His brothers had ever been unsure what to make of him. He was taller then they, more fair of face and form, and the women flocked around him even though it was well known he was but a bastard, with no claim to any land rights. Though his brothers had appreciated it as he'd shared this abundance of feminine attention.
Kenric believed they'd formed a bond of affection in the end which, if not brotherly, was at least based on loyalty and their shared blood. This was all he could hope for, now that they lay dead and buried deep beneath the earth's fertile soil.
Like his father. When he thought of the man who'd sired him, Kenric had cause for regret. He'd always believed he'd have time, time to ask the endless questions that had plagued him since he'd become old enough to know the truth of his parentage.
His father had a wife who, while a good woman, certainly could not compare to Rhiannon in beauty. His faerie mother must have been beautiful. He'd never met her, since she'd chosen to vanish into the mists soon after his birth. He'd been told it was because his father would not marry her. Why he did not know. He'd never asked his father and his father had never spoken of the Faerie woman who had born him a son out of wedlock.
In this he would never know the answers, for any questions he might have for his father would forever remain unanswered now.
If Rhiannon knew the answers, he doubted she would ever tell. Nay, he would never ask. He truly did not want to know. He wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Faeries.
And now somehow, he'd gotten the Lady Megan of Dallas involved in this. And she seemed to love it here. This was not acceptable, not at all. For she had charged him with a task, that of returning her to her betrothed. He would not let her become so beguiled of the land of faerie that she forsook her journey. This he would have to impress upon her.
He pulled her jeweled ring from his pocket, turning it, examining it in the perfect light. Though it glittered and sparkled, he found the effect of the huge stone cold. The diamond reminded him of Rune, all flash and show and little warmth. For the first time he found himself wondering what kind of man this Roger was, though the size of the bauble left no doubt he was a wealthy man.
Wealthy meant he would have no problem granting Kenric the land that Megan had promised.
He would have to prevail upon her to leave this place, and soon. Even one night seemed too long to wait, especially knowing that one night here might be thirty in the mortal world.
So it was with great reluctance he found himself waiting for his charge to escort her to the banquet. Idly, he found himself wondering how Megan would look properly dressed.
In a moment he had his answer. She rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, a vision in sapphire. His breath caught, his chest felt tight. Her beauty was ethereal, transcending even that of the faeries that surrounded them.
She was beyond beautiful. Now he might almost believe her teasing claim of being a princess, and he told her so. Her reaction had taken his breath away.
Raw desire mingled with need as a strange ache settled in his breastbone. He'd been around beautiful women all his life, but none had affected him the way this tiny woman betrothed to another did. Twas not a good thing. Not a good thing at all.
The ring, all but forgotten, cut into his palm, reminding him. She belonged to some man named Roger. A fellow Englishman, a wealthy Lord. The sooner he helped her find this man, the sooner he could claim his land, and the better off he'd be.
With this in mind, he led her to the banquet table.
After they'd eaten - Kenric had watched in mild shock as dainty little Megan finished off a heaping plate of food - the music started.
Seeing his sister heading their way with a purposeful glint in her eye, Kenric shook his head. Next to him, Megan listened to the seductive thrum of the harps and mandolins, tapping one foot in time to the beat.
"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" Rhiannon beamed at them, her purposely innocent expression telling Kenric she was up to no good. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
Megan flashed a sleepy smile, the guileless radiance of it going straight to Kenric's mid-section. He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.
For the first time he found himself wondering if he'd made a mistake in agreeing to help her. But then, there was the land. Always the land.
Raising his chin, Kenric met his sister's gaze dead on, saluting her with his cup. "I am fine."
"Will you not ask Megan to dance with you?" Rhiannon asked softly.
He made the mistake of looking at Megan again. Her expression had gone dreamy, those wonderful eyes of hers soft, like warmed honey. With her chin resting on her hand, she listened to the music wholeheartedly, allowing herself to be drawn in to the ancient rhythm, the timeless melody.
A dangerous woman indeed.
Kenric became conscious of his heartbeat, steady and slow. Of the blood that thrummed in his head, making him want much more than he had any business wanting.
"Well?" Amusement threaded Rhiannon's voice, telling him that his sister had seen.
"I think not." Lifting his cup of mead, Kenric drained it. He did not elaborate.
But Rhiannon was devious. "Tis a shame brother, that a woman as beautiful as Megan cannot truly enjoy the banquet. One dance will not hurt you."
As if the sound of her name pulled her away from her dreamy contemplation, Megan turned to look at him.
"A dance?" Her voice sounded husky and breathless, totally unlike the way she normally spoke to him.
Enchantment, no doubt. Still, knowing this did not keep his heart from leaping at the raw sensuality he heard there.
About to answer her, he found himself forestalled by Rhiannon. "My brother does not like to dance."
The bright expectation in Megan's face faded. "Oh, I see." She swallowed, nodded, flashed a wan smile. "Well, I suppose that is good. I'm not sure I could do those dance steps anyway."
Without giving Kenric a chance to answer, she turned away to fix her attention on the musicians.
Oddly, he felt like a cloud had obscured the sun.
"One dance." Rhiannon whispered, her expression carefully blank. "It would bring her such pleasure."
"Indeed." He drawled, wondering why he felt so apprehensive. He had, after all, danced numerous other times with women far more beautiful than Megan. One dance, if it pleased her, surely could not hurt.
"Megan." Rising, Kenric went to stand in front of her. When she lifted her lovely face to look at him, he was struck by the sudden, irrational urge to kiss her. Here. Now. No matter who might be watching. It was only by sheer willpower that he was able to push those thoughts away.
He held out his hand, praying she did not notice how it trembled. Without the slightest hesitation, she took it, slipping her small fingers in his. It felt like it belonged there.
"Will you dance with me?"
Another woman might have simpered and flirted, or blushed and giggled. But not Megan of Dallas. Instead, she gave a regal nod and rose, leading the way to the dancing area. Bemused, he let her, wondering at the way touching her quieted the sense of urgency, of danger he'd felt earlier.
Still, the instant he put his arms around her, he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.
It could have been the way she wrapped her arms around him, as if she thought they were in the privacy of her bed chamber. Or the way she allowed her body to sway so close to him, touching in places she should not have allowed them to touch.
But, he swallowed, if he were honest he would admit that it was more than the sum of these things. It was more than her admittedly lush body. Yes, he wanted her, desired her, but something inside of her called out to him. Something in her soul. He was a deeply mystical man - how could he not be, considering his heritage - and he knew in the place where certain truths resided unshakable, that Megan could mean more to him than anyone ever had before. Or ever would be again.
If he but allowed it.
She belonged to another. Such thoughts were beyond dangerous; t
hey threatened the very foundation of his goal.
Deliberately, Kenric loosened his grip on Megan and tried to think of something else. He prided himself on his honor, and honor dictated that he return this woman to her betrothed. Where even she herself wanted to be. He held no claim to her, nor she to him. And as long as he did not touch her...
Letting the thought trail off incomplete, he reminded himself again of the boon she had promised. Land of his own. Though he had saved a fair bit of gold, he knew he did not have enough for his purposes. If her Roger did as she had promised and granted him some land, Kenric could use the gold to build the estate of his dreams.
He would never have to fight someone else's battles, nor kill without just cause, again. He'd best remember that.
Megan sighed loudly, her face resting on his chest.
His body stirred, warning him. Glancing down at her dark hair, he was struck again by the odd sense of yearning, of wanting something more from her, or maybe from himself.
Another foolish feeling and he shook it off, wishing himself anywhere else. Dancing with Megan of Dallas was too unsettling for his peace of mind.
As if in answer to some unspoken prayer, the music ended. He released her, reluctant to do so, yet glad he would be tortured no longer.
A male faerie, one of his sister's high court, tall and comely, stepped up next to Megan and bowed.
"Might I have the honor of the next dance?"
Now Megan colored prettily, her gaze flying to Kenric like she sought his permission. God's blood, did she now think he was her Lord?
With a curt nod, he gave her that which she seemed to seek and strode away, cursing her Lord Roger for a fool. How could the man let a woman like her slip away? Were she his, Kenric knew he would never be so careless.
Were she his... He snorted, keeping himself focused on the crowd ahead of him, rather than looking back to where Megan danced. He found he had no desire to see her in another man's arms, especially one so golden and fair of face and form.
"You look thunderous, my brother." Rhiannon materialized at his side. "Is something wrong?"
Her pointed gaze made Kenric realize he carried himself stiffly, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw set and tight. Forcing himself to relax, he shook his head, still keeping his back turned from the dancers.
"Naught is wrong, sister. I am but eager to be on my way."
Rhiannon frowned. "You've only just arrived."
With difficulty, he bit back his impatience. "One night is all I promised. Megan must be returned to her future husband."
"Bah." Smiling prettily, Rhiannon laid a hand on his arm. "What is one day or two? The man must not value her highly or he'd have found her by now."
Since these words so closely echoed his own thoughts, Kenric said nothing.
"One more day?" His sister voiced the request in the most pleasant of tones, unlike the commanding way she usually spoke to him. This alone told Kenric she wanted it badly.
"How much time will pass in the real world?" He asked, keeping his own voice carefully neutral.
Her shrug was a calculated thing, warning him that she would not speak the entire truth. "I don't know. What does it matter?"
Though Kenric knew she knew exactly how much it mattered, he only shook his head. "I think not, sister. I have a task to complete and some land to see about collecting."
"Always this." She sighed. "Land, land, land. Such a base, human desire. Why must you act so much like them?"
"Because, my half-sister," he explained with what he thought was great patience, "I am one of them. Do you forget that I am half human?"
Her laugh sounded like crystalline bells. "Nay, Kenric. I do not forget. How can I, when you remind me of it at every turn?"
Since he had no ready answer, Kenric did not reply. Instead, he found his attention drawn to the dancers, even though he only glanced over his shoulder but once.
"She is lovely, is she not?" Rhiannon asked softly.
He did not have to ask of whom his sister spoke. "Perhaps." His answer came equally soft, though he edged his voice with steel. "Though she belongs to another man."
"Does she?"
"It is this man that I help her seek."
"I do not see it in her." Rhiannon watched him closely as she spoke.
Knowing his sister wanted him to ask, Kenric sighed with resignation. "See what, sister?"
"She does not pine for this man."
He shrugged. "There needs not always be affection for there to be a betrothal. You know this."
She made a sad sound. "I forgot the foolishness of
humans. You so seldom marry for love."
"We marry for wealth, for land."
"Land. One cannot own the land. It is all there, for anyone to use or roam freely."
"In the realm of Faerie, perhaps." Kenric found himself watching for another glimpse of Megan. "But you know tis not the same in the land of man."
"So you tell me."
"So it is."
The music ended, the players bowing before they left the dance floor to partake of refreshment. Kenric turned, watching Megan come to him, her hips swaying gently, and for a moment allowed himself to pretend that she was his. If she were, when she reached him, he would capture her in his arms, lift her and swirl her around until she was dizzy and laughing. Then he would kiss her until she grew senseless. Until they both grew senseless.
He became conscious of his sister's regard. Rhiannon eyed him with a faint smile. He had not time to reply however, because Megan came to stand before him.
"That was fun." She huffed, sliding her small hand into his and beaming up at him.
Kenric told himself to ignore the jolt he felt by merely touching her. "We leave on the morrow." He growled.
Her smile faded, her clear eyed gaze searching his, missing nothing. "What's wrong?"
"He fears but one thing," Rhiannon answered, forestalling him, her own expression disappointed, "And that is endangering that frozen lump inside him that he calls a heart." With that, she turned and stalked off, leaving them alone.
At Megan's puzzled frown, Kenric found himself smiling. He shrugged. "She is my sister, and a faerie queen besides. Who knows of what she speaks."
"I see."
Despite Megan's hesitant smile, Kenric somehow doubted she was fooled.
They walked back to their table, Megan's downcast head telling him she wished to stay. It was usually this way with humans; once they visited the magical realm of Faerie, they wanted to remain always. He himself still fought the powerful tug of attraction this place held for him.
"Do you love this Roger?" Kenric heard himself ask, his brusque tone sounding like it had been dragged from him.
Megan appeared shocked as well, her mouth dropping open as she gaped up at him. Color stained her pale cheeks. "Roger?"
Such a simple thing to make him furious, the sound of another man's name on her lips. He had to force himself to go on, knowing that the answer was somehow vitally important. "Yes, Roger. Your intended."
"I..." She seemed incapable of speech, her lovely eyes wide and full of panic.
"Perhaps," he interjected smoothly, "you do not know him that well?"
At this she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze dead on. "No, that’s not it. I’ve known Roger for nearly four years."
"What will he gain from your union?"
It as a reasonable question, albeit an inquisitive one. But Megan of Dallas did not appear to find it so, if the glitter of anger in her eyes was anything to go by.
"What will he gain?" She smiled coldly, though there was a tinge of pain there as well.
But her next words confounded him.
"You know, I’ve never thought of it that way. What will Roger gain?" She asked, low-voiced, almost to herself. "He has it all - the huge, multi-million dollar company, the properties, the land. But capital, that's another story."
Half of what she said made no sense to him, except the gist of her words, that Roger
was a wealthy man.
"Capital?"
"Money." Her mouth pursed tight, Megan did not seem to like her newfound conclusion. "Gold, if you will. There's the simple matter of my trust fund. I'm not sure exactly how much is in it, but last time I checked it was in the millions."
Though he knew she spoke of money, the numbers she used made no sense. Perhaps the currency was different in this land of Dallas, Texas from whence she came. But the concept, now that was as old as time. Now he understood. It was as it should be.
"Ah, he needs your bride price." It had always been so. Titled Lords marrying wealthy heiresses to bring needed money to their aging estates.
"My bride price?" She spoke the words with distaste, as though they were foreign. "No." She shook her head, eyes still flashing golden sparks, "He just needs my money."
It seemed plain that the bump she had taken on the head still addled her wits.
Patiently, he explained. "A bride price is what every bride must bring to the marriage, especially when joining with a wealthy nobleman such as your Roger."
Before she could say any more, he took her elbow and guided her to towards her room. His heart heavy, he could no longer allow doubt to interfere with the task he faced. He must return her to this Roger.
As for this powerful attraction he felt to her, he must ignore it. With Megan of Dallas, it was obvious he was far out of his league. A bastard son, he had no land, no title, nothing to give a noblewoman such as she. It should have come as no surprise to him that she would be wealthy in her own right.
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.
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