His Enchantment (24 page)

As chunks of limestone and rock shattered, the power of the blast slammed Trálin against the rock, but he kept hold of the blade—barely. Against the rattle of stones falling through the cavern, he started to rise.

A cold laugh sounded.

Another burst of energy threw him against a pillar. Rough edges of the time-hewn limestone jammed against his back. Pain raking his body, he stared in dread as Princess Elspeth’s gaze narrowed on him.

“You dare try and touch me, human?” she hissed.

For Catarine, he would dare anything. Ignoring the pain, aware ’twas his last chance before she would kill him, he stood and lifted the dagger.

“Think you a mere dagger is a threat?” the princess asked with disbelief.

Let her think his blade no threat. Trálin charged her.

Princess Elspeth aimed her scepter at him. “Be gone!”

White light flashed around him; Trálin was hurled against a large pillar of stone. Blackness threatened as he struggled to retain consciousness.

A shimmering of purple glowed around Princess Elspeth. “Now,” she hissed, “you will die!” She raised her scepter, and rings of energy shimmered around the globe. Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes, and with cold intent she lowered the staff toward him.

“Nay!” Catarine started to raise the gemstones in the palm of her hand.

Without warning, an explosion sounded. Rocks splintered, slammed against the far wall.

Amidst the streams of light flooding the cavern, Trálin shoved to his feet. What in Hades was going on? Gasping for breath, he shielded his eyes.

A gaping hole lay in the side of the cavern, and an army of warriors began climbing through.

Outrage splashed Princess Elspeth’s face. “Kill them!”

 

With a roar, her warriors raised their weapons, charged the incoming force.

A large grey-haired man brandished his sword with lethal precision as he headed the charge and quickly disposed of one of Princess Elspeth’s warriors before cutting down the next with barely a breath.

Relief swept through Catarine. “Father! Princess Elspeth is up above you!” she yelled as she stood at the ledge.

King Leod’s gaze quickly met hers. He nodded, then worked his way toward the chiseled steps.

Behind him, another man, hair black as coal, a fierce expression on his face, moved with a fierce stride, his each swing of his blade taking down one of Princess Elspeth’s warriors.

Relief at seeing her father plummeted to shock. Prince Zacheus! Of course, as her betrothed, she should have expected he would come. Except in the mayhem, she’d nae given any consideration to his reaction when he learned of her being in danger.

What of Trálin? In the sheen of dust-smeared light pouring in from outside, she searched the rubble. Near a large boulder, he was climbing to his feet. Thank God he’d survived.

A movement from the stairway caught her attention.

Her face tight with outrage, Princess Elspeth raised her scepter. Orbs of light swirled around the globe as she aimed it at her father.

“Father, watch out!” Catarine yelled.

As the burst of energy shot from the scepter, Prince Zacheus charged up the steps and shielded her father.

“Prince Zacheus,” the king yelled, “Do nae—”

Waves of brilliant light encircled Catarine’s betrothed; Prince Zacheus evaporated, and his sword clattered to the ground.

Catarine covered her mouth in horror.

“Now, to eliminate you.” With a sadistic smile, Princess Elspeth lifted the scepter. Once pulses of light swirled around the scepter, she aimed the globe at her brother, the king. Energy burst in a bright light toward Catarine’s father.

Outrage splashed on King Leod’s face. He jerked a gold medallion from around his neck, lifted it before him as if a shield. Light reflected off the polished metal and back to engulf her aunt.

Shock, then pain ripped across her aunt’s face. Within the shimmering light, Princess Elspeth twisted, turned, wove together with the purple aura, then disappeared. Her scepter clattered to the limestone.

As the purple aura slowly faded, one by one, her men dropped their swords, turned to stare at where Princess Elspeth had once stood. Dazed disbelief, and then as they continued to stare, then relief swept their faces. The clang of swords filled the cavern as her aunt’s warriors began to throw down their blades.

Realization hit Catarine as she watched. The men had been under her aunt’s spell. Why had she not thought of this before? And, with the spell broken by her death, the warriors would nae fight.

Joy filled her as she hurried to her warriors to explain.

A short while later, as the warriors continued to file out of the cavern, Catarine hugged her father. “Th-Thank God you arrived when you did.”

“Lady Catarine had doubts of me reaching you in time, Your Grace,” Atair stated, his voice dry.

“I was unsure,” she admitted, still trying to absorb all that had occurred. As she stepped back, she caught sight of Prince Zacheus’s blade. Sadness filled her. However much she didna love him, he didna deserve to die. “I canna believe he is dead.”

“He was a man of honor,” her father said, his words choked out. “When he learned you were in danger, he refused to stay away.”

“And for his bravery,” she whispered, “he paid the ultimate price.”

The king’s face darkened. “I should have told him of my medallion, but never did I believe my sister had grown so strong.”

“Father,” she said, her voice rough with tears, “with Prince Zacheus’s death, what of the peace between our realms?”

King Leod gave a heavy sigh. “I will speak with his father. It saddens me to bring him news of the tragedy of his son’s death, but I have faith that we can work out an alliance that will serve us all.”

And she prayed he was right. She took in where moments before her aunt had stood. “I still canna believe Princess Elspeth is dead.”

Regret filled King Leod’s eyes as he lifted the gold medallion, and grimaced at the slight mar across the front. “A fate she brought on by her own evil.” He tucked it beneath his garb.

As Catarine started to speak, she caught sight of Trálin as he wove his way between the warriors toward them. Thank God he was nae harmed! She caught the angst on his face and understood. He hadna met her father and was uncertain of the reception he would receive.

Nerves rattling through her, Catarine met her father’s eyes. “Father, I bid you to meet the Earl of Grey, Trálin MacGruder, a man who helped us to find Princess Elspeth.”

Her father’s gave a solemn nod. “Sir Atair explained the circumstance, including why you found it necessary to turn to a human.” He nodded to Trálin. “Lord Grey, my deepest thanks to you and your men for helping my daughter.”

“Your Grace,” Trálin stated, “I owe Princess Catarine my deepest thanks. Without the aid of her and her warriors, King Alexander and his queen would be dead.”

“Sir Atair passed along the adventures as of late,” King Leod replied. “’Tis much to take in, details we will discuss later.” With quiet steps, he walked to where Princess Elspeth’s scepter lay and picked it up. For a long moment he studied the extraordinary work, then looked toward Catarine. “I will make sure this is never used for evil again.” He nodded. “Come, ’tis time to go home.”

Excitement filled Catarine as she remained still, her eyes closed tight, the lingering scents of lavender, rosemary, and chamomile filling her each breath and heightening her curiosity. For two months now, she’d watched masons and carpenters move up the steps to the new addition on the third floor of Lochshire Castle. And with every question, Trálin had refused to answer, except to reply that in time she would see.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked.

“My wife is anxious.”

Trálin’s soft chuckle warmed her heart. “Aye, my husband.” Never would she tire of saying those words, or take for granted every day of the miracle of their lives together.

“Now, my love,” he said, his deep burr tender, “open your eyes.”

Unsure what she would see, she lifted her lids. A single arched window heralded a pure stream of sunlight that filled the entire room with its brilliance. Near the wall stood a bed, covered with an elegant, hand-stitched coverlet, the color of moon-kissed daisies. A small table sat nearby, adorned with a myriad of her personal items; intricately carved jewelry, a bone comb, and an ivory-framed mirror. On the far wall hung a beautifully crafted tapestry with images of fairies woven amidst the leaves.

Emotions stormed her. She’d anticipated many things about what the chamber would look like from her view in the courtyard, but nae this.

“The embroidery King Alexander gifted me,” she whispered, moved beyond belief, “with images of my sisters woven within.”

Love shone in her husband’s eyes. “His thanks for your aid.”

“’Twas unnecessary. King Alexander’s support and allowing us the help of his knights in finding Princess Elspeth was payment enough.” Grief swept her at thoughts of her aunt.

“You look upset.”

She gave a shaky exhale. “Though over half a year has passed since her death, I canna believe the poor decisions my aunt made, nor that she is gone. I grieve for the lives she destroyed, and for the loss of Prince Johan and my uncle. Never will I forget them.”

Sadness weighed on Trálin’s face. “All because of Princess Elspeth’s greed for power.”

“Never will I understand my aunt’s twisted decisions.” Tears blurred her eyes, and she wiped them away. “Look at me, mulling what I canna change when you brought me here to surprise me with the gift of this chamber. ’Tis beautiful, Trálin. More than I ever imagined.”

A warm smile touched his mouth. “I am glad you like it. I was hoping you would.”

“As if with the magnificence inside, I would do anything else?” She paused. “What will we do with the claymore presented to you by King Alexander? I admit, I was surprised by the crafted fairy he had installed on the leather-bound hilt, but his explanation ’twas to represent our merged worlds touched me deeply.”

Trálin lifted her hand, pressed a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have decided to have portraits made, one of each of your warriors holding their respective stone. Nearby, I will hang the claymore.”

“’Twill be perfect.”

He arched a playful brow. “There is another surprise.”

“More?”

“Aye,” he said. “Look up.”

Up? What could possibly . . . “Ohhhh.” Captured in various aspects of flight, hand-painted images of fairies adorned the ceiling. Overhead lay a raven-haired fairy in a moss-green gown, her silver-tipped wings caught in mid-flutter, hiding behind a lush, purple-tipped thistle.

Overwhelmed, she glanced toward the wall hanging, then back up. “The images of my sisters on the ceiling are an exact match to those in the tapestry!”

He chuckled. “They are indeed.”

“Who did such a beautiful painting?”

Pride shone on his face. “Sionn.”

“When could he have done this? How could he . . . It must have taken—”

“—a fortnight to be exact,” Trálin finished. “’Twas his wedding gift to you.”

Moved beyond belief, she shook her head. “I never expected anything so grand.”

“’Twas nae planned,” Trálin admitted. “When I explained that after you had sacrificed living in the Otherworld and given up your fey powers to wed me and live in Scotland, and that I was building you a special chamber to celebrate your homeland, Sionn asked if he could paint this for you.” He gestured toward the bowl on the small table. “Look inside.”

Humbled by the outpouring of love, the thoughtfulness in each detail, Catarine walked to the table. “Oh my . . .” She lifted her warriors’ gemstones in her palm.

“Atair brought them,” Trálin explained. “With you no longer living in their world, you had nay need of their service. And they, nay need for the gemstones. He thought you would want the stones to remember them.”

“As if I could ever forget my fey warriors?” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “I will cherish them always.” She hesitated. “Why are they halved?”

Trálin walked over to her side. “Each of the warriors kept half, to remember you.”

She sniffed. “’Tis amazing.” She gently set them back within the bowl. “I shall honor my warriors as well. I shall pass the halves on to our children.”

“Our sons,” he said, pride in his voice.

She laughed. “Or our daughters.”

Trálin drew her to him, caught her mouth in a tender kiss, then slowly drew away. “I will love our children, regardless.”

Memories of Trálin’s brother shadowed her thoughts, and she looked away.

“Catarine?”

“I think of Faolan. I am sorry for the rift between you and your brother at my arrival to Lochshire Castle.”

“Do nae apologize,” Trálin replied, a touch of anger in his voice. “I could nae allow Faolan to remain when he confronted me and stated he’d fallen in love with you and planned to win you over.”

Memories of that horrible day replayed in her mind of Trálin and Faolan’s falling-out. “I was stunned by his claim, that he wanted me as his wife.” She shook her head. “Never could I love anyone but you, neither would he believe me.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I know, my love, but my brother could nae accept that fact. I have confidence that over time I could deter Faolan’s belief that he could win you over. But when he drew his blade against me, he was fortunate to leave Lochshire Castle with but a broken sword arm.”

Leave? Nay, cast out in a fierce fight. “What will come of Faolan?”

He released her. “I didna wish to worry you, but a month after my brother left, I found him living in a crofter’s hut with a woman. In an attempt to make peace, I gave him our mother’s lands.”

Warmth filled her. “’Twas a wonderful gesture.”

“Mayhap,” Trálin said, “but he was still in love with you and angry from our fight, and my attempt to repair our family bond mattered little. I tried to reason with my brother, but he would have none of it. Before his woman and I, Faolan denounced the MacGruder name and claimed that of our mother, Brom.”

Regret swept Catarine. “I am sorry. Mayhap with the years will come reason?”

“I pray so, but regardless of how close my brother and I were in the past, with his irrational anger, I doubt we will ever see him again.”

Tense silence filled the chamber.

She exhaled. “’Tis sad.”

He nodded.

Catarine offered a prayer that in time Faolan would find the strength to release his anger. She again gazed around the room, focusing on this special moment, and the man to whom she’d pledged her love.

“Thank you, Trálin, I am humbled by your gift. Whenever I am within this chamber, ’twill indeed bless me with memories of my homeland.”

“’Tis worth anything to bring you happiness.” A twinkle lit his eyes. “Do you think any in the future will wonder about the fairies in the tapestry or on the ceiling and of their origin, or the touch of magic your presence gives the chamber?”

“If they do, I shall explain that while I was in the woods gathering herbs, King Alexander was hunting with several men nearby. His mount stumbled and the king was injured. I witnessed the entire event and offered to care for him. In return he gifted me with the tapestry.”

Trálin chuckled. “’Tis close to the truth.”

She smiled. “Close enough.”

“Aye.” He swept her in his arms. “I love you, Catarine MacGruder, and I am blessed to have you as my wife.”

“And,” she said, her heart full, “I am blessed that you are my husband.”

“I admit I held doubts your father would allow us to handfast,” Trálin said. “But, in private he admitted that he knew you were unhappy with your betrothal, but proud of you for planning to adhere to your promise. Never did he wish you unhappiness. And, with you free to wed, he was thankful that you would marry for love, one I assured him I felt for you. And, that always would I protect you.” He strode with her toward the bed.

“Protection you are about to offer, is it?”

He laughed. “I believe,” Trálin said as he lay her atop the coverlet, “I am going to make love to my wife.”

Her heart full, Catarine savored his every touch as he caught her mouth in a heated kiss. Aye, she was indeed blessed, for this day was but the first in their forever.