Powerful Magic (22 page)

          
Out of his league?
 
Nay, he was out of his mind.
 
The land, he told himself savagely, he must think of the land.
 
His deepest desire, odd how he found it increasingly more difficult to remember when around her.
 
The sooner he helped her find her Roger, the better off they all would be.

CHAPTER EIGHT

          
It had been, Megan flopped on the bed, sighing loudly, one of the most beautiful evenings of her life.
 
Until the very end, when Kenric had unpredictably ruined it.

          
What had
that
been all about?
 
Kenric seemed to believe she and Roger were some sort of Lords and Ladies, for God's sake.
 
She nearly giggled out loud, imagining some pompous footman announcing her as
Her Grace, the Lady Duchess Megan of Dallas, Texas
.
 

          
Whatever.

          
Though it would be better to correct his misconception, to tell him that she was American after all, and Americans didn't have such things as titles, she knew she couldn't.
 
America didn't even exist at this point in time. If he knew she was from another place and time, he would know the land she promised him was worthless.
 
At least to him.
 

          
And she need Kenric to protect her, to somehow help her get home, especially since his sister seemed disinclined to use her magical powers to assist in the effort unless Megan betrayed Kenric.
 

          
Which she would never do.

          
Rhiannon had said Kenric had magical powers of his own.
 
But how could she get him to help her, especially once he learned she'd lied about gifting him with land.

          
What a mess.
 
Closing her eyes, Megan allowed herself to remember the seductive chords of the musical, the sensual lure of Kenric as he swayed with her in his arms.
 
Kenric made her feel things she'd never expected to feel, feelings she didn't know existed outside of the world of Hollywood movies and romance novels.
 

          
If Rhiannon was to be believed...
 
no.
 
She'd let herself believe in happily ever after with Roger, and look where that had gotten her.
 

    
Somehow, things would work out.
 
Kenric would get his land - oh yes, she would figure out a way to do it, no matter what it took.
 
Her ring ought to be worth something - maybe Kenric could sell it and use the money to buy some land.

          
Of course that meant she would have to return home, and Roger would know that the lightening strike hadn't killed her after all.
 
If she could ask for one thing, one thing separate from the incredible boon of returning her to her own time and place, it would be help with breaking things off with Roger - and help staying alive.

          
The thought terrified her.

          
No, for now she would stay with Kenric, in his time, a bit longer.
 
And if her heart beat faster when he was around, well, she simply would let herself enjoy it.

          
Megan drifted off to sleep, thoughts of a handsome warrior keeping her pleasantly warm.

          
The morning dawned with cheerful brightness.
 

          
Megan smiled, snuggling under her covers, and stretched.
 
           
The sun poured in, a river of golden warmth.
  
All in all, a great way to start a day.
 
She wanted to explore this beautiful place, meet some more people er, faeries, and...
 
Then she remembered Kenric's dictate.
 
Today they would return to the bitterly cold real world.
 
She would not be able to remain here another day, unless she could convince him otherwise.

          
Which, she decided with a grimace, she would have to figure out a way to do.

          
After she'd dressed - in another lovely, archaic gown that she'd found hanging over the back of a chair - Megan made her way downstairs.
  
What time it was she had no idea.
 
Her watch had not survived the lightening strike.
 
Without a watch she felt curiously bereft, a fact she had not realized until just that moment.

          
She wandered the empty hall, searching for Rhiannon.
 
Not finding her, she supposed she ought to go meet Kenric.

          
But her stomach told her it was breakfast time, not matter what the hour.
 
She followed the same path to the dining room as the night before.
 
There she found an array of vibrant, bright colored fruits, puffy, steaming rolls, and juices.
 
Other than the food, which looked as if it had come straight from the glossy page of a restaurant advertisement, the room was deserted.

          
After heaping her plate (something about this place made her ravenous), Megan took a seat at one of the long banquet tables.
 
She had barely taken a bite of a roll when a loud, clanking sound made her look up.
 

          
Kenric appeared, wearing his chain mail, newly polished, and a fierce, furious expression.
 
Legs planted apart in a battle stance, he said nothing.
 
Instead, he merely glared at her.
     
She hid her smile.

          
"Would you like a roll?"
 
Megan held one up, wondering what had put him in such a foul mood.
 
Surely it could not be something she had done; after all, she'd only just risen from her bed.

          
"No."
 
Though perfectly modulated, the icy coldness of his voice told her he would have his say.
 
"I would not like a roll.
 
What I would like is your explanation, lady."

          
"Explanation?"
 
Taking a delicate bite, Megan savored the taste of the sweetbread before swallowing.
 
"For what?"

          
"Did I not tell you we would leave this morn?"

          
She nodded.

          
"At first light?"

          
"Yes."

          
"So you did hear me say it?"

          
"Yes."
 
Megan finished off her roll and started on a ripe apple.
 
She had no idea where he was going with this, but she felt quite certain she would not like it.

          
"Then where were you?"
 
These last four words he shouted, his voice rising until it seemed to echo off the crystal walls. "I have been waiting for you for nigh unto an hour."

          
She said the first thing that came to mind. "I was trying to find your sister."
 

          
"My sister will be found if she wishes to be found.
 
Most likely she is furious that we dare to decline her hospitality one more day.”
 
His gaze, cold and hard, raked over her. "That does not explain why you did not meet me where I asked you to and why I find you here, enjoying a leisurely meal."

          
"I thought we should eat first."
 
Actually, she'd wanted to forget all about leaving.
 
She didn't want to leave.
 
"And anyway, how can I be late?
 
It's barely sunrise."

          
"I broke my fast well over an hour ago."
 
He narrowed his silver eyes.
 
"Long before the sun rose."

          
So he was an early riser.
 
How was she to know?
 

          
"I'm sorry."
 
She began.
 
"But--"

          
Kenric held up a hand.
 
Apparently he was not finished.
 
"Tis it not customary to depart from the bailey?"

          
Since she had only the faintest idea what a bailey might be, Megan simply shrugged.
 
"I don't know.
 
Is it?"

          
Kenric moved closer, until he loomed quite threateningly over her.
 
He was huge and fierce and devastatingly handsome.
 
If she hadn't slept in his arms, she guessed she'd be frightened.
 
But no, Megan
knew
somehow that he was different than Roger.
 
Kenric would never hurt her or any woman.
 
He needed a bit of placating, that was all.

          
"You didn't specify a time."
 
Never taking her eyes off his, she laid a gentle hand on his arm and made her voice soothing.
 
"And I have no watch.
 
You should have sent for me or something.
 
I don't even know where the bailey is, " she confessed, in what was nearly a whisper.

          
His eyes darkened, until they were the color of slate.
 
Before she could move, before she could react, he reached out and hauled her up against him.
 
She gasped, then his mouth claimed hers.
 

          
The kiss was raw, hard, and furious and spoke of his frustration.
 
No doubt he meant it simply to punish her, but instead she thrilled to it.
 
She found herself kissing him

back with a kind of mindless, desperate need, her hands winding around his neck, keeping him close to her.

          
Kenric
.

          
As her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her desire nearly out of control, he pulled back.
 
His breathing as ragged as her own, he let her catch her breath before taking her mouth again. But this time the touch of his lips changed.
 

 
         
He gentled the kiss, slowed it, until she thought her legs would no longer support her.
 
He possessed her and stroked her, all with his mouth.
 
He made her want him with a mindless sort of passion; it consumed her so that she forget where she was, even who she was.
 

          
When he pulled away again, she sagged against him, stunned.