"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 ca
vern. 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 him—until 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 broken—not 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.
The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes Page 5