. How she wished she had some now. Tristan glanced over his shoulder. Don't worry. I won't get us lost. He grinned at her look of doubt on her face. Moments later the fog vanished as if they had exited a cold storage room into a warmer one. Meryl leaned a little to one side, careful not to lose her balance, glanced around his arm and drew a sharp breath. What happened to Kansas? A dozen or more huts were scattered across the rocky hillside. "You're not in Kansas anymore, he chuckled and dismounted. Tristan's response surprised her. He seemed familiar with the well-known movie quote, but how could that be? And how did he know what Kansas was, never mind where? It was almost two hundred years before Columbus would be searching for a route to the West Indies. Meryl's thoughts scattered when curious villagers approached. "Tristan! You've returned! A young girl ran to him, her face flushed with excitement. Strands of light brown hair escaped the leather tie at the back of her neck. Joy showed in her hazel eyes as she hugged the warrior. Were you successful? she asked, never looking away from him. Tristan caught her slender waist and made sure to keep a respectable distance between them. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. I certainly hope so, lass. If not, I've traveled a long way for naught. He turned to the stallion to help Meryl dismount. Meryl kept her features neutral when the younger girl spotted her. The newcomer had no idea what sort of reception she would receive from these people. If this girl's initial response was what she could expect, then Meryl's purpose here, whatever that was, was all ready destined for trouble. "Everything will be fine, Meryl. Tristan's quietly spoken words did little to assure her. When he stepped aside, she got a clearer view of the village. Rose, this is the Lady Meryl." "Don't look much like a lady to me, Rose commented, taking in Meryl's wool gown. Her contempt was obvious. Meryl bristled at the insult. Where I come from, she told the girl, the word lady is a term of respect and has nothing to do with nobility." "Tris, Rose's eyes narrowed at the set down, then turned to Tristan, ignoring Meryl. She's so young. We thought you were bringing back an old woman. Tristan laughed at Rose's obvious disappointment. Meryl realized the younger girl was jealous. Not five minutes in this strange place and she felt as if she

were already in trouble. Her thoughts were disrupted by a black blur shooting past her toward a group of children. It stopped short in front of them. Famhair jumped between them and growled a soft warning. The children huddled together, too afraid to move. The cat sniffed the air, intrigued by the scent of these small humans. "Dinks. To me, Meryl ordered the animal. Dinks sniffed once more, reluctant to leave the smaller, fascinating creatures. Dinks, now. Both Famhair's growl and Meryl's stern command held notes of warning. "Where did the beastie come from? Tristan muttered in English. Meryl shrugged. Her pet had remained out of sight when she'd ridden off with the warrior. She knew Dinks would successfully follow, no matter where he wandered. The cat sat by her side. Rose stepped closer to Tristan, keeping her distance from the cat, never taking her eyes from it. Her hand rested lightly on Tristan's sleeve, supposedly in fear, but Meryl saw it as the possessive gesture it was meant to be. "He won't bother with you, Meryl assured her, playing the same game. The cat purred contentedly while its mistress scratched behind its ears. Meryl spoke softly to her pet while guardedly watching three women. They stood apart from the rest of the gathering villagers, speaking quietly with one another, and occasionally glanced her way. The eldest of the three nodded finally and walked toward Meryl. The woman had a sense of power about her, but she didn't flaunt it. Meryl watched the small groups of villagers speaking with one another in hushed tones and glancing her way. Meryl was shocked to find she understood everything they were saying that she could overhearnot that she was eavesdropping. When Tristan taught her a few words, she felt as if knowledge of the language had been unlocked somewhere inside her. She had no idea where she might have heard it before. Something in the recesses of her memory tried to call out to her, something she should be able to grasp but couldn't. A warrior approached at the same time and Meryl smiled brilliantly. Without a doubt he was handsome, but she found herself comparing him to her captor. The newcomer spoke quietly with Tristan in Gaelic. Meryl caught a few words, enough to guess the stranger asked about her. He had the bearing of a powerful warrior. His thick blond hair was cut shorter than most warriors. His eyes reminded her of an autumn day when leaves were burned. The smoky gray color hid many secrets. She smiled when he turned his attention to her, but already she sensed some distrust in him. She glanced about, and felt the same misgivings among the staring villagers. She thought it odd she hadn't picked up on it moments before. If they didn't trust her, then why did they want her there? "Welcome... the warrior hesitated, her small hand resting easily in his larger one. "Meryl, she supplied and was presented with a courtly kiss. His eyes and smile held a promise of friendship. I'm pleased to meet you... Her sentence trailed off when she realized he hadn't mentioned his name. Tristan laughed. In their short acquaintance, he'd never seen her look nervous. This, he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder, is my good friend, Graeme Sinclair." Graeme's eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the pendant's engraved design. So this is the woman they had been waiting for. He had to agree with Rose. Meryl didn't appear so young in London, with shadows playing across her face. No sense of power surrounded her. Either Tristan had found the wrong person or she had the ability to hide the truth of who and what she is. Or perhaps, she had yet to come into her own. Graeme's curiosity surpassed Maisri's. He had more at stake than the rest of the

villagers. Graeme gently squeezed her hand. A pleasure, my lady..." Before he could say more, the woman Meryl noticed earlier stepped forward. She was shorter than Meryl and her graying hair was held back in a loose braid. Clear blue eyes and few creases in her face hid her age well. Meryl sensed the great respect the others held for her. "Welcome, Lady Meryl. I am Maisri ... That is an interesting necklace you wear. May I take a closer look? Without waiting for an answer, Maisri touched the pendant, noting its double chain. The slight warmth it gave off surprised hera warmth that didn't come from its wearer. Meryl didn't have a chance to say anything before the woman was examining the jewelry. Why is everyone so interested in my pendant? Meryl responded to the unexplained interest. It's only a family heirloom. The interest both annoyed her and roused her curiosity. "It has an unusual design. Who gave it to you?" "My mother left it to me when I was quite young. I only know what my aunt told me about her, which amounted to nothing." "The time and place of your birth? Maisri asked bluntly. She listened carefully to Meryl's answers, and seemed to be mulling them over in her mind, while at the same time studying the pale silver eyes. "I don't know. Seems no one knows, so my aunt just picked a date. She thought August first was as good as any. Meryl shrugged and began to feel as if she were on trial for some unknown crime. "No matter, just an old woman's curiosity. Welcome to our village. Maisri shrugged off the questions and studied the cat by Meryl's side. "Oh don't worry about Dinks. He won't bother anyone." "I have never seen a cat such as this." "He is an unusual cat, to say the least. Some people think he is a... Meryl stopped a moment and decided some things were better left unsaid. How he is seen depends on the person who sees him." "That is rather unusual. The two women exchanged brief glances. Maisri realized there was much they could learn from the other, and from the look in Meryl's eyes, she knew the feeling was mutual. The cat's green eyes fixed on the older woman. Maisri sensed a different kind of intelligence there, one that would be of benefit to the girl, one which made this animal extraordinary. Meryl would bear watching to see if she was the one they waited for. Proving herself to the villagersproving to them the legend did indeed exist, was most important now. The villagers drifted back to their work, leaving Graeme and Rose with Meryl. Tristan moved away from the trio to speak with Maisri. It didn't take long for Meryl to figure out that whatever was being said didn't please the warrior. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her in his darkened gaze. His frustration was obvious, and it made her uncomfortable. Meryl turned her attention to the couple standing with her. It was obvious how Rose felt about the dark haired warrior. Her eyes glowed when she looked at him, which was often. Meryl's smile disappeared. Had she ever been that obvious when she was that age? Who was she kidding? Rose couldn't be more than sixteen, which wasn't much younger than Meryl, herself. It was just as telling that Tristan didn't feel the same way about the girl. While he was polite, she sensed no closeness, none of that special warmth, she knew existed between most couples.

Tristan gathered up Laoch's reins and turned to Meryl. Come with me, I'll show you where you'll be staying." "Nice to meet you both, Meryl replied awkwardly to the others then followed Tristan to a hut several yards away. Dinks, come. The cat sneezed and followed his mistress. Tristan led the stallion into a lean-to attached to the hut. He rubbed down Laoch's coat with a curry brush, while he talked quietly to the stallion, apparently in no hurry to look after his guest. After setting out a measure of oats, and a bucket of water he turned to Meryl. Laoch is settled in, now it's your turn. He turned to the deerhound and spoke a few Gaelic words. The dog immediately plopped down in a corner and went to sleep. Make sure that cat of yours stays out of my way. The cottage is small and I don't care to be tripping over him every time I turn around." "Who stuck a burr under your saddle? Meryl mumbled as she followed Tristan around to the front of the cottage. His mood had darkened considerably after speaking with Maisri. The only light entering the cottage came from the open door. The sparsely furnished interior boasted a table with several stools around it, taking up most of the space. Shelf space along one wall held several dishes and cooking pots. Meryl didn't know what to expect. She was used to a fully stocked kitchen and well furnished home, and yet, this felt more right than the mansion did, but she wasn't about to admit it. "You can sleep in there. Tristan nodded in the direction of a smaller room. It'll give you some privacy." "But this is your home. What will the others think?" "They won't think anything. All they're concerned about is whether or not you're to be trusted. Until you've earned their trust, they'll be cautious around you." "So much for Scottish hospitality." "You have to understand, Meryl. These days it's difficult to trust strangers. These people come from many clans, and have learned that oftentimes they can't trust their own. Too often, our giving ways have left us vulnerable to betrayal." "You're right. I apologize. What did she have to prove? Why did Maisri ask those questions? All her life, no one had shown the least bit curiosity about her past, and now it seemed everyone wanted to know her family history. Tristan, why did you bring me back here?" Tristan hesitated a moment then finished setting kindling in the hearth. The year is 1305. William Wallace has been executed for treason. Robert Bruce and Red Comyn fight for the crown of Scotland. They take turns making and breaking alliances with Edward." Meryl stood in the curtained doorway of the smaller second room, then turned her back to it to face Tristan where he still knelt by the hearth. By his clipped speech, she suspected he was holding back information. She stared back at him, her head tilted, wondering why he was careful with what he told her. For someone who wanted her help, he was far from forthcoming with answers. "I do recall some Scottish history, she replied defensively. I know the battle for the crown will go on for some time yet. Wallace was bigger than life, both in size and deeds, but none of what you say tells me why I'm here." "Unfortunately, it's not my place to answer those questions. All I know is that you're important to our future, to the future of Scotland. In due time you'll learn what you need to know."

To the future of Scotland. His was the sort of answer that told her nothing. She did her best to tamp down her frustration. Meryl turned again to the smaller room and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. A narrow bed filled one corner and she ran her hand slowly over the coverings on the straw filled mattress. The coverlet was worn and faded. A feeling of belonging startled her. This wasn't her time, so why should she feel as if she'd been here before? A chest set against the wall looked well traveled. It looked to be about three feet long and a couple feet high. Meryl knelt before it and ran her hands lightly over the surface. Most of the wood, its color uneven, looked worn with use. Her fingertips found nicks in the carvings. A Celtic braid was carved along the edges of each side, just within the brass finishings that covered the edges where the sides met. A hasp reached down from the cover and was safely secured with a stout lock. Beneath that was a Celtic knot, with neither beginning nor end; a symbol of infinity. The lid itself was domed in shape and also had the braid design around its perimeter. In the center, just below the highest part of the lid, was a two-headed dragon. Its long body twirled around and over on itself, with a head attached at either end, facing each other. A power struggle? One couldn't destroy the other without destroying itself in the process. Most of the finish was worn and the brass fittings were dull and scratched with lack of polishing. Meryl laid a hand gently on the lid. The wood felt warm to the touch, as if the chest had meant something special to someone. She lightly tapped her short nails thoughtfully against the cover while another thought hovered at the edge of her memory, something else she couldn't grasp. She sighed then left the small room.

CHAPTER NINE For several days, Meryl wandered around the village, feeling useless. All thoughts of escape had dissipated with the fact there was nowhere to go. The little village was isolated. Learning anything from these people proved to be difficult. Getting to know some of them turned out to be harder. If she was going to stay here, she might as well learn how they did things. Her modern ways had no place here and would only make her look more a witch than if she used real spells. The possible consequences of those actions made her shudder. Maisri was the only one who willingly answered questions and showed her the way of things. Meryl took an instant liking to the older woman, sometimes imagining what her own mother might have been like. Maisri wasn't quite as tall as Meryl. The woman's gray hair hung in a neat braid. She spoke softly, when she had something to say, and the respect the villagers held for her was obvious. Meryl knew instinctively that Maisri held the key to the reasons for her being here. Maisri showed Meryl around the village, and introduced her to several women. Their response to her was guarded. Meryl didn't know how she was going to fit in if she couldn't get past their defenses. They went about their work, casting occasional glances her way, whispering to one another. Their conversations were too soft for Meryl to pick up any hint of their suspicions. Meryl couldn't help but notice how Rose, more than anyone else, avoided her. The reasons were obvious. Rose saw her as a threat to what she wantedRose wanted Tristan. Meryl silently wished the girl luck. As the contemporary world put it, Tristan was married to his career. He cared only about being a warrior. Just the same, Meryl figured if there was a way to win his heart, Rose would find it, despite Meryl's presence. By the standards of this century, Rose was nearing the age when she'd be considered too old to marry. Meryl felt both amusement and sadness for the girl. Did she honestly believe Meryl stood in her way? Despite the younger woman's determination, Meryl wondered if Tristan had any heart at all. Thinking back on it, Meryl realized Tristan had been nothing more than polite to her since their arrival. They shared the same cottage, yet they barely spoke to one another. He left early in the morning, before she woke. Unlike the others, Tristan had shown no fear of her strange eyes, but still he kept distant from her in every sense. Rose most assuredly had to find a way to get past the warrior's solitude. Goddess knew, Meryl couldn'tnot that she wanted to. Dinks followed Meryl about the village and showed particular curiosity when it came to the children. Whenever he got close to them, Famhair seemed to come out of nowhere to guard them. Hurt any of the wee humans, the hound growled, and the human pack leader will be finding your bones scattered about the village." Dinks hissed in return, resenting the way Famhair distrusted him. I have no intention of hurting them. I find them fascinating. Dinks found the smaller creatures easier to play with. He sniffed at them, much to their delight, and noticed they smelled a bit differently than the larger members of their packand they were more attentive. Dinks loved attention; he thrived on it, but his first loyalty would always be to his mistress. Before long, hound and cat were playing a game of rough-and-tumble with some of the older children while the younger ones looked on, squealing with delight. Someone began playing a chanter and the notes danced on the air. Meryl listened to the jaunty tune and wondered about the occasion. Soon they'd be harvesting what crops they had. She knew people in these times didn't stop working at mid day to play unless they had something to celebrate. Tristan had already left to join his friends.

Meryl sat on a stump just outside the doorway of the lean-to and watched the goings on. She didn't feel comfortable joining the others and decided to sit alone and watch them. She smiled, watching Dinks saunter around the corner of the building, looking for a new game to play; he moved gracefully and stretched out his sleek body, then made himself comfortable at her feet. She envied him his unconcerned attitude, then turned her attention back to the merry-making and lost herself in the revelry. Several children, no more than six years old, held hands, forming a circle. They laughed and tried to imitate the adults dancing, only to trip over their own feet and each other. Meryl tapped her foot to the cheerful tune, while Tristan twirled Rose around. The young girl laughed, her face flushed with excitement. Meryl could see the sparkle in Rose's eyes, thrilled with the attention Tristan paid her. Graeme approached. Come, dance with me, Meryl. I know you want to. You haven't been able to sit still since you came out here." "Have you been watching me? she asked, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Can't help but watch the prettiest girl in the village." Despite the compliment, Meryl wanted to refuse, but Graeme took her hands and pulled her into the group. She watched the others, then tentatively tried the steps. Before long she was dancing as if she'd been doing it all her life. Graeme twirled her about until she was almost dizzy. Her feet had wings as she spun around, laughing. Her laughter was short lived when a small girl tugged at her skirts. Meryl glanced down at the child, then looked in the direction she pointed. In the distance, horses, perhaps a dozen of them, galloped toward the village. "They'll be looking for our young men one woman spoke up, frantically. There is no place to hide them now. She twisted her apron in her hands and looked about fearfully. She was right. They were all out in the open, in plain sight of anyone who approached. The young men she spoke of were the warriors staying in the village. Most had no homes and wandered throughout the highlands, doing battle with any English soldiers they came across. They were ready to do battle now, giving little if any consideration to the people and children around them. Most were too eager and Meryl didn't like the enthusiasm they showed. Their eagerness to fight could cost the others their lives. "There will be no battle today if I can do anything to stop it, Meryl muttered under her breath. Don't be so sure, she replied aloud to the woman's concern. Something strange was happening. She felt a new and different kind of confidence surge through her. She touched the pendant and felt its warmth. She knew exactly what she should do, and hoped she could pull it off. Have you ever heard of hiding in plain sight? She grinned and looked at the woman who had spoken. The woman looked back at Meryl as if she'd gone daft. "No one is to make a sound until the soldiers are gone, Meryl warned the villagers. Keep the children quiet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her pendant, which seemed the right thing to do at the moment. Something new began to build within her, something she believed she could call on to help these people. She raised her hands and held her arms out from her sides, then turned slowly in a circle, her eyes still closed in concentration. "Circle round the village be To keep this highland English free.

Warriors neither seen nor heard As long as no one speaks a word" Maisri glanced at Meryl, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning the improbable spell. Meryl shrugged again. What can I say ... I'm new at this. Under her breath she added, It better work or we're all going to end up in a cauldron. She smoothed the front of her dress to hide her nervousness. I can do this. I will do this, she repeated to herself emphatically. She could only hope that the cloud of dust raised by the oncoming horses would obscure the riders vision. A dozen English soldiers reached the perimeter of the village and suddenly stopped when their horses refused to go any further. The leader dug his heels into his mount's sides but the animal refused to budge, rearing up instead. Meryl waited until the horse settled back on all fours, then carefully approached the skittish animal, speaking quietly to it. When the horse settled, Meryl looked up at the officer. What can we do for you, sir knight? she asked innocently. Surely a bit of music at midday isn't breaking any English laws, despite the fact we are in Scotland. Meryl saw him flinch when he looked into her pale silver eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, while he tried to look away. She could see and feel his discomfort. Meryl continued to speak softly to the gelding, as if talking with its rider were a natural everyday event. She rubbed the gelding's velvety nose to calm him. "What witchcraft do you do? Only days earlier, Matthew had been commissioned by King Edward to find the Scots warriors harrassing English troops and deal with them. Information had led him to this small village. He suddenly felt uncomfortable as he tried not to stare at the strange girl. Apparently, she wasn't easily intimidated like the others; no one else seemed inclined to say anything. He didn't like the way she calmed his warhorse enough to obey her. Why won't he enter?" "No witchcraft, sir. I'm just a simple woman who has a way with animals, nothing more. Perhaps he has more sense than to trample innocent children. She gazed up at him again. What do you seek here?" "Where are you hiding the warriors?" "Warriors? Look around. You see before you the entire village. We were just having a few moments entertainment. We have no warriors here for you to see. Meryl's voice and demeanor carried an aura of innocence and confidence. Inside, she shook like a well-set plate of jello. It would be a miracle if she could pull this off. She continued to gently stroke the gelding's nose. "Six warriors were seen here. I ask again, where are they?" "And I say again, they ... are ... not ... here. Meryl repeated the words slowly, deliberately, to make certain the soldier understood her. Do I speak a language unknown to you, sir?" Matthew finally stared down at her, unable to accept this wisp of a girl who dared to be defiant. He pulled his horse back out of her reach. I know they are here. I will return and I will find them. Anyone who is hiding them will be charged with treason as well." "As you say, sir knight. Meryl mocked his words with her slight nod. "Tell me one more thing, girl." "If I can, sir." "What's wrong with your eyes? I have never seen eyes so light of colorunless it was blindness, and you

are obviously not blind." Meryl grinned and shrugged. Family defect? The answer came out as a smug question. She knew he wouldn't understand her choice of words and his brief, puzzled expression confirmed it. She was rather pleased with herself at the moment. The knight's look of disgust amused her. The soldiers turned away from the village. Matthew glared down at the girl with the strange eyes. Defect or not, one day we will meet again and you will be taught a lesson you won't soon forget. You will learn the meaning of respect. He kicked his mount and rode off after his men. "Don't say a word, Meryl quietly warned the people again, while she watched the soldiers ride away. She wanted to be sure they were gone before she dared relax her guard. When they were no more than specks on the horizon, she turned to the group behind her. The children were her first concern. There is nothing to worry about, she told the little ones as her legs turned to rubber and she slowly collapsed on the ground. When she looked up again, Tristan and Graeme were kneeling on either side of her. Meryl giggled. I don't believe I did that! Aunt Enchantra would never believe it." "Why didn't they see us? Graeme asked. "I did it. I actually did it, Meryl ignored his question and her eyes beamed with pride. I've never cast a spell before. The two warriors helped her to her feet. Maisri stared at the girl in disbelief. This was the Legend? This inexperienced child was the hope of the Highlands? Thank the goddess she knew nothing of the role she was destined to play. While the villagers had their suspicions, only Maisri and Tristan knew what Meryl would be. Now they would have to wait. The older woman watched in the distance until the hillside became quiet again and the distant dust cloud had settled. The children whispered among themselves, glancing at Meryl, unsure of her. Maisri knew the knight would return and goddess help them when he did. **** Several Scots warriors sat around the campfire, drinking ale and laughing. The autumn night air carried with it hints of winter. "How could those Sassenachs not have seen us? Malcolm asked when the conversation finally got around to the topic on everyone's mind. We were standing right here, in view of everyone. Sassenachs had to be blind not to see us." The others reluctantly grumbled their agreement. She has to be some kind of witch. Robbie glanced at the others before continuing. How else could they have not seen us? And what about the way they couldn't come into the village, like there was an unseen wall?" "Are you saying she should be tried for witchcraft? Tristan asked casually after sipping his ale. She called it hiding in plain sight. I've seen people in other places use the power of suggestion to gain their goals. Perhaps she did the same. Tristan reached out and stroked Famhair's massive head. The hound closed its eyes, enjoying the attention. Graeme agreed with Tristan. Whatever she did, she kept us from being taken. They'd have hanged the lot of us then and there." "What about those horses? She calmed the leader when even the captain couldn't. He wasn't much pleased with that. Robbie was only beginning to warm up to the subject with his subtle accusations. The men murmured agreement.

"What you saw was a woman willing to take a chance on saving your worthless hides, Maisri declared, approaching the fire. No one told her she had to do it. She's still treated as a stranger here and because of that, she has no reason to become involved in our problems. You can show your gratitude by stopping this suspicious gossip." "Gossip? Now see here, woman... Angus suddenly stood and stared down at Maisri who was half his size. Maisri tilted her head back and silently stared at the big warrior, forcing him to look away. She would have made a formidable warrior had she been a man. He sat down again, making unintelligible sounds and gulped down his ale. The others laughed and he glared at them. "Think on this, she concluded. I do not pretend to understand what she did, or how she did it, but those Sassenachs will be thinking on it as well. Maisri looked around at the men's faces, stopping a moment with Tristan's, then left without another word. Tristan finished his ale in silence. He caught the double meaning of her words. She knew more than she told them; the quick glance in his direction assured him. He left the others to the campfire and their talk. It was late and he was ready to sleep. He hoped Meryl would be asleep by now. She was proving to be a temptation hard to resist, and he couldn't, nor did he want to get involved with her. Those silver eyes were of unknown depth and he wondered what secrets hid behind their seeming innocence. "What do you think, Laoch? Tristan rubbed his hand along the length of the stallion's face. The velvety nose twitched, searching for a treat, and found the apple Tristan held out to him. He tossed a second apple to Famhair who was settling himself in a pile of hay in a corner. The dog neatly caught the fruit and set to crunching on it. Tristan turned his attention back to his stallion Is she the one? The amulet says yes. Her eyes... His voice softened. Her eyes say something else entirely. He wasn't sure what her eyes told him. He thought of the softness in them, and the laughter, then frowned. She is more than enough to confuse any man. She could have got the amulet from anywhere, and her eyes are the wrong color. Yet, what she did this day could not have been done by some ordinary miss. Someone did try to kill her, that day on the cliff path. Tristan gave the stallion a firm pat on his neck. He hated having to admit to himself he was attracted to her, but she wasn't for him. She was here for one reason, to claim her inheritancewhatever it was. He stroked Laoch's long neck and the stallion nudged at him. What's done is done. Only time will decide if she is the one. In the meantime, I suppose it's best to sleep on it for now, my friend."

CHAPTER TEN Graeme studied the thin edge of his sword. The newly sharpened steel blade glinted in the light of the hearth fire. He carefully sheathed the weapon and laid it aside. As he did so, he kept his movements casual and unconcerned. Someone else was in the cottage, quietly watching him. He spun around, his dagger in his hand. A woman cautiously moved out of the shadowed corner of the room. Graeme dropped his guard and relaxed. He kept his head down for a moment to hide the flicker of disappointment showing in his features, then it quickly disappeared. At least she had the good sense to keep her distance from him when others were around. Ena, what are you doing here? he asked tiredly, and stuck the dagger point firmly into the table, as if issuing a silent warning. The redhead approached and slipped her arms about his neck. Are you not pleased to see me, Graeme? she asked, sounding innocent. Her tone belied her actions. She was anything but innocent unlike a certain dark haired beauty he couldn't get out of his thoughts, especially after what had happened earlier in the day. "Not tonight, Ena. Graeme reached up and removed her hands from where they teased the nape of his neck. He released her arms and stepped back. He knew she wouldn't be pleased. "You're thinking about the dark-haired one, she pouted. She barely hid the hint of jealousy lying hidden behind her words; she let her actions speak for her. Perhaps you should court her. Ena leaned back against the small table suggestively, heedless of the quivering dagger. Saying one thing but hinting at another was a sure way to hold his attention. Don't give him the chance to think too much on the idea. There was plenty of time for words later. Firelight reflected off her own fiery tresses. The provocative picture she created caused a response in Graeme that wasn't welcome at the moment. Ena gave him a knowing smile. To show her true feelings would do her no favors here. "Why would I court her? Graeme shook his head. For a moment he could have sworn he'd seen something different in hersomething not of this world. It had to be the firelight creating strange images. She was a woman like any other. There was nothing magical about her, except perhaps, the way she could capture a man's interest and hold it until she grew bored with him. She could keep a man from doing or thinking anything that didn't suit her purposes. He knew this but still couldn't avoid the spell she wove about him. He heard her words as if they came from a distance. He'd give them more thought later. "Because she intrigues you. Her innocence tugs at your every thought. Ena knew she had to keep Graeme's interest and if that meant helping him to get what he wanted, so be it. It was a small price to pay. From the time they first met, Graeme had recognized Ena for the calculating woman she was. There was no innocence in her brandy colored eyes, and he couldn't resist the heated stare that drew him to her. Despite their lure, they couldn't compare to a pair of silver eyes that haunted him day and night. "You want her and you see how Tristan looks at her. He thinks no one notices, but you and I have. Ena continued while she scrutinized Graeme's reaction to her words. What if she is the one the tale speaks of? Think what you could do if you controlled her and her power." "What do you know of her and her power? Graeme's eyes narrowed. Ena shrugged nonchalantly. Only gossip I've heard ... and what I've seen. You must admit, what happened today was quite unusual. The tale I've heard says the man who loves her will keep her power. She twirled strands of her long red hair about a slender finger then turned her gaze to him. Imagine what you could do with power like that. She could help you become king of Scotland. Is not a Comyn better

fit to rule than Robert Bruce? Scotland needs a king who will be strong, who will be loyal to her; not a man whose loyalties change every day." Ena sensed the possibilities churning in his mind and continued to play them. Why should you not be the Comyn to rule? Your uncle doesn't have many years left. Better a young king to firmly set the Scots on a new path, then an old man who will be gone in a short while. She needed to taunt and tempt him with something more, something to rouse him to action. At the same time she had to be cautious she didn't push too hard. Her voice became low and sultry. Have you not proven yourself in battle? You are every bit as good as Tristan, perhaps even better, given the opportunity. Why should he reap all the glory and claim the prize as well? She knew when her words made an impression as his eyes darkened with greed and need. Water the seeds of jealousy and he would give the matter a great deal of thought. But not tonight. Tonight she had other plans for him. Tonight he belonged to her. Ena's slender hands drifted to the gathered neckline of her chemise. Holding one end of the lace, she tugged at it slowly. The bow seemed to take forever to come undone. When it finally came apart she raised her hand with tantalizing slowness and took her time loosening the gathers, never taking her eyes from him. She had him trapped in her will. Graeme watched the seductive movements of her fingers and imagined what they could do to him. Her invitation left no room for doubt. His desire for her grew quickly and without warning, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close, showing her how ready he was to give her what they both craved. He was dismayed at her ability to entice him so easily, but found himself more than willing and ready to take what she offered. Graeme leaned over the redhead and nipped at her vulnerable throat and Ena's eyes drifted close in pleasurable response. Graeme was always aware of her need to be in control, and allowed her to believe she had it fully. Let her think she had the upper hand with him. In time she'd learn differently. For the moment Ena was here; Meryl wasn't. Tomorrow would be soon enough to plot strategy. If he planned carefully, he could have it allhis mistress, wife and the crown. **** For the most part, Graeme found it to his benefit that the majority of villagers continued to keep their distance from Meryl. The other men, being more superstitious, left the ways of magic to the women. After all, women were considered mysterious, magical creatures in their own right. Neither did it escape his attention how Meryl watched and learned quickly, asking few questions. Several women avoided her completely. At times she caught them whispering among themselves, glancing at her when they thought she didn't see. Their shunning didn't seem to bother her, and Graeme knew the villagers fear came from the suspicion of her light eyes. By the expression on her face, he believed he could almost read her mind. At the moment, she wondered why her eyes couldn't have been blue or gray, or even brown? Their paleness suggested ... she didn't know for sure. The comparison always evaded her, as if the time weren't right for her to figure it out. He watched her shoulders slump when she sighed and turned back to Tristan's hut. Meryl entered the cottage and set about lighting kindling in the small hearth. Tristan would be back soon with the other men. He'd taken Famhair with him, claiming they were hunting. He didn't have to explain for her to realize the game they hunted was of the two-legged variety. One of these days he would be caught. What would she do then? He was her link to this time, and probably the only way she could get back to her own timebut there were other reasons to be considered. No, she refused to follow that line of thinking and where it led her. He brought her here because of an inheritance she had to claim; one that was supposed to eventually help these people. Was she their only route to possible prosperity? Even they didn't know for sure. No one could say what she would be claiming, or how it would benefit them. It could be a bottle cap collection for all she knew. Nah ... cork stoppers didn't have much value beyond

the purpose they were intended. She wondered if it was a matter of would or could, because she sensed that Maisri and Tristan knew more than they were saying. Either their answers were too vague, or they sidestepped her questions. She finally stopped asking and pushed the questions from her mind. All things came to those who waited, and if she waited long enough, she'd have her answers. She hoped it wouldn't take till her twenty-first birthday to get them. Dinks curled up close to the hearth, enjoying its warmth. With the deerhound gone, the cat took advantage of the cozy fire. Meryl envied himhe didn't have a care in the world. She tended the pot hanging on its hook, close to the hearth fire. The pot's contents bubbled and simmered while ribbons of steam floated up from within. She stirred it and closed her eyes as she leaned closer for a moment, and breathed in the rich aroma. Meryl hid a smile, listening to the soft footsteps entering the hut. They were too many and too light to be adult. A warning shush, gave away her visitors identities. A half dozen curious children gathered behind her, ready to run at the first hint of trouble. She turned slightly and glanced over her shoulder. The children became wide eyed and scurried out of the hut, like frightened rabbitsall except one. This was the same child who had warned her of the approaching English soldiers. Meryl continued to stir the stew, slowly, then turned her attention to the little girl. "Boo, she said softly. The little girl retreated a step then stopped and stared at the pale eyes. Are you truly a witch? she asked after a moment's hesitation. Meryl sighed softly, and envied the child her innocence. What do you think?" "My grandma says you're the one we've been waiting for." "Did she now? Meryl knelt to eye level with the girl. What's your name, young miss, and who might your grandma be? She was a cute little thing, no more than seven. Her dark brown eyes reminded Meryl of M&Ms, her favorite chocolate treat. She wished she had some now. The child stood as tall as she could. I'm Brenna. Maisri's my grandma, she announced proudly. Meryl felt at ease knowing this adorable child was kin to Maisri. It would explain why she didn't run off with her friends. She was like her grandmother; ask questions first and think about running later. The thought of Maisri running from anything put a smile on Meryl's face. I wouldn't know about being the one you've been waiting for, but where I come from, yes, I am called a witch. Does that frighten you?" "Oh no! I'm not afraid of anything! the child exclaimed. "That's good sometimes, Brenna, but sometimes it's smart to be afraid. Your fear will remind you to be cautious. Meryl stood and tousled the child's chestnut curls. Best get back to your grandmother before she worries where you are. The little girl nodded and, flashing a bright smile, ran from the cottage. The short conversation with the child gave Meryl more than sufficient reason to question what she was. Just because she grew up with a family of witches didn't mean she herself was one. She'd never shown the ability to cast a proper spell or do any of the things the Spellbinders could do. That led her to wonder if someone had played a cruel joke on her. If that were the case, then where did she truly belong? Was she actually an inept witch, or was she destined to do something she'd never considered? There were no answers to be found at the moment and she set about the evening chores. Meryl hummed a lively tune while she set the small table for supper. There was just enough room for a plate with a few slices of bread, two cups and two bowls. She filled the cups with warm ale, then stiffened suddenly when a pair of arms encircled her waist. Warm breath tickled her ear.

"I've been waiting all day to hold you like this, he whispered. Meryl melted against the tall figure behind her. The scent of autumn air lingered on his clothing. "I've missed you too. She turned her head to share a kiss. When had she fallen in love with him? She turned in his arms and gazed into his serious features. Strands of blue black hair reflected light from the hearth. His green eyes darkened as he lowered his head to indulge in her sweet kiss. Meryl's pulse quickened and her fingers curled in his thick hair as he deepened the kiss. He slowly released her, and Meryl took a deep breath, trying to regain her senses. "Are you hungry? she asked, her voice a bit husky. "Aye, lass, but the stew can wait. Tristan lifted her into his arms and carried her into the smaller second room, more than ready to satisfy another hunger. Meryl shook her head, clearing her mind of the lovely daydream. Keep dreaming, girl, she told herself, but it's never going to happen. She could imagine all she liked, but it wouldn't change anything. Tristan didn't care for her anymore than he cared for Rose. He had a duty to the villagers and once that was done, he'd be on his way to do good deeds somewhere else. She sighed softly and was startled to find him behind her. How had he managed to enter the hut without her hearing him? Because she was too busy daydreaming to pay attention to her surroundings. She mentally kicked herself while her face turned a lovely shade of pink, announcing her embarrassment. She felt like an idiot. "You shouldn't stand by the fire so long. The heat's flushed your skin. Tristan took the wooden spoon from her hand and tasted the stew. Mmm, that's good. Hunting gives a man an appetite." "Catch any game? she asked innocently. "Not today, but we will. He said no more and set his sword and pack in a corner out of the way. He sat at the table and dug into the meal she placed before him. When he'd finished the stew, he used a slice of bread to mop up the rest of the gravy, then drank his ale. Dinks had long since vacated his spot by the hearth, leaving room for Tristan to set out his pallet where he promptly fell asleep. Meryl quietly went about cleaning up and putting everything away. She stopped a moment and studied the sleeping form. It was going to be a long night. She released a soft sigh and went to her own bed, sure she wouldn't get much sleep. **** She follows the silent procession, making its way to the crest of the mountain. This place is forbidden to all men; this place is sacred. Meryl follows them, not able to resist a power that calls to her. The twelve women are dressed in white robes. Two of the women walk on either side of a third, helping her along when her steps falter. Where are you going? No one hears Meryl's question. The only sounds are footsteps on the path and loose stones scattering underfoot. The wind dances with the torch flames, casting eerie shadows. Clouds skid across the moon hiding its expanse and light. The night is quiet and chilled. The procession stops just before it reaches the mountain crest. The stone circle is partially sheltered from the wind, its power calls to her. Meryl steps back quickly, afraid of what lies in wait here. The robed figures go about their duties, each one knowing what she must do. Meryl watches, mystified. What are you doing here? She asks again but no one hears her. She turns quickly. One of the women passes through her, a bundle of wood in her arms. Meryl gasps. They don't answer her because she isn't here. How can this be? She can only watch while the women prepare for the rites.

The three women walking side by side enter the stone circle and step into its center. Two help the third to the ground. Meryl is astonished. The third is with child and about to give birth. She groans with pain. Another woman takes a sword and draws a circle about the three. At the mountain crest, a fire is started. The fourth woman carefully feeds the flame. The sacred fire will be needed shortly. The leader adds a little salt to some water then sprinkles it about the perimeter of the drawn circle. Meryl can smell the burning incense and the leader walks about the circle. Meryl can't hear the words but she knows instinctively that the leader is performing a cleansing ritual. The pregnant woman groans again. Her time is very close. The leader steps within the drawn circle and makes a wine offering to their goddess from a large chalice. She sips the wine then passes the cup around to the others. Each one sips the liquid, including the pregnant woman. The woman cries out and one of the healers places a hand on her brow to ease the pain. They speak to her quietly, encouraging her. They chant softly, waiting. During the child's birth, the clouds disappear and the light of the full moon shines on the newborn. Meryl is drawn by a force she doesn't understand. She moves closer. The child is carefully handed over to the leader after the cord is tied and cut. The healer tends to the mother and the leader continues the rites. The child is presented to the moon then passed over the sacred flame. Meryl hears the last of the leader's words. "Born this Lammas night, bless this child, the promised Legend."

CHAPTER ELEVEN Meryl sighed in frustration as she sat alone watching the younger children play. Their giggles made her smile briefly; they took advantage of the evening's freedom from chores, oblivious of the adults conversation going on at the far end of the village. Too many strange dreams filled her nights lately. One in particular kept coming back, warning her of danger in and around the village. Earlier this evening, she'd spoken with Tristan and the elders, telling them what she felt to be true. The doubt in their eyes sent chills skittering along her spine. They claimed she was the one they waited for, but they refused to believe her. The least they could do was consider the merits of what she told them. She heard Tristan's voice rise above the others, trying to convince them of her plan. She knew there was no guarantee they would listen to her. Her ability to protect the warriors from the English soldiers was nowhere near enough to earn their complete trust. Her only hope was that Tristan and Maisri could convince the others of her concern for their welfareand that meant major changes. To keep them safe, they would have to leave. The feelings that continually plagued her, warned tomorrow wasn't soon enough. Meryl could understand their reluctance to leave. Not only did they not know her well, most of these people had never been anywhere else. This was their home, their safe haven, but the feeling of safety was gone, violated by unwelcome intruders. The English would return, hoping to catch warriors here, and they would be back very soon. Time was something these people didn't have to spare. She sat one of the smaller children on her lap and began a game of peekaboo, much to the child's delight. Meryl tried to push the elders overheated conversation away from her mind; tried not to hear what they said, and concentrated on the child's laughter instead. She feared the waiting and expectation would drive her crazy. From the corner of her eye she watched several people approach, with Tristan in the lead. She continued the game with the child, pretending a calm, which didn't exist. Casually she looked up at the group of adults and tried to read Tristan's expression. Her heartbeat quickened. The adults stood before her. Meryl searched Tristan's eyes for some sign of their decision, and thought he would have made a great politician or a good poker player; his eyes and features gave away nothing of his thoughts. "Tell us once more, why we should leave here." Meryl whispered something to the child and the youngster giggled. If only adults could hold on to the same kind of innocence children had at this age. No, perhaps not, she corrected her thoughts. Innocence and maturity seldom worked together within a person. She kissed the child's rosy cheek, set her on the ground, then sighed. The child ran off to join her playmates. What do you wish to know? How many more times, she wondered, would she have to explain her plan? "Where is this place? one of the villagers demanded impatiently. "The valley is north of here. It's large and can accommodate all of you comfortably. She closed her silver eyes, seeing the place in her mind. It's a lush, rich place, protected from harsh weather. It lies snuggled between mountains and forest. There's a curtain of mist, hiding the entrance from intruders. To look at it, no one would suspect a village lies on the other side. The curtain gives the impression of emptiness beyond it. It discourages travelers and curiosity seekers. Meryl opened her eyes and glanced at the people before her. Her gaze settled on Tristan. It's as if someone decided to save this place especially for all of you. The area abounds with superstition, but we can use it to our advantage, to conceal our presence. Once settled, we will have most everything we need. What little we can't produce,

can be traded, but I do believe we can be self sufficient." Tristan looked to the others. I believe we should do this." "If we are to do this, Meryl added, it must be done now. The English will return soon and they won't be here for tea." Maisri, who had stared at her, but remained silent all this time, finally spoke up. She speaks true. I have seen this myself. When the English return, it will be to destroy our homes and scatter us. They will leave us nothing." "So, Meryl concluded after nodding to Maisri, we must beat them to the punch. But I must remind you of one important fact. Once you leave here, you may never return. To do so will mean certain death." The men conferred quietly for a few moments then turned back to the silver-eyed woman. We don't know you very well, and we're not ready to trust you out of hand, but we have no choice. We must trust you. There are the children to consider. Tristan is well known to us and supports your suggestions. We follow his lead." Famhair sat beside Tristan and stared at Meryl. She had the strangest feeling there was more going on in that doggie brain of his than she gave him credit. Meryl's gaze dropped to Dinks, where he stretched lazily at her feet. She reached down and slid her hand across the length of his body in slow deliberate strokes. The green eyed, black cat watched the humans while they waited for a response from her. Dinks purred under his mistress's attention, easing the tension caused by the other humans. She was the outsider, brought to this time and place to make a difference. Meryl didn't know if she could achieve that. For their sake, for the sake of the little ones, she would do everything she could. She looked to Tristan; for once, he was on her side. His smile warmed and encouraged her. In the depths of those emerald green eyes she saw something she'd like to make her own, something which could sustain her for a lifetime and beyond. What made her think beyond was in her future? Keep on dreaming she told herself again and sighed. When she cast the spell a few days past, to protect the warriors and keep the English out of the village, she felt something new and unexplained surge through her from the depths of her soul. It had stayed with her, warming her. She couldn't put a name to it but it felt good; it felt right. It was time to trust this new feeling and go where it led her. Meryl took a deep breath and slowly released it. Yes, the time to begin was now. She stood slowly, drawing out the moment, then faced the men. All right. Tomorrow night is the full moon. That will give us a full day to prepare and move out. She sensed the questions their expressions spoke, heard their thoughts as if spoken aloud. They thought she was foolish to expect them to be packed and prepared for travel in one day. It was an extreme risk on her part to ask them to trust her. I know what thoughts run through your heads. Tell me, Tristan, can't an army be prepared to move in that short a time?" "They can. His reply was brief. A twitch at the corners of his mouth belied his amusement. "Before the day is out, make sure all water casks are filled, enough to last a few days. The journey I have in mind may take as much as a fortnight to complete. If the weather is with us and we can travel quickly, we can be there in less than ten days. There will be streams along the way. We should reach the first when we've covered at least three days travel. Everyone will be up before dawn to complete preparations, even the children. By nightfall tomorrow we must be miles away from here. This is what we must do..." ****

By late afternoon the next day, carts were loaded with necessities. Each family had at least one or two people to help pull a heavily laden cart. A thick layer of straw covered the bed of one cart, with several wool blankets neatly stacked in one corner. The young children traveled comfortably in this one. They could curl up together and share their warmth during the first night's travel. Meryl was grateful there were only about a dozen families and several unattached warriors. There were about twenty little ones ranging from toddlers to six or seven years of age. The carts were lined up and Meryl suddenly thought of this as a medieval wagon train. Wagons Ho! She stifled a giggle at the expression no one would understand; they'd probably be quicker to take offense. They still grumbled over her plan but she shrugged and figured they'd get over it eventually. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between these people and the homes they'd had for many years. When the rest of the plan had been discussed, the villagers balked. Tristan convinced them of the wisdom of it. The youngest children sat in their cart, watching the bustling activity around them. Rose waited beside them ready to keep them entertained. Older children stood with their parents, prepared to help in any way needed. Only the frantic pace of the adults showed any sign of their anxiety to be on the move. Brenna stood straight and proud by her grandmother, Maisri, and waited patiently for the new adventure to begin. Tristan brought Meryl a highland pony. The sturdy mare would allow her to travel more freely among the group and beyond them if necessary. Meryl watched villagers begin pulling their loads. Older boys helped their fathers to keep the carts moving. With few strong males to haul the carts, Meryl had insisted families take only those things which couldn't easily be replaced. The rest they could replace when they reached their destination. She wanted to be sure everyone was safely away before the English returned. A sixth sense warned her they were on their way, but she had no way of knowing how close they were. She had done all she could here, and urged her pony to the front of the group. Several men lingered behind with Graeme, waiting for their orders. They held several torches. Leaving some things behind would make their plan believable. Tristan covered the details once more before riding off to join Meryl. Meryl didn't look forward to making this journey, but understood the necessity of it. She loved the idea of adventure, but she'd never before been responsible for children. She smiled in amusement, as one by one, small heads dipped below the sides of the cart and the children drifted off to sleep. Rose sat to one side in the straw and covered the toddlers with blankets while the night grew chilled. She drew her own cloak more snuggle about her and looked up. The two young women exchanged glances. Meryl saw and made note of Rose's silent challenge. Was it the journey, leaving behind all they knew, or did the challenge once again entail something far more personal? Rose turned away first giving her full attention to her charges. She found no need to convince Meryl that their staring match didn't intimidate her. Meryl had come into their lives claiming to be the legend. Well, she wasn't actually making the claim, but the village elders believed she was the one for whom they had waitedand now she was forcing them to leave their homes forever? There was no proof the English would return. They only had her word it would happen. Meryl understood their fears and distrust, and had good reason to doubt the rightness of her own plan. She watched one of the children being taken onto Rose's lap and Rose folded the edge of her cloak over the child, speaking softly to it. **** Meryl waited patiently. Laoch's pace was slow and steady; the stallion's head drooped with weariness. The travelers had been on the move throughout the night with the full moon to light their way. It would be dawn soon and they would have to stop for the day. Laoch halted beside Meryl's pony and blew out a breath.

"When can we expect Graeme and his men to catch up? Her silver eyes betrayed her worry and weariness. "They'll return when the English have come and gone. Meryl, neither you nor the others can continue this pace. There's a glen about a mile or so ahead. We'll set up camp there and wait for Graeme to join us." Meryl nodded. I leave you to take charge. You know better what needs to be done. Her sigh of relief had more to do with exhaustion than Tristan's taking charge. If the glen he spoke of could be secured, then they would rest for a day and set out the following dawn. She had no doubt Tristan's plan to distract the English would be successful. The Sassenachs would be very displeased to discover their quarry had vanished.

CHAPTER TWELVE Edinburg wasn't much different from any English town. Small shops cluttered narrow streets and closed when daylight dwindled. Too many streets were soaked with the stench of refuse, tossed from chamber pots and kitchens. Rats scurried across alleys looking for tidbits of spoiled food, but vanished when anyone passed them by. The streets in the poorest part of town were quiet except for loud drunken laughter escaping from the taverns. A dozen English soldiers laughed and drank. Their bawdy language embarrassed even the serving girls who were used to such conversation. The three girls went about refilling wine cups while trying to dodge grabbing hands and pinching fingers. They feared the Sassenachs and what they could do. Several Scots sat at a table in one corner, speaking in low voices and occasionally glanced at the unwelcome patrons. Their unease with the English presence was obvious. They didn't dare try anything within the confines of the establishment. Once the English left was another matter. The English captain sat at a table, his back against the wall. Matthew sat brooding; something didn't quite fit into place. His second in command knew better than to question a superior officer, even if they were friends. Matthew sipped his ale and a scowl settled on his dark features. There was something he'd missed in the last few dayssomething important. Edinburg was definitely not to his liking, despite the fact it differed little from London. Scottish stubbornness was the key difference and set these people apart from the English. He thought Wallace's execution would have quieted the rebels, at least for a while, but the death of their leader had the opposite effect. Attacks were more frequent and bolder. There were more raids of clans against clans while Robert Bruce and the Comyns fought for the Scottish throne. As long as the Scots were unable to put their differences aside and unite under a common cause, then, Matthew believed, it shouldn't take long to place Scotland under English rule and all this warring for the Scots throne would be for nothing. The political battles didn't bother Matthew. Those were always being fought over some issue. It was something subtler. His thoughts wandered back to the village a few days before and the search for warriors who had been harassing English troops. They were there, he was sure of it. Matthew thought of the strange girl with the odd eyes, a family defect she'd said; whatever that meant. Something clicked in his memory and he recalled an even earlier conversation in a London inn. The conversation ran through his memory while it seemed to take him forever to place his cup on the worn, stained table. He slowly stood and his scowl turned even darker. He knew what was wrong. That bloody Scot! With each word, his voice rose in anger and the room suddenly became quiet. All heads turned in his direction. Be ready to ride within the hour, he ordered his men. He didn't care that it was late, or the fact his men were on the edge of drunkenness. He could only think what had slipped through his fingers that day in the village. Everything about the girl fit the description the Scot had given him, except her eyes. He thought he might have recalled the one detail incorrectly, or perhaps the Scot had lied to anyone else from finding her. The soldiers hesitated a moment, then filed out of the tavern, grumbling. Mark watched them go. When the last man left, Mark turned his attention to Matthew and asked quietly, What has you in a sudden uproar?" "Do you recall the girl the Scot spoke of? Luke laughed about it."

"The one he said he'd have by his side... Mark refrained from finishing the statement. "She was in that village a few days ago. She spoke for the villagers and I let her go." "I remember. You're sure she's the one the Scot spoke of?" Matthew glared at his second in command. He didn't appreciate having his memories questioned, not even by his best friend. Yes, quite sure. She was too confident, by far. It must be her." Mark finished his ale, slammed the cup on the table, and tossed down a few coins. The horses must be ready. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can put an end to this rebellion." Matthew led his men out of Edinburg and set a hard pace northward. They got little rest. He wanted to reach the village before the girl got it into her head to disappear, if she hadn't already. If he found Graeme, he'd arrest the Scot and charge him with treason. The traitor deserved the worst sort of punishment English justice had to offer. On the third day, the odor of burned wood hung thick in the morning air. Matthew cursed himself for a fool as they approached the burned out village. Thatched roofs were gone and the walls of several huts had collapsed. Other huts were burned out shells. Nothing stirred. "Looks like a clan raid, Mark commented while he surveyed the destruction. "Clan raid? Or carefully laid plans to have us think so? They won't get far. Matthew's anger dissipated, knowing all would turn out as he had planned. He would claim the girl and use those powers of hers to gain control of Edward and the English throne. **** Several small campfires burned brightly, protected by the glen. A few men had gone in search of game. The harvest had been a good one and would get them through the winter if they were careful now. Whatever game could be found would go a long way in stretching those stores. A group of children sat still, enthralled with Meryl's tales of fantasy. Their eyes grew large and round with wonder at descriptions of make believe places. Meryl was oblivious of the adults who looked up from their chores to watch her. She was too involved in relating the tale of Aunt Enchantra's botched magic. Before too long, parents appeared to claim their children and see them settled for the remainder of the night. They'd be staying put until the men who had been left behind, caught up with them. Meryl wondered if Enchantra worried about her, and winced with regret. If Tristan hadn't been so anxious to return here, she would have taken the time to leave a brief letter for her aunt. Then again, the way Tristan spoke at the time, she doubted he'd have allowed her to leave a message. Too late to worry about it now. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, she'd be able to get a message to her aunt. She recalled some lesson about transcending time and space to communicate with others. It was all theory, but ... Meryl shrugged and stared at the night sky. There were still several hours before dawn and she was tired. A good night sleep would do wonders for her frame of mind and its clarity. She hoped Graeme and his men would find them soon. As peaceful as this glen was, she wanted to be on the move again. Scotland wasn't known for its fine days, and who could tell how long this dry weather would last? The sooner they reached their destination, the safer they would be. Meryl lay down on the length of wool and tucked her feet under her skirts for warmth, then wrapped the rest of the wool about her. Tomorrow called for a clear head to plan another day. The thought slipped from her mind and she drifted into exhausted sleep. ****

The children grew restless and adults grumbled, impatient to be on their way again. Meryl's gaze turned southward; more than half the day was gone. Graeme and his men should have returned by now, unless they had been caught. She refused to consider the possibility. They had carefully laid out their plans. Whether or not they returned, the group would move on at dawn. They would take no chances with the women and children's safety. After the evening meal, Meryl found herself surrounded by children wanting more stories. To her surprise, Dinks abandoned her, to make himself comfortable by Brenna's side, allowing the child to pet him. Meryl's voice rose in a tune, the words no one understood. Several adults gathered closer, listening suspiciously. Tristan's relaxed pose against a tree quickly straightened. Famhair stood alert, searching for what his master sensed that he had missed. Tristan couldn't believe Meryl would use her own modern English after the warning he'd given her. Just because they were in Scotland didn't mean they were safe from spies. She should know better. Didn't she stop to consider the suspicion that could be raised? Bad enough now the others had the barest trust in her. This could be her undoing. Tristan listened carefully to the words. I love you, you love me... Despite his misgivings for her lack of concern, he tried to hide his amusement while he pictured the purple dinosaur he'd seen when he'd been in her time. Picking up his mug, Tristan sipped his ale and strolled closer, listening intently to the words. He studied the wary expressions of the listeners. "What's she saying? they asked one another, not pleased she spoke a language unknown to them. Rose stood next to Maisri, looking smug. The villagers would certainly send Meryl away now. She caught Maisri's frown and hastily turned her attention back to the entertainment. "What language is that? Ian the blacksmith demanded to know. His own son sat among the children gathered around Meryl. Meryl looked up at the blacksmith. Gibberish, she replied nonchalantly, then turned back to the children, and repeated the tune. "Gibberish, he repeated then muttered, Must be the Welsh. He wandered off and scratched at his stubbled chin, leaving Meryl to continue entertaining the little ones. Tristan bit his tongue in an effort not to laugh. Meryl's seemingly strange ways amused him. He worried those habits of hers would one day create a situation she wouldn't be able to explain. He made himself comfortable on a fallen log and watched her interact with the children. She was good with them. No matter what she did, she held their attention. She'd make a wonderful mother one day, but right now, she had all she could handle, and more, guiding these people to their new homes. He stopped for a moment, surprised at the turn of his thoughts, wondering where they came from. It was dangerous territory his mind was wandering into. There was no room in his life for someone special, and he couldn't allow those kinds of thoughts to fill his mind. Maybe there never would be a place for a woman. Eventually he'd be moving on to fight other battles for the Scottish cause. The sounds of several horses approaching broke into his thoughts. Famhair growled ready to go on the attack with a single word from his master. Tristan started to draw his sword but shoved it back into its sheath when he caught a glimpse of Graeme. No one else would know to find them on this little traveled route north. The English couldn't get that luckly. Graeme grinned broadly and dismounted, then handed the reins over to a younger boy who ran up to the men. Graeme ruffled his hair and sent him off. Rose and Ena quickly filled several trenchers with stew left

over from the evening meal. The men with Graeme gratefully accepted the food along with cups of ale. "You were right about the English, he told Meryl while he dug into the stew. He was famished. It had been a long, hard ride to catch up to the travelers. "Did everything go as planned? Tristan asked. "Aye. Graeme's broad grin answered his question. He proceeded to relate his tale, while his men added their own comments to the telling. The Englishman was cursing, the likes I've never heard. He took another spoonful of stew and chewed it thoughtfully, knowing the others were anxious to hear the rest of his tale. There was one interestin thing about his tirade. His anger had nothin to do with losing warriors, or the fact the village was burned to the ground and smoulderin'. Graeme paused and looked up at Tristan, then turned his gaze to Meryl. He was angry you had slipped through his fingers." "Me? Meryl squeaked in shock. Why would he be angry about me disappearing?" Graeme shrugged. He bellowed something about a silver eyed witch, said sooner or later he'd find you, but he prefers it be sooner. Graeme appeared amused by the last comment. He kept his anger well concealed. He couldn't afford to let those three Englishmen find Meryl. He needed her to help him gain the Scottish throne, and he had no intention of sharing her or her power. The English would have to find some other way to influence Edward to their way of thinking. "How far behind are they? Tristan asked, jolting Graeme from his thoughts. "A day's ride. They don't know the country very well and that gives us a definite advantage." "Good ... but not good enough. Get some rest. We'll be on our way at dawn. It isn't easy moving these many people and animals and not leave some kind of trail. Meryl, is there some way you can cover our passage through here, at least give us time to gain more distance? Tristan studied the dark haired girl's frown. "I don't know. I don't have any magic" "What you did in the village Graeme began. "Was a fluke, Meryl finished, then tried to find a better word. It was totally unexpected. Well, not totally. I had no idea how I was going to make you vanish', and yet, I guess I did, she rambled. "Then you can make another fluke, one of the children piped up and received a light cuff on the back of his head for interrupting. He glared up at his older sister, wondering what he'd done wrong. Meryl laughed. Who knows, David. It could happen. She reached up and touched the pendant. Let's hope I can come up with something real quick."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN A hint of light shown on the horizon when the children were tucked into their cart. Rose climbed in after them and made certain they were comfortable. They munched on the last of the bannocks and sipped water to wash them down, then snuggled into the straw for warmth. A cold wind stirred through the glen. When the young ones were settled, Rose climbed out of the cart and pulled the edges of her woolen cloak together. The dawn cast shadows across the campsite but she kept her eyes on Tristan. No other man in the village could compare to the handsome warrior. He wasted no motion or energy dismantling the campfires. Stones were scattered and ashes mixed into the dirt. Rose frowned when she caught Meryl staring at Tristan. The outsider carefully controlled the expression on her face, giving nothing away of her thoughts. What was she thinking, Rose wondered. She couldn't have Tristan. Rose believed Meryl would never be good enough for the warrior. Ena said Rose could have the warrior, if she remained patient. Rose wanted to believe the fiery redhead. The cart lurched forward as the mule strained at the weight. Another cart followed. Rose glanced at Meryl once more, then looked straight ahead and walked beside the cart. It would be another long day of cramped traveling. **** Meryl sat astride the highland pony and tugged at the bottom of her skirt. What she wouldn't give right now to have her jeans. The denim pants would have made it so much easier, but Tristan had been right; too many questions would be asked if she'd shown up wearing them. She watched the carts rolling past her. Wheels creaked on the uneven ground, and men and boys moved slowly along, pulling the loads, trying to establish a steady pace for their journey. Their small flock of sheep were hurried out of the way and the two dogs worked together to keep the wooly animals from straying. In a few days, the travelers should be close to their destination. They had enough supplies to last through the winter, as long as the hunting was good. No one had to remind her it would be rough until they brought in their first harvest. Meryl turned her mount to follow the last of the carts and signaled the animal with a light kick. The next few moments happened so quickly, she had no idea what was going on. When she turned in the saddle, she felt something release and she fell from the pony's back. Saddle and blanket fell near her legs. The startled pony stepped back, then reared, and Meryl threw up her arms to protect her head from the flailing front hoofs. Someone grabbed her under her arms and yanked her out of the reach of the deadly iron shoes. Heart pounding wildly, Meryl managed to get to her feet with the help of the blacksmith. "Thank you, Ian. That was close." "Aye. Too close, he added and moved to retrieve the saddle and blanket. He checked each strap and buckle carefully, until he found what he was looking for. Tristan grabbed the pony's reins and kept the animal from rearing again. He glanced at Meryl, approaching with caution, visibly shaken by the incident. Are you hurt?" Meryl noted the concern in his green eyes and consigned it to his determination to complete his duty to the villagers and nothing more. The realization hurt almost as much as the fall from the pony. "I'm fine. What about him? She tentatively stroked the animal's muzzle and spoke to it softly. The pony's eyes, large and wild, rolled with fright. Meryl's words gradually calmed her mount.

"Tristan, look at this. The blacksmith approached, carrying the small saddle, one of the straps in his large hand. Girth was cut almost all the way through. This was no accident." Tristan examined the strap more closely. It had definitely been cut. Anger flitted across his dark features. Do you believe me yet, my lady?" Meryl looked at the cut girth, then at the people surrounding her. The villagers only trusted her because Tristan did. She couldn't believe someone would want to deliberately hurt her. We have a long way to go today, we'd better get moving. She turned her back to Tristan and addressed the group. The danger is over. Let's move out." The blacksmith glanced at Tristan and a nod from the warrior sent people back to their places. The pony's reins were tied to the back of a cart, leaving Meryl to walk beside the villagers. Tristan was torn between staying close by her side or moving off to let his anger cool. Why didn't she see the danger to herself, or maybe there was a reason she prefered to ignore it? Tristan was sure he couldn't keep going through these close calls until she reached her twenty-first year. Somehow, he had to make her accept what wais happening and convince her to take precautions. He laughed derisively. She was going to be the death of him yet. **** The highland pony's reins hung limp in Meryl's hand as she walked beside it. Two children sat on the pony's bare back, no longer thrilled with the ride. They had lost count of the days they'd traveled and no longer enjoyed the adventure. "Lady Meryl, Brenna called again, frustrated to think she was being ignored. "Hmm? I'm sorry, Brenna, I was thinking. I didn't hear you. Meryl glanced up at the girl. "When are we going home? Brenna's chestnut curls framed her small face. "We'll be there soon, sweet. Two, maybe three more days, we'll be in our new home." "I don't want a new home! I want to go back to my home! the child whined. Meryl stopped the pony and stared at her, surprised. The small boy sitting in front of Brenna stared back at Meryl, wide eyed, as if expecting her to strike his companion. Her calm, quiet voice relaxed him. Brenna, we can't go back. There's nothing left there but English soldiers." "Are there soldiers where we're going? the boy piped up. "No. Meryl smiled; she was just as tired of the journey as the children were, but this had been the only way she knew to protect the villagers. She had the strangest feeling she was going home. To a place she'd never been before? How oddbut nothing about this adventure seemed normal to her. Instinct was guiding her and so far, it had run true. She still hoped she'd done the right thing by them. No, where we're going, there are no soldiers. They won't be able to find us." "That's good then. He smiled brightly. "That's very good, Meryl agreed. Her pace quickened with renewed confidence in herself and their future. By mid afternoon, the sun had traveled more than half way to the western horizon. They'd been fortunate so far, with only light changes in the weather. Meryl thanked whatever powers guided her, when

impending storms held off and disappeared. No more than three days she hoped; any longer and she'd probably have to deal with a mutiny. **** Tristan and Graeme, followed by the other warriors, galloped ahead of the travelers. Meryl caught the distant yells of fighting men. The group was far enough away and near the woods, not to be seen outright. She halted and waited for someone to return with news of the commotion. Despite what sounded like a battle, she felt no threat of danger to the villagers. Tristan returned and pulled sharply on Laoch's reins. His green eyes sparkled and he grinned. My lady, tonight we dine with Robert the Bruce." Meryl caught her breath. Did I hear you correctly? she asked in surprise, but his grin didn't waver. You are joking, she paused again. You're not joking." "No joke, Meryl. The Bruce and his men are out on the moor fighting a mock battle. He's invited us to share supper with him and his men." Meryl returned the Scot's grin. Then by all means, let's join him. I have never been one to turn down a dinner invitation. The thought of spending time with one of Scotland's heroes buoyed her spirits. Tonight, the villagers could relax and get some needed rest. By the time the sun had set, several campfires were well established and meals were being prepared. Everyone seemed to be in better spirits when Bruce's men joined the groups and offered their assistance. The warriors were just as pleased to have the villagers for company. Meryl saw a surge of energy revitalize the travelers. Be sure to refill your water casks, she reminded them and made her way to the stream. She knelt by the bank and splashed cold water on her face, then sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. This journey seemed so much longer than she'd expected; she'd be relieved when they finally arrived at their destination. Meryl was startled by a hand on her shoulder and looked up. "Are you all right? Graeme's expression of concern surprised her. "I'm fine, just a bit tired." Graeme took her hands in his and helped her to her feet. You've taken on a great, my lady. You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'd be at your side to help you. Just say the word and I can relieve you of all this. No woman should have to hold such responsibility." Meryl bristled at his last comment. I appreciate your concern... Her words stopped short as Graeme pulled her close. She hadn't seen it coming. His hard kiss was demanding, controlling. Meryl struggled to push her arms up, trying to put distance between them. She finally caught her breath when Graeme ended the kiss. Meryl didn't know what he expected, and spoke as if nothing had happened. I appreciate your concern and if I need help, I'll be sure to let you know. She kept her voice and features under control as she took a step back. Please, excuse me. There's much to be done. She briskly moved away from the stream, but stopped long enough to help one of the village women with her work. Graeme watched Meryl's retreating back, not pleased with her response to his advance. Never before had any woman shown him cold indifference. She had to be shown she wasn't strong enough to remain in charge indefinitely. True, so far she was handling everything well, but he needed to find a way to discredit

her, to force her to turn to him alone for help, and not Tristan. Perhaps if he spoke with Ena; she could be of help in solving this sticky problem. Ena. His thoughts turned to the redhead for a moment and her ability to satisfy his needs in many ways. He'd never lacked a pretty girl in his bed, and Ena continued to prove herself most useful, but a tavern wench couldn't secure the Scottish throne. Meryl could. She had the power and he had every intention of getting that power for himself. Once Meryl belonged to him, he could actively go after the crown. A matter of time and careful planning would guarantee succes, and then, who would dare stand against him? Graeme followed Meryl at a short distance, and took a bowl of stew from Rose's hand, meant for one of the children. Rose glanced up, surprised and watched the warrior stride away. She handed out more small bowls of stew to the younger children. Meryl shook her head in disgust and took over the large spoon and ladled out servings. The two young women worked silently side by side until all the children had been served. "Graeme seems taken with you. Rose's comment seemed to be casual, but Meryl knew the girl was fishing. "I suppose it seems that way." Rose pressed a bit harder. What do you intend to do?" Meryl turned to the younger girl and handed her a filled bowl. I intend to see everyone arrives safely at our destination. But for the moment, I intend to sit down somewhere with a bit of supper and enjoy the evening. I hope you'll do the same. Meryl nodded to the girl, then walked away, stopping now and again to answer questions or offer a helping hand where needed. Rose fumed over Meryl's ability to sidestep questions when it suited her. Why does this outsider refuse to answer? Does the woman think herself so important, she doesn't have to respond to anyone's questions?" "Perhaps, Ena commented, standing beside the girl, you ask the wrong questions, at the wrong time. If you want an answer you must ask at a time when it's impossible for her to refuse, as when she is with others. She cannot afford to hide anything because she wants them to trust her completely. If you ask properly and at the right time, you can create doubts in the minds of others. She will have no choice but to answer if she expects to lead. But you must also be careful you don't ask in such a way as to invite her to seek vengeance on you for making her uncomfortable. Rose nodded and watched Meryl make her way across the moor; she wouldn't make that mistake again. Meryl sat cross-legged on the ground and enjoyed her bowl of thick stew while she listened to the men talk. She failed to notice Graeme sitting at the opposite side of the campfire; failed to see his eyes narrow, or the way his mouth formed a thin, tight line when Tristan chose to sit on a log next to her and offer her a cup of ale. She accepted the drink and finished her meal, then set aside the empty bowl. "Where are you bound? Robert Bruce's deep voice penetrated her thoughts. "We go north." "North. Be careful. A day or two north of here is a strange place. There's a thick mist that never disappears and hides whatever is beyond it. They say anyone who tries to go through it, is never seen again." "Do they? I would never take you for a superstitious man, Meryl replied evenly.

"Not really superstitious; careful is more like it." "If we should happen in that direction we shall be careful as well. I thank you for your concern. Meryl smiled and nodded her head slightly. This man may be Scotland's future king, but the less he knew of her plans, the better. Even kings could accidently speak out of turn. What were those lines Bobby Burns would write in some four hundred years or so? The best laid schemes o mice and men gang aft agley. It was sound advice to keep her own counsel. These people didn't travel all this distance to have their new home jeopardized by someone's slip of the tongue. She was aware of the mist's existence and would deal with it in due time. She knew it was permanent and served a purpose, but he didn't need to know that either. There was no reason to worry about what lay before the travelers before they arrived. The discussion turned to raids and battles and Meryl listened carefully while pretending boredom. The men argued over what could have been done differently and what should be done in the future. Idly, Meryl collected a handful of twigs, dropped them in her lap and began to peel the bark from one end of each of them. She used her dirk to carefully whittle the peeled end of the twig, then thrust the blunt end into the soil at an angle, away from her. The firm ground held them in place, and they could barely be seen above the grass. She made a short line then started a second row. These she placed slightly diagonal to the first row, to effectively fill any gaps between the twigs. Tristan casually reached down and brushed back Meryl's hair, and watched what she was doing. He let the long strands of black silk slip through his fingers. Meryl turned her head slowly to gaze up at the warrior. His green eyes were darker in the firelight. She saw something new; something she realized he meant for her alone. Her own features remained impassive. For that brief moment an understanding passed seemed to pass between them. Graeme glared at the two people across from him and seethed inwardly. Neither Tristan nor any of the other warriors had a right to claim her because she belonged to him. Graeme had no intention of letting anyone interfere in his plans. He gulped down his ale and continued to stare at them, half listening to the Bruce and his men. Meryl gave Tristan a tentative smile, then turned her attention back to the twigs, leaving him to wonder what she was up to. While one of the soldiers spoke, Robert Bruce glanced at Meryl and what seemed to be nonsense play. The rows of sharpened, angled twigs caught his attention and he moved closer to examine her display. He tapped the pointed ends gingerly and looked up at her. A knowing grin showed in his features. Even this woman knows what is needed, Donald. I am surprised you never thought of it." The men gathered around. Just a bunch of twigs stuck in the ground, Donald grumbled sullenly. "Take a closer look, the Bruce told them. What do you see? The others shrugged. Bruce looked from one warrior to the next. Only Tristan realized what Meryl had done. We have always had the means to repel mounted soldiers. We only needed a reminder what it was." Meryl managed to look innocent and confused and Tristan cut in. Taking Meryl's hands, he pulled her to her feet, and continued to stare into her eyes. The dark look he gave her was ominous. If you will excuse us, I'll see the lady to her bed. Then it's time I look to my duties." Meryl kept her indignation to herself and spoke quickly. I've enjoyed your hospitality this evening, sir, she directed her thanks to Bruce. I bid you gentlemen a good night. She followed her self-appointed protector away from the campfire.

Tristan steered her away from the warriors who studied her miniature blockade, taking her to a spot just out of hearing of any campers. What do you think you're doing? he half whispered as he held her arms. Meryl looked up at him with an expression that belied her innocence. No harm done." Tristan wanted to laugh. You know you can't change history." "I haven't. If I recall correctly, Wallace used this same technique. I'm sure, sooner or later, Robert would have thought of it. She paused a moment and her expression became guarded when she realized what he'd just said. What do you know about changing history?" Tristan shrugged. You don't think I spent all my time in that cave when I wasn't with you, do you? I did some reading while I was searching for you. I was curious to know what happened here." "And how would you have known where to look for that information?" Tristan fumbled for a believable answer. Well, I ... like you, I adapt and learn quickly. A few well placed questions and I found what I wanted." "Hmm. Meryl was sure he was holding something back, but she kept her opinion to herself and seemed to accept his answer for the moment. If you had read up on it, you know in a few months, the Bruce and his men will fight an important battle, and that little ploy will save them. She could see Tristan's doubt and added slyly, Who's to say a woman didn't give him the idea." She liked the sound of his deep laughter as he drew her close. It felt good to be in his arms, as if she'd always belonged there. He tilted her head upward and she gazed into his darkened eyes, wondering what he thought at that moment. She was the hope of the Highlands, he had to remind himself again, but he couldn't think about that. Her destiny was the furthest thing from his mind when he was questioning his own motives now. He didn't want to admit to himself that she was getting under his skin. He refused to admit that his feelings for her were beginning to get in the way of his duty. He had no right to think of her except as his charge. It shouldn't be happening; it wasn't part of the quest. Tristan ignored the warnings shouting in his mind, and bent his head to kiss her. Tristan's kiss differed from the one Graeme had forced on her. Meryl liked this one so much more, despite the fact it was at odds with his attitude toward her. She allowed him to deepen the kiss, reveling in the feelings surging through her, before he finally stepped back. Three people stood in the darkness watching the couple, each with their own agenda. **** Meryl slept little, while her thoughts kept going back to Tristan's kiss, the way he held her. At dawn, she rose, reluctantly, aware everyone was in the process of breaking camp, packing up supplies and preparing to move on. Robert Bruce approached Meryl as she finished a quick breakfast of bannocks and water, and was placing a small sack on a cart. Thank you, my lady. You reminded me of the perfect solution to our problem." "Did I? Meryl wiggled the sack to be sure it was settled in place. I'm pleased if you found my idle play useful." The Bruce continued reluctantly, Sometimes, I wonder if we shouldn't give up this battle. We lose more

than we win. England is well organized and her soldiers better trained. They have better weapons. We've lost so many lives already. If only we hadn't lost Wallace." Meryl untied her highland pony's reins from the cart and leaned her forehead against the mare's neck for a moment, while she fought back the anger welling up within her. You could have saved him, but you let him die. I was there when Edward Longshanks so called justice prevailed. You were more concerned with the nobles support." Her verbal attack took him by surprise. I have much to regret, he admitted. You're right, of course, I could have saved him, had I tried. I was afraid if I did, I'd lose what little support I had. There's no way to undo what's been done." Meryl glanced beyond her mare, then turned and gave the Scotsman her full attention. You can never change the past, but never consider giving up. Nothing worth having comes easily and Scotland has a long uphill battle ahead of her. She'll lose many fights and win others. In the end, she will win her freedom." Bruce chuckled, took her hand and kissed it lightly. Do you have the sight, my lady?" Meryl shrugged indifferently. "Nevertheless, he added, I shall remember your words." Meryl watched him return to his men and prepare to leave the site. She didn't have the heart to tell him the fight for independence would last some seven hundred years.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN "She has done surprisingly well, the male admitted with pride. She's learning to trust others." "Yes, she has. The female watched the scene. But the true test is yet to come. She must learn to trust her instincts enough to stand up against the magic she'll face. She hasn't learned to reach within herself for the power she has now. Until she does, she will not be safe. Her enemies are gathering about her, plotting. One of them may be our old enemy." "These two men who would claim her... the male left the thought incomplete. "Perhaps one will succeed. The pendant seems to have made a choice, but the final decision will be hers. It will be interesting to see if she will heed its advice. We can only remain as observers and, I feel I must remind you, my love, we must not interfere." "As you wish, my sweet, the male replied grudgingly. Despite her warnings, if any possibility presented itself to help the young woman without altering her future, he would make use of it. She was too important to lose and a little nudge now and again couldn't hurt. He returned his attention to the source of their conversation. **** One more day Meryl thought, with relief, and the hardest part of the journey would be over. The worst of the weather had held out. She studied the thick wall of mist which seemed to cut off the rest of the world. Some inner knowledge told her their new home lay beyond the curtain. She had the strangest feeling she'd been here before, at a time she shouldn't recall. She'd had the same sort of feelings when she'd discovered she could understand the villagers Gaelic. This knowledge and newfound confidence seemed to be stored up within her somewhere, but where was it really coming from? She figured it was an overactive imagination, and lectured herself on being nothing more than a quick study. "Which way do we go now? Tristan stood by her side, studying the mist. If all went well, this would be the end of the quest for him and he could be on his way to other places where his skills were of more use. He was tired of this babysitting. It wasn't a fit assignment for a warrior. If he refocused his attention on the problem at hand, he'd be leaving that much sooner. The barrier appeared impenetrable. Over the years, the mists he'd seen hide the moors of Scotland, were nothing compared to this curtain. He wasn't a superstitious man, but he suspected anyone who tried to go through this mist would end up permanently lost. The villagers moved about restlessly, despite their exhaustion. They'd had enough of travel and were more than ready to settle down. Tristan expected the grumbling to quickly get out of hand, given the right incentive. He wanted to prevent it from happening. "Meryl? Which way?" Meryl turned away from the mist. We go straight through it. Our destination is the other side." "Are you sure? The others aren't going to be pleased about this. They heard what the Bruce had to say about this place." "As sure as I can be about anything. Tell you what, Tristan. Dinks and I will go ahead. Give me an hour to take a quick look around." "I don't like you going alone, lass. There have been too many accidents since the day on the beach

when you fell from that path." "Don't remind me. She shuddered with the memory. Look. They still don't trust me. I have to do this alone. She laid her hand on his arm, assuring him. I'll be fine, Tristan, I promise." Meryl looked around for her cat. Let's go, Dinks ... Time to do some investigating. Dinks stuck out his pink tongue as if to clean his mouth, but stared at Famhair. Meryl raised an eyebrow as the animals stared at one another. Ha ha! I get to go and you have to stay here and wait, Dinks seemed to taunt the deerhound. His cat grin widened when Famhair growled deep in his throat. Dinks spun around and ran past Meryl into the mist, anxious to explore new territory and flee from the dog. Meryl laughed. We should all have so much energyor is it fear? She laughed again, then pulled the edges of her cloak together against the dampness and walked into the mist. Tristan returned to the group. "You let her go alone? Graeme asked incredulously. "She insisted on it. I found no fault with her reasoning." "She's just a woman. You should have overruled her. Haven't earlier attempts on her life proven she has no sense for her own safety?" Tristan shrugged. She may be just a woman as you put it, Graeme, but you forget one very important detail. That woman led us here. She's risked her respectability to do so. Her only concern has been to guide these people to a safe place, and they still refuse to trust her. Once again she feels she must prove herself to them. I for one, don't feel she has to prove anything." The warrior groaned as he slid down the side of a cart and its wheel to sit on the ground and wait. He was dead tired, and couldn't recall the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. He pulled his hood over his eyes, determined to catch a nap while he waited for her. Somehow he knew she'd be gone longer than an hour. Graeme said nothing more, but turned and stared at the barrier before them, then walked closer. Tristan's attitude seemed to be going in his favor. Graeme was determined to be the first one to greet Meryl when she returned. He wanted to be the first to show his concern for her well being ... provided she managed to find her way back to this side of the mist.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Meryl walked cautiously through the thick mist, feeling her way along unseen ground. She thought of a movie she saw once, which took place in nineteenth century London, in Whitechapel. The fog in the movie gave her chills, hiding everything from sight. This wasn't any better. While she couldn't see anything at first, she listened carefully for Dinks, knowing he'd unerringly find his way to the other side. The mist felt different and she tried to put words to the feeling. As if the thought were a spell in itself, the mist began to part, showing her the way through. She stepped forward uncertainly, turning as she did so, to find it closing behind her, but keeping her in a small clear space and directing her forward. Magic, that was it. The fog was most assuredly natural, but a sense of magic lingered, enhancing the forbidding curtain. That's all I need ... I've been led to the home of a magician, she spoke aloud, disgusted with herself for believing in the strange ideas that had guided her these last weeks. A familiar voice tickled her mindor was she actually hearing it this time? Have faith, child. The magician you think you sense has yet to settle in. "First rule of wizardry, Meryl snapped back, wishing she could see the owner of the quiet voice. Don't encroach on another wizard's domain. She raised her arms, palms upward, realizing what she'd said. I don't believe this. I'm talking to myself and answering my own questions. I am in deep trouble. She shook her head and stifled a nervous giggle. Dinks looked up at his mistress and growled. The warning became a soft purr and he arched his back, rubbing up against her skirts. His feline instincts were aware of something and it pleased him. The voice gave in to pleasant laughter. Not to fear. The magic you feel was placed here until she who has the right to rule arrives. She will be here soon but you are more than welcome to stay. "How soon? I don't have the skills, and even if I did, I don't care to go up against another magician. If she's due here shortly, then I'll find another place for my people. I'll not put them at risk of a magician's whims." There will be no risk, the pleasant feminine voice continued. Until she comes who has the right to rule here, you and yours are more than welcome. "Wait a minute, Meryl called out when another thought occurred to her. Isn't there someone else with you? I got the distinct impression there are two of you. I've heard you both speak. The presence, whatever it was, disappeared, leaving Meryl to wonder about the property ownerand the owners of the voices. Riddles. Meryl enjoyed a good one now and again, but didn't care for them at the moment. Past the misty curtain, the valley sprawled out before her. The sun shone brightly like a warm sunny morning. The grass, thick and rich in color, whispered in the slight breeze. Their small flock would do well here. She couldn't wait for the chickens to be let loose. She'd heard more than enough of their squawking about being confined in cages. Thick grass promised fertile land and good crops. A good deal of hard work would be needed to clear some of the land, but next autumn should see a good harvest. An isolated hut needed a new roof and door. They might have some time to do repairs before winter set in. It was warmer here than the other side of the mist where the weary travelers waited anxiously for her return. Hopefully, the valley would prolong the warm temperatures, long enough for them to get settled in. With the distant mountains, she felt sure, they would be protected from the worst of the highland winter. The mountain peaks to the north were snow capped. This would be a hard winter, since they brought only essentials with them. Some things would have to wait until spring.

"How could I have missed that? Meryl asked herself when she spotted the keep in the distance. From where she stood, it seemed to be in good shape. While she was anxious to investigate it, she sensed her hour was almost up. The late afternoon sun hovered behind the stone building, overwhelming her with a feeling of belonging. We're home, Dinks. Arms stretched out from her sides, she spun about like a top, in joyous abandon. Her cloak billowed out behind her. We're home! she shouted and paused, half expecting to hear an answering call from the mountains. Something was hidden up there, in the mountains, not far from the keep. She could feel it. A sense of powerful magic both intrigued and made her cautious. Whatever was going on here would have to wait. These people had come too far to be turned away now; it was too close to winter to be searching for another place. This valley felt right, it welcomed her. What more could she ask for these people? They would find peace here and she didn't want it to be disrupted before they had a chance to get comfortable. Her thoughts returned to her immediate situation. Meryl suddenly realized she'd been on this side of the mist for more than and hour. She reluctantly turned back before Tristan decided to come after her. **** Tristan paced back and forth, waiting impatiently for Meryl's return. He never should have let her go alone. Too many risks, too many opportunities for someone to hurt her, or do worse. No one had ever returned from the other side to report what was there, if anything. What if something had happened to her? He tried to convince himself his concern revolved around the needs of these people. He knew better. She meant more to him than she should. She was destined to become the Legend, the hope of the Highlands. He was a wanderer with no permanent home to offer her. She could do better for herself than a simple Scots warrior, but the thought of her with someone else riled him as nothing else could. Wisps of mist swirled when Meryl emerged from the thickness. Graeme stepped forward when the mist began to eddy, determined to be the first to greet Meryl on her return. He stopped in his tracks when she passed him by and went straight to Tristan. Unthinking, Meryl flung her arms about Tristan's neck and whispered excitedly, We're home, Tris, we've finally arrived." Tristan let out a whoop of laughter and, wrapping his arms about her waist, twirled her around. They would finally be safe from the English. He slowed down, letting her feet touch the ground again. He shouldn't have done thatshouldn't have touched her. The laughter faded away to be replaced by something more intimate. Their surroundings faded to nothing and the villagers were forgotten for a moment, while they shared unspoken feelings. Maisri slowly approached the couple, giving them these few moments. No words were needed to express the understanding she saw pass between them. Am I to assume we have arrived at our new home? she asked when she joined them. Meryl flushed with embarrassment. For a moment longer, she didn't take her eyes from Tristan's. Yes, Maisri. This is the place. She finally turned from Tristan to look at the older woman. Once we pass through this mist, it will be as if we've disappeared off the face of the earth. No one will know where to find us." Meryl reluctantly stepped away from Tristan and turned to the villagers. Okay, people, listen up, she announced, then groaned to herself when she realized her twentieth century ways were showing again. Meryl chose to ignore some of the villagers puzzled looks. Others, she realized, had come to accept her quirks as a matter of course. We have arrived. Beyond the mist curtain is the valley where we are about to make our homes. This first winter will be difficult. I don't know what condition we'll find the cottages

but we will manage until spring. The mist is thick, so I advise you all to stay close together. Rose, get the little ones back into their cart until we reach the other side. We don't want them wandering off. Meryl paused to look around at the expectant faces, took a deep breath and released it. Let's do it." "Where's that cat of yours? Tristan asked, looking around quickly. Famhair jumped into the mist, ignoring his master's command to return. "Dinks stayed on the other side. He's having such a good time exploring I didn't have the heart to call him back." Tristan and Meryl watched the weary travelers prepare to enter their new home. This curtain is several feet thick, she warned them. Be sure to travel in a straight line and you'll get through it in no time. Meryl watched in awe as the mist before her thinned, until she could see shadows of the valley beyond. On either side the curtain remained thick, like walls of water in the biblical parting of the Red Sea. It seems the welcome wagon has been sent out to greet us, she laughed. Here's the doorway to our new home. One by one the carts were pulled into the barrier and momentarily disappeared, swallowed up by fingers of mist swirling aimlessly about. Meryl unconsciously slipped her hand into Tristan's, never taking her attention from the tired families. Their fingers laced together and he rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. She smiled up at him, relieved their journey was almost at an end. They followed the last cart, with Laoch trailing close behind them. The group stood in awe of the valley, not used to seeing anything so green. Not far away, Dinks and Famhair rolled around in the still soft grass, grumbling their pleasure. The small flock of sheep wandered about, nibbling on the thick grass while the sheep dogs kept watch. It wouldn't take long to fatten up the wooly creatures again. Dinks scrambled to his feet and took to stalking through the taller grass a short distance away. He leaped into the air, turned quickly and ran in the opposite direction as soon as his paws touched the ground again. Meryl laughed at his antics. He didn't behave like a kitten very often. Famhair continued his own exploration, taking in the strange scents, becoming acquainted with their new surroundings. "This, she announced proudly, is Dun Ceathach, the Misty Fortress. Here, we won't have to worry about Sassenachs riding in to destroy our new home. We have most everything we need, and what we don't have, well, we'll work it out when the time comes. There should be some cottages within the outer bailey of the keep. I'm going up there now to look it over and see what needs to be done. Rest now, and for pete's sake, release those squawking chickens! We'll have much to do later to make this home." "Come back here, you little... Rose ran after two youngsters, but couldn't quite catch them. "Rose, Meryl called out to the girl. Have one or two of your friends help you with the children. Let them run. They've been confined too long and need to burn off some energy. They'll sleep soundly tonight." "Maisri, would you join us, please. Meryl waited for the older woman to join her and Tristan. The adults gathered in small groups, conversing in low tones while studying their new surroundings. Maisri followed the couple as they walked to the keep. Impressions of power emanating from the mountain were strong, and she stopped long enough to gaze at one of the closer peaks. Meryl stopped and turned toward the mountain, her attention drawn to the same area.

"Do you feel it? Maisri asked her. Does it call to you? Meryl nodded, not having the vaguest idea what called to her. Maisri smiled. "Meryl, is everything all right? Tristan questioned the strange gaze in her silver eyes. "Hmm? Oh, sure. Everything's fine. What are we standing here for? We've got a keep to inspect. She picked up her pace and headed toward the structure they were about to claim as their home. The outer bailey was large enough to house and support a small village. A few huts needed new thatched roofs, but most huts were in fairly good condition. Minor repairs would render them ready for use before winter set in. More space along the far side of the wall would allow the building of more huts or several pens for flocks. The outside of the keep looked to be in good repair. Meryl's gaze followed the wall, until her head tipped back in an effort to see the top. She staggered backward in an attempt to maintain her balance, then blushed when she saw Tristan staring at her, grinning. She recovered herself quickly. "Well, it looks smooth and sound. Why don't we go inside." They climbed the half dozen steps to the heavy main door and Tristan tugged it open. Meryl slipped inside and immediately regretted it. The air was heavy with musty odors. Leave the door open, please! She coughed on the stale air. Brittle rushes, scattered across the stone floor disintegrated underfoot, leaving a fine powder easily tracked about. Thick dirt covered the tables and benches, while cobwebs hung in corners. Lighter areas on the walls showed where tapestries once hung. She stopped before one of two hearths set at opposite ends of the room. A pile of ashes, long since gone cold, lay on the hearth floor. "Remind me to fire the cleaning service, she muttered with dismay. She turned to face her companions and caught Tristan trying to stifle a laugh. He quickly schooled his features and cleared his throat, giving her a serious look. Meryl cocked her head and stared at him, curious. How was it, his attitude toward her had lightened. She wasn't sure she liked thatit meant she no longer knew what to expect from him. The more she thought about it, she figured he must have learned quite a bit on his trip to the future to understand her often droll sense of humor. Most people didn't understand it, ever. She shrugged, then turned down a narrow tunnel leading them to the kitchens. The mess was almost as bad as the main room. Mr. Clean might do some good hereindustrial strength. I'm not sure I want to see what the bedchambers look like." "Lady Meryl, you hid our warriors and brought us out of the near clutches of the English. You've led us on a journey to this new place; a journey which took us a sennight to complete. What is a little dirt compared to that? Maisri stared at the younger woman, her expression daring Meryl to argue the point. "I suppose you have a point, Maisri. Shall we assess the rest of the damage? Meryl grinned and led the way back to the great hall and up the winding staircase to the upper levels. The bedchambers weren't quite as bad, but would still need a thorough cleaning. She'd have to start making plans for the best way to get the keep in a livable condition. "Can't you... Tristan wiggled his fingers. "No, I can't, Meryl repeated the gesture, unless you want to risk not having a place to live this winter. I managed one spell. I wouldn't want to chance another, now. You have no idea how unreliable my spells

might be." "Just a suggestion. He shrugged his shoulders and, once again, hid his laughter. "Anyway, we need to burn some excess energy, confined as we were on our journey here." "Speak for yourself, Tristan muttered under his breath. He planned to find other things to do as soon as he could get away with it. "This place will take a ton of scrubbing if we're going to live in it. I've cleaned a mansion, but I've never scrubbed down a castle before. Meryl turned to her companions. First time for everything. We'll have to continue camping out until the cleaning in here is done. Most everyone will have to live within the keep walls for the winter. I'm not sure there will be enough time to do this and the huts as well. First thing in the morning we'll set up teams and delegate the work. She paused to catch her breath. Shall we see to our supper?" **** Early the next morning, Meryl stood in the bailey studying her surroundings. Carts leaned up against the outer wall to protect them from the cold night. They didn't have much time to get the building cleaned up before the winter settled in. The rising sun peaked over the outer wall, chasing away shadows. The job set before them would be daunting, but it had to be done, and the sooner they got started ... Rub-a-dub-dub, it's time for a scrub, she rhymed as Tristan handed her a drink. "In a good mood, are we? he asked. His grin showed off his dimples. While you see to the cleaning, some of the men will see about provisions. He was overcome by a sudden need to escape Meryl's scrutiny. "Nah ... nah! She reached out and grabbed his arm when he stepped away from her. She intended to put him to work before he and the other warriors could escape. You don't get away that easily. Provisioning can wait another day. We'll need some able-bodied men right here. Todayand don't you dare say cleaning is women's work." Tristan's shoulders drooped briefly in dismay, like a little boy caught doing something wrong. He mentally kicked himself for not being quick enough to get away from Meryl's planning and explore the valley. "We're going to need space out here to work. Rose, perhaps you and your friends can get some of the younger children to help find rushes for the floors. The older children will be helping inside. We're going to need all the buckets, rags and lye soap you can find ... and brooms. Don't forget brooms. "Tristan, bring your warriors, we'll need a good deal of elbow grease today." Tristan turned to his men. They had foolishly gathered out of curiosity, to see how she would deal with the new problems. You heard the lady. A chorus of grumbles followed Meryl into the keep. Meryl stood in the middle of the great hall, surveying what had to be done. In moments, other women stood behind her waiting. Maisri, if you would be so kind. Take some of the children above stairs and have them start sweeping. Save all the hearth ashes, but sweep down all the rushes. A few of you might want to go after the younger children and help collect what fresh rushes you can find. We'll also need plenty of straw for thatch and maybe get some of the hut roofs repaired as well. "Ena, take three women and get started in the kitchen area." The redhead gave Meryl a defiant stare and held back a retort. Her brandy eyes held no warmth. She

called to three others, then made her way to the kitchen, her hips swaying in temptation. Meryl caught the men oogling the redhead and her companions and was determined to get their attention where it belonged. Tristan, you and your men clear the tables and benches out of here and scrape them down. Once that's done, they'll get a good soap scrubbing. Any questions?" No one spoke. "Let's get to it." Above stairs, the older children raised clouds of dust and dirt while they swept haphazardly. They laughed while they worked, until Maisri scolded them for the poor job they were doing. Serious attitudes took over and piles of old rushes were carefully sent tumbling down the stairs into the great hall. Under Maisri's sharp eyes, they worked diligently, preparing the floors for scrubbing. One of the large hearths had been cleaned out and a fire started in it to heat water for scrubbing. Several cauldrons were set near the flames to heat. Maggie handled a large ladle to pour hot water into waiting buckets. Someone jostled her. Maggie lost her balance and caught her heel in the hem of her skirt. Hot water flew from the ladle. Meryl grabbed the full bucket next to Maggie and handed it off to the nearest woman. With her back turned, she didn't see Maggie stumble or water flying from its ladle until it was too late, and failed to move out of the way. Meryl screamed. **** Tristan's men grumbled. They were warriors, not servants to be cleaning and scrubbing. He chuckled at their complaints while they worked on the greasy wood. He heard a scream from inside the great hall and recognized Meryl's voice. She wasn't playing. What had happened to her this time? Dropping the blade he was using to scrape the table top, he ran into the keep and forced his way through the crowd of hovering women. "Fiona, get some grease, quick, one of the women ordered. "No! Meryl told them calmly. No grease. It'll make it worse. Get a bucket of cold water from the loch." Tristan got through the group and examined her burned arm. Meryl's right forearm was the bright red of a cooking lobster. What happened? All the women began chattering at once. One at a time! he shouted trying to make himself heard. "It was an accident, Maggie told him tearfully, when the others had quieted. I was about to pour some hot water into a bucket and someone bumped me and the water splashed all over Meryl's arm. She didn't see it coming until too late. She couldn't get out of the way." "Not your fault, Maggie. I should have had been paying closer attention. It could have happened to anyone." "But it happened to you, Meryl. Again. Tristan bit back his anger as he examined the burn again. "Better me than one of the children, she responded lightly, trying to hide the pain. One of the older boys set a bucket of cold water on a stool in front of her. Meryl knelt near the stool and

grimaced in pain while she lowered her arm into the bucket. The cold clashed with the heat of the burn. At this moment, she wished she couldn't feel anything. In the meantime it would take a while for the water to numb her arm. "Get back to your work, Tristan ordered the women who remained crowded about them. They reluctantly did as they were told. When they had dispersed to other parts of the great hall, he turned back to Meryl. Too many accidents, Meryl. Do you believe me yet, someone wants you out of the way?" "It doesn't make any sense, Tris. She hissed at the cold water beginning to take away the heat of the burn. I don't have my inheritance and I have no idea what it entails. Why would someone want to kill me before I inherit? What is waiting for me that's worth all this trouble?"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Several days of diligent scrubbing brought the keep and bailey to standards Meryl could live with. Her arm remained lightly wrapped in a wide bandage to protect the skin from further damage. The heat had gone out of the burn, leaving her arm red and sensitive. Her work was limited ... or so she thought Tristan believed. She worked as hard as everyone else and always seemed able to sense when he was around. When he appeared she played lady of the manor, giving directions, and watching the others work. She was grateful the other women had caught on to her ruse and played along with her. "You work too hard, Meryl, Tristan admonished her. "I hardly work, you mean, she huffed. "No, I mean you work too hard. He reached up and brushed a streak of dirt from her cheek, laughter in his eyes at having finally caught her. "I can't just sit around like a grand lady while they do all the work. It isn't my way, she complained. She gestured toward the working women, her frustration evident. Dinks and Famhair moved between the two humans and stared up at the other's owner. The cat's eyes glowed eerily in the half shadow. Dinks growled at Tristan, while the deerhound seemed to be studying Meryl. What is wrong with that cat? Tristan was slightly unnerved by the glow. Dinks appeared too human at times. "Just a trifle jealous. Meryl gave a negligent flip of her hand. He's always been my protector. Now you come along and claim the duty." "Competing with a cat? I don't think so. He eyed Meryl's pet, and Dinks returned the look with an unblinking stare. Tristan turned on his heel and went back to the bailey. When Meryl turned away, Famhair glared down at the cat and grumbled, Hey, cat. How come you get to sleep by the hearth where it's nice and warm, and I get a stall in the stable? Dinks gazed up at his larger companion and snickered. Learn to make yourself smaller than a pony and you might be allowed to sleep in here. He sauntered over to the edge of the hearth, made himself comfortable and promptly went to sleep. Famhair hesitated a moment, woofed indignantly, then turned quickly to follow his master. The men labored outside, managing to complete repairs on most of the huts, making them serviceable for the approaching winter. Their small hearths were cleaned out and made serviceable for heat and cooking. These cottages could be put to immediate use if some hearty souls didn't mind a few drafts. Backed against the wall, the inhabitants would be better protected against the cold. Winter winds made their way down from the mountains, cutting short any planned outside work beyond the walls. Meryl took a count to find there were too many people who would be living within the keep for the next few months. Wall to wall pallets covered the great hall floor every night. The children slept, huddled together like a huge litter of pups. The night sounds emanating from the adults, often kept Meryl awake and she wished they'd been able to find the fuel to heat one of the above bedchambers. She sighed wistfully; that would have to wait until spring. The weeks flew past and what was once a grand adventure turned into a nightmare.

Meryl and Tristan inventoried everything they had. There was enough game in the forest and fish in the loch to supplement what they had stored and see them through the worst of the winter. If they were careful, they could live well enough until the first harvest was brought in. Meryl expected complaints from time to time and dealt with them accordingly, but she was surprised with the angry chatter confronting her one evening at supper. "Is it true? Ian asked. Does this valley belong to some magician who has yet to return to reclaim it?" Momentarily at a loss for words, Meryl sipped her ale and studied the blacksmith. She placed her cup back on the table and sat back, keeping her surprise to herself that they hadn't heard the story weeks sooner. Where did you hear this?" "Is it true? he asked again, more insistent. Tristan turned in his seat and stared at her, making her uncomfortable. She had hoped to keep this bit of information to herself, until she knew better what to expect. That is what I've been told. I've also been assured this was the place we would make our new home. If you recall the condition of this place, no one has been here for years." "And how do we know we won't be forced to leave when the real owner arrives? Ena stared at Meryl, her brandy colored eyes betraying nothing. Meryl had an uneasy feeling about the flame haired woman. We won't. Have I guided you wrongly so far? Have I had less than your best interests at heart?" "No, Ian admitted. You've guided us true. He gulped down his ale and said no more. "And I would never deliberately misguide you. Each one of you has given up a great deal to make this journey. Granted, you didn't have much choice with the English patrol breathing down your necks. But I have it on good authority, this valley will be our permanent home. I will deal with the owner when they arrive, probably in the spring. Let's not borrow trouble now. We have more than enough to deal with if we're going to get through the next few months with our tempers intact. It will be difficult enough getting through this winter, without worrying about a lord or lady who may or may not appear to claim their home."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Time began to drag and Meryl's patience barely hung on by a thread. She was ready to scream. The idea sounded goodfor a brief momentbut in the long run it wouldn't help. Almost a hundred people, adults and children were living in close quarters through the winter and there wasn't enough work to keep them busy. She looked forward to dryer spring weather when she could get the men working building new huts. What they needed was a little village just outside the keep's high walls. Without having seen a great deal of it, Meryl knew the valley was more than sufficient size to support these people. Soon she would have to meet with the six warriors and discuss new responsibilities for them. She didn't particularly look forward to such a meeting, but with the misty curtain creating superstition, there was no real need to have warriors defend the keep. If any tasks were to get done in the next few months, it would require delegating authority. Besides short tempers, Meryl had had enough of this whole courting business. Several young men vied for her attention. Graeme subtly pushed for an acceptance to his proposal and Tristan practically ignored her. His indifferent attitude toward her stung. What had she done to deserve it? Had she offended him, or made him angry? Meryl hadn't asked to come to this time with him. She didn't want to be the one in charge. She wished she were back in the mansion. Listening to Enchantra's opinions concerning Meryl's inability to cast a spell would be nothing compared to this cacophony. Meryl rested her elbows on the trestle table and hid her face in her hands. A few moments peace would go a long way right now. The noise in the hall dimmed and an argument in the kitchen grew in intensity. She sighed then made her way to the kitchen, reluctantly prepared to referee. She stopped just inside the small cooking area, unnoticed by the workers. What is going on no way would she be heard. With two fingers to her mouth, she gave a loud, unladylike, shrill whistle. The kitchen suddenly became quiet and the dozen workers turned to see who interfered. That's better. Now, what is going on in here? You make enough noise to wake the dead. No one said anything, but shifted uncomfortably. I asked a question: I expect an answer. Meryl spoke more sharply then she'd intended. MacNab?" The rotund cook stared at Meryl then glanced at Rose. Clumsy girl spilt flour all over." Meryl noticed the mark on Rose's face and went to the girl to take a closer look. The red handprint stood out against Rose's pale complexion. What happened, Rose?" "I'd just filled the bowl with flour for the next batch of bread and Geoffrey ran into me. I dropped the bowl and MacNab struck me for being careless. He didn't see what happened. Rose waited. The defiant look in her eyes dared Meryl to discipline her. "In the first place, there are too many people working in this small area at one time. She pointed to several workers. You, you and you are no longer assigned to cooking duties. You will serve tables and clear them. That should limit the congestion in here. MacNab, she turned to face the cook again. You have no right to lay a hand on anyone." "But discipline" Meryl cut him off. If there is to be any discipline meted out, the complaints are to be brought to me. I'll not tolerate this sort of behavior. Is that clear?" "Quite clear, he grumbled.

"Rose." The girl stiffened, expecting to be punished for the spilt flour and the mess it created. No, she concluded, the spilt flour would just be an excuse. Meryl had seen her too many times talking and laughing with Tristan. Now their self appointed leader had the perfect opportunity to get even. "Put a cold cloth on your cheek to take the sting out of it. From now on, you'll work with Maisri. Your skills would be put to better use there." Rose's eyes widened in surprise. To get out of the kitchen was a blessing she hadn't expected. To have Meryl deal with the situation fairly? It was the last thing Rose expected from the outsider. The kitchen was silent for a moment, except for the crackling in the hearth where a large bird was slowly turned on a spit. Droplets of fat fell into the fire and sizzled. See that this mess is cleaned up before someone gets hurt. Meryl turned to leave, but hesitated a moment to gaze at the bird's crisp golden skin. And MacNab, she sighed with frustration and longing, ...I do believe your goose is cooked." The general atmosphere in the hall had quieted after her shrill whistle. Meryl was grateful for the minor respite. If one more thing went wrong before the day was over ... The door leading to the bailey opened just enough to allow a hooded figure to enter. Meryl recognized Ena when the woman turned, laughing, waiting for her companion to enter. Tristan. Meryl's heart skipped a beat as Ena leaned closer to Tristan and they both laughed. One more thing just happened. Meryl grabbed her cloak from where she'd left it on a table and flung it about her shoulders, then dashed out the door before Tristan could close it. "Meryl, he called. She ignored him, ran down the outer steps and turned left to cross the huge garden on the south side of the keep. Meryl stopped a momentwhere to go. She didn't want to see or talk with anyone. The garden. When she took a quick tour of the grounds in the autumn, just after their arrival, she'd discovered a small private garden, well hidden beyond the one in which she stood. She paced along the inner wall until she came across a gate covered with ivy. For a moment, the latch refused to budge, but finally opened with a rusty squeak. She'd have to see about those hinges if she wanted to keep this small place to herself. The late afternoon wind was warmer than it had been, a sure sign spring wasn't far off. She sat on the stone bench and sighed. Why did she ever let Tristan bring her here to Scotland? All this responsibility was proving to be beyond her. What on earth had convinced her she could make a difference in these people's lives? That truly had to be the height of arrogance on her part. She let her imagination wander while she studied the private garden. Signs of life were beginning to peek through the soil. Tiny bits of green peeked through the soil. There was something else about this place, something that had nothing to do with spring growth. In her mind's eye she saw a lush garden where a young girl hid between shrubs. The child hugged her knees to her chest as if trying to make herself smaller. No, not smaller, invisible. The child seemed afraid of something or someone. Meryl tried to look around the garden to determine what the danger was and where it came from. Someone was looking for the child. Meryl felt a shiver of apprehension crawl along her spine. She wanted to call out to the girl, warn her to run, but her voice refused to cooperate. "Meryl, a deep voice called to her. It drew closer, became clearer. Are you all right, lass?"

Meryl looked up, startled out of her daydream but not really surprised. She wasn't pleased to have been followed and berated herself for not having closed the gate properly. I'm fine. What do you want, Tristan?" He was taken aback by her flat response, but sat beside her without invitation. I don't want anything. I was worried. You seemed upset." "Upset? Whatever gave you that idea? She released the pent up frustration. Five months of close quarters with people who do nothing but bicker about petty things. Everyone gets on everyone else's nerves and they all expect me to settle their disputes. I've had enough, Tristan. I don't understand why you brought me here. I want to go home. She said the last emphatically, and looked into his green eyes, searching for answers, but found none. Yet, there was something hidden in their emerald depths she couldn't put a name to. "I'm sorry you're upset, Meryl, and I wish I had answers for you, but I don't. In a few days we can start building more cottages for these people and ease the congestion within the castle. If we can get enough people working, we can probably establish something of a village both here and outside the walls. Think you can hang on until then? He smiled lightly but his eyes reflected his concern. Meryl sighed softly. A few days. I guess I can manage until then." Tristan took her smaller hand into his and lightly rubbed his thumb over the backs of her fingers. He hesitated, not sure if he dared ask her the questions that were on his mind. What will you do about all these young men courting you?" Once again, Meryl tried to gauge his thoughts. It was an odd question from someone so popular with the young ladies, two of whom pursued him relentlessly. I haven't decided. Several of them want more of my time, which I'm not free to give. Graeme has proposed marriage. Meryl wondered why she bothered to tell Tristan all this, when it was obvious he really didn't care. The whole subject was only annoying, and talking about it wouldn't solve anything. Only a fool would doubt Tristan's attraction to Ena. In more ways than one, the redhead had the knowledge to keep his interest. Tristan didn't seem to like the idea of Graeme's marriage proposal, especially when it was an open secret where the warrior spent his late evenings. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing. "Are you inclined to accept Graeme's offer?" "I don't know. He's attentive, kind, considerate." "Then you do intend to accept. It came out more a flat statement of fact than a question. Meryl, lass, Beltane is only a few days away. Handfast with me. Tristan surprised himself with the proposal. He had only intended to warn her about Graeme. The blond warrior may be a good friend, but for some reason, he couldn't put his finger on, Tristan didn't trust the man around Meryl. He refused to believe that jealousy played any part in his warning. His offer to her was out of line, yet somehow it felt right. Did he love her? No, but that didn't matter either. Marriage to the Legend was the best way he could think of to protect her, because from the looks of things, she was going to be his responsibility indefinitely. Meryl couldn't hide the look of surprise on her face. I would think you prefer your freedom. What of Rose and Ena? Rose may be young, but Ena is worldly wise, more so than I." "You're right about Rose; she is too young for my taste. As to Ena ... perhaps she is too worldly wise to suit. I've done my best to keep distance between us, Meryl. I didn't want to influence your choices. I find I can't stay away from you any longer. It wasn't a lie, exactly. She intrigued and amused him in a way no

other woman had. For all her naivete she had a determination to do everything she could for a group of people she hardly knew. He admired her for that. Meryl studied the green eyes and searched for the truth of his words. Someone once said eyes were the windows to the soul. She sensed secrets within him, but the words he spoke rang true. It was what he wouldn't say that had her concerned. How could she tell this man no, when she longed to be with him? She couldn't. Meryl raised her hand, then dropped it to her lap again. I accept ... on one condition." "What might that be? Tristan studied her features as a hint of a smile flirted with the corners of her full lips. "We tell no one until the day we do it." "I can accept that, he agreed. But what about Graeme and the others who court you? What will you do about them?" "They won't be problem. Between planning the Beltane festivities, assigning tasks and settling arguments, I'm going to be too busy to have time to spare for them. And your men are going to be busy building a few more huts. Meryl's response was on the verge of being flippant, instead, she became serious and laid a hand against his cheek. She looked as if she wanted to say something more, maybe change her mind about the single request, but refrained. Her pale eyes hid nothing from him. "It will be as you ask, my lady. He carefully removed her hand from his face and placed a gentle kiss in her palm. I should go before anyone begins to ask questions." Meryl laughed at the ridiculous statement. How long did you share your home with me? What would make them think nothing went on then or is going on now?" Tristan flinched and an odd expression flickered over his features, as if he'd been insulted. I'm sworn not to touch you. It was a condition set before I went in search of you. He stood quickly before she could say anything more. I must go." Meryl watched after him, stunned. To whom had he made such a promise? Why would he want to handfast with her now, unless Maisri put him up to it for some reason? Her disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. She realized feelings meant little in this age, that convenience counted for more. Was this a change in his duty, to be able to keep a closer watch on her? If that was how he looked at it, then she could do the same. Going through with the handfasting would definitely put an end to the constant male attention. A union of convenience would be better than continuing alone. Eventually she intended to find her way back to her own time. Meryl would just have to keep her feelings to herself and hope her time here would be short. If she hoped to accomplish anything here it would have to be soon. While this seemed to be a step in the right direction she wondered where she could find a pair of ruby slippers. Something moved near the castle and Meryl searched the shadows, but saw nothing more. Dinks appeared, jumped up on the stone seat and stood at her side, growling low in his throat. His green eyes glowed eerily in the shadow. Meryl reached an arm over his back and drew him closer. "No one there, Dinks, she whispered and hugged him. Her hand glided easily across the top of his head, and she scratched behind his ears. He tipped his head to one side, and closed his eyes. Do you think maybe I've made the wrong choice? she asked again, barely whispering. Dinks rubbed his head against his mistress's face, content to have her undivided attention for a few moments.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Only two huts nestled against the outer wall surrounding the bailey were in good shape for immediate use. A thorough cleaning made them habitable. Ena wasted no time claiming one for herself, knowing her valued privacy wouldn't exist within the keep. What were a couple of drafts compared to the company she kept? There was more than enough heat generated from that quarter to keep her warm through the night. She stirred the contents of a small pot hanging on a hook where it simmered near the fire. The hearth provided the only light in the one room shelter. More than that, she didn't need. The light reflected in her hair, making the fiery color come alive. Ena's smile was barely obvious when the hut door eased open, just enough to allow someone to slip inside. The door latch slid quietly into place, locking out the rest of the keep. A strong arm slipped about her waist as the other hand deftly removed the spoon from her fingers and tasted the contents of the pot. "Do you think it needs more spice? she asked, the question masking her rising pulse. Her visitor dropped the wooden spoon back into the pot and brushed the thick red hair from her slender neck. Perhaps it could use a bit more spice, but we have time to work on that." Ena turned within the warrior's arms and gazed into his smoky gray eyes. She saw his need in their glowing depth and reveled in the fact she, alone, could satisfy him. He not only satisfied her endless cravings, but he was easily manipulated, the means to an end. She tilted her head slightly and kissed the corners of his mouth, teasing. Her hands slid upward, along his muscled arms to his broad shoulders. Her slender fingers slipped under the shoulder length blond hair at the back of his neck. Her fingertips seductively kneaded his nape while his kisses grew hot and needy, demanding her compliance. Graeme felt her response when she drew closer to his body and leaned against him suggestively. He broke the kiss, long enough to catch his breath. How was it this woman could send the blood boiling in his veins? Every time she lit a spark in him, it quickly burned out of control, making his need for her grow stronger every time she touched him. He loved Meryl, but he doubted she would ever be able to quench this fiery need he felt for Ena. He let Ena take his hands and lead him back toward the cot in the darkened corner of the room. He remained silent, despite her knowing smile acknowledging his need. Tonight, he would allow her to take charge and have her way. Hours later, Graeme lay awake, staring into the darkness. He listened to the wind, moaning across the top of the bailey wall, easing its cold tendrils through cracks in the wall of the hut. The fire in the hearth was dying and cast the barest light into the single room. Bright embers tossed into the air above the ashes, danced merrily for a brief moment before winking out. The room was cold and he debated getting up from the warm cot to stoke the fire back to life. He barely heard Ena's even breathing as she lay sleeping. His thoughts weren't with the woman by his side, but wandered, instead, to a black haired, silver-eyed girl whose spell was irresistible. He could imagine making love to her, stroking her velvety soft skin, caressing the gentle curves of her body. She would be a passionate lover; every time he was near her, he could feel the heat of her passion, waiting to be set free by the right man. He was determined he would be that man.

Meryl was everything he could ever want in a woman; beautiful, intelligent, powerfulmost important was the power. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was drawn to her because of the power she held. There was no doubt about it in his mind. She could secure the throne of Scotland for him. She would also make a Scottish queen any monarch would envy. The thought of her by his side set his pulse racing. He would have to lay claim to her very soon. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep while his imagination soared. Ena's nails lightly scored a path across Graeme's chest; the smooth skin twitched in response. His larger hand stilled hers. Haven't you had enough, yet? His eyes remained closed and there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He was tempted to turn away from her and go back to sleep. "I never have enough of you, she drew her hand free of his, then continued her teasing. "It's late, Ena, you know I can't stay the night. We're too close to the keep. The less anyone knows, the better. I haven't won Meryl yet." "Is this what worries you? Her words held a mocking tone. She kissed him soundly, her thick red hair falling forward to hide their faces. She drew back slowly, letting the strands of her fiery tresses tickle his skin. She got up from the cot and padded across the room to a chest set on the floor against the far wall. Ena stopped a moment to poke at the dying fire in the hearth and added small pieces of wood to the hungry flames. The fire gave her skin a golden, ethereal glow. The chilled air didn't seem to bother her. Graeme leaned on one elbow, watching her slow, seductive motions. She rummaged through the chest until she found what she was looking for. When she returned, she sat on the edge of the cot, a silver chain clutched in her hand. He held the pendant still against his palm and studied the pentagram, then lay back and looked up into her face. Her eyes were the color of warm brandy and held an eerie reddish glow. "I always suspected what you were. Just how powerful are you?" Ena shrugged slowly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Enough to help you gain what you want. You do want the crown." "Of course, I want the crown. That hasn't changed. But I need her, at least for a time, to create the alliance with England on my terms. His hand slowly trailed down the soft skin of her arm. I plan to ally with Edward until I have a secure hold on the Scottish throne. Once that is accomplished, Meryl will be the buffer against his wrath. By then, I should have full control of her and her power." "Yes, a man will hold the power. You will be that man. Ena fastened the chain about his neck. Never let her see this pendant, she sternly warned him. She will recognize the Celtic symbols. This will help protect you should she try using her power against you. Don't ever give her reason to feel threatened. If that should happen, I don't know if I can help you. My talents are somewhat ... limited." Graeme's eyebrows raised at the subtle double meaning. Her talents weren't as limited as she'd have him believe. What do you want in return?" "When you have what you want, when your position is secure, I will rule by your side. You know she will never satisfy you this way. Only I can do that. It makes sense we should combine our power and need. We would be a formidable pair. If you are careful, she will never realize you only use her." "What makes you think I would need you then? Graeme's question held a teasing tone. He took her hands in his and made a pretense of studying her slender fingers. Part of his mind realized how soft her hands were, rather than work worn like the other women.

"You may be able to hold her power, but only a woman can wield it. That is what the tale says. Combined with the power I hold, we would be undefeatable. You could become king of the British Isles, not just Scotland, if you wished." "You said you hold little power. Graeme gently bit a fingertip and looked up at her. "I have enough to do what I wish to do." Graeme gave a slight nod and appeared to consider this option. King of the British Isles; what a seductive thought. An interesting suggestion. First I must beat that damnable Bruce and gain the Scottish crown before I can consider anything else. Yes, you will share the power with me, once I've got hold of it. The legend doesn't say how it is accomplished, he added thoughtfully. He watched Ena shrug slowly and stretch out beside him. As her impatient hand slid down his chest, he felt her hunger renewed. From times before, Graeme was well acquainted with her determination to get what she wanted. He wouldn't be leaving tonight until she was satisfied.

CHAPTER NINETEEN Meryl laid a hand against her spine and bent backward to relieve the stiffness and breathed in the welcoming scents of spring. All morning, she, Maggie and Annie worked hard in the garden, establishing an herb patch for cooking and medicines. They had found a few plants in the nearby woods and dug them up, careful not to damage the roots. She laid aside small packets of seeds the women had saved from the previous harvest, then concentrated on turning over the earth and pulling out weeds. The warm rich soil reminded her of home and working in the garden there. Meryl thought of Aunt Enchantra. Cara must have told Enchantra all she knew about Meryl's visitor. She wondered if her aunt had looked for her, or did Enchantra accept Meryl's disappearance as destiny or fate. Home. Meryl knew without a doubt, the mansion wasn't her home any longer. She sighed softly. Maybe life was harder, but here she felt a sense of peace and contentment, a sense of belonging. It was as if the mansion had been little more than a stopping point before arriving at her destinyif Tristan was to be believed and this was her destiny. By mid afternoon, they had turned over enough soil to establish a large herb garden near the kitchen. She set the young plants securely in the fresh, warm soil. When all the rows of seeds were neatly set and marked off, she stood at the edge and smiled at all the work they had accomplished. Meryl looked forward to a hot bath, to relax her aching muscles. Tomorrow was Beltane and she didn't want to be stiff and sore for the celebration and games. Tomorrow she'd be keeping a promise to Tristan, if he hadn't forgotten about it. He hadn't mentioned it again, since the day he proposed. Did he still want her or was he regretting a rash choice? Or was he, once again, doing his duty? Everyone was in high spirits for the evening meal, in anticipation of the next day's activities. Tensions abated for the first time in months. Meryl could feel the difference and breathed a sigh of relief. She intended to enjoy every light-hearted moment for as long as they lasted. Too soon they'd be back to the business of survival. She walked through the great hall, stopping often to exchange a few words with many of the cheerful folk. It was good to see them happy for a change, not worrying about anything. She laughed at a comment from one of the maids, then turned and pulled up short when she bumped into a young woman. "Oh, Lady Meryl, I am so sorry. Rose brushed at Meryl's gown and the spilled ale. The wetness spread down the front of her bodice and skirts. "No harm done, Rose. I'll just go back and change. She held the material away from her skin as best she could and hurried from the great hall, missing the younger woman's smug smile. The last thing Meryl needed was to go through the evening smelling like a brewery. A short time later, Meryl returned to find Rose sitting with Tristan, concentrating on his every word. Meryl wasn't surprised to find that Rose had taken advantage of the situation. Not wanting to create a scene, she found a seat next to Graeme. "Ah, Lady Meryl. Have you come to keep me company this fine evening?" Meryl smiled. It seems I've lost my place to another." Graeme glanced up at the head table, not surprised to see Rose chattering with Tristan. Perhaps, he commented, then turned his attention back to Meryl, but at this table, your company is more than welcome. He offered her a cup of ale.

Meryl gratefully accepted the cup. More enjoyable to drink, than to wear it, she joked, and sipped the liquid. Graeme reached over and took her free hand in his. He gently rubbed the red skin. A lady shouldn't be working like a servant, scrubbing and cleaning." "Everyone has chores here, Graeme. I'm no better than anyone else." "Have you given thought to my proposal? As my wife, you would never again have to scrub anything like a scullery maid." Meryl had been dreading the time when the subject would come up againand she knew it would. How to answer and not hurt feelings ... She took another sip of ale. I really haven't had time to give it much thought. There's been so much to do. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but she felt a little guilty over not telling him the whole truth. How could she tell him of her plans when she'd asked Tristan not to say anything? "Say you'll be my wife, Meryl. Nothing would please me more than to hear you say you'll accept. Graeme's subtle pressure on Meryl made her squirm. "You'll have an answer soon, Graeme, I promise." **** The next morning dawned bright and clear. Adults scurried about making final preparations for the May Day festivities, shooing excited children out from underfoot. Meryl wasn't quite sure what the events entailed, but she understood this was an important day to the highlanders. She had left Maisri in charge of most of the plans, and kept herself busy with work within the keep and garden. Her own private garden showed promise of being a miniature paradise. Just after dawn, she had spotted Maisri and a few other women making their way down a hillside path. What was hidden up there, that only this handful of women knew about? Meryl became more aware of the pull she felt, a sense of power. It was the same, when she'd first approached the keep, but today it seemed stronger. A couple times, in the past, she'd tried to broach the subject with Maisri and every time the older woman managed to sidestep her questions with the simple reply, It is not yet your time. The cryptic answer did nothing to satisfy Meryl's curiosity. Come to think of it, if none of these people had ever been here before, so how did Maisri know about the power coming from the mountain? Meryl sensed a little mystery here and wished there were some way she could solve it. She sighed. Maybe someday, she'd be allowed to learn the secrets of this valley ... if the real owner didn't show up before then. There lay another sticky problem she didn't want to think about until the time came to deal with it. **** Meryl left the keep and strolled out onto the field where games of strength and cunning dominated the day. Maisri saw to it the children had their own activities to occupy them. By mid afternoon, Tristan sank down on a log next to Meryl. "Whatever ... made me think ... I could best Ian. The sentence was broken by gasps for breath. He accepted the goblet offered him and drank deeply of the warm ale. Meryl laughed. Spring, makes you believe you can do things you shouldn't." Tristan reached over, laced his fingers with hers and studied their joined hands. You made a promise to me, lass, one you said would be fulfilled this day. He didn't look up at her, just in case he saw something he preferred not to. Do you still mean to keep it?"

"I do, Tris. I never make promises I cannot, or don't intend to keep." "Then it's time we made our declaration. He put the cup aside and stood then easily pulled Meryl from the log. He led her to the rest of the villagers where they were enjoying the food prepared in the last few days. Tables from the great hall had been brought out earlier to accommodate the feasting. Two women stood before the lone table laden with all sorts of goodies. Meryl grabbed a small tart and took a bite. Juice from the fruit filling dribbled down her chin. She quickly wiped it up with her finger then licked the sticky digit. Can't take me anywhere, she grumbled and looked up to see Tristan glancing at her, laughter in his eyes. "Maisri, were you about to say something? Tristan asked quickly, then continued. Please forgive our interrupting whatever you're about to say, for just a moment." "Of course, Tristan. I'm sure what you have to say will be welcome news. Maisri gave them a knowing grin. Meryl glanced from one face to another and questioned the looks of anticipation. Could they have somehow discovered her and Tristan's plans? She didn't see how it was possible. Then again, when it came to Maisri, one never knew. "To make it simple and not take anything from Maisri ... Meryl has agreed to handfast with me during this celebration. Therefore, we do declare, before one and all, our intentions to live as husband and wife." Rose stared, open mouthed, at Tristan. Meryl held out the pendant she always wore and fiddled the back of it until she released the catch. She glided her fingers upward along the chain to the catch at the back of her neck. All the time she never took her eyes from Tristan's. Holding the delicate chain by its ends she brought it to him and fastened the ends about his neck. Let this be a sign of my acceptance of this union. Tristan studied her, a question in his eyes. Meryl shrugged. It feels right, she whispered, and smiled in response to his. Graeme's eyes narrowed as he stared at the couple. Meryl could have told him the night before of her intentions, instead of making a fool of him. He roughly shook off the hand resting lightly on his arm and ignored Ena as she stepped away from him. The tale of the Legend never said anything about the pendant being split between the Legend and her mate. So that's where the power was. He didn't really need her ... he needed the pendant. But having Meryl on his arm would assure his right to the power she held. For a moment, a stunned silence hovered over the announcement, then words of congratulations flowed over and around the couple. "I can't say, I'm really surprised, Maisri remarked. But that changes what I was about to say, and makes it a wedding gift of sorts." Maisri began her little speech. We are from different clans, having left or been outcast for one reason or another. No one knows what all those reasons are and they're not any one person's concern. What does concern us is establishing a sense of family. If we are to work together, and truly make this valley our home, then we need a symbol of our unity. We've been discussing this for some time and..." Maisri turned to several other women and, with their help, unfolded a new plaid. They held up the long length of cloth so everyone could see it. This, will declare to the world the beginning of a new clan. Pearl gray will set us apart from all other clans. In no way, will this plaid be confused with any other. Bright yellow for sun and warmth, pale yellow for the moon. She pointed to each color and the narrow stripes intersecting the pale gray field. Royal blue is leadership and green for growth."

"It's beautiful, Maisri, Meryl remarked softly, stunned. The color combination was enchanting. She stepped closer to the spread cloth, viewing it from different angles. She ran her hand lightly over the tight weave of the soft wool. For the first time since joining the villagers, Meryl felt a sense of belonging. She hugged the older woman and quickly blinked away the tears filling her pale eyes. Meryl turned to the villagers to gauge their reaction to the idea of a new clan and plaid. They stared silently at the wool before them. What say you? Meryl asked. Do we create a new clan?" Ian surveyed the rest of the people. No one knew them as well as he did. He saw brief nods and accepting smiles, then turned to the dark haired woman. Aye, we create a new clan. And how are we to be known?" Maisri spoke up. We will be known as Clan MacEmrys. The older woman turned her gaze to Meryl, waiting for a response. The name struck a familiar chord with Meryl, like a distant memory, but she couldn't pull it to the front of her mind. No matter. MacEmrys was a good name and if the people accepted it, who was she to reject it? "To Clan MacEmrys, Ian shouted, raising his cup of ale. Other voices joined his in boisterous good cheer. The sound of their happiness echoed off the mountains. Meryl laughed when she realized something. Maisri, you are something else. She stood beside the older woman and spoke just above a whisper. You made the green to match Tristan's eyes." Maisri's eyes danced with amusement. What better way to form the base of the plaid, than to honor those who have led us here to our new home?" Meryl turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at Tristan where he stood quietly at one end of the plaid. He smiled at Meryl and raised his cup in salute. They truly did have a new beginning. **** The leader lowers the child and smiles at it. Meryl stands by the woman's side. Her curiosity has gotten the better of her. The child is female and lies quietly in the leader's hands. She opens her eyes to stare at Meryl. Meryl looks at the child, stunned, then glances to the moon and back again. The baby's eyes are pale, almost milky, the color of moonbeams. Meryl bolted upright, disoriented, her breath shallow and quick. She tried to convince herself it was only a strange dream, but she knew there was more to it than that. She was suddenly chilled. Every time the dream came to her, something was added to it, revealing ... what? What was so important about a ritual and a newborn? Tristan sleepily turned over and wrapped one arm about her drawing her down beside him. Too early to get up, he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep. Meryl snuggled closer to his warmth. The dream faded, to be replaced by thoughts of the previous night. Meryl blushed. She didn't want to go there, not even in her thoughtsshe wasn't ready for that. She had to get used to this handfasting thing. Did she love Tristan? She cared for him, she was sure of that. But love was something she didn't yet understand. No matter. They would work together as a team for the sake of the new clan. Who knew where their relationship would end up-if it survived.

CHAPTER TWENTY Meryl rested one knee on the bench next to the head table in the great hall. A single goblet brimming with a dark liquid sat in the middle of the table. She smiled and read the note in her hand. 'Honeyed mead can never compare to my sweet Meryl. -T' She looked up as Tristan strode toward her. How did you know I love honeyed mead? Her silver eyes shone with delight at his thoughtfulness. The question puzzled her handsome husband. I didn't know, he replied slowly. He looked from the note in her hand to the cup. Meryl leaned over to pick up the goblet and savor the medieval drink. Enchantra had conjured it up a couple times, but now Meryl was about to taste the original recipe. "Meryl! Don't! Tristan commanded. She barely touched the cup when he knocked it out of her hand. The liquid flew from the cup. For a moment, she couldn't believe what he'd done. A hissing sound drew her attention and she watched in silent amazement. Black burn marks appeared on the wood table. Tristan quickly brushed at the spots on her skirt; small holes appeared where drops of liquid ate at the cloth, ruining her dress. The rushes on the floor soaked up the liquid, then hissed and smoked until they were blackened char. "That was too close, Meryl. I was hoping this was done with, but I guess I was wrong. Can you still say no one wants to harm you? There have been too many attempts on your life." Meryl stared at him, not knowing what to say. "If anything happened to you... He pulled her close and held her in a protective embrace. I'm taking you back, Meryl. You're not safe here." "Taking me back where? Nothing was making sense to her. All those times she tried to find a way to return home and he managed to stop her. Now he wanted to send her back? Too late. She was here to stay. "As much as I want to see you help these people, I won't let it be at the cost of your life." Meryl pushed away from him. This man, who so recently handfasted with her would send her away? No, I won't go back. You brought me here for a reason and I won't leave it undone." She saw the frustration in his eyes. If you won't go back, then I'll assign someone to guard you when I can't be with you." "No, Tristan, I don't want a bodyguard. I can't work that way. I can't have someone following me everywhere I go." "Be sensible. There have been too many attempts all ready. Eventually, whoever is behind the accidents, will succeed." "I don't want a bodyguard. The point is not negotiable." "Meryl... Tristan reached for her, but she backed away.

"Not negotiable, Tris. She repeated emphatically, then stepped around him, keeping just out of his reach. She headed toward the main entrance. "Where are you going? he called after her. "Going for a ride, to let off some steam. Then maybe we can discuss this rationally, later." "Meryl..." "I'll just have to be more careful, she called over her shoulder and slipped out the door. A stableboy saddled her highland pony. The day was warm and bright, but Meryl felt as if one of Enchantra's storm clouds loomed over her head. She glanced up to be sure and was relieved to see a clear sky. She led the mare into the bailey and climbed into the saddle. Meryl glanced back at the keep, just in time to see Tristan stroking his fingers across Rose's cheek. Neither he nor Rose noticed her. So much for our handfasting, she murmured. If a simple disagreement sends him to her, than I'm better off without him. Meryl kicked the mare's sides and sent it out of the bailey before her anger had a chance to get the better of her. She didn't need an audience to see the hurt she felt at his betrayal. **** Tristan stopped short of the top step just outside the hall door. Rose's attention was focused on the basket she carried, sorting through the colorful blossoms she'd picked for the center table in the great hall. She bumped into a solid wall, then looked up quickly and her heart beat faster. Tristan held her steady while she regained her balance. "What do you know about a cup of mead left for Meryl? he asked without preamble. Rose looked up at the warrior, confused for a moment. I didn't know there was any mead in the keep." "Best tell the truth, lass. I know you're jealous of her. Would you let your jealousy push you to poisoning?" "I admit I did those other nasty things to her, hid her possessions, deliberately spilled ale on her gown, but I never would have done anything to hurt her. She took you away from me. I just wanted her to go away. Rose's eyes filled with tears and longing. Tristan's tone softened and he brushed away a tear. Ah, Rose. I should have seen this long before now. I'm flattered you feel as you do, but I was never yours to begin with. I'm sorry I can't return those feelings. I love Meryl. Tristan surprised himself with the admission. "But she's an outsider, Tristan. She doesn't belong here. Rose insisted, knowing it would do her no good. Tristan was too honorable a man to turn his back on his responsibilities. That's all Meryl was to him. Rose had to believe that. "She belongs here more than you or I realize. I can't tell you how or why because I don't know. It's something I feel. Someone wants to see her dead and I don't know the reason. But I intend to find out. He paused briefly. Two things I'll be asking of you, lass. He smiled and Rose's face brightened. First, you're not to repeat this conversation to anyone. Second, when next you see Meryl, I would ask you to make peace with her." Rose frowned, but nodded agreement to the second request. For his sake alone, she would do as he asked.

"You may find, Tristan concluded, Meryl can be a very good friend. Rose, one day soon, you'll find a lad who is meant for you." Rose sighed. I'll do what you ask. I won't say anything and I'll beg her forgiveness when I see her. The young girl blushed when the warrior lightly kissed her cheek. Tristan stood straighter, thinking about what he had to do. It wasn't going to be easy for him to apologize to Meryl. He let out a sigh, wondering where she'd gone off to. I'd best find the lass and straighten out my own mess, he mumbled, unconcerned with Rose's surprised reaction. **** Tristan followed a slightly worn trail marked out by thinning grass. It led him through the valley until he reached a far meadow. Meryl's highland pony stood in the midst of heather and chewed contentedly on young blades of grass. She was nowhere to be seen. He patted the mare's neck and stood by the animal, trying to find some clue to Meryl's disappearance. There were no signs of a struggle, no matted grass or bent stalks of heather. A flash of blue caught his attention and Tristan bent down to retrieve it. The sapphire blue ribbon was similar to one he'd given her. It was folded in half and held together with a pin. He didn't have to see the other side to know what was attached to the ribbon. He flipped over the satin strip and found Meryl's frustrated wizard, pinned securely to it. She might have been angry enough with him when she left the keep to have discarded the ribbon, but she would never toss away the pin her aunt had given her. Tristan studied the pin a moment and something jogged at the back of his mind. Could sorcery be involved in her disappearance? That same thought had occurred to him before, but until now, all the little accidents she had, seemed to have a natural cause. This was different; Meryl had vanished without a trace. "Meryl! he shouted, and visually searched the meadow. Her name came back to him on an echo. Calling out to her was a useless gesture, but he did it anyway. Could the tumble down the cliff path have given her the idea to stage all those little accidents? He didn't think she was devious enough to come up with such a plan. She was too straightforward in her dealings with everyone. She hadn't wanted to return with him but did so most reluctantly. Maybe she found a way to return to her own time, one he knew nothing about. Tristan pocketed the pin and ribbon then led the mare back to his own mount. Wherever she was, Meryl was definitely no longer in the valley. He sent up a silent prayer, hoping he hadn't lost her for good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE "We should tell her who she is, the male voice decided firmly. She needs to know something to better protect herself." "No, the female interjected. To tell the child now, would put her in greater danger. We no longer know what our enemy is capable of doing. Better the girl discovers answers for herself, then she can keep them hidden. For us to impart the knowledge at this point, would tell our enemies of her arrival. It would also alert them to our continued existence, and undo everything we've done." "Is it right she be tossed about time this way? the male asked pointedly, on the verge of anger. He didn't like the answers his companion gave him, no matter how much sense she made. "Better to be tossed about and grow strong with the experience, than to be handed the knowledge and face utter defeat. When our enemy learns the child survives, it will be too late to take counter measures." "We should take measures now, he argued, not wait until it is too late." "No, the female replied. She had no intention of changing her mind, or letting her mate soften her decision. The male sighed resignedly. Perhaps you are right. She will need to be strong of will to face her destiny. I suppose there are more subtle ways to guide her. I will abide by your wisdom, my love for now. He chuckled lightly. **** Meryl heard the strange conversation in her mind but could make no more sense of it than the spinning and tumbling she was experiencing at the moment. She kept her eyes tightly closed against the brightness pressing against her eyelids, and her arms wrapped about Dinks body as he rested in her arms. The cat remained still and calm, as if events like this were an everyday occurence. He shook his head; if only she would loosen her grip on him, just a smidge. Meryl felt solid, level ground beneath her feet. The scent of blooming heather had long since disappeared. She refused to open her eyes, until her stomach settled. Whatever had just happened proved worse than riding in an express elevator, a sensation she wouldn't easily forget. The last thing she remembered, was seeing Tristan talking with Rose outside the great hall. The tender moment was one she'd just as soon forget; Tristan touching Rose's cheek with gentleness, a look in his eyes she thought was only for her now. He wasted no time turning to the girl. So much for caring and unity. Meryl believed she was well rid of the traitorous man, but in her heart she knew she was only trying to displace the pain she felt at his betrayal. She opened her eyes a slit. Blacktop covered the hard level ground. It looked new and clean with the shiny brightness of a fresh coat of clear nail polish. The newness wouldn't last long; it never did. The surface stretched out for a half mile in three directions. Bright yellow lines contrasted against the black coat, dissecting it into equal portions, then blended together in the distance. Before day's end, the immaculate surface would be dulled with dusty footprints and the inevitable litter. Meryl paused and stared across the expanse of the huge parking lot. At the far end, birch and ash trees created an attractive border. Bare shrubbery in need of pruning filled in some of the spaces between the trees, while colorful wildflowers added to the thick grass surrounding the woodland sentinels.

The long brick building remained quiet for the moment, sheltering enclosed shops being prepared for the busy afternoon. A maintenance crew worked diligently to put the finishing touches on the wide entrance. Huge stone containers stood at either side of the main doors. Coleus, marigolds and geraniums of different hues were neatly arranged to show off their color to best advantage. Long, leafy, ivy stems curled gracefully over the containers edges. She was surprised and disappointed to find that someone had purloined her ideas for the plant arrangements. She wondered briefly if Enchantra or Cara would have taken the time to put plants around the mansion's veranda. Meryl looked beyond the lot to the highway, where heavy traffic moved in both directions. Where on earth had she landed? From what she could see, she'd returned to her own timehow had that happened? Be careful what you wish for, she chided herself and shuddered. Had Tristan found a way to send her home, regardless of her feelings? If he had, he'd missed his mark. Dinks grumbled. You're right. He doesn't have the power to send us back, or do anything else for that matter. So if he didn't do it, who did? And what happened to my clothes? For the first time, Meryl was aware of soft fur against her bare arms. Somehow, her wool gown had been exchanged for a short sleeved white blouse and paisley skirt. She'd grown so used to the long skirts, the feel of this skirt's hem against her calves felt indecently short. She wavered unsteadily for a brief moment and failed to notice the older couple approaching her. "Are you all right, miss? the gentleman asked, concerned. He reached out and gently touched her arm, to steady her. "Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, just dizzy for a moment." The couple glanced at one another, their eyes filled with concern for the stranger. We live near here, perhaps you'd care to join us for some tea?" The woman looked hopeful and Meryl hated to disappoint her. I'm sorry, I do have something to attend to." Dinks leaped from her arms to the man's shoulder, startling him. He laughed and easily moved the wayward cat to a more comfortable position. "Dinks! How could you? Meryl scolded, wishing he had remained in his larger size to prevent such a thing from occuring. "Now there's an interesting name. Seems he's made his own decision. The gentleman scratched behind Dinks ears and the cat purred with pleasure. Looks like you'll have to join us now, he concluded, his grin brightening his round face. Not knowing where she landed, Meryl reluctantly agreed. Dinks, the little traitor, gave her no choice. Meryl wondered what he was up to, because he never went to strangers. Dinks didn't like strangers. Since this sort of behavior was out of character for him, she'd have to wait to figure out what he's up to. Meryl felt uncomfortable with the couple. She sensed no danger and Dinks made himself at home. She often believed Dinks was more human than cat. She sighed softly and decided it might be better to let the answers come to her. The older couple approached the side entrance of a house with a large bay window in front. Gold lettering on the window announced an antique shop, which lay in darkness. The side door led into a cozy kitchen. In moments the woman placed a tray on the table while her husband pulled our chairs and invited Meryl to be seated.

"Here we are, my dear. The woman poured three cups of tea and her husband joined them. Where are my manners? she exclaimed. We haven't even introduced ourselves. This is my husband, David McConnell, and I'm Martha." "I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Meryl Spellbinder and you've met Dinks, my not so faithful companion. Meryl glowered at her pet's sudden fickleness. He crouched in the kitchen's doorway, alert, and raised his nose to better examine all the smells the kitchen had to offer. "Spellbinder, Martha commented. Such a strange name. Don't believe I've heard it before." "Strange family, Meryl chuckled. You'd know what I mean if you met my aunt, Enchantra." "Where are you staying? David asked kindly. Would your family be worried?" "Oh, no, they wouldn't worry, Meryl replied a little too quickly. How did she explain anything without giving herself away? She didn't know where she was, or the date. She knew she'd been tossed into the futureher time and she had to find a way back to medieval Scotland. As to where I'm staying. I've only just returned and haven't had a chance to find accommodations yet." "Then you'll stay with us, as long as you need. It's been so long since we've had a young person here, not since..." Meryl caught the silent warning David gave Martha. Something was wrong, but Meryl didn't feel it was her place to ask. I don't want to cause problems for you." "Would be no problem at all. We'd love to have you, for however long you plan to stay." "Thank you. I'd be delighted." "Come along, I'll show you to the guest room." **** Sleep was about as evasive as a politician's speech. The more Meryl thought about her return to her own time, the less she understood. She tossed and turned in the twin bed, trying to get comfortable, but couldn't shut down her mind long enough to rest. Dinks raised his head from where he lay at the foot of the bed, and stared at his mistress, annoyed with her restlessness. Sorry I disturbed you, she whispered irritably. Go back to sleep. She watched his mouth open in a wide yawn and wondered how he did that without dislocating his jaw. In another moment he was sound asleep again, his chin resting on his paws. Meryl punched the pillow, bunched it up and lay on her side staring out the window. She still hadn't figured out what she was doing here. Maybe some good fairy heard her wish to return home and decided to send her back. Yeah, right. Was someone trying to keep her from collecting her inheritance? She was beginning to think it was more trouble than it was worth, despite the fact she had no idea what was involved. Money? Scotland was too poor for that and she couldn't imagine having rich parents. Property? No, for the same reason. How about a lifetime's supply of bannocks? She was sick of the dry oat cakes, and the idea of having them forever made her shudder. So what did that leave? She hadn't the foggiest idea. Meryl finally drifted off to sleep with visions of bannocks dancing in her head. The next morning, Meryl tried to clear the cobwebs from her tired brain. She needed to think of something different since last night's conversation with herself brought no solutions to her current situation. She concentrated on David and Martha. Meryl found she liked the couple and appreciated their hospitality, but she thought they were a little too trusting. There were people out there who would love to

take advantage of people like them. While they didn't say anything about their life, they told her about the small town she'd landed in. Hudson Falls was neither a rich nor poor community. It was the sort of town where everyone did well enough for themselves. No crime meant no locked doorsthat explained the unspoken trust. It was more like a fairy talea pleasant oneyet still hard to believe in the twenty-first century. Martha worked in her antique shop while David puttered around their property, trimming hedges, mowing the expansive lawn. Meryl refrained from calling Dinks a traitor, figuring he was up to something. Her furry companion happily followed David about. She hoped he wouldn't do something crazy and embarrass her. The antique shop displayed items from many centuries and cultures. Meryl browsed through the well-kept displays, stopping now and again to study an item that caught her eye. She found the antique jewelry display fascinating, when a small odd shaped piece demanded her attention. No! It couldn't be! She frantically searched the pockets of her skirts. It was gone. Her wizard pin was gone. How could she have lost it? She had to calm down and try to figure out what might have happened that it ended up here in an antique jewelry display case. "Martha, Meryl's voice trembled. May I take a closer look at this piece of jewelry?" "Of course, dear, which one? Martha put aside her list and went to the display case, sliding open the back of the case. "The odd shaped one." "Here you are. I'm sorry it isn't in better condition, she offered apologetically. It's too delicate to do much with it and shouldn't have been put in the case. I've never been able to quite make out what it is." "It's a wizard, Meryl said softly. A crazy little wizard. Her fingertips traced lightly over the jeweled piece. The colors were dulled by age and scratches marred the surface. Where did you find this?" "Let me see. It was in a box with a few other things, none of them in very good condition. There was, I believe, a broadsword with a broken blade. I remember it because the hilt had odd stones in it." Meryl paled. No, this couldn't be happening. I'd like to see the sword, if you still have it." "It should be back here ... Are you all right, Meryl?" "Yes, I'm fine. Meryl took a deep breath and hurried after the woman to a corner of the shop. "I meant to get rid of it. The broken blade makes it useless as an antique. Martha looked through several boxes in the corner. Now that I think about it, maybe I could use it as a display piece, maybe with a helmet or armor. Martha's eyes twinkled with amusement. Here it is, she declared a moment later. Martha carefully extracted the broken weapon from the carton it had been stuffed into, and laid it on a nearby table. Meryl glanced above her head and switched on a lamp to better examine the blade and hilt. A white moonstone lay embedded in either end of the hand guard and a small turquoise had been centered. She needed to find one more thing ... Meryl examined the blade near the hilt, rubbing it gently. The marks she searched for were there. Her fingers slid over the small engraving directly beneath the hilt and she nodded with acceptance.

Picking up the pin from where she had lain it on the table, Meryl placed it over the turquoise stone centered in the hilt. The stone was a match to the one in her pendant, the half Tristan now woreor did he? She had no way of knowing. Small blue chips regained their clarity and brightened to their original color. Smaller yellow chips in the wizard's hat resembled stars. The wizard's beard, hair and bushy eyebrows turned a clear, clean, gray. His frustrated expression became easier to read. "My aunt gave me this pin for my sixteenth birthday. Meryl handed the bright piece of jewelry to Martha. If you look at the cap very carefully, in place of one of the stars, you'll find a tiny M'." The stunned woman stared at Meryl then examined the pin closely. Sure enough. There was the tiny M', front and center. How did you do that?" "Truth to tell, I have no idea how it happened. Somehow, I knew if there were a proper connection between the two ... well, I just knew." "You know who this sword belonged to... Martha's words were more statement than question. The answer would give it some value. As if reading her mind, Meryl replied, Yes, Martha, I know who owned it. I have to wonder how it came to shatter like this. She carefully picked up the broken weapon and held it out toward the older woman to take. You may want to put it in a safe place. It could be more valuable than you think." "Yes, of course. We'll tend to it later. It's lunchtime, and I'm sure you must be hungry. I know I am. The two women left the shop area and entered the living area. The shop was once a double parlor and fairly easy to convert to a business area. Rather convenient for us." They continued their chatter, walking through the quiet house to the kitchen, where David was making sandwiches. Meryl heard a hiss and glanced up in the direction of the warning. She reached up to try and get a grip on him. "Dinks! Whatever are you doing up there? You naughty cat, you know better! The black feline avoided his mistress's hands and jumped from the top of the bookshelf, knocking a book to the floor and scattering what looked to be photographs. Meryl knelt on the floor and quickly gathered up the pictures, hoping her sneaky pet hadn't done any damage. "I am so sorry, Martha. Dinks knows better than to go where he has no business ... to ... be... her voice faded with the shock of what she saw. "No damage done, my dear. Your Dinks is behaving like a normal cat." Meryl stared at the photo in her hand, dumbfounded, then anger took over. Why that miserable, conniving, underhanded... It seemed today was a day of revelations. With each photo she glanced at, she found another word to describe the deception that had so carefully been played out. She glanced at the cat and shook a handful of photos at him, forgetting where she was. So that's why you were up there and why you attached yourself to David. For a moment, the cat looked distinctly pleased with himself. And you can wipe that smug feline grin from your face, she added. Dinks raised his head and stared at her with an I-told-you-so expression, then turned and sauntered out of the room with a flippant twitch of his raised tail. "What was that dear? Martha asked in response to Meryl's indistinct reaction. "Sorry, I was scolding Dinks for being where he shouldn't. She followed the cat's retreating form, her anger relenting. She couldn't blame him for bringing the truth to her attention, but he didn't have to be so

smug about it. Martha took the pictures and the album into the kitchen and set them on the table between her and Meryl. Do you know him? she asked her guest, noticing how Meryl stared at the family photo again. David held out a chair for each lady in turn, then took his own seat on the other side of the small table. He refrained from asking any questions. Meryl hesitated and took a deep breath to get her temper back under control before answering. She felt betrayed. Glancing up at the older couple, she wondered what must they be thinking of her and her strange behavior. He looks very much like someone I know." "That's our son, Tristan. Tristan David McConnell." Meryl tried to stifle a laugh. This was too much of a coincidence. Well, I guess that makes me your daughter-in-law. T-D-M, she practically whispered. Initials on the sword. I never knew his full name, but I teased him about the letters." "Tristan has always had an interest in medieval history, to the point where he joined some role playing organization. He did quite a bit of traveling to meet with other people. About two years ago, he went to one of those places and disappeared without a trace. The police found nothing to hint at foul play and said he'd probably turn up in a few days. He never did." Martha tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears of loss. David reached across the table and rested his hand over hers, giving it an affectionate little squeeze. It's been difficult these two years, not knowing if he's alive and safe, or... he let the rest of his sentence trail off. Meryl bit her bottom lip, not sure what she should do. Seeing the way this couple worried about their son had cooled her temper considerably. Would the trouble that followed her affect them? She could tell them the truth and risk looking like a fool, or she could remain silent and let them wonder. Would they be safe if they knew? She made her choice and prayed it would be the right one. She couldn't let them go on wondering when she could ease their worry. "Do you believe in time travel? she asked them. They looked at her oddly and she groaned to herself. This wasn't going to be easy. "Yes, David replied. We believe it's possible, although we've never met anyone else who has shown interest in it." "I can tell you, time travel is real. I've done it twice now and I'll do it again. Tristan is alive and well in Scotland... Meryl hesitated briefly. In the year 1306. At least he was well the last time I saw him, a few days ago." "Can you prove you're talking about my son? Martha wanted to eliminate all existing doubt in her mind. Meryl thought a moment. I don't know how I can do that, except to tell you he has long black hair he ties back with a strip of leather. His eyes are like two green emeralds and he has dimples. I think I fell for the dimples first. She grinned at the small confession, then thought of something which would convince them. He has a birthmark only his parents and wife would know aboutor should be the only ones to know, she added as an aside, a heart shaped mole, low on his right hip. Meryl turned bright pink, and glanced at David when he laughed. She sensed his delight at her blush and the color deepened with the knowledge. Meryl went on to tell them how she and Tristan had met, her journey to the early fourteenth century and

everything she'd experienced so far. Tristan and I handfasted at Beltane. He has the other half of my pendant. The stones in his sword are similar to my half of the pendant. His half holds the turquoise. For some reason, the pendant is important, although I've yet to learn in what way." "So you've handfasted with my boy. David's dark eyes and serious features hid his thoughts. We couldn't have picked a better daughter-in-law, if we'd tried. Are you both happy?" "About as happy as two people can be, separated by seven hundred years and an argument. Meryl took a bite of her sandwich. Clearing one's conscience made one rather hungry, she decided. When I think on it now, I guess I was being really stubborn about it. He thinks I need protecting from someone or something. He refuses to say who or what, but I have a feeling it all has something to do with my inheritance." Martha looked alarmed. Why would anyone want to hurt you?" "Don't know, unless... Meryl paused. Only one reason came to mind. If I knew what my inheritance involved, I might have a better idea, but no one seems to know. I have to wait for my next birthday to claim it." "You'll stay with us until the matter is settled. I'm sure our son will get to the bottom of it, Martha insisted and glanced at her husband. She got up and began clearing the table. Meryl's offer to help was tactfully refused. "I don't think he knows where I am, if... Meryl refrained from finishing the thoughtif he were still alive. The broken sword bothered her. What happened to him after she disappeared? For all she knew, he could have made a cursory search for her after she disappeared, and having found nothing, taken up with Roseif her last sight of him was any indication. A scowl briefly crossed her features. Meryl followed her hosts into the living room, still deep in thought. She regretted the argument she'd had with Tristan. If she could do anything to change the outcome of his future, she would, but to do that, she had to stop thinking about him for now and figure out a way back to 1306. Isn't this the last day for the car show at the mall? she asked unexpectedly. What do you say we go over there for the afternoon?" "I think we've had enough dreams for a while, David commented. "Oh, come on, Meryl cajoled her father-in-law, putting her arm through his. Humor a young girl. I don't know how long I'll be here. I could get zapped out of here as quickly as I arrived. I have no control over my travel plans, and if it should happen, I want to take memories with me, something I can share with your son." Martha's face brightened at the suggestion and David relented. "Who knows what the afternoon will bring. I have a feeling it could be very interesting. Meryl's eyes gleamed with mischief as she linked her arms with the older couple. We're off to see the wizard..." David and Martha laughed and stepped quickly to fall in beside their daughter-in-law. **** The size of the crowd amazed Meryl. People of all ages were in awe of the display. Owners proudly showed off well-kept antiques representing over a hundred years of automotive history. Bright colors, shiny chrome and polished interiors beckoned enthusiasts. The sights piqued Meryl's interest but at the same time, she felt out of place. Had six months in medieval Scotland made such a great impression on her? The present certainly didn't feel like home anymore. She sighed.

Meryl heard her sigh echoed and rejoined Martha and David. Okay, she stood between them and stared at the object of their attention. What have we here? A sleek sports car was centered on the raised platform. Meryl didn't know the first thing about cars, but she did know expensive when she saw it. "Many years ago, David and I were planning our wedding. We wanted something small, just family and a few friends. War in Asia was over for the most part and we knew England was going through some changesagain. But we didn't want to think about it. We were young and very much in love. She turned and smiled at her husband as he took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. And there it was. The most beautiful car we had ever seen, parked in the village. A wealthy couple was driving through and they had stopped to purchase something or other. We were admiring it and we agreed, one day we would own one just like it. Then we would drive across Europe and see all there was to see." "It was a wonderful dream, David added. "And that's all it ever was, Martha sighed. So many things had changed in the meantime. Then we had Tristan and his older sister to rear. After a while, we forgot our dreams, as all dreams are, sooner or later." "That's a long time to have a dream. According to the ad, here, there's to be a drawing in about, Meryl turned David's arm and glanced at his watch, an hour. What are you waiting for? Go register for the drawing." Meryl felt a prickle down her spine and glanced about. Someone watched her. She scanned the crowds, but didn't see anyone who appeared suspicious. Must be her imagination. Martha, I'll be back shortly, in time for the drawing. There's something I have to do." She moved along with a group of people and followed them into the mall. Meryl! A voice called to her; Meryl chose to ignore it. She felt panic building within her. For the McConnell's sake, she had to lose whoever followed her, wanting her attention. She turned sharply into a secondary hall and ducked into the nearest shop. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to avoid me." Meryl started at the voice behind her. Cara! Must you always sneak up on me? What are you doing here? She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. It isn't safe to be seen with me." "Sorry. Cara looked anything but. Where have you been? You vanished over six months ago without a word and that hunky guy you told me about hasn't been leaving any roses either. That stopped about the same time. What gives, girlfriend? Your aunt will be thrilled to find out you're back." Meryl scanned the crowds again to be sure no one watched them, then grabbed her best friend's wrist and dragged her into a secluded corner. You can't tell Enchantra you've seen me." "Why not? She's been angry and worried about you, by turns. Her new husband thinks you're the most inconsiderate creature on earth to vanish without a by-your-leave. Cara managed to get her wrist free and rubbed the pinkened skin. She had never seen her best friend act this way beforeparanoid was the word for it. You could at least relieve her mind, even if you don't want to stick around, she added. "You don't understand. Someone's after me; I don't know who or why. You could be putting youself in danger just by being here talking to me." Cara glanced around. Everything looks normal to me. Anyway, I just saw you with that old couple, and

they didn't look as if they were in any danger." "Maybe not at the moment, but they will be if I stay here much longer. Promise me you won't say anything to Enchantra." Cara made no reply. "This is important, Cara. You have to promise me you won't say anything." "All right! All right! If it means that much to you." "Thanks. You're the best. Meryl gave her friend a quick hug, then stared over Cara's shoulder, at first not able to make out what she saw in the shadowed corner. A transparent image, more like a visual distortion, reached out to her. She thought of the alien in a sci fi movie, a ripple in the scenery. She was staring at something similar. She heard the apparition call to her by name. "Tristan, she whispered. "Who's Tristan? Cara wanted to know. Is he the guy who sent you those roses? Don't trust him, Meryl. If he can just dump you so easily, then you don't want to be with him." "That advice is a bit late. I have to go, Cara. Don't forget your promise not to say anything. First chance I get, I'll see Enchantra and explain everything to her. Meryl hurried away, ducking between clothing racks, until she felt safe again. When she glanced back, she breathed a sigh of relief to see her best friend walking in the opposite direction. "Why I should love you, Tristan McConnell, I will never understand, she huffed. How Meryl missed him. She closed her eyes for a moment and invisible fingers brushed gently against her cheek. With the light touch against her face, she promised herself she'd find a way back to him and they'd settle their differences, one way or another. When she opened her eyes again, the transparent figure had disappeared. Meryl was thankful Cara never saw it. If Tristan could find her, so could whoever wanted to harm her. She had to return to the fourteenth century and face her enemy, whoever it was. Meryl hurried out to the lot where the drawing for the sports car was about to be held. David and Martha held hands tightly. Meryl wanted to see their dream come true. Could she do it? She was only beginning to learn to cast spells and was far from good at it. She didn't want them to worry about their son. Having never been a parent herself, she couldn't fully appreciate the concern that never abated, but the less they thought about him now, the safer they would all be. What better way to temporarily redirect their concern than to have a dream come true? She concentrated on the announcer, watched him reach into a large box. There must have been hundreds, maybe thousands of entry forms dropped in the carton she mused. A warm glow built at her center. She felt it once before, when she hid the warriors from the English. She watched the announcer's arm move back and forth, mixing the contents of the box. Her pale gray eyes squeezed shut and she mumbled a few words. "The winner is ... David and Martha McConnell! Martha squealed with delight as David hugged her. They shared a quick kiss, much to the announcer's amusement. Meryl caught Dinks when he jumped into her arms. I know, it's time for us to leave. She scratched

behind his ears and listened to his purr. She checked her pocket to be sure her little wizard was secure there. This time she made sure to pin the little character to the inside of her pocket. She then directed her thoughts to the happy couple and whispered her farewell. Many thanks for all your kindness. It's time for me to be on my way. Go for that trip you've always wanted and enjoy yourselves. In due time, your son will return to see you. I'll make sure of it." Meryl hugged her cat a little tighter. I don't know if this will work, Dinks, but I'll give it a shot. We have to leave here now. "Past and present Cannot mix; Let us return To thirteen oh six." "I know, I know. It's not the greatest rhyme, but what do you expect on the spur of the moment? Meryl felt a whirlwind begin to tease and grow in power until she and Dinks were caught up in it. She held the cat snugly in her arms, grateful she and Dinks were standing at the edge of the crowd where no one would notice her vanishing act. If anyone did glance her way, they'd think the afternoon breeze toyed with her skirts. She hoped no one would notice. "We're coming home, Tristan, she whispered, then chuckled when Dinks growled. Her voice faded in the depths of darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 1306 Scotland Clan members stood in silence, afraid to make any sudden moves. They didn't like what they were being forced to witness but knew they couldn't overcome the guards preventing them from interfering. Some flinched at the sound of each blow as it landed. Others looked away, not wanting to watch the proceedings. They had been wondering of late, if maybe Meryl was responsible for the bad things going on after all. The trouble started almost immediately after she vanished. Why else would she have disappeared if she weren't responsible for their hardships? They were reluctant to believe anyone else would take part in such doings. Tristan staggered between the two warriors. Only their iron grip on his upper arms kept him standing. One green eye was swollen shut and a thin trickle of blood dried at the corner of his split lip. Bruises darkened the edge of his jaw. Graeme's voice continued to pound at Tristan, demanding to know where Meryl had disappeared. The warrior said nothing. His silence only infuriated Graeme more. Graeme's accusations continued. She vanished, leaving you here to do her bidding. Renounce her as a witch and I'll release you. His voice carried throughout the great hall, forcing every inhabitant to listen in fear, wondering which of them would be next. Maisri stood silent, her arms wrapped around her granddaughter's shoulders. She heard Brenna sniffle, and tightened her arms about the child in assurance. Graeme's words had to be lies. If they were truth, where did that leave the highlanders? Where did it leave the master? Tristan glared at his attacker through his one good eye. "Has she such an unholy hold on you, you cannot say where she is? Be assured, Tristan, the well water has been tainted, and three people have become deathly ill from it. I am surprised there haven't been more. The cows stopped giving milk. A month since Meryl disappeared and Dun Ceathach is cursed. Tell us where she is so we may properly remove the curse she's obviously put on us." "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. I'd rather she stay wherever she is and never return, than be falsely accused by you. What is it you really want with her? Tristan paused. To think I called you friend. Your ambition's destroyed the good sense you once had. You are dead to me." Tristan doubled over when a solid blow knocked the breath from his lungs. "Throw him in the dungeon and let him reconsider his loyalties, Graeme ordered the men. He'll remain there until I decide what's to be done with him. Graeme watched the soldiers drag Tristan from the great hall, then turned his attention to the rest of the clan. Anyone stepping forward with information on the whereabouts of Lady Meryl will be rewarded." The villagers glanced at one another, wondering if someone could possibly know where the woman in question might be hiding. If anyone knew where she was, it would be Tristan, and he didn't seem to know any more than they did. "What are you all standing around for? Get back to your chores. Graeme angrily barked out the order, then stared as they slowly went about their duties. Graeme spoke to Malcolm, but didn't look at the man. One of these fools has to know where she is." "You don't really intend to charge her as a witch, do you? Malcolm spoke quietly, not letting his words

carry to nearby workers. He saw one or two glance at him then quickly turn away. "Only as a last measure. I have other plans for her." "She's Tristan's handfasted wife." "And their bond is broken when he's dead. Graeme's eyes darkened to the color of thunder clouds, just before a breaking storm. Malcolm backed away. He knew that look only too well. No one dared stand in Graeme's way now. **** Rose went about her duties, casting surreptitious glances at the two warriors. Somehow, she had to find a way to help Tristan.F Maybe she didn't like Meryl, but to be charged with witchcraft ... It meant a horrendous death, and she didn't know of anything Meryl had done which could smack of black magic. In fact, the girl had to admit reluctantly, everything Meryl had done up to the time of her disappearance had been for the benefit of the clan. She couldn't imagine the outsider disappearing and causing trouble in secret. All Rose could do was wait and watch. If she paid attention, surely she could find a way to help the man she cared for, even if he did belong to another woman. Famhair lay in a corner out of the way and watched the goings on. He'd already been whipped once for trying to protect his master. A bloody welt ran down the length of his hind quarter. At least the burning wasn't so bad now. There were too many people to allow him room to attack the yellow haired human, and he had too many followers with swords. One dark haired female showed promise. Famhair could tell by the way she moved and watched the others, she was planning something. With the attention she had shown in his master some time earlier, she seemed the most logical to try something. He continued to watch her with interest, waiting patiently to see what she would come up with, then he'd help her if he could. He waited for the time when he'd be able to sink his teeth into the hated warrior, and hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE "She's finally learned the truth about her young man." "He isn't her young man, the male voice gruffly disagreed. He's yet to prove his worthiness." She laughed. Must he fight dragons for her? Look at the way he protects her, even though he has no idea where she might be. Men are all the same. You forget humans are no longer in dark ages and you still think you have the right to make that decision for a woman. What about love? She handfasted with him. Does that not count for anything?" "Humph. It is the way things are done. His reply was gruff but he refused to look at her. "Did we not choose freely? she asked gently. "It matters not at this point. She has yet to return to him. By the time she does return, she may have changed her mind about him." "She must have the right to choose freely if she is to become what is expected of her." The male turned his attention back to the young woman and hid a smile. He would never allow his mate the satisfaction of knowing he agreed with her. **** Somewhere in American colonies The sleek body crouched in the underbrush. Green eyes glowed, floating in the darkness, watching for any hint of movement. The tip of a long tail twitched. Muscles bunched, as the watcher's body prepared for action, but the eyes never left its quarry. The predator edged a fraction closer, careful not to make a sound. It was ready to attack. Dried leaves crackled faintly beneath a soft footfall. The tiny creature being stalked heeded the warning and skittered away to safety. Slender hands reached into the underbrush and gently pulled the watcher from its hiding place. The cat hissed its annoyance. "So this is where you've been hiding. Really, Dinks, I would think you'd have more important things to do than chase mice... she lowered her head and whispered in his ear, like finding out why we ended up here, and how we get out. Meryl brushed back her black hair as the cat settled himself in the crook of her other arm. I know ... the spell didn't take us back far enough. You've been complaining ever since we arrived here, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. What'd you expect from a novice? she asked defensively. And yet... her voice softened as she replayed their arrival again in her mind. I could almost feel some kind of barrier. I keep getting the feeling someone is watching, playing with us. She shrugged her shoulders in disappointment. Maybe I'm not as smart as I'd like to believe. She spoke softly to her pet, rubbing her cheek against his soft fur, then stepped away from the underbrush. An angry voice caught her attention. "You... an older man shouted. He forced a younger man to retreat a few steps. The girl by his side quickly backed away, wary of the older man's anger. ...will stay away from my daughter! If I ever see you near her again... His threat hung on the air. He grabbed the girl's arm and shoved her in the direction of their home. Get yourself in the cabin. Go! Get supper ready. The burning anger in the man's eyes made it clear he wouldn't believe anything she said. She tried anyway. I haven't done anything wrong. Why do you keep me away from everyone? The girl

pleaded as she glanced toward the young man, then stumbled away and silently retreated to the nearby cabin. Her expressive eyes filled with tears. Dinks remained in Meryl's arms, purring softly while she absently stroked his fur. Her attention remained riveted on the scene ten yards away. She pulled the edge of her cloak closer, shielding herself and her cat from the cold air and the angry man's heated words. His glance told her he was aware she had witnessed his daughter's humiliation. Meryl gave him a brief smile and continued to pet Dinks. The man turned away and stalked toward his cabin. If looks could create weather conditions, his anger would have set off one terrific thunderstorm. The thought sent Meryl's glance upward. Overhead, the darkening sky quietly drew the day to a close. The lowering clouds promised snow soon. Perhaps a white blanket would greet them in the morning. Dinks would love that. Meryl looked to the direction the man had taken and watched him enter a cabin at the end of a row of dwellings. His was closest to the edge of the settlement. The tenseness of his anger lingered in the cold, late afternoon air. **** Pretty Jessica Thorpe, with her long golden hair and deep blue eyes, looked too much like her mother. There, the similarities ended. She paused in front of the hearth and remembered her mother. Katie Thorpe had been an attractive and vivacious woman. She loved social gatherings and the attention they brought her; there were never enough to suit her. She flitted from one group to another, collecting tidbits of gossip, laughing and flirting. Katie was like a butterfly traveling from one flower to the next. Sooner or later, that butterfly would go off in search of other colorful meadows. Jessica sighed with regret. So it had been with Katie. It wasn't that she'd been unhappy with her family and life, exactly. She had simply grown bored with her role of wife and mother and done the unthinkable. She sought out new excitement. Katie Thorpe, the most envied woman in the settlement, ran off with a fur trapper. Ten years later people still talked about Katie's disappearance. "Why, Mama? Jessica whispered to herself. Why did you run off and leave us? Didn't you love us anymore? Silence was the only response because there would never be any answers. No one knew where Katie and the trapper had gone. No one had seen them again. Jessica took a deep breath to keep the tears away. It wouldn't do to have her father see her crying. She set about preparing the evening meal. I'll get your supper, Papa." "Good. Jessica's father, Daniel, ducked to avoid hitting his head on the low lintel of the cabin door. He seated himself at the table in sullen silence. Water droplets dripped from his graying hair. The corners of his mouth pulled downward in a perpetual frown. His brown eyes, in a face lined with sorrow, lost their twinkle the day Katie ran off. He leaned his large frame against the back of the chair and studied his daughter. Jessica's features were a constant reminder of the woman Daniel had loved with all his heart, but now wished he could forget. It wasn't Jessica's fault her mother had run off, but Jessica's presence often brought back all the old hurt and memories. She'd be seventeen come Christmastimeold enough to marry. He'd noticed often enough how she had her eye on Alex Wintersor was she just flirting, like her mother used to do? "You best keep your mind on the important things and stay away from that Winters boy, he ordered his daughter in a gruff voice. Maybe women couldn't be trusted, but he wasn't going to let anyone take advantage of his daughter, either. If Winters had any brains, he would heed Daniel's warning and stay away from Jessie. Daniel would see that he did. Jessica lowered her eyes, avoiding her father's stern glare. He loves me, she said simply. She looked up at him again. And I love him. Her tone was firm in her declaration. She wanted to shout at him, I'm

not my mother! Instead, Jessica turned away to stir the stew, anything not to see the anger still simmering in his eyes. "Don't care what you think you know. You just do as I say if you know what's good for you. His stern look, as she glanced over her shoulder, warned her not to say another word on the matter. Daniel dismissed thoughts of Alex Winters from his mind and concentrated on the hot meal Jessica set before him. He paid little attention to the mug of ale within his reach, or to the small platter with slices of still warm bread. Jessica had turned out to be a good cook, even better than her mother had been. One day she would make someone a good wife, maybe even that Winters boy. He winced at that thought, and vowed once more it would never happen. After Daniel finished his supper, he left the cabin to complete his chores for the day. Jessica needed more firewood for the morning chores; there was sure to be snow tonight. He'd leave extra logs near the hearth for her. His thoughts strayed to the earlier confrontation. He hated to admit, even to himself, that Jessica could do no better than Alex Winters. He was a good boy and a hard worker and his attention to Jessica made it more difficult for Daniel to accept the fact his daughter was of marriageable age. He had no reason to stand in her way. Maybe his memories of Katie muddled his thinking. He was too tired and irritated to think clearly on the matter. Tomorrow was another day. While her father was out seeing to their small livestock, Jessica finished cleaning up the small room that served as living room and kitchen. When everything was in its place, she climbed the ladder to the loft behind the chimney. A small window under the peak of the roof looked out on the forest beyond the settlement. Jessica leaned against the lower edge and gazed up at the sky with its dark, heavy clouds and shivered. She wondered if her father would ever trust her judgement. She had no idea what she could do to prove to him she was nothing like her mother. Alex might love her now, but he couldn't afford to wait forever for her. Life on the frontier was too hard for that. Jessica sighed with longing, then turned away from the cold glass in the window and slipped out of her skirts and petticoats. Her chemise was quickly traded for the warmer nightgown, and she slipped into her bed. The overstuffed mattress lay on the loft floor not far from the back of the chimney. The warmth emanating from the stone and the heavy quilt she pulled up over her shoulders, lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Meryl moved to the far side of the room and stood in the open doorway for a few moments taking in a breath of cold air. Christmas was only a few weeks away and the fresh scent of pine carried on the crisp, night air. It seemed to her that only a few weeks ago the tenants of Dun Ceathach had celebrated the festive holiday. She always wondered what it would be like to have a rerun of the holiday in a very short timeshe was about to find out, provided she didn't get bounced into another time and place before then. It was still hot in the kitchen. She wiped her hands on the towel and surveyed the room. Who would ever have expected to find Meryl Spellbinder working in a kitchen, especially one as quaint as this? She laid out everything she needed to make breakfast for the guests. The bread dough sat in a bowl covered with a towel. She placed the bowl in a spot far from the oven where it could rise slowly. Aunt Enchantra would be horrified if she knew what Meryl did to occupy her time. No one in their family knew what the she was up to, unless Cara had broken her promise and blabbed. Her best friend wouldn't do that. Meryl grinned mischievously. Years ago, Enchantra despaired of her ever becoming one of the family'. Every one of her relatives had their own special witching skills. Only Meryl had failed to show any talents of her own. She thought of Tristan and her smile faded, then carefully went over the facts of her abduction, and the events that her to this point in time. She had no idea how to reckon with time now. She remembered the cold nights she and Tristan strolled along the wall walk of Dun Ceathach and watched the snowflakes floating down on the cold night air, covering the valley with a sparkling blanket of white. Was her handfast husband even now searching for her, or was he relieved to have her gone? Tristan, the time traveler, journeyed to the twenty-first century to bring her back to what she believed was his own time. She intended to have it out with him on that score if she made it back. Correction. When she got back. Being in early fourteenth century Scotland, wasn't the easiest thing she'd ever done. Tristan believed she was the answer to some need the people had, but now she didn't have him at her side, expressing his faith in her and her destiny. At times she felt his presence and was comforted by it, despite the fact that someone, or something, was deliberately keeping them apart. These recent journeys were meant to keep her from returning to Scotland. Distractions wouldn't work forever. Meryl had every intention of finding her way back and confronting her adversary. She was convinced it was someone in the village. Who had the power to send her traveling through time and prevent her return? For a few moments, her attention riveted on her pet stalking small game in the tall grass at the edge of the courtyard. Dinks, she called in a low voice to the cat. She chuckled softly. The name was certainly a misnomer. There was nothing small about him. He could fool people into believing he was large enough to be mistaken for a panther cub, or even a full grown panther, if the situation warranted it. She often wondered how he was able to do it, and she could do nothing. Well, almost nothing. The sight of him often frightened people and he rarely let on that he was nothing more than a loveable house pet. You like to keep humans on their toes, don't you, my friend. Meryl spoke to herself then glanced about hoping none of the barmaids had entered the kitchen and heard her talking to herself. The taproom was quiet, except for the snoring of a couple drunken patrons. They'd sleep it off right where they were, and tomorrow they'd be wondering what happened. Dinks, she called again, a little more emphatically. Time to come in. It's late. Meryl listened to the low growl of complaint. He returned with slow, deliberate steps, the tip of his tail raised high, twitching with annoyance. **** Jessica sat at the table in Widow Simpson's home while the elderly woman enjoyed the stew she'd just

heated. The older woman had been like a mother to Jessica, ever since Katie had run off. Widow Simpson had never had children and she lavished maternal instincts on Jessica. "He means well, the woman commented, speaking of Daniel between bites of stew. Your mother hurt him bad running off like she did. No one expected her to do that. I don't think he ever really got over it. She patted Jessica's hand. Oh my! the woman exclaimed. Here it is getting late. I've kept you far too long. You'd best be on your way home before your father misses you. She got up slowly while Jessica got up and prepared to leave, draping her cloak about her shoulders. Have patience with him, child. Alex Winters is a hard working young man, and in time your father will see that. Everything will work out for the best, just wait and see. You take care getting home." Jessica leaned over and kissed the woman's wrinkled cheek. The widow always knew the right thing to say to make her feel better. I'll be back soon to visit you again, the younger woman promised, before leaving the warm cabin. Flakes fell thick and fast, warning Jessica to hurry home. A light covering of snow lay on the uneven ground. She tugged on her hood and kept her head down, following the quickly disappearing path back to the settlement. A low, threatening growl startled her. She spun around, trying to make out where it came from. The tall pines filtered out the remaining daylight, making it difficult for her to see anything clearly. There it was again. Closer, more menacing. Jessica, panicked, turned and ran. Bare berry bushes snagged at her cloak until it fell from her shoulders, she stopped for a moment, trying to tug it free but the bushes refused to release their thorny grasp on the garment. Jessica heard a rustling of dead leaves and turned to run, not knowing where she was going. She knew the land fell away to a sharp drop beyond the settlement; she didn't know just how close it was. The treacherous snow played havoc with her steps and she slipped, then failed to regain her footing. The cliff edge was closer than she thought. She turned quickly, trying to avoid the sudden drop, but not quick enough. She slipped over the edge, grasping at roots anchored in the dirt wall. She had fallen about fifteen feet when a ledge broke her fall. The hard landing knocked the breath out of her. Jessica stared in horror at the black cat crouching over her, grumbling softly. The girl didn't dare move. The three-foot ledge didn't allow much room to move safely. The cat moved closer to the edge, never taking its eyes from the girl. Jessica was sure either the cat would end up mauling her, or she would fall over the edge in an attempt to keep her distance. She remained perfectly still as the animal lowered its head and gently nudged, then lay close beside her. Jessica held her breath, waiting to feel sharp teeth sink into her flesh. Instead, she felt a gentle nudge as the cat snuggled closer to her. Jessica closed her eyes, not sure what to expect now. The cat lay still, its head on her shoulder.

CHAPTGER TWENTY-FIVE Daniel completed his chores for the day and headed back to the cabin. All afternoon he thought about Jessica and reluctantly decided he'd been too harsh with her. He had to let go of the past and see his daughter for who she really was. If he kept comparing her to her mother, poor Jessica would have a miserable future. He entered the cabin, shaking the snow from his hat. "Jessica, he called out, we need to talk. The cabin was cold and eerily silent. Only a dying glow remained of the hearth fire. The last bit of log crumbled in the ashes. Jessica would never have let it die out like that. Alex. She must have gone to him after he'd warned her to stay away. His anger rekindled quicker than the hearth. She was just like her mother. He'd put a stop to this once and for all time. He'd lock Jessica in her room, and when he got through with Alex ... that boy wouldn't dare come anywhere near his daughter again. **** Meryl set a bowl of hot stew and slices of bread before a very hungry Alex Winters, then went to the bar to fetch a mug of ale. Alex gave her a shy smile and turned his attention to the meal. Two days had passed since the argument with Jessica's father. Meryl wouldn't have called it an argument, since Alex hadn't said a word in his own defense. Daniel Thorpe's warning to stay away from Jessica had been the extent of the confrontation. From the little she knew about Daniel Thorpe, no one in their right mind went up against the older man. Alex didn't strike her as being crazy. Meryl knew the young man, barely twenty years old, owned his family's land. His mother died when he was four and his father had passed away during the last winter. Alex's father had struggled for survival all his life, trying to make a go of the family farm. Alex's parents had arrived from England before he was born, and claimed the land Alex now owned. His father hadn't been a farmer before, but being disowned by his father, he had to find a way to support his growing family. The senior Winters struggled to learn how to manage the land, but never gave up, and he passed the same determination on to his son. Alex learned from his father's failed attempts, and long ago made up his mind to make the farm work. The older man had been sickly for the last five years of his life, forcing Alex to grow up quickly. Meryl wiped down the bar, watching him surreptitiously. There were qualities about Alex, which reminded her of Tristan. Both were quiet and unassuming, but neither man would be taken for granted. Tristan led men in battle. Alex would one day be a leader in the community, guiding its growth. He wasn't exactly what she would call handsome, although he did have a rugged look about him. A thin strip of leather kept his brown hair tied back. Pale blue eyes were deep set in a tanned face. A bump on the bridge of his nose told of at least one fight he'd been in. His slender frame almost matched Daniel Thorpe's six-foot height. This young man would be good for Jessica, and Meryl intended to see things worked out for them, even if she had to help them along. This was the perfect time to try her hand at some matchmaking skills. She pursed her lips, concentrating. Matchmaking wasn't needed here. Getting Daniel to stand aside was the problem. One way or the other she could handle the situation. She set her mind to planning the best way to go about it. Meryl felt uneasy as Alex looked up, listening. A startled expression crossed his features. There it was again, the cry of a wild cat. No wildcats came this close to the settlement anymore. If it were a wildcat, the animal would keep its distance unless provoked. The tavern door flew open and Daniel Thorpe barged into the common room. His face was red with

anger. In a half dozen strides, he reached Alex's table. Something dropped from his pocket when he grabbed the younger man by his shirtfront, pulling him out of his chair. I warned you to stay away from my daughter! Where is she?" "I haven't seen her, Alex choked. Daniel loosened his grip on Alex's shirt, and shoved him away. Don't lie to me, boy." Alex fell back into his chair, and took a deep breath. I haven't seen her, he repeated, his voice now controlled. Daniel examined Alex's features, looking for a hint of betrayal, and decided the younger man spoke the truth. She's gone. She disappeared sometime today. She was going to see one of the neighbors, but she left hours ago. The snow is getting worse. Daniel collapsed into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands. Fear for his only child clearly etched his features. Alex's head jerked upward again when he heard a distant growl. Did you hear that? There's a wildcat somewhere close by. If Jessie's out there and hurt... Alex didn't finish the statement. He grabbed his battered hat from the table and rushed toward the tavern door. Daniel leaped out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste to follow Alex. The younger man wasn't going to wait for him. Meryl had slipped into a back room for a moment, then reappeared with her cloak tossed about her shoulders and a rolled up blanket in her arms. I'll go with you, she called out, following them. Both men turned briefly to glance at her. If Jessica is hurt, you'll need me to look after her." Daniel nodded his assent and both men hurried into the stable to get their horses. She knew what they would find when they located Jessica. Only Meryl could stop them from killing the wildcat. She'd heard the cry as well, and wondered what was going on. What had Dinks got himself into this time? She stooped to pick up the mitten Daniel dropped when he grabbed Alex, then shifted the blanket in her arms and ran after the two men. Meryl glanced around the stable and grabbed a coil of rope, then led a mare out into the yard. A hunting dog bounded toward the trio and she spoke softly to it. She held out Jessica's mitten for the dog to sniff and waited a moment for him to catch the scent of the missing girl. Find her, Copper, find Jessica. The hunter leaped sideways and headed away from the tavern. Meryl mounted the mare. Well, what are you waiting for? Copper won't wait long for us." They followed the dog, putting distance between themselves and the settlement. The cry of the wildcat got louder, and Meryl could imagine what Daniel must have been thinking as he hurried along. He worried the cat would find Jessica before they did. She saw the pain in his eyes, and could only imagine what he might do if he lost his daughter. She glanced at Alex. The younger man wore the same expression. She wondered why Daniel couldn't see that Alex truly cared for Jessica. Meryl reached the cliff where Copper waited. The hunter peeked over the edge, barking furiously, his tail wagging proudly. He sounded as if he were carrying on a conversation with the wildcat. The barking and growls alternated. Meryl dismounted and stood as close to the edge as she dared. Very carefully, she peered over. About fifteen feet below, Jessica lay on the rock ledge, too afraid to move. A wrong turn would send her falling. Roots jutting out the side of the cliff had broken her fall. If not for them ... Meryl didn't want to think about it. A large black cat stood over the girl. The cat let loose one more snarl then looked up to the top of the cliff, waiting. Meryl hid her smile. Meryl took the rope from her pony and carried it to one of the larger horses. She tied one end to the

saddle, then turned and offered the loose end to Alex. Daniel made a grab for it. She's my daughter." "And you're too big, Meryl caught his hand and reasoned with him. There isn't much room down there. Alex has to go after her. We need you up here to lower him. She watched the anger fade from his eyes as he accepted the logic of her reasoning. Alex hesitated a moment, waiting for Daniel to make his decision. When he saw the older man relent, he tied the rope securely around his own waist. "Bring her back safely, Daniel pleaded. He had no choice but to trust the young farmer. Alex nodded. Meryl managed to brush aside most of the thin layer of snow to give Daniel a more secure footing near the cliff's edge. He nodded to the younger man as Alex carefully lowered himself over the side. Daniel played out the length of rope. Alex wrapped the rope about his cold hands trying not to lose his grip. Daniel braced himself and tried to control the pull of the younger man's weight as he made a slow descent. Every touch of the cliff's side brought loose dirt and stones down on Jessica. She had turned her face away to protect her eyes. The cat stood over the girl, its green eyes glaring up at the human dangling above them. "More rope, Alex shouted up at them. I'm still too high to reach her." "It's too short! The rope is too short! Daniel was frantic. "Don't panic, Meryl calmly replied as if they were on a picnic. Probably just caught up on some scrub. Hold him steady while I take a look. Meryl crouched near the edge, just close enough to let her look down. Jessica's attention was riveted on Alex. Meryl laid one hand on the rope, pretending to see if it was caught on anything. She felt a warmth bubble up from within, and managed to mumble a few unintelligible words. While she spoke softly, she ran her hand along the rope's length as far as she could reach. She felt Alex's weight pulling the rope taut while Daniel lowered him the rest of the way to the ledge. She gave a sigh of relief and took a step backward. The job was half done. Alex reached the ledge and held a hand out to Jessica, never taking his eyes from the wildcat. He thought it was odd the way the animal carefully backed away when it could have easily attacked him. Jessica, love, come to me, slowly. Don't make any sudden moves to scare the cat." Jessica looked to the animal, it's green eyes turned to her and glowed in the fading light. She wasn't afraid. Thank you, she whispered. The cat's head bobbed up and down as if it understood. It won't hurt us, she told Alex. He undid the knots in the rope and tied it securely about her slender waist. Wrap the rope about your hands, Jessie. Your father's at the other end, waiting for you." Jessica did as Alex told her and held tightly to the rope while her father pulled her to the top of the cliff. Daniel tugged his daughter clear of the edge then enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly. He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer of thanks. "Daniel, Meryl interrupted the reunion, Alex? she reminded him. I'll take care of Jessica. She spoke quietly and draped a blanket about the girl's shoulders, then led her a short distance away. Here. Take a sip or two of this. It'll help warm you. Meryl slipped a flask to the girl and nodded encouragingly, despite Jessica's doubtful look.

Jessica coughed and sputtered on the mellow taste of brandy. Meryl knew the liquid would send a welcome heat through the younger woman. If not for Dinks, Jessica would have frozen on the ledge. Dinks made a great blanket now and again. Alex pulled himself over the top of the cliff and lay still for a moment, catching his breath. Meryl took his arm and helped him slowly to his feet. When he finally stood up he silently untied the rope at his waist, then coiled the length back to the horse. He ran his hand lightly over the coiled loops hanging from the saddle horn. He was so sure the rope had been too short to reach Jessica, and yet he'd been able to rescue her. If it hadn't been for the cat's loud growls they might never have found Jessie. Alex turned from the sight of Daniel holding his daughter and rocking her in his arms. Alex picked up his horse's reins; it was best he return to his farm now. The cat was gone and Jessica was safe with her father. There was no reason for him to linger. "Alex, a soft voice stopped him and he turned. He didn't want to look at her, but Jessica stood shyly before him. Thank you, Alex. You saved my life. Jessica wrapped her arms about his waist and kissed his cheek. Alex blushed and glanced at Daniel, remembering the older man's warning. Your father... Daniel's smile was tight as he turned away without a word. Alex's arms went about Jessica's slender figure and he held her close. **** Meryl stood in the quiet night beside the kitchen door watching Dinks. The cat wove through the brown and frozen tall grass, all that remained of the summer's growth. It was easier to see him, with the thick white blanket covering the ground. A chill ran up her spine which had nothing to do with the winter night. Meryl pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders and searched the shadows across the courtyard. He was here; she could feel him. He stood within the darkest shadows, a transparent form. She missed him so much. Her heart filled with a longing to be reunited with her handfast husband. How was she going to find her way back to him? An even bigger question was why all this was happening to her in the first place. Rose was jealous, but she didn't have this kind of ability or anything remotely like it. Meryl slowly stretched out her hand as if she could touch the apparition. She heard dark laughter from another corner of the courtyard. Dinks hissed at the sound. Meryl glanced about, looking to see if anyone was close by. Seeing no one around, she turned her attention back in the direction of the laugh. "Do you miss him? a deep voice mocked her. He has tried often to find you, but obviously with little success. He doesn't know where you are, but he feels you close, just as you can feel him. There was a pause and a sigh, then the speaker went on. I find such great pleasure in your torment. Just think of all the time lost. Even your poor witching ways can't bring you back to him. The voice continued on, belittling and daring her to act. Go to him, it taunted. You can try, but it won't be easy. I stand between you." Meryl turned to the spectre of her husband. She thought she heard it plead for her return, then it faded to nothing. She felt alone and abandoned. "Who are you? What do you want? She kept her voice low, still sensing the second presence. It angered Meryl to realize this entity found such pleasure in tormenting her and standing in the way of her return to Tristan. Was the man she cared for in danger from this unseen being? The voice sounded masculine, but she couldn't be absolutely sure. "Haven't you guessed yet? The voice laughed again, delighting in the riddle it created. I am the one who

will destroy you and all you are meant to be. You shouldn't exist. Your man should never have brought you back. Everything was going according to plan, until you appeared. By eliminating your presence, I can set things to right again. Go back to your time, Meryl. If you don't return, I'll see him destroyed, and you will be stripped of whatever powers you control. You cannot fight me and win. Your powers aren't nearly strong enough to stand against me, and never will be, but ... the decision is yours. The voice laughed again and faded into the night. Meryl clenched her fists. There had to be a way to return to medieval Scotland, even if it took her all eternity to find it. She went back into the kitchen, shutting out the ghosts tormenting her. The kitchen heat slowly seeped into her body and soul, giving her hope. She had to find a way. **** A few days later, Jessica and Alex arrived at the tavern. Good day to you both, Meryl greeted them cheerfully. You're looking much better, Jessica." Jessica's face flushed with excitement. Thanks to you, I am much better. We came to tell you our good news, Jessica blurted out. Her blue eyes shone brightly with happiness. My father has agreed to allow us to marry at Christmas." "That is wonderful news, indeed, Meryl agreed happily. I wish you both the best life has to offer." "Have you noticed? Alex asked, staring at Dinks lying contentedly in Meryl's arms. The wildcat hasn't been seen or heard since we rescued Jessie. The cat returned the gaze with an unblinking stare of its own. I could have sworn that was the cat on the ledge with you, Jessica." "Dinks, here? Meryl asked as the cat in question sat straighter in her arms, looking like an Egyptian sphinx. It's not likely, she added. Dinks doesn't care much for heights. She rubbed her face against Dinks, as if thinking for a moment. Meryl looked to the deserted garden and thought about the transparent figure she'd seen twice now. Who was interfering in her life, trying to take control, and manipulating events? After Tristan had knocked the cup of mead out of her hand, she finally realized the seriousness of her situation. If she'd listened to him, perhaps she'd still be at Dun Ceathach. Maybe having bodyguards following her around wouldn't have been so bad. Then again, if she had remainedas if she'd been given a choice to stay or goshe may have put another life in jeopardy. She couldn't do that to anyone, not even for her own safety.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX The female viewed the scene and drew in a sharp breath. Why there? she asked quietly. The male replied thoughtfully, Perhaps our enemy, being unsuccessful thus far, has decided to go back to the beginning. He saw a certain logic in such an approach. If you cannot remove the offense, you cut out the source that created it." The female's dismay was obvious. She gave her companion a wistful smile when he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. "Don't fret, my dear. She is intelligent and will use caution, he assured her. "If she doesn't know what awaits her, she could destroy all and not realize it." "You see? She goes too far back to cause more problems. It will all work out well." The female's smile was tentative. The male returned it, keeping his doubts to himself. **** Black void. Muted sounds, buzzing, like angry hornets rudely chased from their nest. No air. Her lungs felt empty and still while she fought for breath. A sudden gasp. Meryl knew she'd finally landed, wherever here happened to be this time. One day, she muttered between coughing spasms, I'll learn to control these miserable crash landings. Strong, gentle hands helped her sit up, while a pair of smaller hands brought a cup to her lips. "Drink slowly a feminine voice insisted as the cup was tipped, forcing Meryl to accept the watered down wine. Meryl felt a sense of panic, hoping whoever these people were, hadn't heard what she said. What is this place? she asked and regretted it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "The master's villa, of course. The girl glanced at her male companion and they shared a worried look. The fit is bad this time. The master will punish you when he finds out. The girl lowered her voice. He is not known for his kindness, but surely he would understand this unbearable heat. Never has there been a summer like this." Meryl's foggy mind began to clear. A fit. She supposed this woman's reaction to her sudden arrival in this strange place would appear as one. How much worse could things get? "Are you all right? the young man asked. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks for your help. Meryl looked up to see an older man standing in the open archway. "Flavia, Leander, return to your tasks. A dark look flitted across Leander's features and vanished. The older man waited for the two slaves to leave before turning his attention to Meryl. Adria, the master demands your presenceimmediately." The master? Meryl glanced about the room then back at the older man and pointed to herself. Me? She mouthed the question, then shrugged and followed him. Adria, she thought, not a bad name. She'd have to get used to it quickly while she tried to find out where she was and figure a way out of this mess. She

glanced about, wondering what had happened to Dinks. Had he made this journey with her, or did he get free of her and end up stuck in the colonial village? Where on earth had she landed anyway? There was no doubt in her mind that, once again, she'd overshot her destination. By the look of her surroundings, it was no near miss this time. Wide archways opened out onto a garden that should have been ablaze with color. Instead, it was dull and lifeless. Judging from the richness of the house, Meryl thought the garden should have been in better condition. Rich people loved their gardens and were often judged by how well the grounds were kept. She knew that well enough from the mansion and wondered vaguely if different people saw this place through different eyes. She saw plants that were brown and dry, resembling old parchment. The petals crumbled to dust at the slightest touch. Too much heat and lack of sufficient water had done this. Oil lamps hung from overhead beams and swayed slightly in the breeze. Despite the openness of the house, the interior should have been cooler. A hot breeze passed lazily through the room, letting the heat settle. Backless chairs, with frames curving upward on the sides, were covered with embroidered designs and strategically arranged to catch the cool breezes when they did exist. Meryl could feel the heat radiating from the decorative tile floor. "Hurry, you worthless, slave. The master doesn't like to be kept waiting." Worthless? Slave? Meryl quickly glanced down at herself and noticed, for the first time, the belted knee length tunic she wore. Thin leather sandals were hot on her feet, but she resisted the temptation to kick them off. She didn't think these people would appreciate the move. Her long hair was plaited into a thick braid and hung damply against her back. The heat was miserable. If she could figure out the time and where she was, she'd have a better idea of how to escape and return to Scotland. They reached a shaded area of the courtyard and the older servant stepped to one side. When Meryl moved past him, he gave her a hard shove, sending her to her knees. She righted herself but didn't stand. "You may go, Phineas." Phineas bowed to his master and backed away, giving Meryl a distinctly menacing leer as he left. "Uh oh, she mumbled under her breath. She was in deep trouble. Meryl didn't dare look around at the moment. She kept her eyes cast downward while she sat back on her heels. She waited ... and waited. Her patience grew thin. "It has been brought to my attention, you have been feigning fits to avoid doing the tasks assigned to you. The master pinched a half-dead flower from its stem and scattered its shriveled petals across the ground. Think fast. The heat has proven more than I can bear, sir. Meryl glanced up at the man who considered himself her owner. One eyebrow was raised. Oops. Master, she corrected herself quickly and watched his features relax after a moment of consideration. "Other slaves manage to do their work. Beliefs would say you are either cursed or blessed. I shall have to determine which applies to you. Do these fits not prevent you from carrying out your assigned tasks?" "Oh no, Master! The fits are gone almost as quickly as they occur. Meryl sensed the thoughts going through his mind. He was scheming and it set her heart beating a little faster. She was playing it by ear, not knowing what to expect. One thing she did know: a single wrong word and she'd be a dead witch. I will do my best to not let it happen again ... Master. Meryl bit her tongue.

Addressing him as Master didn't sit well with her independent streak. The sooner she got out of here wherever here wasthe better. She heard him step closer, but didn't dare look up without permission. His thumb and forefinger locked against her jaw and raised her head until she stared up at him. They studied each other. It was handsome enough in a harsh sort of way. His neatly trimmed brown hair sported individual curls lying flat across his forehead in the Roman fashion. Roman? Clue number one, or maybe no. She thought he might be Greek, or from one of the Mediterranean islands. Nothing like flying blind. His ankle length toga was made of fine linen and had a design embroidered in blue, which ran from shoulders to hem. The sight of more fabric draped over his arm, made the sultry day even more uncomfortable. Meryl wondered how he could stand all that material? Just thinking about it made her feel hotter. Light blue eyes, a narrow, clean shaven face. His thin lips were pursed while he scrutinized her own features. Although he held her chin in his grasp, forcing her to look up at him, she kept her eyes lowered, sensing that to do otherwise could put her in a heap of trouble. In another moment, he released her chin. You will bring me my evening meal in my chambers. His eyes glittered with anticipation. Meryl had seen that look before and shivered inwardly. As you wish ... Master. She was going to choke on the word before she escaped. She waited impatiently to be dismissed. His subtle command rubbed her the wrong way. She had a pretty good idea what he had in mind, but he didn't know she was married. Well, at least handfasted. As far as she was concerned, it was close enough to a solemn commitment to keep her safe from any lecherous intentions. "What is this? His eyes settled on the fine silver chain around her neck. He freed the pendant from beneath her tunic. Meryl held her breath for a brief moment. It's all I have of my parents, Master. It was left to me when they died." "Stolen is more like it, he snapped back and gave the chain a hard yank, breaking it. He examined the jewelry, intrigued with its strange design. "I have no need to steal what belongs to me. Meryl blinked back angry tears shimmering in her eyes. How dare he take what was hers. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, or beg for the return of her property. She would get it back. She watched him casually drop the pendant into the coin pouch at his waist. "Return to your duties." Meryl stood and bowed her head, then respectfully backed out of the courtyard. Once out of his sight, she ran in the direction of the kitchen. She had no idea how she knew, unless she'd taken over someone's body, like that Scott, whatever his name was, did in the time travel show on television. It would explain what everyone thought was a fit. She had to find Flavia, talk to the girl and find out all she could about the man who owned this house. **** "If I'd known I was going to spend so much time in everyone else's kitchens, I would have taken classes to become a chef. Meryl grumbled and brushed loose strands of hair out of her face. For the past week, she'd been sent to the kitchen every day. It was probably Phineas's subtle way of insisting she didn't

work hard enough. Using a wooden paddle, she retrieved the round flat breads from the oven and set them on the table to cool. Fresh fruit and dates were arranged in baskets and set aside. Flavia had subtly shown her the way things were done, assuming that the fit she'd had days before had somehow disrupted her memory. Meryl let the girl think what she would. Flavia remained quiet while she prepared a tray for their master, not once glancing Meryl's way while she worked. She didn't want the other woman to see her red rimmed eyes. Questions would only cause more problems, if Phineas thought she was complaining. "Flavia? Meryl glanced around for the whereabouts of the overseer, then not seeing him, rested a hand on the other girl's arm, halting her work. Something is wrong. Tell me, maybe I can help." "There is no help. What has been decided will be done. You are a slave like the rest of us. What makes you think you can change anything? Flavia's tone turned bitter. "I don't know if I can change anything, I won't know until you tell me what's wrong. I can tell you, I am not what I seem." Flavia burst into tears. Leander asked the master for permission to marry. Instead, he decided to sell Leander to another household." Meryl's fists clenched in anger. She was tired of seeing people's lives manipulated by others, based on whims. This time, she would try to change the outcome. When does this sale take place?" "In a few days. The master is expecting visitors and will sell Leander to them. They've been here before and have tried to buy him. The master has always refused their offer. Now, he's more than willing to accept. Flavia choked back a sob. Perhaps it's best. Nothing good will come of Leander's service if he remains in Pompeii." Meryl stared at Flavia, open-mouthed. Did you say Pompeii? We are in Pompeii? she asked incredulously, her voice squeaking. Why had she delayed in asking her whereabouts when she'd first arrived? Because Phineas was always too close, listening to slaves talk. An idea began to grow in her mind. "Flavia, what's the date?" "The date? She glanced to the doorway and paled when Phineas passed by, sure the slave master would stop. It's August twenty-third, she whispered. "Oh my gosh, Meryl said slowly. Oh my gosh. The words tumbled out faster as ideas formed quickly. That explains the unusual quiet and the heat, the dead garden, the foul smelling waterwhen we do have water ... We don't have much time. Flavia, do you trust me?" Flavia couldn't understand Meryl's racing speech, and looked at the pale eyed woman as if she'd lost her mind. I ... Yes, I trust you." "Good. Here's what you have to do. I'll come to you, as soon as I've taken care of a little matter. Meryl explained to her friend what she had to do. Everything will work out just fine. You and Leander will be able to marry. Meryl gave Flavia a quick hug, pleased to see a smile lighten her pretty features with new hope. **** August twenty-third, 79 AD. Meryl recalled her history. Tomorrow, Mt. Vesuvius would erupt, burying several villages under tons of ash. Someone was desperate to keep her out of Scotland, to the point of

sending her to a town which was utterly destroyed. There were some survivors, but not many. Were they hoping she would be buried under the ash along with most of the population of Pompeii? She had to work quickly. Serving the master would take a bit of time. She was well aware of what he wanted from her ... and it wasn't to be served his supper. She'd managed to stay out of his reach so far, but she would have to change her course now. She couldn't go anywhere without her pendent. Meryl approached Master Kestor's chamber and was granted permission to enter. The last few days she'd managed to avoid serving his supper in his chambers. Kestor had been too busy and someone else had brought in his meals. Tonight, her luck had run out. She placed her tray on a table and poured red wine into a goblet. When she turned to face the hated man her eyes widened in surprise. Dinks. Where had the little rascal been hiding this last week? The master stroked Dinks fur, but kept his attention on her. He studied her, from head to toe, making her nervous. His eyes revealed his lustful interest in her. Bring me some wine, he ordered and gently moved the cat to one side. He emptied the goblet and demanded more. Meryl did as ordered, then moved back, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between them. She mumbled a few words under her breath and waited while he gulped the wine. This wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped. She watched him rise from his seat and step toward her. Meryl instinctively stepped back. "Did I not tell you to be prepared to entertain me? he asked darkly. Meryl nodded. "Then why do you move away?" "Because, I'm married, Master. I would never betray my vows to my husband." "Where is this ... husband?" Meryl shrugged. "You belong to me, not your husband. I have rights which preceed his." Meryl tried to dodge the hand reaching out to her and barely managed to avoid its grasp. Darting to the back of the room, she kept the small table between them. She glanced at Dinks and saw him sitting on the bed, watching her caught in a game of cat and mouse. "Are you going to sit there staring, or will you help? Meryl's expression became frantic. The Roman patrician, not in the mood for games, glanced back, wondering if someone had entered his private quarters without permission. He'd have them flayed alive for such impertinence. The cat stared back at him. Dinks gave what sounded like an almost human sigh, then gathered himself for a leap. He hit the human male square in the chest, knocking him over. The man didn't move. Meryl wasn't sure if the man was dead or alive, but a snarl from Dinks assured her the treacherous male wouldn't be waking any time soon. Meryl gingerly emptied the contents of the pouch at his waist, looking for her pendant. It wasn't therebut there were quite a few gold coins. She scooped them all up, and dropped them back into the pouch. Where might he have hidden her pendant. It had no monetary value as far as she knew. It's value lay in what it represented. Meryl began a methodical search of the room. She found more gold coins and added them to those in the leather pouch. When it was almost full, she turned and grinned at the unconscious man.

"You, my friend, are about to pay for a weddingand a new beginning for a fine couple. She pulled the pouch strings tight. Keep him asleep, Dinks. I still have to find my pendant. Can't go home without it." Meryl found Leander and Flavia alone in the slaves quarters, waiting anxiously for her. They had managed to find clothing which wouldn't betray their status. "You both look great. Let's get to the stable, you'll need a cart to get away from here quickly." Flavia rested her hand on Meryl's arm and gave her a worried look. Are you alright, Adria?" "Sure, why wouldn't I be? Meryl was in too much of a hurry to get them away, to think about what Flavia was saying. "Ever since you suffered with that last seizure, you have been speaking strangely, as if your mind has been affected." "I'm not who you think I am, but don't worry about it. Your friend will be back and free, as well. I'm sure your friend is fine and safe." Meryl waited while Leander hitched a horse to the cart and helped Flavia up to the seat, then handed him the heavy pouch filled with gold coins. A wedding gift from the master, she told them happily. Leander hefted the gift on his palm, shocked at its weight. It was too much. The master will come after us..." "Not likely. He'll be too busy trying to save as much of his wealth as he can. I can't think of a better use for that, and she gestured to the pouch, than to start off your married life. By this time tomorrow, Pompeii will be buried under tons of ash and the air will be poisonous. That's why you must leave now. Go to the waterfront and get on a ship; just don't let those cutthroats take everything from you. Go anywhere. Go to Rome and start your new life together. Just leave here quickly." "Come with us. Why stay and place yourself in danger?" "Because the master has something which belongs to me and I can't leave without it. Don't worry about me. I'll be out of here in plenty of time. Blessings of the goddess on your marriage. May you share many years of happiness together." Leander leaned over and kissed Meryl's cheek. You have been a good friend to us, Adria. May you find safety elsewhere." Meryl slapped the horse's rump and watched the couple leave. She imagined the waterfront teaming with people anxious to leave Pompeii. A sulfurous odor was faint on the air, but in a few hours it'd be unbreathable. When the couple was out of sight, she realized the night was too quiet. She had to get back to Kester's chamber to find her pendant. Time was running out. When she got back to Kester's private quarters, Meryl found the arrogant man still out cold. She had no idea how much time she had. The pendant hadn't been in the pouch where she'd seen him drop it. She began a quick, methodical search of the room. There weren't many places to hide things. She stopped at a small table in a darker corner of the room, where two small boxes sat side by side. Hide in plain sight, she remarked, opening the first one. On a piece of black velvet lay a small amulet with Celtic symbols on it. She thought it rather odd that such a piece existed in this time and place. She recalled from her history, the Romans had yet to make contact with the Celts. They wouldn't meet for at least another three hundred years. How could something of Celtic origin find its way here to the Roman empire? Someone didn't want her to return to Scotland and claim her inheritance. Meryl didn't like the feeling she

got from the amulet. It felt evil. Dinks, Meryl called to her pet while she studied the amulet. The black cat sniffed at the jewelry and backed away quickly. I know. It doesn't feel right. Take this and drop it into the well in the garden. We can't afford to leave it here for someone else to find. The well in question had little water left in it and Meryl hoped the amulet would end up buried in the mud at the bottom. Dinks gingerly took up the chain in his teeth, pulling the amulet from Meryl's hand, and trotted out of the room. While waiting for his return, Meryl opened the second box and found her pendant lying on black velvet. She sighed with relief. She couldn't bear to lose the only link she had to the parents she'd never known. She fastened the clasp to the chain around her neck, hoping it would hold. When she touched the pendant, she felt comforted by its presence. A moment later, while Meryl looked around the room, she saw bright flashes of blue light, like fireworks, coming from the direction of the garden. Dinks, are you okay? she asked as the cat returned to the room, snarling. Okay. I'm sorry. If I'd known it was that powerful, I'd have ditched it myself. It's gone now, so why don't we try to get out of here, before ol Kester wakes up. He can figure his own way to safety." Dinks jumped into his mistress's arms and made himself comfortable. Meryl reached up to touch her pendant to be sure it was still secure where it belonged. Moving her lips in a silent chant, she waited for the darkness of time travel to engulf them and, hopefully, take her home this time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN "We can't wait any longer, the male voice insisted. There are things she must know if she is to succeed." "We cannot interfere, the female countered with a sigh. To help her is to bring her to her enemies. She must learn on her own, then they will not suspect." "If we continue to leave her to her own devices, she'll never return home in time. Our cause will be lost. She must be taught, now." The female bowed her head. She knew better than to continue a disagreement when her companion had made up his mind. Perhaps he did see the matter more clearly than she. Perhaps she felt a twinge of jealousy for this young woman. No matter. There would be no changing his mind now. "You may be right. You often see things I can not. As you wish, my love, she acquiesed to his decision. I will not interfere. We can only hope she will be successful in her endeavors." **** Meryl kept her eyes tightly closed, waiting for the vertigo to pass. She hated this part of the time travel and wondered if there might be an easier wayone that would leave her stomach where it belonged. She hoped she was finally close to home. Dinks meowed and squirmed in her arms, impatient to be free. "Shh, she warned and held him a little more snugly. He reluctantly settled down. Slowly, she opened her silver eyes and looked around. There was the town, a short distance away with people moving in and out the open gate. Occasionally, a guard stopped a newcomer and searched them and their belongings. Why did the scene look so familiar to her? "Uh oh, she said, slowly and softly, glancing down at her pet. I think we've come full circle. This can't be happening. We're back outside London. Discovering she was back where she started so many months ago, didn't sit well. She placed one hand on her stomach and wished traveling through time weren't so upsetting. She felt as if she'd just climbed off a carnival ferris wheel. Maybe we can find the time tunnel that brought us here. She took a quick look behind her and realized there would be no way, nor any time, to find the tunnel. Forget it. Tris said they were all one way tunnels, going the wrong way." Dinks purred softly. We might as well find out where we stand in time. I wish we could finally get home. Tristan is probably past worry and angry with me, by now. Dinks snarled, reminding Meryl of the less than friendly relationship between the two males. You'll just have to learn to get along. Let's go, time's a wastin'." A couple hours later, Meryl stood in a short line waiting to gain entrance to the town. When it came her turn, the guard placed his hands about her waist, supposedly searching for weapons. One hand slid carefully to her shoulders, down her back and moved lower. Every place she landed, the powers that be saw fit to dress her appropriately. She wanted to know how they did it. It was obvious that the dress she wore now had no hiding places for any sort of weapon. Get your hands off me, she demanded angrily and pulled away. The guard's eyes opened wide in recognition. I remember you and them strange eyes. Your man said you was touched in the head. He held her wrist in his strong grasp. "Ohhhh ... Leave it to me to forget a little thing like that. Meryl frantically yanked her wrist free from his

grip and ran. The guard pivoted on his heel and made to give chase, but stopped when a black cat, larger than a hunting hound blocked his path. The cat growled a warning, deep and menacing. The glare of its green eyes was enough to stop anyone in their path. The other guards turned to find the source of their comrade's fear and found him staring at a small cat. They roared with laughter at sight of the small cat, unaware that their companion saw something different. The man turned red with embarrassed anger and left his post to find the beast's mistress. Meryl ran through the streets, dodging peasants and darting around carts. She had to put as much distance as she could between herself and the guard. She assumed he was chasing after her, but she didn't stop to glance over her shoulder to find out. She had to find another way out of London. The main gate was definitely out of the question. She stopped running and found herself in the inn's courtyard, standing in almost the same spot as the last time when she'd casually studied the building. Just as before, she felt someone staring, and glanced at an upper window. Her heart pounded harder when she saw a well-dressed man looking down at her. Matthew stared down into the courtyard. He knew all the females who often appeared below, having dealt with most of them at one time or another. The young woman staring back at him appeared frightened. Sudden realization struck him. That was the wench he'd spent months hunting. "You! he shouted to a peasant close to her. Grab that girl and hold her. He disappeared from the window, and hurried out to the inn yard. The peasant hurried away, not wanting to get involved. Meryl looked about, frantically searching for a place to hide. Yesterday wouldn't be soon enough. She recognized the man in the window when he'd shouted. Who'd have thought she'd manage to run into the English knight? She'd subtly taunted him months ago and more than likely he wanted payback. She'd really be in a stew if she couldn't disappear. She turned quickly at the tugging on her arm, ready to strike out. "Here. Come now, the old man urged. Come with me. I can help you. He tugged again insistently. You don't want the captain to find you. A wild beard covered part of his weathered features. His clear blue eyes stared and held her, as if in a trance. Move, girl, he urged. The captain will search the town until he finds you. The old man stood by an open door, waiting for her. Hide in plain sight? he suggested, reminding her of an earlier time. Meryl sensed no deceit in him, but still reluctantly followed the old man. She entered the hut cautiously, not sure why she trusted him. Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior after the old man closed the door. He lit one fat tallow candle and set it near the hearth, out of the way. Sit. He gestured to one of two chairs. Meryl slipped onto the chair furthest away from the door. Outside, people were running. Someone shouted orders. Carts were carelessly overturned and goods crashed onto the cobblestones. Vendors shouted in anger at the destruction of their goods. Meryl jumped at the heavy pounding on the old man's door. She tried to remain calm but the sound of her pounding heart seemed to fill the small room. She clutched her small wizard pin tightly within her fist and felt the sharp point of the pin jab into her flesh. There was only one thing she could think to do. It worked once before and she said a little prayer it would work again.

The old man opened the door a little way and Matthew forced it open wider. Where's the girl? he demanded, visually searching the hut's single room. "As you can see, there is no one here, sir. The old man remained remarkably calm. Matthew entered and stepped around the small table, searching every dark corner, overturning a stool, and upending a cot that filled one short wall. The old man was indeed alone. If you should see the girl who was in the courtyard, you will bring her to me." "As you wish. The old man bowed his head, acknowledging the command. He watched the soldier glance about the hut one more time, then quietly closed the door behind Matthew. Meryl slowly released her breath. "You do that quite well, the old man chuckled and moved to a corner of the room. He brought bread and cheese out from the cupboard and two cups. After setting them on the table, he filled the cups with fresh ale from the inn. "You mean breathe? I should hope so. Meryl sat back in the chair, relieved the captain was gone. She took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for the adrenaline in her system to settle down. "No, I meant the disappearing trick." "Oh. As they say, one does what one must.' Meryl picked up the cup before her and sipped the cool liquid. She studied her benefactor, wondering who and what he was. He didn't seem at all disturbed by her illusion. In fact, he seemed impressed. If he only knew it was the only trick she'd been able to master, he wouldn't have thought much of her. So much for witchery and spells. She wondered if he intended to help her escape the town or was he waiting for a more profitable moment to turn her in. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now, but the minute she suspected treachery ... Meryl wanted desperately to return to her home in Scotland and knew it wouldn't be easy. I don't know what to call you, she realized, wanting to thank him properly for his help. "I am known as Emrys." Meryl looked up at him. Her hand stopped in midair, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. Why does that name sound familiar? It had another meaning, besides coincidentally being the name of her newly established clan. She watched him suspiciously while he ate. He only shrugged and said nothing for a moment. His blue eyes conveyed nothing as he stared at her. "It's an old name to be sure, he replied simply. I think perhaps my mother had great hopes for me. He chuckled at his own joke. They finished the simple meal in silence. Emrys studied his guest, then reached for the chain around her neck. Deftly he lifted the chain and freed the pendant from its hiding place. He rubbed his gnarled fingers over the surface of the jewelry and muttered a few words. He paused a moment then spoke to Meryl. A portion of this is missing." Meryl groaned and thought of how many times people had focused their attention on her pendant. It isn't missing. I know where it is." "No matter. There are some things you must learn before you continue your journey. He dropped the pendant, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. What did he know of her journey? Was he responsible for her separation from Tristan? If so, what could this old man teach her that she'd be willing to trust. Her thoughts were pessimistic. At this point in time,

anything that could help her get home would be welcome. Something about his name kept dancing at the edges of her memory, but she couldn't bring it into focus. She hated when that happened, but knew the answer would hit her when she least expected. Whatever the information was, it was couldn't be all that important. She wondered what Emrys was up to, wondered if he was stalling for time to betray her to the English. "Nothing so devious, he chuckled. There are some things your friends cannot teach you. There are other things you need to know if you will fulfill your destiny." "I've been away too long. I must return to my home. Soon. She looked up from the simple meal, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. What do you know about my destiny?" His wrinkled expression darkened. Do you think it was chance brought us together? You are in need of a teacher. Until you learn these things, you will not be safe." "I don't think I'll ever be safe until I return to my home. Oh my gosh! I forgot about Dinks. I have to find him. Meryl bolted from her seat and headed to the door. "Not to worry, Emrys responded calmly. At the moment, your pet is prowling about the courtyard. He's quite safe. Shall we start your lessons?" Meryl listened to Emrys while part of her mind wondered why she stayed here. She was grateful to him for offering her a place of safety when she needed it. She wished she could fathom his motives. "What did you feel, each time you experienced one of your adventures in time? Emrys asked her one evening during supper. The question surprised Meryl. She swallowed a bite of bread and washed it down with a sip of ale. A roiling stomach, mostly, she replied. Some confusion." "That wasn't what I meant. Did you feel something unusual? Emrys mopped up the rest of the gravy in his bowl with the last of his bread. After downing the morsel, he smacked his lips in pleasure. "Something unusual? Meryl thought about it a moment. Well, when I tried to help those people, I always felt an odd warmth here, and she placed her hand over her stomach. I put it down to excitement, and fear of failure. It was so important to me that I be able to help those people." ""Did it change in any way?" "It seemed to be a little warmer, a bit stronger. I don't know, it's hard to describe. She tilted her head as if something just occurred to her. I felt it again when I tried to return to Scotland and ended up outside London instead." Emrys nodded sagely. It has begun. He laughed when Meryl stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Do not stare at me that way. I haven't yet lost my mind, child-at least not yet. You will understand in time." Meryl said nothing, only shrugged and finished her meal. Over the next few days, Emrys filled her head with all sorts of little known facts. The lessons fascinated her, despite her growing frustration with her inability to absorb it all. The old man assured her she would recall her lessons when the need arose. **** "Again, he insisted in his infuriatingly quiet voice.

Meryl closed her eyes and concentrated again. She opened them quickly when she bounced off the wall on the opposite side of the room. She took a quick step backward and rubbed the tip of her nose where it had bumped against the rough wall. The old man sighed. How is it, you are able to travel through time, yet you cannot transport yourself across a small room? "For one thing, Meryl answered ruefully, I don't have control of my time traveling, or I'd have returned to Dun Ceathach long ago. It's as if someone is trying to send me where they want me to be." "You must find the control within. Follow me. Emrys quickly vanished, leaving a startled Meryl alone in the hut. "How do I follow you, if I don't know where you've gone? Meryl spoke into the room. "Concentrate and you will find me, the disembodied voice responded. Meryl shrugged. Nothing ventured..." The small room faded and in moments, the young woman found herself in a meadow filled with brilliantly colored flowers. Emrys sat on a fallen log, his weathered face turned up to the warm sun. Took you long enough to get here, girl, he commented without looking at her. His eyes remained closed against the brilliant light. You must concentrate and learn to move quickly." "You sound like Yoda, Meryl mumbled. "Is Yoda some magician you have met?" "Not likely. He's from another planeta character from a science fiction novel." "Science fiction, another planet, Emrys repeated doubtfully. Meryl knew the folly of trying to explain. Never mind, she replied, you'd have to be there." Emrys opened one eye and looked at her, then continued on with his lesson, as if she hadn't said anything so strange. The power lies within you, in here. He tapped his chest with a gnarled finger. You must learn to summon it when it's needed. You must also learn to hide it from others. There are those who would gladly try to take what you have." "How can anyone steal something intangible?" "How does anyone steal power?" "Ok, so I need to concentrate harder. Meryl dropped gracefully to the ground and sat cross-legged before him. She pulled up a flower, sniffed its fragrance, then studied its petals, lightly touching the softness. Emrys, do you have any idea what I'm doing here?" She looked up at the old man, only to see him shrug. For the last three months, I've been zapped all over time. All I want to do is go home." Emrys almost took pity on her. And where is home, child? He sat straighter and hid his hands within the wide sleeves of his gray robe. "Dun Ceathach, of course. Where else would I go?"

"You are not of this time." "Aren't I? It's strange to say, but I feel more at home here than in my aunt's mansion. I feel as if I've been here before but I have no memory of it. There are still so many questions." "What questions?" "Who my parents were, why they gave me up. Where do I come from? How have I been able to learn Gaelic so quickly? It's as if certain knowledge has been buried within me for a lifetime and it's just finding it's way to the surface. All I have is this pendant. I know it's the key to everything, but it's not telling me anything." "Your pendant holds more answers than you realize. They will be revealed to you when the time is right. Emrys shifted on the log, trying to get comfortable on the rough surface. Back to your lessons, child. There isn't much time before the English knight, who becomes wise to your little tricks. By the by, he's not a simple knight or captain of the guard. He is King Edward's champion," "Nothing but the best to track me down; is that it? Meryl glanced at Emrys slight nod, sighed resignedly, and closed her eyes to better concentrate. When she opened them again a moment later, she found herself at the far end of the meadow. She shouted with joy at her achievement. Emrys smiled. The child would do well. For the few days she'd been with him, he enjoyed her enthusiasm, but at other times, he didn't understand her sense of humor. In time, he wondered if she would be willing to forgive him for not being forthright with her? He waved to her to join him and was pleased when she popped up in front of him. You learn quickly. The day will come when you will be able to transport and not give it much thought. Now, we shall go home and enjoy a bite of supper." **** Meryl sipped the honeyed mead Emrys placed before her. She savored the sweet taste. The glow of praise from the old man still flowed through her like the drink she enjoyed. She was having fun learning things from him. Somehow, she felt as if she'd known him forever. Tell me of my family, she blurted out. Why she asked him that she had no idea, and she didn't know why she thought he'd know about her parentage. The old man stared at here, surprise animating his weathered features. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again without making a sound. What could he tell her? The truth? He searched his feelings and realized the time wasn't yet right for him to say anything. "Don't bother to deny it, she warned, not pleased with his hesitation. Why wouldn't he tell her what he knew? She was absolutely sureor as sure as she could bethat he could solve the mystery regarding her family. She kept her voice light, not wanting to offend the only person who'd been willing to help her. "You do know, you will run into the king's champion sooner or later. You cannot avoid him forever. Emrys sidestepped her question with the observation. "I'm not worried about him. He's got enough to deal with, without taking time to hunt down a little nobody like me. Tell me about my family. You know who my parents are, or were, don't you? She watched him over the rim of her cup. The smooth drink soothed her throat. Jumping from one time to another, or even one place to another in the same time, was hard work but she believed she was finally getting the hang of it. If only she could control where she landed when it came to longer time and distances. Meryl sighed. Well? she asked again, growing impatient with him. "It's not my place to say, he replied carefully, then quickly added, assuming I knew anything, that is.

He took a mortar and pestle down from a shelf near the hearth, then stretched and grabbed a bunch of herbs hanging from the rafters. He pushed his supper bowl aside to make room for his work, and concentrated on grinding the herbs to a fine powder. You must learn, there is a time and place for everything." "I know, I know. Her patience was wearing thin. I've heard that all my life. But the place is here, and the time is now. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. Please, Emrys. As long as I can remember, I've wondered about them, wanted to know why they didn't keep me with them. She stared into her empty cup for a moment then looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. You don't know what it feels like to be an outsider all your life. To know you're nothing like the family you grew up in. They look at you with a hint of pity because you're not like them. I need to know where I come from, who I belong to. Can't you understand that?" Emrys considered her request, understanding her feelings better than she realized. He kept his head bent while he worked at grinding the contents of the wooden bowl, taking his time as he applied pressure to the dried herbs. He continued to grind them until they were almost as fine as dust. He didn't want to look at Meryl, fearing she would read the sorrow in his eyes. She was very good at that. It was about time to send her on her way. He closed away all emotion, and schooled his features. When he felt he'd regained control, he looked up at her again, gently laying the pestle within its bowl. The answers to all your questions will come to you, sooner than you think. You must wait until then. All things in their time, child, all things in their time." He cleared his throat then reached for the carafe and held it out, offering its contents. More mead, my dear?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Matthew stood at the shore of the loch while his horse drank the cold clear water. His men were tired, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his home in England. The wished for journey wouldn't take place anytime soon; at least not until he found the girl. After she'd disappeared from London, he'd gathered his men and headed, once again, for Scotland. He pushed his men relentlessly, knowing sooner or later, he'd find her somewhere in the highlands. A meeting with Graeme Comyn in Edinburg, turned out to be a loss of precious time. The Scot didn't know where she had disappeared. No one knew anything about her. Three months of wasted time, searching for a snip of a girl. He should be home seeing to the business of his own country, not here, in this godforsaken land, chasing half-wild highlanders. There was still Eleanor and that blasted betrothal to deal with. She was determined to see the marriage through and was doing whatever she could to force him into compliance. Matthew was at his wits end over the trying situation. He frowned, trying to decide what his next move should be, both with Eleanor and the pale eyed wench he couldn't find. A sudden splash in the lake startled him from his thoughts and he ducked when a dark blur flew past him, showering him with a cold spray of water. The blur stood in the grass behind him, shook itself vigorously, then settled down to groom its fur. "A bloody cat! The Englishman resented the intrusion on his already miserable day. He whirled back to the lake when he heard another splash. A dark head popped above the surface and a voice screeched, Houdini, you miserable excuse for a cat. That's the last time I listen to you! The drenched figure wiped away strands of hair plastered to her face. Anger colored her features. Matthew wanted to laugh at the sight, but wisely held his tongue and tried to keep a straight face. I've been searching the highlands for you, woman. He crooked a finger, indicating she should join him on the bank. Meryl looked up and recognized the man. Uh oh... Having no means of escape other than misguided time travel, she had no choice but to obey him. Meryl untwisted her skirts from her legs, and made her slow, difficult way to the shore. She reluctantly reached up for the hand Matthew offered her, grateful for his help. We meet again, sir knight. I appreciate your assistance, but I can't say I'm pleased to see you. Meryl tugged at her sodden shirts again and nearly lost her balance in an effort to maintain her dignity. Matthew studied her a moment. Her dark hair hung in dripping tangles and her silver eyes flashed with challenge, giving her an impish appearance. Her wet clothes clung to her slim figure making her shiver in the cool evening air. He took up his stallion's reins, then turned away from the river. Come with me. You'll have to get out of those clothes quickly." Meryl raised an eyebrow in question then shrugged. "You can stay here and catch your death, or you can come with me and get dry and something to eat." "Am I to be your prisoner? She hesitated a moment to catch her breath, wanting to know where things stood with the Englishman. "I would prefer not, but if you think it's necessary..." "No, at least not this time, she honestly admitted, then followed him and walked past the cat. Dinks

stared up at her as if this had been an ordinary walk to a lake. Traitorous little beastie, she hissed and continued after the Englishman. Matthew entered the camp and all eyes turned to stare at the bedraggled woman behind him. He handed his mount's reins over to one of his men, then went to his tent. He unpacked a set of clothes, shirt and breeches, and tossed them on the pallet. "You'll get out of those wet clothes quickly, then join me for supper. He abruptly left her alone. Meryl shivered and quickly shed her gown. Goosebumps raised on her damp skin. The shirt and breeches were too big but would do until her own clothes dried. She rubbed the shirt sleeves against her skin, trying to restore some warmth. She didn't particularly want to dine with the man, but a growling stomach overrode her good sense. Besides, she had to find her wayward pet. Then again, maybe she should ignore the animal. After all, the unexpected dunking had been his fault. The soldiers glanced at their leader's guest when Meryl spread her gown and chemise over some bushes to dry. Some stared at her dressed in the oversized garments. Their thoughts were plain enough in their expressive features. Meryl shuddered. The captain watched his men and took note of a few lecherous stares. They knew better than to try anything. The young woman looked to be able to take care of herself in most situations; here, she was alone with no one to rely on. Well, not exactly alone ... but it wouldn't do to show too much concern for her welfare. Meryl sat on a log not far from the fire. She needed the warmth but didn't trust any of the Englishmen as far as she could throw them. She accepted the bowl with bread and meat and a drink to wash it down. Dinks sat next to her, waiting for part of her meal. Meryl said nothing while she and her pet shared the hot food. When they'd finished eating, she turned her attention to her captor. "You keep staring. Just what is it you want from me? Meryl's fingertips grazed the top of her cat's head and Dinks jumped onto her lap, sure all was forgiven. Matthew's eyes followed the slow, mesmerizing movements of her slender fingers and envied the cat. While her attention seemed to be focused on the animal, he had a strong suspicion her thoughts were elsewhereperhaps trying to figure a way of escaping the camp. She seemed quite calm for a woman surrounded by two dozen English soldiers. Was she that sure of herself or did she play a game?" "Well? Meryl studied the Englishman. Matthew cleared his throat, embarrassed at the direction of his thoughts. He didn't like being distracted by Meryl's presence. He didn't like her knowing grin. Neither did he like the way Mark grinned at him, as if the man were enjoying his discomfort. Matthew chose to ignore his second in command. In the village that day, how did you hide those warriors?" "There were no warriors. You saw all there was to see there. Meryl looked up at him. Her features were unreadable. "Don't think to play the innocent with me." Meryl shrugged and continued to stroke Dinks fur. She ignored the hint of anger in Matthew's voice. The cat purred contentedly and Matthew found himself distracted again. That's of no consequence now, he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. It's been brought to my attention you could help us with a problem."

"I have never given thought to aiding the enemy, and never will, but go on, I would like to hear this problem of yours. I may find it amusing." Matthew's expression grew dark. He got up from his seat and stomped about the fire. How could one careless young woman confuse him this way? He stood before his guest, forcing her to look up at him. It frustrated him that she could remain so calm when she should be frightened to death of him and what he could do to her. He could snuff out her life and think nothing of it, nor would anyone be the wiser. For some reason, the thought repulsed him. Edward has spent far too much time trying to bring Scotland to her knees, and shows little concern for England." "What are his concerns to me? Meryl didn't like the direction the conversation began to take. "Lady, are you playing games with me or are you as naive as you seem?" "If your only intention is to insult me, then I'll thank you to be done with this conversation and show me where I'm expected to bed down for the night." Matthew threw his hands up in frustration. You are the legend. You can rule Scotland. We need you to control Edward. Do that and Scotland is yours." Meryl was stunned. Whoa! Back up here, a minute. What legend are you talking about?" "You don't know. Matthew stared at her sitting next to the fire. She didn't know. How could she not know what people were saying about her? "No, I don't know what you're talking about. Scotland is full of legends. Look. I was asked to help a group of people struggling for survival. Now I've got these villagers looking up to me for goddess knows what. I can't give them what they expect. This foolishness of a legend and ruling Scotlandit'sit's absurd! Where did you hear such a crazy story?" Dinks jumped off her lap and stared up at her, his green eyes glowing from reflected firelight. Your problem, the feline declared with his infuriating grin, then sauntered off into the darkness. "Thanks, a lot, pal'. Meryl watched the cat disappear, then looked up Matthew again, giving him her undivided attention. She'd overheard the villagers talking about a legend, but never dreamed they were discussing her. Matthew took a deep breath and let it out slowly. You're friend, Graeme." Meryl stared back at him, incredulous. My friend, Graeme. Do you mean Graeme Sinclair?" "His true name is Graeme Comyn, Matthew interjected. She closed her eyes when understanding hit her. Comyn. How could I have been so dumb? "He's after the crown as well, isn't he? I can assure you, sir knight, no Comyn will succeed in that quest. They can battle from now till Doomsday but the crown belongs to Robert Bruce." Matthew chuckled. You sound quite sure of yourself. How do you come by this information?" Meryl raised an eyebrow and remained quiet. "Ah. Then I won't ask again. How did she do that? His job was to interrogate prisoners. Granted she wasn't exactly a prisoner, but she did have information he needed, and yet he felt it better not to pursue it. I would advise you to be wary of Graeme. He isn't what he seems."

Meryl mulled over this small bit of information. Red Comyn wanted the crown and went so far as to try to turn over information to the English about the Bruce. Robert confronted Comyn with this treachery and Red died as a result. History called Robert a murderer because the death took place on holy ground. If the result had been different, if Robert had died instead, would the church have felt the same? No one would ever know for sure. Since when did Graeme think he was qualified to take up where Red left off? And why did she get the feeling that her part in this 'play was far from over? "I suppose it's better I don't know where you come by this information. Matthew stretched, then hooked a thumb in his wide belt. The hour is late. A camp such as this offers few comforts. Please accept the use of my tent." "Thank you." The Englishman escorted Meryl to his tent, deftly guiding her around bodies, snoring in the darkness. Weapons lay carelessly on the ground near their owners. Meryl stood before the tent and turned to her host. Thank you again, for your hospitality. I'm sorry I couldn't be of help to you." Matthew gallantly raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Perhaps when this unpleasantness is over, I may see you again?" "Ah ... don't think so. I am handfasted with a Scottish warrior." "I thought you said there were no warriors in that village?' "Who said he was in that village? He could be from anywhere in the highlands." "I stand corrected. An amused grin crossed his features and quickly disappeared. His tone gentled. Do you love him?" Meryl's sweet smile was enough to answer his question. "Why isn't he with you? You travel alone." "Oh, I haven't been alone. Dinks has been with me always. Circumstances forced a separation between my husband and me. I was on my way back to him when I was rudely dumped into the lake. Don't ask. There are some things you're better off not knowing. You would never believe me, anyway, even if I did give you an answer." "Your husband is indeed a fortunate man, to have such a wife." A shadow crossed Meryl's features and vanished. Thank you." Moonlight gave an odd glow to the twinkle in Meryl's silver eyes. Sleep well, Lady Meryl." **** Meryl lay on the pallet within the tent trying to sort out her thoughts while sleep eluded her. She felt a chill and wasn't sure if it was the night air, or the final reprieve from his questions. She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up and over her shoulders. Being bumped from one time to another definitely had its disadvantages, but she was almost home. Another day's journey would bring her home to Dun Ceathach. She could feel Tristan so close now. He was a time traveler himselfthat fact still annoyed her a bitso why hadn't they been able to connect? Several times she had barely been able to see him. He'd appeared

to her like a transparent ghost. Someone didn't want them together. Could Graeme be involved? No, she didn't think so, or she would have felt some kind of power emanating from him, even if, at the time, she wasn't able to recognize it for what it was. As she slowly became attuned to what was going on, she realized the coven members had power on a very limited scale; not all of them could work spells and charms. Maisri's skills were equal to Meryl's which didn't say much for the coven as a whole. There wasn't enough between the members to create trouble for her. Who had the means to keep her bouncing from one place to another? Who didn't want her to return home? Someone in the village wasn't what they seemed. **** Matthew stood beside Meryl and studied the thick curtain of mist, cutting off the rest of the road. Mark reined in his commander's restless stallion. Are you sure you won't change your mind, Lady Meryl? I would rather see you safely to your home than leave you here unprotected." Meryl laughed, amused by his concern. If you knew what I had been through lately, you wouldn't fear for my safety. You are kind, Matthew, but no, I must continue on alone." "As you wish. He lowered his voice to keep his words from being overheard. If ever you should have need of me, you can send a message with Malcolm McLeod. He will know where I can be found." Meryl stared at him, stunned. If he managed to place one of his men in her valley, then her security wasn't as tight as she thought. He seemed to read her thoughts and smiled. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Not all English want to see the Highlands defeated. I've come to see things differently in the last few months. You people have a pride, unlike any I have seen anywhere else. It would only take the uniting of your clans to make you a powerful force. I would like us to be allies. Perhaps together, we can find a way to lessen the damage done between our two countries." "Perhaps we can. I'll keep it in mind. Goddess knows there's more than enough turmoil within our borders as it is." Matthew remounted his horse and gave a command to his men. They turned to leave the entrance to the valley Meryl called home. Dinks sat on the end of a fallen log watching the soldiers ride away. Meryl sensed the fear in the English soldiers and felt it recede as they rode back toward England. She took a deep breath and released it. Somehow, she knew her adventures weren't quite over yet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Meryl stopped to view the misty curtain hiding the path to the valley and Dun Ceathach. How much time had passed since she'd been dropped into the future? What seemed like an eternity was only a few weeks. In that short period, she'd bounced from one time to another. Someone was interfering with her ability to return to Scotland. She intended to find out who and why. Dinks growled, low and menacing. Meryl reached down and scratched behind his ears. To other people, he was a cat not to be trusted. To Meryl, he was her protector and she rarely ignored his warnings. No one dared get too close to her unless he allowed it. "We're almost home, Dinks. Just beyond the mist and we're finally home. Meryl rubbed his nose and the cat nuzzled her hand affectionately. She glanced behind to be sure the soldiers hadn't stopped to spy on her, then drew the edges of her cloak together against the dampness and disappeared into the mist. Ahead of her, it thinned and swirled about, allowing her to pass, then thickened once again to hide the path behind her and the valley beyond. Moments later, with the barrier behind her, Meryl stopped to gaze at the valley. Unlike most of the highlands, this valley was green and fertile. It was paradise. The villagers had certainly been busy while she was away. She was relieved to know they had moved on without her. Rows of cottages with thatched roofs were centered in the valley, allowing quick access to the keep and loch. To the south, fields of tall golden grain were ready for first harvesting. As tall as the grain was, she estimated she'd been gone some three months. That seemed to be at odds with the timing of her adventures. Meryl frowned at the sight of one field. It appeared as if horses had been ridden through it, trampling the grain. She approached the field and knelt down by its edge. The destruction was fairly fresh and needed to be investigated, if Tristan hadn't done so already. She vaguely wondered if her herb garden thrived. She'd need them in the winter to ease the villagers ills. A small flock of sheep wandered about the northern pasture, nibbling contentedly at thick green grass. The flock seemed smaller then she remembered. What happened to the lambs? There should have been more lambs. Meryl approached the cottages with even stronger feelings things weren't right. No one was about, working at daily chores. She passed the small cottages where people stepped out of doorways, but kept their distance from her. Graeme appeared from the side of a cottage and stood at the end of the path leading to the keep. He was flanked by several warriors. Dinks moved closer to his mistress and laid back his ears in warning. The cat growled and the armed men kept their distance, but hands remained on sword hilts. Graeme eyed the cat warily while he moved closer to the keep's returning mistress. "Meryl, welcome home. It's good to see you've returned to us. You are safe and well? The handsome warrior took Meryl's hands in his and looked into her eyes. Something in Graeme's smokey gray eyes made Meryl uncomfortable. Ever so casually, she slipped her hands out of his and hid them in the folds of her dress. I am well. The villagers remained silent, looking down, anywhere but at her. Where were the children? Meryl wondered what was going on. Where is Tristan? A flicker of something she didn't understand darted in Graeme's eyes at the mention of the warrior's name, then quickly vanished. "Malcolm, bring a cool drink for the lady. Graeme ignored the question for the moment and the slight to him when she'd pulled away.

Meryl thanked the warrior and drank deeply of the cool fresh water. She offered a bit of the cold liquid to her pet. Dinks sniffed at the dipper then sat down, refusing the drink. Meryl watched the large cat, then frowned. She felt ... she felt ... Her thoughts couldn't quite grasp what was going on. Her eyes narrowed in confusion and she sniffed the remaining water. There was barely a hint of something in the drink. The warriors swam in her vision, making her wish they would remain still. The movement made her dizzy. "Shouldn't drink, she mumbled. Gonna have a whopping headache. The dipper slipped through her fingers and dropped to the ground with a dull thunk. "Forget Tristan. Wed with me, Meryl and together we can rule Scotland. Graeme whispered huskily to the pliable woman, not wanting his plea heard by others. Meryl's gaze slowly moved upward to his face. She tried to focus on the blur that passed for his features and concentrated harder on his words. Where is Tristan? There was something she had to tell her handfast husband. An apology? Yes, she was supposed to apologize for something. He owed her one as well. What was it for? "What do you want with him? He will never make you a lifelong offer. I'm offering to make you my wife! I'm offering you the throne of Scotland. She frustrated him with her insistent demand to know where Tristan was. Tristan could go to the devil for all he cared. What he couldn't understand was her lack of concern for the powers she had and what those powers could do for the Scots. He was more concerned with what her powers could do for him. Meryl responded haltingly, her words slightly slurred. The ... throne ... isn't yours to offer. Even if it were ... I am handfasted to another. Where is my Tristan?" Graeme held back the fury building within him and his jaw clenched. The last thing he wanted to hear from her lips was Tristan's name. He shoved her toward the nearest warrior. Bind her. Graeme walked away to stand beside an upright post. "Lady Meryl. Graeme spoke in a loud clear voice, his patience almost at an end. You have been charged and found guilty of witchcraft." Meryl tried to shake free of the cotton stuffed in her head. A small part of her mind grasped Graeme's words, but responding to them proved difficult. Concentrate! The word screamed in her head and she tried desperately to latch on to it. What charges? she finally asked. What was in the water? She didn't know of any herb that could intoxicate so quickly and rob a person of their will. Meryl shook her head and concentrated on the power within her to throw off the herbs effect. She needed her wits about her to deal with the trouble she was in. "Within hours of your disappearance, one of the fields was trampled by creatures of the night. Nothing could be saved of that field. In the following weeks, lambs were found slaughtered in sacrificial rites. You have crippled these people's chances for survival here. You cast a spell over them, making them believe they were in danger from the English. All along they were in danger from you. Do you deny you used them?" "Yes, I deny it. Shortly after she left? The field of grain didn't look to have been trampled that long ago ... and she'd been gone three months. How could the timing have been changed to make the loss appear older than it truly was? Magic? Could the new owner have arrived unannounced and even now be wreaking havoc with their crops and livestock to chase them out of the valley? That was the coward's way of evicting them. Something else was going on here.

"Look at them, Meryl. Even now they dare not look at you. They fear you will curse them. Graeme's voice broke into her thoughts. Meryl tugged at the bindings holding her securely to the post, then turned her head slowly and squinted at the villagers. Graeme was right. They wouldn't look at herno one but Maisri. The clear part of Meryl's mind told her the villagers weren't afraid of her; they feared Graeme. What did he hold over them? Where were the children? What had he done with them? She struggled to free her hands only to have the leather cut into her wrists; the bindings held her snugly in place. "Wed with me, Meryl. Come to me and be mine. Graeme's voice whispered close to her ear. Maisri watched Meryl struggle against the post. The older woman's eyes held a secret sorrow. While Graeme held the children hostage, no one would get involved in trying to free Meryl. They wouldn't risk their children to save one woman. Maisri lifted one hand and rested it lightly against her chest, as if to catch her breath. She slowly and deliberately patted a spot just beneath the hollow of her throat, never taking her eyes from Meryl. Meryl focused on the steady movement of the woman's hand. What was she trying to say? The pendant. Tristan had the other half of the pendant. A lot of good it did her. "Where is Tristan? Meryl asked once more while she continued the struggle to free her hands. Again, Graeme chose to ignore the question, and continued with his accusations. Two of the village men have claimed you caused their parts to disappear." Meryl laughed uncontrollably at the absurdness of the charge. She should be afraid, not laughing. She calmed down and her features took on a serious look. Prove it. She glanced around and noted, with satisfaction, two warriors faces turn several shades of crimson. "Where is your witch's mark? Malcolm, strip off her dress and search for the devil's mark." Malcolm flinched at the order and tried to find an excuse to steer clear of the young woman. We don't need to find any mark, Graeme. We've seen her sorcery. That's enough to condemn her. The other warriors quickly agreed, not one of them willing to get any closer to her than necessary. "Tristan. Graeme decided to satisfy her question, but not the way she thought. A pity what became of him. You bewitched him before he brought you here. He believed you were this Legend everyone waited for. When you grew bored with your games here, you left, and he disappeared as well. The village protector ... vanished." Graeme stepped closer to her. You shouldn't have used your wiles on other young men, Jeannie. You should have wed with me when you had the chance. We could have ruled the Highlands together. Now you'll only rule in Hell! His features took on a dark, vengeful look. His hatred showed clearly now. Meryl's mind cleared and focused on the use of a wrong name. She had never heard the name Jeannie and wondered who she was. Maybe she jilted him and he was seeking revenge. Why she should be his target made no sense to Meryl. "You could have been my queen, Graeme hissed, but it wasn't good enough for you. I loved you, Jeannie, and you returned my love by sharing your favors with my brother. I can't stop you from casting spells on other men. I would never have hurt you, but you've forced my hand. Now you'll pay for what you've done. Fire will purify your soul and scrub the blood from my hands." Meryl shrank back against the pole, unable to flee from the empty, soulless eyes staring down at her. He

was completely mad. Graeme stepped away from Meryl and signaled the warriors to place the wood around her. Meryl's silver eyes widened in disbelief. He wouldn't really go through with this ... Once more she struggled to get free of her bindings, grimacing as the leather strips bit deeper into her wrists. She stopped suddenly when Robbie moved closer. He held a burning torch and his eyes held a malevolent stare. Graeme snatched the torch from Robbie's hand and slowly moved forward toward the wood piled about her long skirts. Meryl was too petrified to scream. **** Dinks and Famhair crouched in the tall grass close to the hut and watched the goings on. "Why don't you go to your master?" Dinks grumbled. "Because my master can manage without me for the time being. When we have need of him, we'll find him. Anyway he can't be of much help without a weapon." "There is someone who can help us there," Dinks remarked and melded with the shadows. He stopped long enough to sniff the air. No one had followed him. He needed the attention of only one person. The female who wanted Tristan, hid beside the hut, watching the scene before her. Rose started at the cat's appearance. Dinks rubbed his head against her arm. "We have to find Tristan. He's the only one who can stop this madness. Rose spoke softly to the cat, wondering why she thought he understood. Keeping low, she made her way to the trees, not far from the hut, and prayed Graeme wouldn't look in her direction. Dinks led her to Famhair, then crouched before the dog. "You have to protect my mistress while I look for your master, as miserable as the idea is to me, it's the best we have." "Why can't you stay with your mistress while I look for my master?" "Because," replied Dinks as if the answer were obvious, "the humans accuse her of being a witch, and I am black." "Guess that's a good enough reason. I doubt my master's gone far. You bring him back and I will do what I can to slow down those humans and whatever they intend to do." Rose looked back and forth between the animals as if she understood them. She chided herself for the crazy thought and set off after the cat slinking in the shadows. **** Tristan had no idea why Graeme had finally set him free. Leaving him with only a dirk and his horse, Graeme's men had escorted him out of the valley and warned him never to return. It was because of the friendship they'd shared, or so Graeme claimed, that he spared Tristan's life. But he promised the warrior death would be his only greeting if he should try to return. Tristan took a deep breath and it caught in his chest. His ribs still hurt from the pounding he'd received from Graeme. He was fairly certain at least a couple of them were cracked. If it hadn't been for Rose's help, he'd be in much worse shape than he was. Rose, with the help of one or two guards, managed to get some food and water to him. She had no news of Meryl's whereabouts. Sitting by the stream meandering through the valley, his chin rested on his chest. He slouched against a tree, dozing. The morning sun filtered down through the trees. Dinks stealthily approached the human. When he got close enough he snuffled loudly against Tristan's ear, startling him. Tristan fell back, away from the intruder, his dirk in his hand. The cat jumped back as well and each stared at the other for a

wary moment. "What are you doing here, Dinks? Where's Meryl? Tristan looked around. There was nothing to suggest Meryl was close by. Dinks approached Tristan slowly, as the man sheathed the dirk at his belt. Dinks carefully swatted at the pendant where it lay against Tristan's chest. "What are you doing, you fool animal? Tristan pushed him away. Again, Meryl's pet swatted at the pendent and Tristan pushed Dinks back, annoyed with the cat's antics. Dinks went after the jewelry once more and caught the chain in his claws. One good yank was all he needed. The chain broke. Tristan grabbed the necklace before it could fall very far. What is wrong with you, cat? The stone caught his eye. The turquoise was nearly colorless. Tristan frantically searched his memory for the information Maisri had given him. The stone paled when its owner faced a life-threatening situation. "Meryl's in trouble? he watched the cat dubiously, while Dinks nuzzled his hand and moved away. You'd be with her if she weren't in serious trouble." The cat stalked back to the village while Tristan kept Laoch to the shadows as much as possible. Smoke floated lazily upward from one of the fields. He could see it, thick and choking. The villagers stood to one side while warriors guarded them with swords drawn, making certain no one attempted to interfere. Thank the goddess there had been no dry wood or Meryl would be in flames by now. Rose also kept to the shadows and waited to see the cat return. She knew Tristan would return when he learned Meryl had returned. She was pleased Maisri trusted her enough to send her with the heavy broadsword to wait for Tristan. Rose stepped from the shadows of the woods and held up the heavy weapon in both hands, but nearly dropped it. "I'm sorry we couldn't get your sword. Graeme keeps it by his side. You'll need this to save your lady and our mistress. Goddess be with you, Tristan. Rose kept the apology short. She'd finally accepted Meryl's place among them. Tristan took the sword from Rose and gave her a smile. Rose returned the smile and watched the warrior ride to the village. She may have lost the man she believed she loved, but she was grateful to once again have his respect. **** "Get that beast out of my way! Graeme screamed. Famhair stood between the warrior and the pile of wood surrounding the female human. The huge dog growled and his fangs showed menacingly. Two of his men looped ropes about the dog's neck and dragged him away. Famhair fought to get free, but with each man tugging the ropes in opposite directions, he only succeeded in choking himself. He stopped struggling and waited for a better moment. Graeme watched Meryl choke on thick smoke when the wood smoldered and the flame refused to catch. He grew impatient and paced back and forth, cursing his men for their incompetence. He knew Tristan would be back when he got word of Meryl's return. His warning to stay away or face death was one his former friend would ignore. It didn't really matter. Tristan's anger would make him careless, making Graeme's job easier. He didn't need Meryl, only the pendant. Ena could hold the magic as well as any other woman. Graeme could easily control her. Meryl was no longer an asset his plans, and once she

was dead, a grieving Tristan would feel the bite of Graeme's sword. No one would stand in his way. Laoch galloped past the villagers and Tristan pulled his mount to a halt near the smoking wood. Leaning over the stallion's neck, he grasped his broadsword like a mallet and scattered the loosely stacked pile, before the flame could finally catch in her skirts. He dismounted and caught Meryl after he severed her bonds. The distraction of his unexpected arrival gave the warriors the opportunity to escape. Graeme stood a distance away, wide-eyed, not believing they would desert him. "Cowards! he screamed after them, drawing his sword. Run! I'll find every one of you and you'll all die as traitors. Malcolm, alone, remained silent by his side. "Tris... Meryl rasped. "Not now, my love. Tristan laid her carefully on the grass and turned worried eyes to Maisri. Her throat must be raw from the smoke she'd inhaled. Famhair trotted over to him, the ropes about his neck dangling. Tristan pulled them off the hound before the dog could trip himself up. Guard her, Famhair." "Do what you must. We'll look after her. Maisri nodded her assurance as Tristan gently brushed strands of hair away from Meryl's face. Love and worry for the bewitching young woman flitted across Tristan's features and quickly vanished. There was one thing left to do. Tristan rose from Meryl's side and held the broadsword tightly in his grip. Why, Graeme? What has she done to offend you, that you think you have to kill her?" Graeme pulled the sword from its sheath at his side and grasped the weapon with both hands. He thought it ironic that Tristan's own sword would be the weapon to bring about his demise. It would serve Graeme well. He watched and waited for Tristan to make a move. Her presence offends me, he sneered. She ruined all my plans when she turned to you. Jeannie was always mine and you had to get in the way. You're the same as my brother and all the others, wanting her favors, not caring that she's betrothed to me. I left her behind until I could establish a home worthy of her. She would have been my queen, but you destroyed all my plans by bringing her here." Realization hit Tristan like a thunderbolt and everything fell into place. It was you all along. We lost battles we should have won because you were the traitor. When Meryl disappeared, you had me thrown into the dungeon to keep me from searching for her." Graeme shrugged. Doesn't matter now. When you're dead, I'll finish with her, then everything will be the way it should. She won't help me get the crown. She could have been Queen of Scotland, now she'll have nothing." The two warriors circled each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. Graeme swung first, only to meet Tristan's sword. The sound of clashing metal rang out across the valley. Villagers moved quickly away from the combatants, trying to avoid the lethal weapons. Each man looked for an opening to best his opponent. Both had been trained by Angus, making any surprise moves impossible. Tristan gritted his teeth. Angus, his friend and mentor, was dead because of this man. Graeme had a great deal to answer for. Tristan avoided the next blow, aimed at his head. Using two hands to put more force behind his swing, he struck Graeme's weapon, shattering it. His sword point lay against Graeme's throat. Tristan waited a moment to allow his shallow breathing to return to a more normal pace. Graeme stood

helpless before him. I should kill you for what you've done. You were my good friend, it wounds me deeply to know you could betray our friendship, but I won't kill you, Graeme. Consider yourself an outlaw Scot. Get your things and ride out of this valley; you are never to return. You dealt with the English, and they have their own way of dealing with traitors. You belong to them now. The man standing before him was nothing more than an evil shell of what he once was. Tristan grieved silently for the loss of a friend. The point of his sword slipped down Graeme's chest, then was pulled away. Tristan turned away, his full attention centered on Meryl's recovery. Graeme glanced down at the broken weapon in his hand and his features twisted with hatred. He released a devilish scream and ran after Tristan's receding back. The crazed warrior held his broken sword high, like a dagger, ready to inflict a death blow on his enemy. Dinks ran from the side of the cottage and jumped against Tristan, knocking his master flat on his face. The cat, now the size of a panther, kept his front paws on Tristan's back, pinning the warrior to the ground. The dog stood guard as he'd been commanded, but saw the stunned expression on Dinks face. For a moment, he wondered how humans would see him. No one would attempt to get past either animal. Graeme stopped short and stiffened in shock. His free hand reached around and tried to grasp the protruding weapon from the middle of his back. He couldn't reach it and fell in a heap, dead. Malcolm, his features shuttered, withdrew the dirk and wiped the blade on the dead man's clothes. Famhair growled, but Malcolm gave the dog a cursory glance. The villagers stared at the warrior, not knowing what side Graeme's second in command stood on. There's no honor in killing your enemy in the back when he's defeated you. He sheathed the blade and stared at the others, as if daring any of them to say otherwise. Dinks cautiously backed away and sat beside the deerhound. "I can't believe I did that, the cat growled, shaking its head with disbelief. "I actually saved that man from certain death." Famhair made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a dog laugh. "Let's face it, my friend. Those two are meant to be together, and no scheming on our parts will change the fact." "I suppose you're right, Dinks responded, "but I don't have to like it." The villagers turned abruptly at the sound of horses hooves while two animal noses sniffed the air for hints of more danger. Tristan held his weapon, ready to do battle once again, now with the intruder. The sight of an English uniform infuriated him. Would they never be safe from the English? He glanced at Meryl as she struggled to her feet, still coughing. "Lady Meryl, are you all right? Matthew dismounted quickly, only to be held at bay by a mad swordsman, a very large dog and a distrusting black cat. Meryl waved her arms to prevent another confrontation. I'll be fine, Matthew, she replied hoarsely, then coughed again. Thank you for your concern." "You've betrayed us to the English? Ian called out. The blacksmith pushed his way forward. We trusted you with our lives and you brought the English to us. Graeme was right, you are a witch and should be burned. He turned to the others, intending to rally them to his side, but turned sharply at the sound of children shouting happily. The little ones ran across the field from the storage hut where they had been held hostage. The three guards had run off, dropping the burning torches they'd held at the ready. Graeme had threatened to have the hut set afire if the adults interfered. Waiting parents grasped their children with open arms, cutting off childish squeals of delight. The villagers were relieved to have their children back. Ian lifted his own son and held him in a tight bear hug. The boy squirmed to be put down.

"Meryl never betrayed us, Rose answered the accusation, not realizing others had arrived at the same assumption. Graeme was the traitor, but there is another here. She glanced at Malcolm. "There are no more traitors, Meryl rasped. As to the good knight, we've had a long talk and settled on a truce. I cannot be what he wants, but we now have an ally outside this valley." "As you wish, my lady. Matthew grinned and turned his attention to the man standing protectively next to Meryl. You must be her handfasted husband. My congratulations to you, for capturing the heart of such a feisty woman. She would make any warrior proud. Were she not yours, I might consider courting her myself." Tristan stiffened at the last remark, but an elbow in his side encouraged him to ease his stance. A hint of distrust still shown in his cold green eyes, but, for Meryl's sake, he slowly accepted the hand offered in friendship. "It seems a few men were anxious to leave this peaceful place. What would you have me do with them? Matthew turned his attention to Meryl. "Do with them as you will, Matthew. They are no longer welcome here. They will never be able to find their way back. I've seen to that. Meryl felt she was once again in charge. She hesitated. You are welcome to remain for the coming festivities, but I would prefer you send your men on their way. They make the others nervous." "I would be honored, Lady. Matthew bowed over her hand. Tristan felt ill at ease with Meryl's invitation, but kept his features bland. He didn't like this new complication. He didn't need any more problems. Meryl was aware of Rose's approach, and without glancing at the girl made a request. Rose, would you show the good captain to one of our best bedchambers, and see he has whatever he needs. Thank you. Meryl's throat felt raw and still burned from the earlier smoke. If she didn't say another word for the next month, she'd be happy. She rasped out the words, giving her full attention to Matthew, but she couldn't miss the curious look he gave Rose. Rose was more like a thorn these days and would undoubtedly give the Englishman a hard time. The next day or two should prove interesting. She watched Rose stalk away from the little group, not caring if their guest followed or not. "Your invitation is greatly appreciated, my lady, Matthew responded, but I must return to my duties. If I may, I would like to return, when I can visit for a while and get to know you all better." "You are welcome here, Matthewon the condition that you come alone. We prefer our whereabouts be kept quiet." Matthew made a courtly bow. Until we meet again, my lady. I hope to find you in good voice, then. May you and your people find peace and safety here. He turned and mounted his horse, nodded his head to Meryl then turned and rode from the valley. **** Meryl ignored Malcolm while he remained quiet throughout the conversation, waiting for someone to decide his fate. She wasn't sure how she felt about his presence. He had been spying on the little clan for Matthew. To be honest, in the long run it had been to the clan's advantage. After all, he'd saved Tristan from a sword through his back. We will discuss this situation later, Malcolm, and decide what to do. In

the meantime, see that Graeme's body is taken care of. Despite what he did, the least we can give him is a decent burial. After that, return to your duties." "As you wish, my lady." Meryl rubbed at her throat, wondering how long it would be before she could speak normally again. She watched Malcolm signal two men and the trio was about to remove the body, when Meryl took the broken blade from Graeme's hand. It was definitely Tristan's sword, with the moonstones and turquoise in the hilt. So this is how you came to break it, she rasped softly. When I saw the broken blade, I was afraid you might be dead." Tristan's features registered alarm. When did you see this broken?" Meryl glanced about at the curious faces surrounding her and Tristan. Several villagers grinned in anticipation of an interesting conversation. We should discuss this later in private. You have a great deal of explaining to do, Tristan David McConnell."

CHAPTER THIRTY Anticipation of mid summer rituals always made Meryl nervous. The Spellbinders had their little rituals, but Meryl never felt particularly comfortable around family on those days. Today, here in the year 1306, nothing was changed for her. Those same feelings of inadequacy followed her and threatened to ruin a glorious day. The villagers looked forward to Lammas and this would be their first celebration in their new homes. Delicious aromas of fresh bread, sweet treats and roasting pork and venison floated through the keep. She couldn't believe she was hungry again. She shook her head, smiled and decided the hunger must be due to the insecurity and excitement of the day, as well as nervousness of scheduled special events. Meryl climbed the narrow stone steps leading to the uppermost levels of the keep. She slid back the heavy bolt and pulled the door open. The sun shone down on this part of the wall walk, lending its warmth to the stone blocks. The air itself felt lightly chilled. Nearby mountains kept the valley comfortable on normally hot days. The seasons were milder in this valley, and the rains fell at appropriate times. If she didn't know better, she could almost believe that Dun Ceatharch was like the legendary Camelot. Some of the villagers even believed she could call down the weather as it was needed. She chuckled at that idea, and admitted there were times when she'd wished it was so. Who was to say it wasn't the case. After all, she still struggled with spell casting, and no one could say she wasn't responsible for the weather. In her current state, she felt capable of almost anything. No matter; this was her idea of paradise. The sun began playing peek-a-boo amid the clouds hovering above the mountains. Meryl frowned at the distant threat. Better not rain on my parade, she warned softly, as if the clouds could hear her and would obey. Both mountains and clouds were reflected in the loch behind the keep. The slightest ripple didn't dare disturb the smooth surface of the lake's tranquility. She had missed the valley during her time travel adventures. Graeme had tried to thwart her every effort to return. The facts pointed at his being involved, if not solely responsible. She blamed herself in part for his death. If she had realized sooner his feelings toward her, she might have been able to prevent the occurrence of misadventures since the little clan's arrival to the valley. She never took him seriously, and put down his proposal as a case of jealousy. Despite his interference she did manage to return and here she would stay. This time and place was her home. Her eyes narrowed with a suspicious thoughtcould someone have manipulated him to do their bidding, using his greed as a catalyst? The idea didn't sit well with her. Meryl wanted to believe the trouble was over, that the newly formed clan could get on with their lives. After Graeme's death, Tristan had returned the pendant half to her. She touched the double chain of the complete pendant at her throat. She didn't let him see how it upset her when he'd returned it; she didn't say a word, didn't question his decision. Somehow, she had to change his mind. She slid her hands lightly over the cool stone of the crenellated wall and smiled with pleasure. This was one day she would long remember. Meryl turned her attention to the activity below. Several children chased one another about, laughing and shouting. It felt good to know there were no lasting effects of their being held as hostages a few days before. Matthew, whose second-in-command had convinced him to return after all, exited the great hall, and stood amid the flurry of busy villagers who were determined to have everything ready for the evening's festivities. At the sight of him, Meryl hurried down. He arrived back in the valley the previous evening, after having dealt with the escaping warriors a few days before. He would be leaving soon and she wanted to spend some time with him, to thank him for all he had done. If he hadn't appeared that

day, searching for Scottish warriors, she might never have brought the villagers to this secluded valley. **** The summer grass created a cool thick carpet beneath her bare feet. Meryl twirled around, arms outstretched and laughed. Oh, how she wanted to dance. She couldn't wait to listen to the pipers later. Her twirls brought her into Matthew's arms, and she caught her breath, laughing. "Good morning, my lady. For propriety's sake he put a little distance between them. My lady is in high spirits this morning." "I am most certainly. It promises to be a marvelous day. Tables set up earlier at one end of the field were heavily laden with the results of busy kitchen cooks and bakers. She stopped at one of the tables and helped herself to a tart. There would be no more sad thoughts today. What was done was done. Nothing could change the past, but she could see to the future. She made a silent promise to do her best for the people who gave her their wholehearted trust and loyalty. The promise was one she knew she shouldn't try to keep alone. She felt the pendant warm against her skin. She had some serious decisions to make before nightfall. She popped the last bite of tart into her mouth and turned to face Matthew. "Lady Meryl!" Meryl grinned when a group of children surrounded her and the Englishman. She didn't think she would ever get used to the title. "Look what we have!" "What have you got there, Brenna? Meryl peeked into the woven basket the little girl carried. The container was filled with white daisies and purple heather. You've been quite busy, I see. Meryl brushed strands of chestnut hair away from Brenna's face. The child's blue eyes were bright with excitement. We're going to make some flower crowns for tonight. Gram said we need them and I'm the best flower crown maker around here. There was no mistaking the pride in her voice. "I'm sure you are, and it looks like you'll be busy for a while. Meryl turned away a moment then gave each child a tart. Here you go. The delight in their young faces made Meryl smile. She watched them enjoy their treats as they walked away. "You haven't said what all the celebrating is for, Matthew commented, as he too, watched the retreating children. "Didn't I? I'm sorry, it's Lammas. It's also the date when everyone insists I'll be getting my inheritance." "And what might that be?" "I have no idea, Matthew. All I know is that it's important to these people. I never knew my parents, have no idea who they were. So there's no reason to believe it would be very much. I just hope these good people won't be disappointed when it turns out to be nothing of consequence." Matthew took Meryl's hands in his, and rubbed his thumbs gently against them. For you, nothing can be thought of as no consequence'. You are a very important person here. He gazed into her silver eyes for a moment. If you would excuse me, my lady, I should speak with Malcolm for a few moments. I may not have the opportunity later." "By all means, Matthew. Don't let me keep you. Meryl's face turned a lovely shade of pink when the

Englishman kissed her hand. Matthew laughed softly at Meryl's reaction. Until later, my lady. He bowed to her, then glanced about as if looking for someone. He saw Tristan standing a distance away, watching them, an indiscernible look to his features. Matthew strode away in the opposite direction, a satisfied smile on his own face. **** Tristan stood at the far end of the tables watching Meryl with Matthew. They talked and laughed, and Matthew gently brushed stray strands of hair from Meryl's face. Tristan couldn't hear any of their conversation, but he didn't need to. It was obvious the Englishman was smitten with her. Tristan's own job of protecting Meryl was done and she'd wasted no time in turning to another. It was just as well he'd returned her pendant when he did. Matthew might be English, but it was obvious he was no longer the enemy. The man could give Meryl and the clan more than he couldif they accepted him as they seemed to have. Tristan thought it might be possible to join up with the Bruce. He'd be of more use there. It was quite obvious he was no longer needed here. The thought of leaving this peaceful valley left a hole in his being. Tristan set a stone wall around his heart and turned away. He'd wait until nightfall to leave, when the others would be too busy to notice his departure. Meryl thought of Tristan. She'd seen little of him after he'd rescued her from nearly being burned for witchcraft. She had no doubts about herself where he was concerned, and she had to figure out a way to make him understand. Time was growing short and he'd put distance between them after he gaver her the pendant half. There had to be a way to knock down the wall he'd erected, or at least put a few holes in it. If only she knew his thoughts, but they were as well hidden from her as his secrets had been. Ah, well, by tonight she would have her answers and her path would be made clear. "Once again your mind wanders, Lady." Meryl turned her gaze from the darkening clouds and looked at Maisri. "Yes, the woman nodded knowingly, You are as undecided about some things as he is." "What do I do, Maisri? So many things have changed, and there's so much responsibility. I don't know if I'm right for this job." "You've done well by us so far. Why question it now?" "So far? Meryl stared at the older woman in surprise. So far, Tristan has led you and helped you plan and prepare crops for the coming winter. I was off to unknown places and times. Tris should lead you, not me." "Ah. Maisri nodded her gray head in understanding. Feeling unsure of yourself, are you? Come with me girl, there are a few things must be explained to you before the evening celebrations. Maisri placed her hand under Meryl's arm and led the younger woman away from the keep. **** "Where are we going, Maisri? Meryl followed the older woman up along the steep path and out of sight of the keep. Maisri, there's still much to be done before the festivities get started." The older woman continued along the way, not saying a word. Meryl sighed and followed. Whatever her friend had in mind must be important for them to leave the last of the preparations. When Maisri reached the top of the path, she stepped aside to allow Meryl to go ahead. Meryl's breath caught. Why do you bring me here now?"

Maisri stared at the stone circle before them. The path opened out into a wide flat area, nestled against the side of the mountain. The stones shone white in the bright sunlight, the circle nearly perfect in shape. Wildflowers grew in abundance along the outer edges. "I've been here before ... and yet I haven't. Meryl glanced up. Maisri, I don't understand." "Look deeply into the circle, Meryl. What do you see there?" Meryl stared into the inner circle, mesmerized by the silence surrounding them. The bright morning sunlight dimmed. A passing cloud obscured the sun. Shards of bright colors shimmered and danced in the air like light reflecting on crystal. A figure emerged and turned to face her. The stranger was old. His white hair was thick, matted and cottony. Blue eyes shone in a face etched with deep lines. His aquiline nose did nothing to enhance his aged features. Thin lips twitched, perhaps at some amusing thought, but he refused to smile openly. A long beard reached to his chest, partially hiding his mouth. He stood tall, his stance belying his age. His arms lay folded across his chest, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his dark robe. He studied her, his expression stern. Meryl regarded him in silence. Who are you? She wanted to know and at the same time feared his answer. She sensed she knew him, at least thought she should. Meryl stepped closer to him and reached out. He stopped her. "I am not really here, he told her. I sleep in another place, awaiting the arrival of one who will wield my power; a woman who will retain the old ways." Meryl grew apprehensive. She sensed what he had to say would change her future. Would he tell her the real owner was about to return and she and her people would have to leave? "I know you from London. She finally recognized him. He looked different from the old man who had been her teacher for a short timedifferent, and yet, somehow the same. Maisri stepped closer, her head bowed in respect for the aged image. Greetings, Master Merlin." "You're Emrys. Meryl spoke at the same time. He nodded in acknowledgement of the greetings. Among other names, he admitted. Meryl spun on her heel and stared at Maisri when realization hit her. You know him? She struck her palm against her forehead, sarcasm coloring her response. Of course! How could I be so dumb?" "It's time some of your questions were answered. The old man continued, reluctant to begin his tale, and looked at Meryl. A long time ago, I made the grave mistake of betraying my lover and her power. I was torn between Christianity and the old ways. A certain woman convinced me it was long past time the old ways died. My lover, in her fury over my betrayal, tricked me into confinement and endless sleep. Nimue managed to gain almost all my power. She soon discovered the theft would keep her from using it. She cast her own spell, promising a girl with moonbeam eyes, would have the right to wield our combined power. Obviously, the spell was meant to be self fulfilling. Merlin looked pointedly at Meryl, making her laugh. "Last I looked, my eyes were silver, she remarked. Merlin went on to explain. Very soon, you will come into your full power. You have already sampled a

small taste of it. You will become the Legend, the most powerful sorceress ever known. Your magic will surpass even my ownand I have had no small reputation. The pendant you wear was, indeed, given to you by your mother. In there, is the combined magic of Nimue and myself." Meryl gasped. Why me? Why didn't you keep it for yourself?" "Nimue believed she could be the one to stand where you are about to go. It was never for her to be there. In a small way, she did it for herself." "If you're not really here, then how did you appear in London? I stayed in your home for a few days, while you played my tutor." Merlin chuckled. Illusion. You expected to see an old man of flesh and blood, so that is what you saw. This last year, you have been drawing on the power within you. Until I touched your pendant, it was useless to you as a talisman. Its power is still rather weak at the moment, but that will change shortly." "But Tristan... Meryl's confusion was evident. If this old man awakened power in her pendent, what had Tris done when he first touched it? He'd cast a warmth to the silver, that day on the beach. "The pendant recognized him as your chosen, but the final decision of your mate is yours to make. Merlin held up a hand to stop her questions. Her answers would be evident at the appropriate time. Be careful, Meryl; there is one other who knows the secret of the pendant and will stop at nothing to gain it." The old man's image wavered. When the people are ready to accept you, you will become their leader. These people need something to believe in. You will practice the old ways and one day, your magic will know no opposition. It will take many years, if ever, to use it wisely and become what they need. Your mate will be granted certain powers, though they will be limited." "Clan MacEmrys is prepared to serve her well, Maisri added, bowing her head in respect. Merlin's bushy white eyebrows shot up in question. Clan MacEmrys, is it? He chuckled. How had he missed that tidbit of information? I find I must thank you for what you did during your last journey. If you had not sent Leander and Flavia away, you and I would never be. The wizard's image appeared to study Meryl for a moment, then shimmered. As it slowly faded, one last bit of advice was offered. You bear my name, child. Use caution and learn wisdom. Power used unwisely is always destructive. He hesitated a moment. Be happy, daughter. Merlin was gone. Meryl turned to the older woman again, angry at what she perceived to be Maisri's betrayal. You knew who I was. You could have told me everything and saved us all a lot of grief." "I had to be sure of your identity before saying anything, Maisri explained in defense of her decision to remain silent. There was no way to change your future, Lady Meryl. What happened to you was meant to be. As the Master told you, there are still enemies to contend with. It was better they didn't know of your existence until you gained your inheritance." Meryl stared at the woman, frustrated. It's apparent someone does know, or all the troubles of the past year would not have happened. All those hints in front of me and I never caught on to any of them. I know I'm slow on the uptake sometimes, but this is ridiculous. I should have recognized and pieced together everything that was going on." "It's difficult to do when you don't know what you are looking at. There was no way you could have known. You had to learn about it slowly and not attract attention to yourself, Maisri explained. Meryl laughed at that observation. Everything, good and bad, pointed to her. She wished it hadn't. She'd

be happier to remain anonymous; it wasn't to be. The glittering colors shimmering in the center of the circle disappeared and the cloud moved on. Now you know your destiny, Meryl. Your father told you enough to set you on your path. The rest you must learn for yourself. Maisri's mood lightened and she took Meryl's arm. Come. We should return to the keep. As you said, there are still things to be done before the feast." **** The afternoon passed slowly. Meryl restlessly paced her chamber, while Dinks sat in the middle of her bed, quietly watching her. Seems we have changed places, my pet. You're always the one pacing about. My patience is lacking today. This is not a time to be impatient." Meryl stood before the open window and stared out toward the mountain. Her hands remained clasped behind her back. She glanced down and her gaze settled on a familiar looking chest pushed up against the wall. She recognized it as being the same one that was in Tristan's hut in the old village. How had it arrived here without her knowledge? She knelt before it and lightly grazed her hand across the worn lid. Each dent and scratch surely had its own story. Something within the chest called to her. From the first time she'd seen it, she believed it belonged to Tristan, but if that were the case, what was it doing here in her bedchamber? Ever since Tristan had returned the pendant, he'd removed his few belongings from their room and avoided her company. She realized now, he had only been the keeper of the chest. Meryl was reluctant to peek inside, but intuition told her it was time to discover what secrets lay within. She slowly raised the lid, afraid to see what new secrets might be hidden. She pushed back the lid until it leaned against the wall. Two silver armbands lay on top of sheets of carefully folded parchment. Each band had intricate Celtic designs etched into the metal, symbols representing the goddess. Meryl could contain her curiosity no longer. She withdrew the sheets and carefully unfolded them. A female voice she had frequently heard in her head spoke the words as if they had been memorized. Meryl followed the delicate handwriting. "My darling Meryl, If you are reading this, then the time has come for you to take your rightful place in the Highlands. So much time has passed, I don't know where to begin. I'm sure you have many questions and I shall try to answer them as best I can. Shortly after your birth, your father and I had no choice but to send you away. We sent you to the distant future to a family whom we hoped would be able to protect you with their innocence. They never knew who you were, or why they were chosen to care for you. Your were reared to know what power could do, despite the fact you had none. To keep you safe from our enemies, we had to be sure you could never cast a spell, thereby drawing attention to yourself. For, once you cast a spell, the power within you would continue to grow and our enemies would easily find and destroy you. We could not let that happen. So many years my arms ached to hold my daughter, to love and comfort her, but I could not. How I longed to be there with you, to help you through the difficult years of growing up. But it was not to be. All I could do was watch from a distance and hope you would one day understand and forgive the decision your father and I were forced to make. You have become a beautiful young woman in form and spirit, a daughter to be proud of. Shortly, you will step onto the road of your destiny. You must understand, what awaits you is not what humans have come to believe. In the passage of time, the tale of the Legend has become more than what it is meant to be. Sending you where we did, has given you the advantage of a few lessons. What is the future to the people you lead, is your past; you know it cannot be changed. Your purpose is to wield the power of the greatest magician ever known and keep the old ways alive. As your father has told you, you

hold the combined power of both your parents. The source will always remain with me for safekeeping, though you will be able to draw from it whenever necessary. Through my own folly, I cannot use the power myself; I can only hold it safe for you. You must always remain aware, for your enemies will be many. They will try to wrest away your inheritance by any means possible. In times of doubt, let Maisri's wisdom guide you. Be well, my precious daughter, and know we always have and always will be with you. Love your chosen mate as I love your father. May you always be blessed. Your loving mother, Nimue Meryl's eyes closed as the voice faded from her mind. Teardrops glistened on her dark lashes before sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto the parchment. She clutched the folded sheets to her and began to laugh with joy. How good it felt to know she hadn't been abandoned, after all, and she would never be alone. Meryl dashed the tears from her face when she heard a noise. She didn't want to explain anything just now. What she was feeling, she wanted to savor alone, at least for a little while. The bedchamber door opened and Maisri and Rose quietly entered. Maisri silently walked across the room, stepped beside her kneeling mistress and reached into the chest to remove the snow white garment. "I see you found the letter from your mother. Does she explain all to your satisfaction?" "She does, Maisri, and my heart is so much lighter with the understanding of why." "You know the secret of your past. I have waited patiently for your arrival, to complete your training. Now it's time to claim your rightful place. Rose will serve you, as I have served your parents." Rose stood silent, wide eyed at the pronouncement for her own future. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be chosen to serve the Legend. "Yes, it's time, isn't it. Time I faced my future. Meryl rose and approached the older woman, then hugged her. Thank you, Maisri, for all you have done to help get me here. I'll need your wisdom in the future, as well, to help guide me." "As to Rose... Meryl turned to the young girl, giving her a stern look. "Oh, Lady Meryl, Rose whispered as she dipped into a quick curtsey. I am so sorry for all the terrible things I did to you. I'm ashamed to admit I was jealous of Tristan's affection for you." "Had our places been reversed, I most likely would have felt the same, Meryl admitted, gently. Rose's apology pleased her. Her ability to put aside her pride allowed the way for a new trust and friendship to be forged. Perhaps we can begin again, Rose." "Oh yes! I'll do my best to please you in all things. Rose's dark eyes sparkled with happiness. "I know you will. What say we prepare for the evening's events. The sun will be setting soon and everyone is waiting impatiently."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Tristan dried himself off and dropped the cloth beside the basin of water. A cooling swim in the loch would have been welcome, but there were too many people around. The daylight had almost gone while he dressed in breeches and lawn shirt. Famhair lay on the floor beside Tristan's palette, his head resting on his paws. Only his eyes followed his master's movements about the small chamber. Tristan sat on a stool and stared a moment, up at the single window. Earlier, Dinks had been up to his usual mischief, for Tristan had found a dead mouse in one of his boots. He didn't know if he was disgusted with the action or amused. He checked his boots again before pulling them on, then sheathed his dirk in his belt. His thoughts wandered back to morning, when he saw Meryl and Matthew together. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, his time at Dun Ceathach was nearing its end. Female voices floated past his door, someone laughed, then they moved away and their voices faded. The time of choices and decisions had finally arrived. Tristan railed at himself for not speaking to Meryl earlier. As the Legend, she no long had need of him. She would fulfill her destiny and be powerful in her own right. When she was granted her inheritance, whatever it might be, he would step away. Tonight he intended to leave Dun Ceathach for good. He knew he couldn't be near Meryl and not want her. The time of denying his feelings was long past. He moved to the window and watched the procession of white robed women climb the steep path up the hillside in the near darkness. Beyond the path lay a sacred place known only to them. Three torches lit the way while a fourth woman carried a basket containing items necessary for their rituals. Tristan watched them until they disappeared around a bend in the path. They would be gone a while. At the foot of the path, a familiar black shape stretched out to wait. Tristan chuckled. Dinks didn't look very happy about being left behind. "I know how you feel, my friend. The cat turned its head and looked toward the keep, as if he had heard Tristan's words. The warrior and the cat had finally reached a truce. Clouds hung over the mountains, heavy with rain. Tristan watched lightning bolts light up the edge of the clouds, outlining them against the black sky. Heat lightning, he thought when no crackling followed. The full moon showed briefly while more clouds scurried past. A strong storm was brewing, promising to spoil the highlanders celebrations before the evening was over. If they were fortunate, it would blow itself out before reaching the valley. Two rows of torches lined the field. Their flames danced on the light wind coming up from the mountains. Sparks soared upward like so many fireflies, then disappear against the night sky. Tristan watched two warriors take their places at one end of the field not far from the tables. The men prepared to play a tune while several children scampered about them. In no time, the skirl of bagpipes filled the air and adults gathered to enjoy some dancing. They were happy tonight and had every reason to celebrate. Their first harvest proved to be a bountiful one, despite the loss of one of the fields. They believed the land to be a mystical place, filled with promises for the future. Meryl led them here and, except for Graeme's interference, everything had gone well for the villagers. Tristan often wondered, but still had no idea how she knew about this valley. Tristan suddenly realized how hungry he was and pushed away from the wall. Just as quickly, he forgot about his appetite when he caught sight of flickering torches descending the mountain path. The procession of white clad women moved slowly and carefully along the steep way. Tristan hurried down through the keep to wait their arrival. He had no idea what Meryl went through up

there and could only guess at what her actions might be once she joined the villagers. How would her experience in that secret place change her? If she had been accepted as the legend then she had no further need of his protection. He hurried down to the meadow just outside the keep wall, where the villagers gathered and spoke in low voices. Word passed quickly from one person to the next and they continued to glance toward the mountain path. The women were returning and something had happened up on the mountain. Maisri passed Tristan first and glanced briefly at the warrior, saying nothing. Meryl continued to look straight ahead and remained silent as well, as if he no longer existed. Tristan's heart dropped. It was true. She no longer needed him. He watched her take her place in the center of the field while the other women formed a semi circle behind her. She stood as regal as any queen. Tristan thought she looked beautiful tonight. No, ethereal was a better word to describe what he saw. Two narrow braids were tied back to hold her long hair in place. Purple heather intertwined with white daisies to form the flower crown. Her pendant was once again whole. Meryl's robe clung to her slim figure. Something about her had changed. He watched her gaze travel from one person to another, and still she said nothing. Her eyes were lighter, or was it the torchlight making them seem that way? The wind picked up and the air crackled with lightning. Rain began to fall steadily and one by one the torches quickly went out. Meryl stamped her foot like a child with a tantrum. "I told you not to rain on my parade, she called out petulantly. Tristan grinned briefly. Leave it to Meryl to break the tension, even if the villagers didn't always understand her. This was the last time he would see her put the people at ease. He couldn't stay here and not share his life with her. Meryl turned her face upward and raised her arms. The sleeves of the white robe fell back and a flash of lightning reflected off her silver armbands. Their Celtic design clearly belonged to the Lady. Her voice carried through the building storm. Storm away, stars appear; Night of magic, Moon shine clear. Clouds begone! Let all be right To celebrate this Lammas night. The wind settled down and the rain slowed to a drizzle, then stopped. One last defiant clap of thunder echoed across the valley, then the night stilled. Dark clouds fled the sky. The full moon shone just above the horizon and made the perfect backdrop for the new Legend. Meryl slowly opened her eyes and shocked whispers ran through the small crowd. Meryl's eyes became the color of the moon. She was, indeed, the one they were waiting for. Matthew stepped forward, and stood before the women in white. He nodded to Maisri, then bowed to Meryl. No one can dispute that you are, indeed, the Legend. I only wish we could have worked together to bring a truce between our two countries." Meryl's smile was unusually shy and her eyes shone with an eerie glow. This will take a bit of getting used to, she remarked. As to the other matter, one day we may indeed see peace between us." "It's time I take my leave of you and your clan. Thank you for your generous hospitality, Lady Meryl. If I may, I would like to return, when I can visit for a while and get to know you all better. He glanced about

at the white robed women surrounding Meryl until his eyes rested briefly on Rose. He chuckled when she returned his gaze with a disdainful look of her own. "You are welcome here, Matthew, as long as you come alone. We prefer our whereabouts to be kept quiet." Matthew made another courtly bow, accepting Meryl's conditions. The change in her eyes still surprised him, and for a brief moment, he wondered what sort of trickery was involved. He shook his head with wonder. Until we meet again, my lady. May you and your people find peace and contentment here. Matthew turned and walked away, to where Malcolm held his horse. He mounted up, then nodded to Meryl and rode out of the valley. With Matthew's departure, Meryl knew the time had come for her to announce an important decision. She glanced about for Tristan, saw his half smile and watched him walk away from the villagers. Where was he going? He couldn't leave now, not when he was needed more than ever. Think fast, girl, or you might lose him forever, the voice in her head advised. At that moment, Meryl realized the voices she'd heard on occasion had been those of her parents watching over her. She didn't have time to consider that now when the only man she loved walked away, perhaps forever. Raising her voice, Meryl quickly spoke up, hoping to stop Tristan. Tonight, the Legend has become a reality. Tristan continued to move away, around groups of people. He took his time, as if he were reluctant to go. Meryl felt panic rise within her. She couldn't, she wouldn't let him go. Tonight, I choose my life's mate. The words fell from her lips in a rush and she felt relief when he stopped to turn and glance at her. Tonight, her voice softened and she held out her hands, slowing down her speech now that she had his attention. I choose you, Tristan, to be my life's mate." The villagers parted, creating a clear path between Tristan and Meryl. They stared at him, wondering if he would change his mind about leaving. They all knew that was his intention. Tristan stopped, then pivoted on his heel and approached her slowly. When he was close enough, he took her small hands into his. "You are an important part of this community. We need you. She drew him closer to her and pressed his hands against her stomach. We ... need you, she repeated softly for him alone, her meaning clearly different this time. Tristan's eyes widened at the implication of her words. Could it be? He saw the love in her moonbeam eyes and understood why he came back in time. You are my chosen, Meryl, the one I would have as my life's mate." Rose scowled, but her expression vanished when Maisri rudely jabbed her elbow into the girl's ribs. "That one was never meant for you. Your turn will come soon enough, the older woman assured her. Maisri laughed softly, as if she knew an amusing secret. Rose sighed. It had been a pleasant dream while it lasted. She looked away from Meryl and Tristan and saw David staring at her. She smiled and he blushed crimson, embarrassed to be caught. Tristan was already forgotten. Meryl let go of Tristan's hands and unfastened one of the chains on the pendant, then released the hidden catches holding the two halves together. The half with the turquoise stone rested in the palm of her hand. She stared at the half pendant, finding the right words to explain her most recent experience. At the moment, she lacked the courage to look up at him. Earlier today I learned about my parents and my

inheritance. You were partly right. My inheritance is meant to help these people, but not in the way you thought. There is nothing tangible I can offer them. I am the keeper of my father's power, to be used only when in dire need. I hope it never comes to that. The Legend's lifemate has the duty of being a safeguard to that power, even though he can't use it himself. She lowered her voice for a moment. How we are able to help the Scots remains to be seen. You and I both know history cannot be changed." Meryl held the chain, allowing the half pendant to dangle between them. This stone brought you to me and saved my life. Now I give it to you as protection, with the Lady's blessing. She reached up and nimbly fastened the chain around his neck, then stepped away and slowly slid her hands across his shoulders and down his arms until their hands were clasped once more. Her touch spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her voice rose, clear on the warm night. "I Meryl, take you Tristan, to my hand at the setting of the sun, the rising of the stars. Before our lady and all our people, I choose you, the joy of my soul. May we walk together in the sunshine of the days to come and find in each other happiness, fulfillment and the meaning of life. As we come together this night and are one, may the force of our love be joined by one still greater, the touch of our lady, the spirit and protector of love. So be it." "I Tristan, take you Meryl, to my hand at the setting of the sun, the rising of the stars. Before our lady and all our people, I choose you, the joy of my soul. May we walk together in the sunshine of the days to come and find in each other happiness, fulfillment and the meaning of life. As we come together this night and are one, may the force of our love be joined by one still greater, the touch of our lady, the spirit and protector of love. So be it." The villagers cheered, secure in the knowledge they would never be forced to leave the valley. Clan Emrys was secure in their new home. When the cheers and applause died down, the pipers began playing and couples wandered off to watch the dancing or just enjoy each other. Brenna proudly stood before them, and smiled, sure of herself. People said you couldn't be a witch, that you didn't know how to act like one. But I think you are one now." Meryl stooped down to Brenna's level and studied the child's brown eyes for a moment. She rubbed her hands on Brenna's arms in assurance. Brenna, when you first asked me that question, I told you that where I came from I was called a witch. I've done a lot of thinking since then." "Like what?" "Like ... just because you grow up with a family of witches doesn't mean you are one. In the last few months, I've done what my people call time travel. Your people would call it witchery. It's all in how you look at it. Meryl stretched a bit closer and added in a conspiratorial tone, Personally, I'd rather be known as a time traveler. It's a lot more fun." Quickly changing the subject, she glanced down at the tray Brenna carried. What have we here? Meryl glanced about and for the first time, noticed how the people surrounding her, Tristan and Brenna, stared at their leader, with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction in their eyes. Brenna held the tray a little higher, offering traditional wine and cake, which the happy couple shared. When they were finished, Brenna returned to her grandmother and Meryl took a step out of the circle. Tristan easily caught her arm. Leaving me already? he laughed and kissed her soundly. Meryl turned to him, then wrapping her arms about his neck, returned his kiss, but this time, filled with promises. The best is yet to come, she whispered. His green eyes darkened with anticipation.

Two children hurried toward the couple, carrying a basket between them. Lady Meryl, Peter called out, puffing. You must see what we've found. They held up the basket for her inspection. "They're only kittens, young Jamie scoffed. What's so special about kittens?" "Look at them, Peter insisted. They aren't ordinary kittens." Meryl peeked into the basket and found seven little balls of fur, curled up together, sound asleep. It was the eighth one, which caught her attention. Lifting it carefully, nothing could be seen but the tip of a tail. Meryl laughed. "I believe we know who is responsible for this little family." Dinks looked up at her, with what passed for a feline grin. Famhair stuck his nose in the basket, gave the contents a sniff, then walked away to join his own new family. Gently placing the unusual kitten with its siblings, Meryl advised the children, Take the kittens back to their mother so she doesn't worry about them. She watched Peter and young Angus take the babies back to where they had been found. Jamie shook his head and wandered off. Tristan smiled, then turned his attention to his bride. We can't change history, Meryl, you know that. He became serious for a moment. Do you regret not going home?" "Who says we can't go home? You, my love, have some explaining to do to our daughter's future grandparents. Her moonbeam eyes twinkled with mischief, knowing what he was in for. Meryl paused, then addressed their more important concern. I know we can't change things, Tris, but at least we can make life a little better for one corner of Scotland. Who knows what the Legend of the Highland Eyes can accomplish. As for regrets, I have none. My place is with you, no matter where we travel in time. We have our own future to look forward to."

EPILOGUE Look at them, united in marriage at last. All the villagers are pleased with this union. The goddess has given her blessing. The opportunity to destroy the legend is lost to me. Those fools bungled every effort and now it is too late. If they weren't already dead, I would happily do the deed myself. Meryl has been granted the power of the old ways and she now enjoys the protection of the goddess. I cannot go up against one who is so powerful. It makes me sick to see the joy and happiness she shares with her new husband. I have no choice but to accept defeatbut I can wait. For now, I will smile and congratulate the happy couple and I will secretly make my plans. I will gain that which is rightfully mine. There is an abundance of time to wait for another. One day there will be a successor to the Legend who will not wield as much power. She will believe only in herself and not in the old ways. Her pride will be her undoing. For I, Morgaine Le Fey, will not be defeated again. Finis

OTHER ROMANCES FROM PAGETURNER EBOOKS To Every Love, There is a Season: A historical romance of the Scottish border in the reign of King John Merissa St. James (Rose Award nominee) The Island of Desire: The Classic 1920s RomanceBeatrice Ravenel Rainy-Day LoverBob Liter To Have and to HoldMary Johnstone (the first ever #1 Romance Bestseller) The Mark of Zorro: The Original ClassicJohnston McCulley The Leading ManKelly Scott The Scarlet PimpernelBaroness Orczy The Scarlet Pimpernel: I Will Repay!"Baroness Orczy ARDATH MAYHAR'S MYSTERIES (Mark Twain Award author) Well Knit in Scarlatt The Clarrington Heritage (soon) More titles in preparation THE LEGENDARY WOMEN DETECTIVES The Legendary Women Detectives: classic tales of the world's greatest female supersleuths-edited by Jean Marie Stine The Problems of Violet Strange-Anna Katherine Green Madame Storey, Private Investigator-Hulbert Footner The Experiences of Loveday Brooke-Catherine Louisa Prikis The Amy Brewster #1. A Knife in My Back-Sam Merwin Jr. Amy Brewster #2. A Matter of Policy-Sam Merwin Jr. Amy Brewster #3. Message to a Corpse-Sam Merwin Jr. Lady Molly of Scotland Yard-Baroness Orczy Constance Dunlap: The Classic Exploits of a 1900s Woman DetectiveArthur B. Reeve Fox Red: The 1930s Adventures of Grace Culver, Private InvestigatorRoswell Brown The Investigations of Clara LinzE. Phillips Oppenheim The First Mary Roberts Reinhart Ominbus: The Bat; The Breaking Point; Where There's a Will-M. R. Reinhart ARDATH MAYHAR'S MYSTERIES

Well Knit in Scarlatt The Clarrington Heritage (soon) More titles in preparation THE AMY BREWSTER MYSTERIES The Amy Brewster #1. A Knife in My Back-Sam Merwin Jr. Amy Brewster #2. A Matter of Policy-Sam Merwin Jr. Amy Brewster #3. Message to a Corpse-Sam Merwin Jr. THE LEGENDARY WOMEN DETECTIVES The Legendary Women Detectives: classic tales of the world's greatest female supersleuths-edited by Jean Marie Stine The Problems of Violet Strange-Anna Katherine Green Madame Storey, Private Investigator-Hulbert Footner The Experiences of Loveday Brooke-Catherine Louisa Prikis Lady Molly of Scotland Yard-Baroness Orczy Constance Dunlap: The Classic Exploits of a 1900s Woman DetectiveArthur B. Reeve Fox Red: The 1930s Adventures of Grace Culver, Private InvestigatorRoswell Brown The Investigations of Clara LinzE. Phillips Oppenheim The First Mary Roberts Reinhart Ominbus: The Bat; The Breaking Point; Where There's a Will-M. R. Reinhart Visit us at renebooks.com

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