“Come back to bed, honey,” he said.
“I’m too excited. I can’t wait to go home. I miss the girls, and I can’t wait to see Adelina. I hope she’s been taking care of things. There’s so much to do. The girls belong to you now, so once we’re married, I can be their real mother and—”
Her dancing came to a halt, and she turned to him, a serious expression on her pretty face. She studied him for a moment and pursed her lips.
“You are planning to marry me, aren’t you?”
He opened his arms, and she went to him.
“How else am I going to keep you? Can’t have you running through time with strange men.”
That impatient look settled into her eyes, and her foot beat a dangerous rhythm against the bed.
“Yes, Arleigh, I’m going to marry you.”
She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheeks, his neck, his forehead, and finally his lips.
“We are to be married! I can’t wait to be Arleigh Kendall. Do you think we’ll have children?”
“I can pretty much guarantee a boy. It’s tradition. But don’t get your hopes up. He won’t be the bright one of the family.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I hope he’s like you.”
A sound across the room caused Arleigh to freeze. Ryder reached down and grabbed his hose from the floor and pulled them on quickly. He tried to remember where he had dropped that sword. He hoped it was one of the sisters, checking up on their makeup session, but he knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. Someone recently had told him fate couldn’t be changed, and he thought she might be a pretty good authority. A voice spoke from the shadows where the morning rays of the sun did not reach.
“You two make me sick,” the voice said. “You’re no better than animals.”
Ryder moved around the room, feeling with his foot for his weapon. “Thought I made it pretty clear you should stay home.”
“Tried to,” Flynn said. “Would have been here sooner, but I had to take care of the bitch who called herself my wife. I sent her back to hell where she belonged. Killing her brats wasn’t enough to keep what should have been mine. She would never let me have it. So mighty, so proud, so righteous. Such a bitch. She did this to me, you know.”
“Cullen didn’t deserve to die,” Ryder said.
“She deserved that, and more, for what she’s done to me,” Flynn said. “Look at me! This is not who I am. I’m not some lovesick puppy sniffing behind a woman, waiting for favors. I take what I want. I use what I want. But here I am, sniffing just the same. And it must be Cullen’s fault, because I am different now. Look at me.”
The tip of Ryder’s bare foot touched a cold metal object. He reached down and grabbed the hilt of the sword. Flynn moved across the room in the darkness and finally came into the light. His eyes were wild, searching the room for Arleigh.
“Where is she?”
“She’s mine,” Ryder said.
“So we fight for her?” Flynn asked. “I’ve been in better shape, believe me. I’m hot, tired, and a little cranky. But if it takes a fight.”
A flash of silver split the air in front of him and Ryder jumped back. He would have to learn this fast. The sword slashed in front of him again, and instinctively, Ryder raised his arm as though blocking a punch. Flynn’s sword bounced off, and Ryder swung his arm down and back up, aiming toward Flynn’s side. Flynn seemed in rough shape but pretty quick on his feet for a half-dead man. He managed to avoid the blow by darting back, and Ryder took the small moment to call out.
“Arleigh, get out of here! Find the sisters!”
A flash of white flew through the corner of his eye. Ryder dodged toward Flynn when he made a grab for her. Without thought, he spun around and did a back kick, catching Flynn in the stomach and throwing him across the room. Flynn sprawled against the stone hearth, surprise spread across his face. He scrambled to his feet and ran toward Ryder, his sword raised.
Ryder blocked three rapid blows toward his head, backing up as Flynn moved toward him.
“You will die,” Flynn growled.
“Not today,” Ryder said.
He found if he thought of the sword as part of his hand, he could manage it fairly well. It was heavy, but the sword followed his arm and did what he wanted it to do. Several times he kicked out, and his foot rammed into Flynn’s body. The look of shock on Flynn’s face was priceless. Ryder would have laughed if he weren’t so busy fighting for his life. He didn’t know what would happen if he lost this fight, but he decided he would take Flynn with him.
Flynn’s anger escalated with each swipe of the sword that missed his target. Ryder saw a moment’s hesitation and took full advantage of it. He delivered a solid roundhouse to the side of Flynn’s head. Flynn rocked on his feet, his face steaming with sweat, and charged him again. Ryder ducked down, and his leg swung in a circle, catching Flynn across the legs and knocking him to the floor. Flynn’s head smacked against the stone, and Ryder placed the point of the sword against his throat. He stared at him for a minute, running the tip of the sword across his neck in small circles.
“So is this what you had in mind?” Ryder asked.
“Not exactly,” Flynn said. “For some reason, I didn’t think you’d last this long. I must be more tired than I thought.”
Ryder dug the tip of the sword into Flynn’s throat, and a spot a blood trickled down his neck.
“I’m not a killer,” Ryder said.
“Then why I am bleeding?” Flynn asked.
“Because I’m the one on top,” Ryder said.
“Indeed. Why don’t you push a little harder? I don’t think I care to talk any longer.”
“Because I’m not a killer,” Ryder repeated. “It’s not the way I want to be written about in the history books. Will you give this up? Go back to Cardew?”
Flynn nodded. Ryder pulled back the sword and took a step backward. Flynn started to sit up then suddenly raised his sword and plunged it into Ryder’s chest, slicing through the flesh in a wide arc. Pain flared through Ryder’s chest, and he gasped.
“You Caindales are such a trusting lot,” Flynn said. “How on earth did you get that way? It’s really not the way to insure a dynasty. You’re too easy to kill.”
Ryder shoved his hand against his wound, and his palm came away smeared with blood. He dropped his sword and swung a fist toward Flynn’s face, but the momentum spiraled into vertigo, and he fell to the floor.
“Near your heart, I think,” Flynn said. “I have fairly good aim. Don’t worry. The pain won’t last long.”
Flynn rose to his feet as a scream echoed through the room. Through his hazy vision, Ryder watched a figure hurl itself toward Flynn. It was Fallon, her dark hair flying behind her. She plunged a dagger into Flynn’s back, burying it to the hilt. Flynn’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. A grimace of pain flared across his face. He dropped to his knees, and Fallon pushed him onto the stone floor.
Ryder could not draw a breath. Blood poured from the wound in his chest. His eyes searched the room and finally found Arleigh. She dropped to her knees beside him. The sisters ran from the room.
“It hurts,” he whispered.
She pressed her hand down on the hole in his chest. “Don’t talk.”
The sheet wrapped around her body smeared with blood. Did he have that much blood to lose? Jesus, he hoped these women would think to call 911. Did they even have a phone?
“Stay with me, Ryder. Don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” he whispered, and then he closed his eyes.
Chapter 39
Cameron Flynn staggered through the courtyard. He couldn’t remember if he had tethered his horse, but the animal had vanished, and he had to get away. Those witches would hunt him down once they realized their precious Ryder had died.
The problem was he really couldn’t go home to Cardew either. His wife’s body lay in a pool of blood in the stone courtyard. He might be a powerful man, but Cul
len Flynn’s father was a more powerful one still. There would be hell to pay for that little error of his judgment. He could not believe he had put up with her for twelve years only to toss her from the battlements in a fit of passion. He would have to work on controlling his emotions. They were starting to play serious havoc with his life.
Blood poured down his back. He had no idea how deep the witch had planted the dagger, but it had ripped through his lung. He struggled to breathe. The pain seemed enormous, a constant sharp thrust through his chest. Even worse than last time, if possible.
Flynn laughed, and a glut of blood tore from his mouth. Fallon Caindale. Beautiful, smart, and deadly. He knew now why he had rethought his desire to fuck Fallon. She was a murderous bitch.
“Have to get even with her,” he murmured. “Can’t kill me and get away with it.”
He wiped his hand across his lips, gagging at the taste. He glanced back toward the estate and found, though he felt he had been walking for hours, the sunlight had barely peeked above the horizon, and he could practically reach out and touch the castle. “Going to be a long day,” he said to no one.
For the first time in a long while, his mind seemed reasonably clear. Arleigh Donovan seemed to be out of his head. He could not really remember why he had followed her in the first place. Sure, she was beautiful, but beautiful women lived all over the county. And why had he been so determined to kill Kendall? He was a royal pain in the ass, but Flynn had actually liked him a little bit. Not too much, of course, but enough.
“Wife’s dead. I’m bleeding to death again. I’ve lost two homes. All for a woman? What an ass I am.”
He kept walking, staggering across the grass, climbing over stone walls and across rocky terrain. He paused at a small stream to get a drink of water and stared, appalled at the stranger that looked back at him. Dirty hair surrounding a dirty face. A scraggly beard he hadn’t trimmed in weeks. A pale, gaunt face and hollow eyes. Who the hell was that man? It could not be him. He would have no part of that man.
Nothing else to do but walk. Should he sit down and wait for the witches? Or worse yet, wait for Malcolm Cargill to ride across the Irish hills to avenge his daughter and finish the job of killing him? The sun beat down on his dark head, and the sweat dripped into his eyes. So hot. He coughed and spit and fell to the ground. The sudden movement terrified some insects that flew randomly into the sky, bumping into one another and sweeping off.
He heard the slight stirring in the grass, the sound of crying. He glanced around but could see nothing. Was that bloody banshee following him again? That’s all he needed. He staggered to his feet and lurched across the grass. His legs numbed. His feet and hands felt like ice.
He would not make it to the village, and even if he did, there would be no help for him there, at least not once they had heard of Cullen’s death. His head would have a price, and there would be no haven for him in Ireland.
He came upon a large boulder jutting from the land as though it had been placed there for him. The wind sang a soft sound that sounded like the sobs of a woman. He sat down on the boulder, closed his eyes, and waited.
It took only a moment, and he heard the snapping sound of a cloak in the wind, and a wail split the silence. She had come for him. He waited to hear what the banshee had to say.
* * * *
Ryder glanced uneasily around the chamber. If he thought he had seen glimpses into witchcraft in the last few weeks, he had been seriously mistaken. The circular chamber that rose into the castle’s turret had a stone altar that faced toward the east window. As the sun rose, it cast its light on a single candle that sputtered and flamed when the rays of the sun passed over the wick. He gasped when he saw it, but the women in the room paid him no attention. They were talking in whispers around him.
Flowers littered the altar, and herbs and the scents in the room intoxicated him, all blending into one aroma that took his breath away. Not that he complained. He was glad to be alive and smelling anything at all. He had given up all hopes of getting out of this with his lungs intact. After all, he had a viable future as a tobacco farmer. He didn’t know how he would deal with the morals of that issue, but he didn’t think he would be able to fight a whole society, at least not in 1639. Maybe with enough thought, he could come up with something. He’d ask Hannah for some advice. He had also given thought to Stephen’s brew. Did the colony have a distillery? He might look into that.
A slight twinge twitched in his chest, and he rubbed his hand across the scar. Fallon said it would probably hurt from time to time, but he shouldn’t worry because his heart was strong. She had pieced him together pretty well for a dead man.
They were huddled around a cauldron, an actual freaking cauldron like in MacBeth. Here were the Weird Sisters incarnate. They were bent over, stirring something within with a large wooden spoon, their dark hair covered by the hoods of their cloaks.
“Double, double, toil and trouble,” he said.
Caitlyn glanced at him, peeking at him from beneath that fringe of hair he found so charming. “What didst thou say?”
“Wondered if you remembered I was here.”
“Indeed,” Fallon said, “thou art most hard to ignore. Thou art very present.”
“Speaking of present,” Ryder said, “when do we get this little show started? And what the hell are you brewing in there? I don’t have to eat it, do I?”
“Nay,” Fallon said. “Thou wouldst be sick, and I—”
“I know,” Ryder said, “you’d puke.”
Fallon raised an eyebrow. “Canst thou read my mind now?”
“How’s it feel to have your privacy invaded?” Ryder asked.
“Slightly disturbing,” Fallon said. “As much as I like thee, Ryder, I will be most glad when Remy is awake and thou art safely elsewhere. Remy is much less challenging.”
“Give him time,” Ryder said. “He’ll come around. He’s just a kid.”
Honora stepped away from the cauldron and went to a large wooden box tucked under the altar. She removed several items and distributed them to her sisters. A shard of flint, a chunk of obsidian, a sprig of lavender.
Ryder stuffed his hand into the pocket of his Levi’s and felt to be sure he still had his Keats. He felt the leather and fingered the edge of the small sheath of parchment tucked within. Talismans, check. Now all I need is my girl.
He glanced up as the shadow fell across the floor. She looked beautiful. She wore that pretty violet dress Cullen had given her. Her hair flowed down her back, held in place by the small circlet of gold. She was fairy princess material. He took Arleigh’s hand and stood in front of the altar. The sisters stood behind it, waiting for them. He hoped his wedding would be this nice.
“I guess I won’t ask how this is going to work,” Ryder said. “And I won’t laugh.”
“I should hope not,” Fallon said. “’Tis serious work we do here.”
Ryder nodded and put on his best serious face. Arleigh squeezed his hand.
“I’ve enjoyed meeting you, ladies,” Ryder said. “Thanks for saving my life and all. I guess I’ll be seeing you lots of times over the next eight hundred years or so. Considering my limited brain capacity, I’m probably not going to remember, am I?”
“Nay,” Honora said, “thou wilt not. ’Tis intended to be thus. Thou art the Keeper.”
“’Tis enough that we remember thee, Brother,” Caitlyn said, blowing him a kiss. “Fare thee well.”
Fallon, all business as usual, passed her hand through the flame of the candle on the altar.
“I am Fallon, the First Sister. Guardians of the Fire, spirits of courage, spirits of renewal. I bring a gift, a token of my pledge to thee. ’Tis flint, carried across time, from my hand to my hand. What hath left my hand again and again, hast come from the beyond now and across the bridge of time. Let it return to its place. Carry with it the man and woman chosen by others to be their champions and guardians. Blessed be the Fire.”
Honora traced her finger
across a pentagram that had been formed using the branches of a willow tree.
“I am Honora, the Second Sister. Guardians of the Earth, spirits of nourishment, spirits of rebirth. I bring a gift, a token of my pledge to thee. ’Tis obsidian, carried across time, from my hand to my hand. What hath left my hand again and again, hast come from the beyond now and across the bridge of time. Let it return to its place. Carry with it the man and woman chosen by others to be their champions and guardians. Blessed be the Earth.”
Caitlyn picked up the candle and set fire to a small sprig of lavender in a bowl. She ran her hand through the smoke and spread it into the corners of the chamber.
“I am Caitlyn, the Third Sister. Guardians of the Air, spirits of intellect, spirits of inspiration. I bring a gift, a token of my pledge to thee. ’Tis lavender, carried across time, from my hand to my hand. What hath left my hand again and again, hast come from the beyond now and across the bridge of time. Let it return to its place. Carry with it the man and woman chosen by others to be their champions and guardians. Blessed be the Air.”
Fallon picked up a cup from the altar. The three women began to recite together. Ryder tugged against his collar, and Arleigh pressed against him. Her breath came in tiny pants. He put his arm around her, focusing on the words of the first Trinity.
“Guardians of the Water, spirits of emotions, spirits of dream. We bring a gift, a token of our pledge to thee. ’Tis our lifeforce, carried across time, from our hands to our hands. What hath left us again and again, hast come from the beyond now and across the bridge of time. Let it return to its place. Carry with it the man and woman chosen by others to be their champions and guardians. Blessed be the Water.”
Fallon took a sip from the cup and passed it to Honora. When Honora finished, she passed it to Caitlyn. Fallon motioned Ryder and Arleigh to come forward. She handed the cup to Arleigh first. She took a large sip, and her eyes widened. She handed the cup to Ryder.
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 40