The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes Read online

  "I talk when I have something to say."

  "Makes sense."

  Dog and cat continued to sniff the air between them, getting to know and remember the other's scent.

  "I don't like your master,” Dinks announced. He glanced over his shoulder at the humans and Famhair stared over Dinks’ head.

  "I don't trust your mistress, but then, I don't trust much of anyone since my first master died."

  Dinks’ curiosity was piqued. “What happened to your first master?"

  Famhair gave an uncharacteristic whimper. “He died in battle. His pup would have run me through, but my new master claimed me for himself."

  Dinks was unfamiliar with that sort of grief, having had only one mistress. “You loved your first master. I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to my mistress."

  "I hope you never have to find out,” Famhair concluded with a sigh.

  Dinks turned again to the humans, keeping a watchful eye on the stranger. One false move and he'd be all over him like mice on cheese. “What does your master want?"

  "I don't know for certain. Before we got here, he was talking about a legend."

  Dinks thought about that for a moment. It seemed to strike a long ago memory. “Look. I don't like your master and you don't care for my mistress, but I get a feeling we're going to be spending a lot of time together. What say we call a truce between us so we can watch them.” He nodded his head in the direction of the humans. “They don't have to know."

  "Good thinking. If they think we can't get along, it might keep them from getting too close, and out of trouble."

  Both animals stood and shook their heads. Despite the fact that Famhair was a good deal larger than Dinks, dog and cat circled each other warily. Low growls emanated from their throats while they appeared ready to bite the other's head off.

  Famhair backed off when Tristan called out a Gaelic command. The canine smirked and sat beside the stallion leaving Dinks to stare at him.

  * * * *

  Tristan raised Meryl's hand to his lips, stopped a moment to issue a command to the great hound without looking back, then pressed a gentle kiss against the back of the lady's fingers. Releasing her hand slowly, he stepped away; a startled expression flashed across his face. He quickly schooled his features and, with a flourish, presented her with a red rose. The flower seemed to appear out of nowhere. He forced a smile, then nodded his head once. “Until we meet again, my lady.” He stepped back and glanced at the cat that had returned to her side. Tristan leaped onto his horse's back and set the animal to a gallop, north along the shore. The hound fell into an easy lope beside horse and rider.

  Meryl watched him ride away, along the surf's edge. “Wait! Who are you?” Even as she called after him demanding an answer, she knew there would be none. She slowly twirled the rose between two fingers, enjoying the delicate fragrance being released on the breeze. She didn't like this sudden intrusion into her life. She felt as if she'd suddenly lost control of her life. He wanted something from her and the idea didn't settle well. She'd show him she wasn't one to play games.

  She watched man and horse disappear into the remaining mist and absently touched the pendant. The unexpected jolt that had passed between them affected her pendant, radiating a warmth that hadn't been there before. Meryl glanced up but the rider was gone.

  "What did you do to it?” she asked softly and shook her head. She didn't really spend the last few minutes talking with a Scottish warrior. Had his presence been a figment of her overactive imagination? She didn't imagine the rose in her hand, with its delicate fragrance, so he had to be real. She didn't want him to be real. She wanted to clear away all thoughts of him and the discomfort his presence made her feel. Instinct told her he brought trouble with him, and she had an uneasy feeling she was about to end up in the middle of it.

  The black cat gave a low growl and rubbed its head against Meryl's bare leg. Meryl reached down and scratched behind Dinks’ ear. “Jealous, are we? No reason to be, my friend. Somehow, I don't think he'll be back. We better head back to the house. Enchantra and Daryn are due back from their honeymoon in a few days and we still have a lot to do.” Meryl glanced once more in the direction the horseman had taken, wondering again if she'd imagined the Scot's appearance. She replaced the headphones and switched on the Walkman, then turned toward the mansion. Her pace quickened and she splashed through the water. The cold, salty droplets felt good against her bare skin in the rising morning heat. The remaining mist burned off in the bright sunlight.

  Images of the stranger came to mind, keeping pace with her run back to the mansion. She didn't want to think about how the encounter left her feeling confused. She tried to concentrate instead, on the Celtic music, willing it to push all other thoughts out of her mind, but there were more sounds in her head than just the ancient tunes.

  Metal against metal, shouting, screams of dying men, a Scottish moor littered with bodies.

  Meryl slowed down, then stopped running, and winced at the sight in her mind. The vision continued. One man stood alone surveying the carnage. He turned slowly and she heard him say something, but couldn't make out the words at first; they were in another language. We must find her now. We need the legend. Meryl's breath caught—the stranger. Intense green eyes stared at her. He seemed to be standing before her. She blinked and he vanished, along with the rest of the vision.

  "Who is he and how did he get into my head? Why am I seeing this?” Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and it left too many questions with no answers.

  Meryl pulled the pendant away from her body, as far as the double chain would allow, and studied the intricate design. The delicately designed silver was still warm and she tried to convince herself it was from her own body heat, but knew the truth of the matter. The small, pale moonstones seemed to stare at her like a pair of knowing eyes. Diagonally from the stones, the turquoise lay in the silver setting of the other half, it's blue color deep and and pulsing with warmth.

  "I don't understand what's going on, Dinks, but he's got something to do with it. He did something to the pendant when he touched it.” Meryl hesitated briefly, then gingerly tucked the pendant inside her tee shirt. The warmth of the silver seeped into her skin, awakening new sensations. Her eyes widened at the feel of the light warmth spreading throughout her body. It was a pleasant feeling, like being wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket, but she tried to shake it off, fearful of what it might do to her. “I don't trust him; he's managed to get into my head and I can't get him out. What does he want?"

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Spellbinder house was a grand old mansion no two groups of people saw the same way. Meryl had no proven explanation for the differences in opinions. The older people in town believed the house was neglected and should be razed. The younger people saw an architect's dream with clean, modern lines.

  Meryl saw the house the way it truly existed. The great mansion was at least two hundred years old and well kept. Only two years before, the most recent coat of paint had been applied to the outside of the building. There were no termites in the basement, no wood rot anywhere. All the shutters were in place. They were more than just decoration; they were actually functional. Some of the second story windows were actually french doors leading out to small balconies. Every pane of glass sparkled in the sunlight. Wrought iron railings guarded the edges of the balconies against possible disaster. Her own room was here on the south side, overlooking the garden. She had already set out a wicker chair on her own balcony so she could enjoy mornings like this after her run on the beach.

  The wraparound veranda, which encircled the entire house, wasn't part of the original structure but Meryl loved it anyway. It gave the house a southern look. She'd been considering adding planters on each side of the supporting posts. She pictured morning glories climbing up the posts, trumpeting the arrival of the morning summer sun. Geraniums, marigolds and coleus would add color to the planters and a bit of trailing ivy would give t
he setting a soft look. She planned to give it more thought before she made a final decision.

  The gardens were another thing. The townsfolk thought the grounds were either overgrown with weeds or meticulously kept. It depended on whom you talked to; not that anyone came here, especially when Spellbinders were in residence. She had to admit, no matter how they saw it, the gardens did need some tending. It was late spring, after all...

  When she went into town, the residents tended to speak freely around her. No one knew her to be a Spellbinder. Sometimes it was better that way. She had yet to earn the family name and her Aunt Enchantra didn't believe Meryl ever would. Despite her age, Meryl hadn't yet given up all hope. Her thoughts drifted back to recent conversations that had gone on around her. The townsfolk believed things had been too quiet up on the hill. They spoke in conspiratorial whispers about the strange goings on when the owner was around. They didn't know the owner would arrive soon—or owners, plural. Meryl hoped that particular problem had been solved with the new marriage. If not, she didn't want to think about the problems in store for everyone. One thing she was sure of ... when Enchantra returned, it wouldn't be quiet for long.

  * * * *

  Meryl managed to keep thoughts of the stranger at bay. She didn't want to think about his shoulder length black hair with its warrior braid, or his deep green eyes, the way they looked at her. She didn't want to remember how his courtly manner left her flustered. For the last few days, she'd stayed away from the beach, half hoping he would give up and go away. She gathered up her loose hair and tied it at the back of her neck, then went off to the garden.

  She loved the feel of the soil. It felt crumbly but not really dry. It smelled ... earthy. She grinned at her redundant choice of words. The clumps of earth were dark and rich, warm from the sun. If she'd been able to, she would have given the fertilizer a little boost. This year, she was in a hurry to see the garden thrive.

  A prickly sensation ran up her spine. She sensed someone hiding in the woods, not thirty feet away, watching her. She looked in the direction where the source seemed strongest. The dense woods let through little sunlight; everything remained cast in shadow, making it hard to tell where someone could be hiding. Pine needles blanketed the ground in a light brown covering, and easily muffled footsteps. She could hear Dinks running through the low brush. Why didn't he sense anyone there? Nothing else moved. Meryl began to think her imagination was working overtime; it'd been some time since she'd been at the mansion alone.

  "I can feel eyes on me and I don't like it,” she muttered.

  Meryl jumped a foot when a hand touched her shoulder. She fell backward, scared silly, and glanced up at the intruder. A pixie face surrounded by long blond hair grinned down at her. Meryl closed her eyes when she recognized the visitor.

  "Lord, Cara, you just took ten years off my life. My heart's racing like a thoroughbred running the Kentucky Derby.” She paused, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “Next time, kindly announce yourself.” Meryl looked down at the mangled plant in her hand and sighed.

  Cara laughed. “I did. Apparently you were too absorbed in your gardening to hear me. What were you saying about eyes?"

  Meryl glanced up at her best friend before answering. The two young women had been friends for what seemed forever. Meryl couldn't recall a time when one or both of them weren't up to mischief. Cara's innocent look belied her ability for getting into trouble. She hadn't yet realized the potential of what she would be and Meryl wondered how her best friend would react when she finally faced that reality. She hoped she was around to see it.

  Cara was a petite woman, smaller than Meryl. No one would have believed her to be anything but a teenager, and she used the opinion to full advantage. Her blue eyes twinkled with merriment while she waited for Meryl to respond to her question. The small upturned nose and bow shaped mouth completed the pixie-like features. Her skin had a rosy glow Meryl envied. Cara's gray oversized sweatshirt hid her slight frame. In contrast, her snug fitting jeans emphasized her slim figure. Meryl felt like a giant next to her.

  Since they had discovered certain common elements in their lives, they had become almost inseparable. Only Cara's occasional journeys put distance between the two friends.

  "Well, are you going to answer my question?” Cara asked again, her impatience showing.

  "Answer what?” Meryl asked innocently. She got up and dusted the dirt from her own jeans and looked at her friend. She knew only too well how Cara hated to have a question answered with another question.

  "You were saying something about eyes when I came up behind you."

  "Oh. That...” Meryl shrugged it off as nothing important.

  "Yes, that. Are you going to tell me or not?"

  "I'd say not, but I know you'll keep badgering me until you finally get an answer."

  "You've got that right. So, tell me what you meant.” Cara had never really learned patience, at least not where Meryl and secrets were concerned.

  Meryl glanced back to the trees and spotted Dinks racing across the blanket of pine needles. The feeling of being watched faded. If someone had been hiding among the trees, surely the cat would have warned them off. His perceived size alone would be enough to scare anyone.

  "I don't know,” she said finally, almost in a whisper. “A few minutes ago, I felt someone staring at me, someone who didn't want me to know they were there. I don't understand why Dinks didn't sense it."

  "He's too busy enjoying his freedom at the moment, from what I can see.” Cara looked up and watched the cat dive into some underbrush. “Maybe you imagined it?"

  "Maybe,” Meryl hesitantly agreed, then changed the subject. “I have to get weeds pulled before they choke out the herbs. Give me a hand with it then we'll have something cold to drink."

  Both young women worked side by side, in silence for a few moments. They turned over dirt and pulled weeds, then placed seedlings into the dark soil, tamping down the earth to secure them in their new home. This was something new to Cara and she glanced at her friend, then gave the soil around her seedling a final pat.

  "Since when have you been interested in herbs?"

  "Since ... I don't know. I suppose my recent trip piqued my curiosity. It's amazing what different herbs can do, besides spice foods.” Meryl caught the gleam in Cara's eyes at the mention of food. No one would have guessed how much the blond loved to experiment with cooking. Meryl sighed. Cara would never have a weight problem. Even at age fifty, she would still look like a teenager.

  When they finished planting the new herbs and pulling old weeds, they gathered the garden tools and went into the kitchen for the promised drinks.

  * * * *

  Tristan watched from a distance, well hidden in the shadows within the treeline. For a moment, he thought the newcomer might pose a threat to the young woman tending the garden. He took a step backward, reminding himself he couldn't interfere ... Not yet. He watched carefully and decided the newcomer posed no problem, after all. They seemed to be close friends.

  It had taken him some time to locate Meryl. Their meeting a few days ago, hadn't been chance; he had watched her and planned carefully. The result of their first meeting had been unexpected. He didn't understand then, or now, why he couldn't look away from her. He remembered feeling as though she had pulled the breath from him as their eyes had locked in that strange moment of attraction. He had a sinking feeling someone forgot to tell him something before he set out on this quest.

  He glanced about the thick trees, listening. Famhair's ears were also tuned to the sound, and he grumbled. Tristan wasn't sure if the dog was warning of the impending intruder, of if he complained at not being allowed to run after it. Meryl's cat was crashing through the underbrush, chasing who knew what. It surprised him the animal hadn't sensed his or Famhair's presence yet. Tristan knew he intruded on private land—again—but he had to complete his mission. There wasn't a lot of time left to do what needed to be done. He couldn't approach the girl again, especia
lly now that she had company, but it would have to be soon. He rested a hand lightly on the dirk sheathed in his belt, listening to a low growl from a cat. He'd best leave before the animal discovered where he was. He gave the dog a hand signal to follow. Tristan knew there was a reason he didn't care for cats. Glancing once more at the two young women, he turned and faded into the forest's shadows.

  * * * *

  Cara always made herself at home in the Spellbinder house. She rummaged about the refrigerator, pulled out two cans of soda and a tray of ice cubes. Being in this kitchen brought back pleasant memories, times when she and Meryl sat here with their homework, looking for excuses to not get it done. She smiled.

  Meryl washed her hands and stared out the window above the kitchen sink. She loved the peace and quiet of the property and realized how much she'd missed it. A kind of magic existed about the place which had nothing to do with Aunt Enchantra.

  Daylight faded to black leaving her floating in a sea of nothingness. What was happening? She could hear it again, just like the morning on the beach. The sound of clashing metal filled her mind—the sound of swords? She heard a whimpering and saw the stranger's huge dog in a protective crouch over a body. Other men were wounded. She wanted to flee from the vision but couldn't move. She heard them scream in pain. She knew they were dying, but they were so far away, and she didn't have the courage to run from the horror. She was rooted where she stood, but she had to do something. Someone spoke of a woman. A familiar voice whispered in her ear; a pleasant voice, deep and hypnotic.

  The words repeated in her mind, like an echo, “I will come for you soon. We need you." The slamming of the refrigerator door jolted Meryl back to the present. “Where were you just now?” Cara grinned, then placed ice cubes in two tall glasses and slowly poured soda over them. The liquid against the ice created a thick foam. Cara waited for it to settle before filling the glasses.