Enchantress (Medieval Trilogy 1)

“There was no sound.”

“No, only in my mind.” She swallowed hard and let her finger fall from his lips. “’Tis how it starts — with a voice and then later a vision.”

The hands that gripped her arms were punishing. “This scream,” he said, and skepticism tainted his words. “It belonged to …?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the nursemaid who was with your son.” Morgana’s voice was breathless, her insides still cold with fear.

Garrick stared long and hard at the woman in his arms. She had every reason to lie. He’d brought her here against her will, threatened to harm her family if she didn’t do as he ordered her, betrothed her to a man she despised, and demanded she find his son against great odds. Why wouldn’t she conjure up some sort of tale to appease him? Clever, she was. She’d kept Logan out of immediate danger in her vision, yet bought herself some time. All his instincts told him not to trust her, and yet he felt her tremble in his arms and saw the fear still lingering in her sea green eyes. If she was not telling him the truth, then she was a damn good liar.

“What else did you see?”

Morgana swallowed. “I saw nothing, and yet I felt that there was treache

ry everywhere. There are those whom you trust who would harm you, Garrick,” she said, forgetting that he was a baron. “They have betrayed you already — with Logan — but that was just the start.”

“A voice told you this?”

She nodded mutely, wishing she knew more.

Garrick released her suddenly, and his eyes searched her face. “If you’re lying to me, Morgana, I swear—”

“I’m not! You must believe that someone — someone, I think, who is very close to you — means you harm.”

“It’s not myself I care about,” he threw back at her. “I care only about my son.” A rustle in the bushes caught his attention, and in a flash of gray-brown fur, a wolf bounded from the shadows. Garrick’s charger reared and whistled in terror.

The wolf streaked toward Morgana.

Garrick’s face drained of blood. He drew his sword and lunged at the beast.

“Nay!” Morgana screamed, throwing herself onto the ground between wolf and man. “’Tis mine!” she yelled frantically. “Please — no!” she cried, but Garrick’s blade flashed in the sunlight and she turned to yell at the beast. “Wolf — run!”

Wolf wheeled and snarled, his gold eyes glinting with hatred of the man who would slay him, but he turned and, tail between his legs, dashed into the underbrush of the surrounding forest.

“How dare you attack my animal?” Morgana demanded as she climbed to her feet and dusted her skirt.

“Your animal!” he thundered in disbelief and motioned to the woods. “That beast? I thought he was charging—”

“Alone? Have you ever seen a lone wolf attack a person in broad daylight?” she glared at him as if he were truly a fool. Then, as he lowered his sword, she turned and whistled toward the woods. Slowly, head low, Wolf, emerged, his liquid gold eyes focused on Garrick. “It’s all right,” she assured him. When he reached her, she fell to her knees in joy. Winding her hands in the thick fur on his back she buried her face in his neck. “How are you, friend?” she whispered, her throat thick with tears. “How did you find me?”

He licked her face and wagged his tail, and tears of happiness spilled from Morgana’s eyes. Oh, how she’d missed him — her companion, her friend! “It’s so good to see you,” she whispered, her arms circling his neck. Wolf reminded her of home and of all that she had left at Llanwynn. She blinked hard and cleared her throat, all too aware of Garrick. Dashing her hand against her eyes, she slowly stood and smiled from the joy of having the animal with her again. “He must stay with me,” she said, motioning to the wolf. “He has traveled long to find me and, no doubt, raised my father’s anger. He must stay at Abergwynn, Lord Garrick. I will take care of him and make sure that he causes you no trouble.”

Garrick eyed the wolf thoughtfully and was rewarded with a black-lipped snarl. “This will only add fuel to the gossip against you.”

“I care not! He’s mine, and he’s journeyed hard to find me. I will not turn him away.”

With a heavy sigh, Garrick threw a hand into the air and shook his head. “Why not?” he asked the surrounding forest. “First a witch and now a wolf. Why not? Now no one will think I’ve lost my mind, they will know it!” He climbed upon his nervous horse and stared down at Morgana. “Make no mistake, Morgana, the first time there is trouble with him, he will be turned out or slain. If he frightens the children, kills the sheep, or sneaks scraps from Cook’s table, he cannot stay within the castle walls!”

“He won’t!” Morgana argued with far more confidence than she felt. For Wolf, bless and curse him, had more than his share of faults. But she’d keep her eye on him, and now, finally, she felt she had a friend at Abergwynn. “Come,” she commanded to the beast, but recalling her vision she felt the footsteps of doom climb up her neck.

Chapter Thirteen

The voice had been right. There were many who were not as faithful to Lord Garrick as they would have liked him to believe. Morgana, in the next few days at Abergwynn, tried to ignore her own changing feelings for a man who had forced her to leave her family, betrothed her to a knight she couldn’t stomach, and then kissed her so passionately that her entire world had seemed to turn upside down. She tingled each time she thought of that one wonderful, hateful kiss.

Within the castle walls she sensed the unspoken thoughts and the traitorous glances cast between some of Garrick’s knights. She told herself she was imagining the tension that seemed to simmer in the air, and yet she could not shake the feelings that more than a few of Abergwynn’s knights would plot against their lord.

To begin with, she did not trust Strahan, but after observing him with Garrick she had no reason to believe he was less than loyal. Though he was far from kind, he seemed to genuinely respect his cousin, and whenever they were together he placed Garrick and Abergwynn’s best interests at heart. In truth, Garrick had been more than generous with Strahan; the castle and lands that were to be bestowed upon Strahan and his bride were valuable and well established. So why would Strahan rebel against a man who was so good to him?

As for the others, most of the knights and servants were outwardly fond of Garrick and prided themselves on being in the command of so able a leader. Only a few appeared discontented, but whether their animosity was directed at Garrick or at her, Morgana wasn’t certain. She caught the disdainful looks cast her way and saw the hidden sneers when Garrick ordered the men to accompany her. She decided that the treachery she saw in a few of the men’s eyes might exist because they considered their lord to have gone mad to bring into their midst a woman with so dark a reputation. Perhaps those she felt were disloyal were merely superstitious men who questioned Garrick’s judgment in dealing with a witch. It could be that the tension she felt crackling between the castle and the bailey wasn’t directed at the baron so much as at her.