The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes

by Marissa St. James

  "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 color—unless 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 inheritance—whatever 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 her—something 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 all—his 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 time—but 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 him—he 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 rabbits—all 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.