Touch Of Enchantment Part 13

"No thanks to the likes of you," Nana retorted. "I suppose it never occurred to any of you to trot your lazy a.r.s.es up the stairs and tell puir Auld Nana the siege was done."

"Now, Nana," Colin said, "if they had, you would have ambushed them just as you did me." He addressed the gaping crowd. "You should have seen her. She came charging out of the darkness, howling like a blood-mad Valkyrie, determined to defend her precious lady to the death. She was magnificent!"

Her pride mollified, Nana tucked her chins and gave his cheek a sound pinch. "Go on with you, sugar-tongued lad."

Tabitha took a step backward, hoping to melt into the crowd and seek the shelter of Colin's pavilion. Her feelings for him were still too new and tender to withstand public scrutiny.

Arjon yawned and ruffled his hair into feathery tufts. "Just how did you come to be prowling around the castle in the dead of night? We've been abed for hours." His companion giggled, her swollen lips suggesting they'd been indulging in more pleasurable pursuits than sleep. Tabitha touched a finger to her own lips, wondering if they looked as thoroughly kissed as they felt.

Depositing the baby in Nana's arms, Colin replied, "It seems there was only one among us bold enough to beard the dreaded Ravenshaw ghost in its lair." Before Tabitha could duck out of his reach, he drew her into the heart of their circle and turned her to face the villagers. " 'Twas Tabitha who dared to mock superst.i.tion and enter the castle. Tabitha who braved all manner of fearsome trials" a" this with an audible smirk in his voice a" "to free your lady and Auld Nana from their tower prison."

"It was nothing," she mumbled.

Colin continued as if she hadn't spoken, fumbling with the hem of his tunic. "In honor of her bravery, I would like to present her with a token of my own heartfelt grat.i.tude."

Tabitha's breath caught on a wheeze, but it was too late to stop him. He was already lowering the amulet over her head. Even in the hazy moonlight, the emerald shimmered against her breast like the eye of a dragon.

She gazed down at the stone with a mixture of awe and dread. She'd never dreamed Colin's trust would be such a terrible burden. It both bound her to him and gave her the means to abandon him forever. The decision was hers.

Logically, she knew it would be safe to turn in his arms, safe to kiss him without risking some manner of magical calamity. Yet somehow it was more dangerous than ever before. So she stood stiffly a" without turning, without touching, without acknowledging the gift of his trust.

"To Tabitha!" shouted Chauncey.

"Aye! To the Lady Tabitha!"

They all took up the joyous cry, startling the baby into a fresh wail. Her voice was nearly drowned out by Colin's rich laughter as he wrapped his arms around Tabitha from behind and hugged her to his heart. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had traveled over seven hundred years from home only to find the place where she had always belonged.

Chapter 16.

Castle Raven was open for business. Daybreak found its denizens scurrying in and out of the castle like a colony of industrious ants. With the ghost banished and their tiny lady freed from her tower prison, Colin's people were eager to reclaim both their home and their lives.

When Tabitha had finally drifted into a troubled sleep the night before, Colin had been huddled over the baby's basket, counting each of her even breaths. Tabitha had awakened at dawn to find him sprawled on his stomach on the floor of the tent, sound asleep. After covering him with one of the furs, she'd crept over to take his place, standing guard against the fleeing darkness.

Despite several eager offers, he still refused to relinquish the baby he'd christened Wee Blythe to any of the village women. He insisted on directing most of the repair efforts while carrying the baby in the crook of his arm like a squirming football. He wore Tabitha's wire-framed gla.s.ses perched low on his nose and it was the very incongruity that made him so irresistible.

The village women had to settle for fussing over Nana. Accepting that her precious charge was safe at last had done wonders for the old woman's paranoia. The near madness she'd suffered in the tower seemed to be subsiding with encouraging haste, allowing her to accept Granny Cora's offer to share a pipe beneath the refreshing shade of a willow.

Tabitha would have found their joy infectious if her own mood hadn't kept veering between exhilaration and despair. Every time her gaze accidentally brushed Colin's, she feared they would change the course of history by discovering electricity five centuries before Benjamin Franklin. The unspoken promise in his eyes sent heat sizzling through her, melting the core of ice around her heart and sending the runoff to pool in more provocative places.

But when he turned away to shout a fresh order at Ewan or Chauncey, despair gripped her. She knew she owed him the truth. Even if it meant risking the fragile bond that had grown between them. She had to tell him that she didn't belong in his arms, in his life, even in his century. But she no longer knew if she could find the courage to leave him.

And what about her parents? If their plane had gone down over the Bermuda Triangle, her return to the twenty-first century wouldn't bring them back. But if they were alive, her unexplained disappearance would break their hearts. They might live out their lives believing she'd been prey to a kidnapper or serial killer. She squeezed the amulet, almost wishing Colin had tossed the hateful thing down some bottomless well.

"Lady Tabby!" A fair-haired, baby-faced little boy with an irrespressible cowlick poked his head through an arrow loop set high in the castle wall. "Do come, Lady Tabby! Tis wee Lucy who needs rescuin' now."

"I'll be right there, Thomas." Tabitha rushed up the stairs and enhanced her reputation for daring heroics by saving Lucy from a rather fierce-looking mouse who had cornered the baffled kitten on a window ledge.

As she emerged from the castle, crooning to the cat in her arms, Arjon dropped his bundle of singed tapestries to pinch back a sneeze. "Should have left the little monster for rat bait."

"Shame on you, Sir Arjon," she retorted, kissing Lucy's fuzzy head. "It's not very chivalrous to insult a lady."

"I've seen him bed women with longer whiskers," Colin called out from atop a pile of salvaged wood.

The worldly Arjon blushed and the women beating the soot from the heather-stuffed mattresses t.i.ttered. Colin winked at Tabitha over the top of her gla.s.ses, tilting her world on edge once more.

She absently deposited Lucy in an empty cooking cauldron, oblivious to the wicked arch of Arjon's eyebrows.

"Jenny, you take care up there," Magwyn shouted, distracted from sc.r.a.ping tarnish from a silver candlestick by the sight of her daughter scampering over the tower ramparts like a lithe little monkey.

Jenny just giggled and waved before lurching after the other children. Magwyn shook her head and went back to her ch.o.r.e. "I ought to give the child a sound thrashing, but I can't resist her laughter after all this time. Tis music to my ears."

Tabitha smiled, remembering the first time she had heard Colin laugh aloud.

But then Magwyn glanced back up at the ramparts, and her face went stark white. Tabitha followed her gaze skyward, shading her eyes against the morning sun. Fear plunged through her heart.

Jenny wasn't laughing anymore. She was dangling from an outcropping of stone by her frail fingertips, poised above a sheer drop of seventy feet to the cobblestones below.

Magwyn's scream was the voice of every mother's nightmare. The icy aria seemed to go on and on, freezing everyone in the courtyard with horror.

Everyone but Colin.

Handing the baby off to Nana, he raced for the tower. Tabitha knew he wasn't going to make it. He was a hero, not a superhero. And when he failed, he would blame himself, just as he blamed himself for Regan's suicide.

She could almost hear Jenny's grunt of effort, feel the rough stone sc.r.a.ping the tender skin off her fingers, suffer her burning shame as the little girl wet herself for the first time in years.

As Jenny's left hand lost its grip and clutched desperately at the air, Magwyn's own fists clenched and unclenched as if she didn't know whether to hide her face in her hands or shake her fist at the unforgiving sky.

Colin was just dragging open the outer door to the tower when Jenny fell. Oddly enough, it was Magwyn who went dead silent as Jenny's shrill scream lacerated their ears. Colin turned to watch, his face awash in helplessness and horror, as the child plunged toward the ground, her arms and legs cartwheeling madly.

Tabitha did not remember grabbing the amulet. Could not have pinpointed at what precise second she abandoned her insecurities, overcame her repressions, and wished, harder than she'd ever wished in her entire life.

Jenny's scream dwindled to a delighted, "Aa-a-a-a-ha!" as her fall slowed to a float. She drifted toward the earth, her skirt billowing outward like Mary Poppins's parasol, and landed with feathery grace in Tabitha's outstretched arms. Tabitha buried her face in the child's sweaty throat, cherishing the feel of her solid little body.

The child wiggled out of Tabitha's fierce grip, drawing back to gaze raptly at her face. Her voice, husky from disuse, seemed to echo through the courtyard. " 'Twas a bonny catch, Lady Tabby. Are you a witch?"

Tabitha swept her gaze around the ring of astounded faces. Colin slowly drew off the gla.s.ses, staring at her with the same baffled astonishment as the rest of them. She briefly closed her eyes to blot out his face, praying he would understand.

She could not lie to the hopeful child in her arms, nor could she go on lying to Colin. The past had become her present and he had become the only future she could envision. What better time than here and now to embrace the heritage she'd always denied? Here in this enchanted kingdom where knights in shining armor fought to slay the dragons of evil and the most powerful spell of all was true love. Tabitha almost wished her mother was there to witness her proud declaration.

She smiled tenderly at Jenny, but her gaze drifted over the child's head, coming to rest lovingly on Colin's bewildered face. "Yes, darling. I'm a witch."

Silence greeted her words. A silence so profound Tabitha could hear the papery rustle of swallow wings in the chapel nave high above, the sc.r.a.pe of a dislodged stone as someone took an involuntary step backward.

Her gla.s.ses slipped from Colin's limp fingers. His face went utterly expressionless. The tan bled from his swarthy skin, bleaching it white. It was almost as if her abrupt confession had turned him to a pillar of salt.

Tabitha's second clue that something was wrong came when Magwyn tore Jenny out of her arms. "But, Mama," the little girl wailed. "Falling was fun! Might I do it again?"

"Hush, child," Magwyn said harshly. She backed away from Tabitha, wearing a mask of mingled horror and betrayal.

It didn't take her long to realize Magwyn's reaction mirrored that of the crowd surrounding them. Some were backing away; others were muttering beneath their breaths and tracing crosses on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She watched in helpless dismay as, one by one, faces that had been beaming at her only minutes before closed in on themselves, becoming the forbidding visages of strangers. Only Arjon's eyes betrayed a flicker of sympathy, which was somehow more d.a.m.ning than the open condemnation of the others.

"Oops," she whispered.

She'd made some colossal social blunders before, but this might even be worse than the time she'd stepped on the First Lady's train at a presidential dinner given in her father's honor. Or the time she'd called the wife of a potential multimillion-dollar client by his mistress's name.

"Burn her!" shouted an old man, waving his palsied fist in the air.

"Aye, she's a confessed witch. We must burn her," Granny Cora echoed sadly.

"I thought you only burned heretics," Tabitha said weakly.

Chauncey, ever helpful, chimed in. "We strangle witches. Then we burn 'em."

The accusing mutters rose to shouts. Tabitha touched a hand to her throat, backing toward Colin without even realizing it. Jenny began to cry, her heartfelt wails only adding to the chaos.

"Enough!"

Colin's shout silenced them all, even a startled Jenny. As he rested his hands on Tabitha's shoulders, she sagged against him in relief. She should have known he would never allow his people to harm her. He was her hero, her champion, her destiny a" the man she'd crossed over seven centuries to love.

He caressed her fluted collarbones with a tenderness that made her want to melt into a puddle at his boots.

"I'm the one who brought this witch into our midst." His soft, despairing voice rasped like steel on velvet in the tense silence. " Tis my duty to burn her."

PART THREE.

Entranced.

Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true.

a" Demosthenes.

Chapter 17.

"This is probably going to hurt you much more than it will me." Tabitha swiped her sweat-dampened bangs out of her eyes with her bound wrists as she trudged up the steep slope behind Colin. "I told my daddy that once when he was planning to punish me for hacking into his bank account and making electronic transfers to Greenpeace, and he laughed so hard, he forgot to spank me."

Colin's face betrayed no sign of amus.e.m.e.nt. It was as still and resolute as it had been since that terrible moment when she'd confessed her secret.

She sighed, not knowing how much longer she could keep up her nervous stream of chatter. They'd been climbing the mountainside for most of the afternoon, yet he hadn't uttered a single word. She'd been a victim of his brooding silences before, but this one was different somehow, like a deep, dark stream winding through an underground cavern. She might have thought she was marching heavenward alone if it wasn't for the stout length of rope wrapped around her wrists and Colin's fist.

Despite the cord that bound them, he hadn't touched her once since pa.s.sing his stern judgment. It had been Ewan who wrapped the rope around her wrists at his master's command, Chauncey who had given the other end of it into his hands. Tabitha had simply fallen into step behind him, keenly aware of the amulet bouncing between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Surely Colin must suspect the charm possessed magical powers. Yet he'd bound her wrists in front of her, leaving her fingers free to grasp it if she dared.

The summer afternoon mocked her with its beauty. Wildflowers sprouted from every rocky crevice, spilling down the hillside in a dazzling waterfall of color. A stand of firs loomed overhead, promising shade and respite for the weary traveler. A buoyant breeze caressed her face. The Scottish terrain painted an idyllic backdrop for one of her mother's fairy tales a" The Princess and the Pyre perhaps. Or Little Roasted Riding Hood. Eyeing the sharp glint of the axe dangling from Colin's belt, Tabitha shuddered, fearing such a grim fairy tale could never have a happy ending.

"You should have given me back my pajamas," she informed Colin's unyielding back. "Federal law requires them to be flame r.e.t.a.r.dant."

They'd nearly reached the top of the hill. Colin remained as stoic and immovable as Abraham preparing to slay his beloved son at his Lord's command. The a.n.a.logy failed to comfort her.

"I hope you remembered to bring the weenies. Because I forgot the marshmallows." When he continued to ignore her ferocious cheer, she added, "It's terribly clever of you to pretend you're going to torch me. Once your people see the smoke, they'll a.s.sume you've done your duty and I can just be on my way with no one the wiser.

Colin lifted a fir bough, motioning for her to pa.s.s. She should have had to brush against him, but he shrank away from her, sending a fresh bolt of despair deep into her heart. If she could just get him to speak to hera look at hera touch hera A ramshackle cottage squatted in the center of the clearing, looking less than enchanted. Its thatched roof resembled a moth-eaten toupee.

"What charming accommodations!" Tabitha said as he marched her through the weeds flourishing around the stone stoop and thrust open the door. "Not quite up to the elegant standards of Brisbane's dungeon, but far more a" " Before her eyes could adjust to the gloom, he neatly reversed their positions and slammed the door in her face. A bolt thudded into its mooring.

Her voice trailed to a whisper. "a habitable."

She sagged against the door, overwhelmed by loneliness. There was a vast deal of difference in being imprisoned with Colin and being imprisoned by him. She would have gladly returned to that tiny cell in Brisbane's dungeon and faced the threat of decapitation all over again for the privilege of sleeping in Colin's arms one more night.

Battling the inertia of hopelessness, she pushed away from the door and slowly toured her cottage prison. Narrow shutters covered the windows, filtering out all but the most tenacious of sunbeams. Dust motes peppered the hazy air, drifting past a stone hearth whose ashes had long grown cold, a mattress gowned in a threadbare quilt, a pair of half-melted candles. Cobwebs draped the rough-hewn rafters, fluttering in the musty draft like tattered wedding veils. A length of rope dangled from the center beam.

Tabitha reached up with her bound hands and absently touched it. The end was frayed as if it had been cut or severed by a violent tug. Without warning, Colin's words spilled through her mind.

When I finally went to the cottage where we trysted to tell Regan I would make her my wife, I found her hanging from the rafters, my unborn child dead in her womb. Tabitha jerked her hands back as if the rope carried live electrical current. The jolt shot straight to her heart. She spun around, her pulse racing. She no longer needed magic to travel to the past, only imagination.

A fire crackled on the hearth, casting its merry glow over the lover's bower Colin had painstakingly prepared for his lady. Perfumed candles scented the air. A clean quilt draped the mattress he'd stuffed with dried heather that very morning. He was warming his chapped palms over the fire when the door burst open and Regan came running in, her cloak frosted with snowflakes, her pale cheeks rosy from the cold.

Colin eased her hood from her silvery blond hair, his hands shaking with want, yet unspeakably gentle. His lips claimed hers and they fell upon the mattress together, shedding their clothes with all the guilty abandon of any two teenagers eager to explore all the pleasures they'd just discovered their nubile bodies were capable of.

Tabitha felt nothing but tenderness for the boy Colin had been a" slender and newly muscled, a shadow of the man he would become etched in his unlined face, his smooth jaw, his bright, trusting eyes.

But Regan's image tasted bitter, like ashes in her mouth. Pity for the girl's fate mingled with jealousy. If Colin did what his thirteenth-century conscience demanded of him, Tabitha would never lay in his arms, her heartbeat unsteady and her skin flushed from his lovemaking. He would never stroke her hair or steal a kiss or touch her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as if he'd waited his entire life to do so. For one brief shining moment, Regan had had everything Tabitha had ever wanted.

And been foolish enough to squander it at the end of that rope.

A darker image replaced the first a" Colin and Regan quarreling a" hurtling cruel, foolish words at one another as only those very young or very much in love will do. Regan, her wan face blotchy with tearstains, paced the cottage, wringing her hands until one of them darted out like a nervous bird to slap Colin full across the face. Colin stood paralyzed by the blow from his beloved, finally turning on his heel and leaving the cottage without a word.

Tabitha sank to her knees and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes in a vain attempt to blot out the image she knew would follow.

A slender figure stood in the doorway of the cottage, framed by the pale winter sunshine. He was no longer a man, but simply a boy on the brink of manhood clutching a fistful of dried heather in one hand and his heart in the other. A shadow crossed his face, once, twice, as the thing dangling from the rafters swung slowly to and fro, as if nudged by an invisible hand.

Colin drifted toward the unspeakable thing, deafened to everything but the lazy creak of the rope. He blinked up at it, his golden eyes blank with shock. Comprehension slowly dawned, more brutal and merciless than the numbness that had preceded it. Roaring in agony, he rushed toward Regan, seizing her around the waist and lifting her as if it were not a lifetime too late to coax a breath into her mottled throat.