Magic In The Storm (3 page)

A storm.

The tree had been hit by lightning. But there
was more. The message had been clear, but he still didn’t
understand it. What was coming?

Whatever it was, Morgan was ready. He had
been ready for years. A sudden chill made him shudder for a moment,
but it passed quickly. Could this be it? Could this be what he had
been waiting for his whole life?

No matter what, he would be ready.

He turned back to Apollo. The horse was still
shaken, so Morgan reached down inside of himself for calm.

Yes, that would help Morgan too. It would
help him be ready for whatever it was that was coming.

Slowly, gently, he stroked the horse’s soft
muzzle, letting the calm flow from his hand into the animal. The
horse settled down, but Morgan didn’t. Another flash of lightning
lit the deepening gloom that was spreading through the forest in
anticipation of the storm. The wind ruffled his hair.

He had work to do. If there was going to be a
major storm, he would have visitors seeking his protection—many,
many of them.

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A
nother deep roll of thunder shook the walls of
the old barn, while the wind outside howled with fury as it picked
up strength. The door to the barn smashed open and closed behind
Morgan. The wooden building groaned at the onslaught.

Apollo whinnied and stomped his hooves in
agitation. Morgan turned toward the horse, following his line of
vision, but there was nothing—nothing other than a barn full of
creatures of every sort.

There had better not be any fighting. Prey
and predator were jammed into this too small space, but it would
just be for a short time. Surely, they could control their
instincts until the storm was over—they had before. But Apollo was
clearly agitated.

“What...?” Morgan began, when from somewhere
deep within the forest, he heard another horse shriek out in
fright. This was followed by a loud crash, and an agonized
scream.

This one sounded almost... human.

Morgan froze. How could that be? There was no
one in this forest besides him. Neither his cousin nor his old
nanny, who sometimes came to visit him, would ride out on a day
like today. It must have been an animal.

Still, it was an animal in need. Morgan could
almost feel the creature’s pain radiating out, calling to him for
help.

And there was something else entwined with
the need. Deep within him, he felt the same sensation he had had
earlier—a sense of anticipation, of beckoning, of portent.

He looked down at the tiny foal in his arms.
The poor thing was shaking with fright, and his mother was gently
nipping at Morgan’s shirtsleeve—reminding him that he had been in
the middle of doing something when the scream had distracted
him.

Looking quickly around the barn filled with
the animals he had brought with him and those which had come there
on their own, Morgan swallowed a moment of panicked frustration.
How were they all going to fit? If any more came... but there would
be more, at least two—the horse he had heard and... whatever else
had made that scream.

But there just wasn’t space!

Morgan squeezed into Apollo’s stall. The
small pile of hay in the front corner would have to do for now.
Gently settling the foal in the soft hay, he turned back to his
horse. “Sorry about this, but you’ll just have share.”

The horse whinnied resignedly.

With the foal settled, Morgan turned to look
for Oberon, his black Labrador.

“Oberon!” Morgan called out. His loud, deep
voice caused some of the smaller animals to scurry for cover.

The dog trotted out of the last stall, where
Morgan supposed he had been settling in the new litter of pups that
a vixen had just brought in.

“I need you to watch over the animals. I’ll
be back soon.” The dog barked his assent, and Morgan knew that he
was leaving the creatures well cared for.

As soon as he stepped out of the door, Morgan
was buffeted by the strong wind. Despite the urgency of the
situation, he stopped and took a deep breath of the fresh air
basking for a moment in the wonderful anticipation of the
storm.

The expectant feeling he had sensed earlier
overcame him once again. It was so close. He reached out with his
mind—what was it? Then a thought stopped him.

Could it be? Could it be the destiny his
nanny had whispered about as she had soothed him to sleep when he
was a child? Could it possibly be exactly what he’d been waiting
for all these years?

A flash of lightning arched overhead, sending
a shiver of anticipation shooting through him. He loved a brilliant
storm. It made him feel vibrantly, joyously alive. This new
sensation just added fuel to his exhilaration.

Whatever it was that was coming, he would
meet it head on.

He set off, running through the forest,
weaving in and out of trees, avoiding the branches trying to reach
out and grab hold of him. As a clap of thunder shook the ground, he
exulted at the sensation. It was incredible to be out and a part of
the storm.

His muscles flexed and flowed like the wind,
as he skipped over fallen debris, ducked under low branches, and
moved rapidly through the closely grown forest. Flashes of waving
branches caught his peripheral vision, but he kept moving forward
toward whatever it was that had called out to him. He was moving
toward his destiny—he knew it deep in his heart.

He ran faster, eager to get there—until a
large half–fallen tree brought him up short. Morgan urgently shoved
his shoulder against the trunk, frustrated at the delay. He needed
to get through—now.

Amidst the rustling of the leaves and his own
heavy breathing, he heard the horse’s agonized whinny again from
somewhere to his left. The tree was wedged in tight. It wouldn’t
budge. He would have to find another route, and quickly; the cries
were becoming more distinct, urgent. His heart pounded in his ears
as he doubled back, looking desperately around for a break in the
growth. Within a minute, he found another path, and ran along it as
fast as he could.

The sounds were closer. They almost seemed to
be grunts or groans rather than cries, but he knew of no animal
that would make such sounds. He was nearly there!

Finally, shielding his face with his arms, he
leapt through the undergrowth into a newly made clearing. A flash
of lightning illuminated the scene before him, but as he stood
there panting, he could barely believe his eyes.

A sense of brilliant auburn hair glinting in
the lightning—red and a touch of gold mixed in with the soft brown.
Deep blue clothed arms reaching out from a slender form.

A girl?

Disappointment dropped in Morgan’s stomach.
It wasn’t his destiny that had been calling out to him. His destiny
didn’t lie with a girl.

It had been a trick, a cruel trick. He wanted
to shout out his frustration. To scream down the heavens. How could
this happen? He’d been so sure...

He took a deep breath and pushed aside his
disappointment. The woman needed his help. She had called out to
him and he, as always, would do everything he could in
response.

Morgan took a step closer to her, his eyes
flitting around the open space all around her. How odd it was that
the trees held back, away from her.

She looked up at him then—and Morgan’s breath
caught in his throat. A vibration hummed through his body. Through
her pain–filled eyes there was something there—something familiar.
It was as if he knew her. Surely he’d never met her before. He
certainly would have remembered meeting such a beautiful girl.

Her face was framed on one side by a lock of
hair that had fallen from the loose knot at the top of her head. If
it were not for the contortion of pain on her face, she would have
been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Tears slid over high
cheekbones and down creamy white cheeks, falling toward pink
lips.

A rush of heat rose within him, and he pulled
his eyes away from her face with difficulty.

Pushing aside these peculiar feelings, he
focused his mind instead on rescuing her. He instantly saw her
problem—a tree had fallen onto her leg, pinning her down. She was
trying to push it off, but it was an impossible task, and she
moaned and cried with the effort and pain.

She looked up at him again as he approached
her, a gust of wind blowing her radiant hair from her face.

He was struck by the allure of her shining
green eyes, her tears magnifying the brilliance of their color. The
exact color of new leaves in spring, they were filled with a pain
that touched his heart.

Squatting down next to the young woman, he
stroked away the tension in her face. As he did so, however, heat
surged again into his hands and down his body. He swallowed hard,
looking deeply into her eyes. They were as familiar to him as his
own, and their depths pulled him in. These were eyes he could drown
in.

But not now. Now he could feel her pain as if
it were his own. He had to help her.

Running his thumbs across her forehead, he
wiped away her fears, all the while holding her gaze. Making his
voice as soft and soothing as possible, he said, “Be calm. It is
all right. I am here.”

He felt her give a deep, shuddering sigh as
she quieted, as every animal did at his touch. He then moved to the
tree. It was a good–sized one, and had probably been standing in
this forest for more than fifty years. Straddling it just next to
her, he fitted his hands underneath as far as they would go, and
bent his knees.

His eyes still fixed on hers, he said
quietly, “When I lift, pull your leg out.”

She nodded her understanding, tears still
streaming down her face as a testament to her pain. He took a deep
breath, focusing his energies—and then, muscles knotting at the
effort, lifted the enormous tree trunk.

It was not much, merely a few inches, but it
was enough.

The woman quickly backed away so her leg came
out from underneath. As soon as she was clear, he let go, and the
tree fell once again with a thump and a rustle of leaves.

Morgan knelt next to her as she sat crying
softly. He admired her for her forbearance. Still, he did what was
natural to him, calming her once again with a stroke of his hands
down soft pale cheeks. He knew just how to calm her, how to make
her feel better—and it thrilled him that he knew this.

“Calm, now. It is all right,” he said,
looking deeply into her eyes and willing his voice to soothe her
and ease her fears.

Her breathing slowed, but he could sense that
she was still in a great deal of pain.

He moved back to her injured leg and lifted
her skirt away just enough to bare her calf. Luckily, the bone had
not broken through the skin. All he needed to do was to lay her leg
straight once more, the bones aligned with each other.

He wrapped his hands around her delicate leg,
to ease away the pain and mend the hurt. He could already feel the
tattered tendons, nerves and bone obeying the heat of his touch as
they moved together...

And then he stopped, snatching his hands away
as if they were burned by her skin.

F
ury flared in Lady Tatiana Vallentyn’s
breast.

“Vallentyn! What are you doing here looking
like a chimney sweep? Where is Miss Hayden? Where have you been?”
Tatiana wanted answers, now.

Jonathan turned around and slowly descended
the two steps he had just taken up the broad staircase. His face
was streaked with soot, as were his hands and clothes.

“I beg your pardon, Mother. I was just on my
way upstairs to get cleaned up. There was a fire and I was forced
to leave Miss Hayden in order to attend to it.”

He stopped speaking abruptly, his eyes
widening. “Is she not here? She said she would return to the abbey
when I left her.”

Tatiana gritted her teeth together in a vain
attempt to control her anger. “Fool!” she spat. She turned from him
and accosted the footman who was standing at attention just inside
the front door.

“Has Miss Hayden returned yet?” she
asked.

He clasped his hands together in front of him
to stop them from shaking so obviously. “No. No, my lady. I have
not seen her.”

Tatiana turned once more, rounding on her
son, who was looking like an idiot with his mouth hanging partially
open.

“I don’t understand,” he said helplessly.
“She said she knew her way back. We were just about to return when
I was informed of the fire. She said she would continue on by
herself.”

“And why were you on your way back so early?
Why were you not courting her like I told you?”

“I took her on a tour of the estate and we,
um, conversed. She seemed to be getting a bit tired,
however...”

“Conversed? I sincerely hope you didn’t bore
her to tears by prattling on about your farm?”

“No! We spoke of other subjects as well. Of,
er, my plans to enter parliament, the new enclosure laws and the
Corn Laws. I believe she is quite interested in such things.”

Tatiana didn’t believe her son for a minute.
He clearly believed he was telling the truth, however—either that
or he had suddenly attained the ability to hide his true feelings
from her. She decided to let him go on this point.

“Then you should have seen her safely into
the house before going off on your foolish errand.”

“It...” Jonathan wisely stopped before
attempting to defend himself. He had learned well not to antagonize
her any more than was necessary, she thought with satisfaction. All
but one of her children had learned that valuable lesson when they
were young, and that one child had been banned from the family
home, never to be spoken of.

“Yes, Mother. I am sorry. I did not stop to
think,” Jonathan said, hanging his head, both to show his guilt and
to avoid looking into her eyes.