The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes

by Marissa St. James

  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 help—if 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 t
he 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 you—or 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 him—if 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 v
oice 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."