Powerful Magic (9 page)

          
"Calm yourself."
 
Taking her arm, he guided her to where his saddle blanket still lay, spread on the ground near the fire.
 

          
"Come, sit and have some bread.
 
You will tell me all you know of this Roger."

          
Reluctantly, Megan allowed him to lead her over to the fire.
 
She didn't know what to do.
 
He wanted to know about Roger, but anything she could tell him would seem like the ravings of an insane lunatic.
 
Roger drove a silver Porsche 911, lived in a tony North Dallas house, and preferred to have his suits custom made.
 
He loved football, especially the Dallas Cowboys, and enjoyed finding small ways to torment her. Lately he graduated to bigger and bigger torments.
 
The last time, he'd given her a black eye and a broken rib when she'd refused to change her will, making him her sole beneficiary.
 

          
The thought sobered her instantly.
 
Maybe she was better off here, for now.
 
Safer, at least.
 
She'd been a fool to think Roger would let her break their engagement.
 
No doubt he would kill her if she returned.
 

          
She shivered.
 
She was safe, for now.
 
Right now Roger had no idea where she was.
 
He'd been walking toward her, the sky had been that particular Texas shade of brilliant blue, then bam!
 
She'd been transported somehow to the winter in some godforsaken place, attended to by a Conan the Barbarian look-alike who honestly believed he lived over nine hundred years in the past.

          
It was hard to decide which was worse.

          
This Kenric meant to help her find Roger.
 
Though in truth she had no desire to ever see her former fiancee again, this task was all she had to keep Kenric with her.
 
Perhaps somehow, he could arrange it for her to return home.
 
Though how, she wondered, was he going to take her across time?
 
Yet she knew if she mentioned that little fact to him, he would truly believe her mad.

          
At this point, she wondered it herself.

          
"I am waiting."
 
With the tone of a man used to being obeyed, Kenric spoke.
 
Still, he made no move to hurt her, reminding her that not all men were like Roger.

          
"Roger."
 
She said, thinking back to what little she knew of medieval culture.
 
If she remembered right, it was not uncommon in those times for a bride to know little about her husband before the wedding.
 
She could use this, make it work for her, because what she knew of Roger she couldn't tell this man.
 
He'd never understand.

          
"Roger is wealthy."
 
She told him firmly, deciding to tell as much of the truth as possible.
 
"I have known him all of my life."

          
Kenric cocked his head, his gaze considering.
 
"And what value does he place on you?"

          
It took her a moment to realize what he meant.
 
"He loves me very much."
 
She said, gagging on the lie.
 
She felt a pang of sorrow for the fool she had been.
 

          
Raising her eyes, she found Kenric watching her.
 

          
"What is it?"
 
His voice, though soft, seemed edged with steel.
 
"What brings such fear and sorrow to your face?"

          
Startled, both by the way he'd been able to read her so correctly, and that he even cared, Megan swallowed.

"Nnnothing."

          
For the space of a heartbeat she thought he'd insist she tell him, then he simply nodded and waved one large hand. "Go on then."

          
Roger.
 
She'd been talking about Roger.
 

          
"He's tall."
 
She tried to think.
 
Yes, Roger was tall, though not nearly the size of this giant.
 
"Slender.
 
And he has blonde hair."

          
At Kenric's blank look she elaborated.
 
"Hair the color of wheat.
 
He is an important man.
 
Others listen when he speaks."

          
"I care not what he looks like.
 
Tell me of his holdings."

          
Holdings?
 
Oh, he meant land.
 
Of course.
 
But how did she explain the concept of twentieth century Dallas to this man?
  
"The land he holds is important."
 

          
"To whom?
 
The King?"

          
She noted the sudden sharpness in his gaze.
 
Uneasy, she shifted her weight on the blanket.
 
"I don't know the English King."
 

          
Kenric's handsome mouth twisted.
 
"But you know of him."

          
Wondering what he would say if she told him in her time that a Queen, rather than a King, sat on the throne in England, she shook her head.
 

          
"Not really."
 
Heck, she had no idea even what monarch had ruled England in 1072.
 
King William, he'd said.

          
Roger.
 
She needed to get back to familiar ground, back to talking about Roger.
 
What else could she say?
 

          
"Roger employs many people."
 
Thousands, at last count.

          
"Employs?"

          
She did a rapid translation in her head.
 
"I mean rules."

          
This time he looked more than skeptical, he looked disbelieving.
 
"Then these people of his must all be out looking for you.
 
Combing the countryside, especially if this Roger of yours commands it."

          
"He doesn't have an army."
 
Megan shot back, pleased with her quick thinking.
 
"These people are mostly workers."

          
"Serfs?"

          
Calling Roger's employees serfs might be pushing it a bit far.
 
But, when in Rome...
 
"Yes, serfs."

          
"Surely he commands his own men."

          
Though she knew Kenric meant warriors, she couldn't help but think of Roger's Board of Directors.
 
Instead of dressed in custom made suits, she tried to picture them dressed like this Kenric of Blackstone, in tunic and leggings.
 
The thought seemed ludicrous.

          
"Do you find something amusing?"
 
Kenric's deep voice broke into her thoughts, making her realize she'd been staring off into space, a small smile on her face.

          
"Er, no."
 
She schooled her face in a more somber expression.
 
"Roger has twelve men who are his personal, er, force."

          
"Twelve."
 
Kenric nodded, apparently approving of the number.
 
"How many of them would he dispatch to search for you?'

          
Great.
 
Now she'd gotten herself in hot water again.
 
"I think they'd all travel together?"
 
She ventured.

          
It was her luck that woman were not supposed to understand the ways of men and warfare.
 

          
Kenric chuckled, making him look approachable-handsome instead of forbidding-handsome.
 
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like
women
, proving that no matter what the time period, men didn't really ever change.
 
          

          
"What?"
 
Megan couldn't keep from asking.

          
"Your Roger would not take all of his men with him to search for you.
 
He would split them up, have them travel in different directions."

          
So much for that.
 
Standing, Megan breathed the frigid air deep into her lungs, wishing she could get rid of the ever present sooty reek of the smoke from their fire.

          
"All we have to do,"
 
Kenric stood also, stretching in a way that made his muscular torso seem to ripple, "is find one of your Roger's men, if not he himself."

          
Transfixed, Megan couldn't help but stare, her mouth dry.
 
She'd never seen a man more beautiful, more ruggedly attractive.
 
It took her a moment to realize that Kenric had spoken.
 
What had he said?
 
Something about finding Roger.
 
Roger was the last person she wanted to find.
 
But the way to Roger was the way home.
 
Did she really want to go home to her empty, sad life?

          
"Good."
 
She muttered through numb lips.
 
Her breasts tingled.
 
God, she hadn't known a man could affect her the way this man did.
 
Sexual attraction wasn't everything, but it sure didn't hurt.
 

          
"We will ride in the morning."

          
This got her attention.
 
"Ride?
 
Like that huge animal over there?"
 
She pointed to his horse, wondering what he'd say when he learned she'd never been on a horse before in her life.

          
He laughed again, obviously thinking she was kidding.
 
"My war horse will not hurt you.
 
Unlike most others of his kind, he is gentle and a good friend.
 
He can easily carry twice my weight."

          
Looking at the massive animal, she didn't doubt it.
 
She decided not to tell him of her lack of equestrienne skills.
 
Maybe she'd luck out again and he'd simply assume it was one of the problems with her being a woman.

          
Still, she'd wished she had her car.

          
"One other thing."
 
Kenric folded his massive arms across his chest.
 
"When we leave here, you will become a boy."

          
"A boy?"

          
"Yes.
 
Dressed in my clothes," his gaze traveled the length of her, making her burn, "it shouldn't be too difficult."

          
Great.
 
So he thought she looked like a boy.
 
Glancing down at herself, clad in the too large leggings and huge, shapeless tunic, she supposed she couldn't really blame him.
 
Especially since he was most likely used to women in the ornate, formal gowns of his time.
 

          
"Your vassal?"
 
She asked.
 

          
After a startled look, he through his shaggy dark head back and laughed.
 

          
"Perhaps I missed it." He said, the amusement making him look ten years younger - and ten times more handsome.

          
Megan tried to clear her brain.
 
It seemed to get a bit foggy whenever she looked at him.
 
"Missed what?"