Page 10 of An Enchanted Knight

“The last time ye went, it was for too long. If for some unknown reason it becomes impossible for ye to return, remember that you will begin to age at a very rapid rate. Do not take that chance, Tristan.” The hoarseness in Gavin’s voice touched him. He opened his eyes, as Niall finished healing him.

Watching the quiet man leave, he got up and pulled on a tunic.

“I will pay heed to your concerns, Gavin, but I must go. Our freedom depends on it. It is only from the other side that I can work to find the other enchantresses and help the rest of ye.” Absently, he laid a hand over his wounded shoulder. “Is something else amiss?”

Gavin’s worry-filled eyes met his. “Nay.”

His friend was afraid, not of the dangers they faced every day, not of death, but of getting his hopes up, only to be disappointed again. Tristan allowed the lie.

“Come, let’s go downstairs and join the others.”

Chapter Six

“Itrust you are feeling better, Miss Lockhart.” Derrick McRainey met Gwen at the bottom of the stairs as she descended from a short nap, his hand outstretched. She accepted his assistance, and when their hands touched, a strange stirring shook her. If he noticed her slight flinch, he didn’t give any indication of it.

Entering the sitting room, she glanced about. They were alone. Edith must have gone out.

After he motioned to a narrow couch, Gwen sat, and Derrick joined her. The proximity of the man was a bit too familiar, their knees almost touching.

When he turned to open a briefcase on the table in front of them, she was able to shift away as much as she could without it being obvious.

“This photograph of Tristan McRainey’s portrait was kept at my mother’s house in case of a fire, for insurance purposes, of course,” he told her, pulling out the picture and handing it to her.

Gwen’s heart skipped seeing the photo. It was the apparition. The man who’d come to her had been Tristan McRainey.

She schooled her features, keeping her expression purposely blank as she studied the picture. Tristan stood beside a huge black stallion, his eyes looking to the distance, his features set impatiently, as if hating to be still. In the portrait, his hair was longer than the two times she’d seen him, flowing past his shoulders, a thick mass of dark brown waves. The way he held the hilt of his sword was familiar to her, his fist relaxed on it.

Even in the photograph, his good looks were hard to ignore. The man was gorgeous.

“Speechless, Miss Lockhart?” Derrick asked her, his voice tight. “Attracted to a dead man?”

Gwen fought not to roll her eyes at him, she arched an eyebrow at him. “Threatened by a dead man, Lord McRainey?”

“Touché.”

She shrugged. “According to your aunt, he is very much alive.” Gwen lifted her eyes from the picture in her hand to meet Derrick’s.

He gave her a droll look. “I cannot fathom how a woman like Aunt Edith can believe such nonsense.”

“I take it you don’t believe that he is trapped in an enchantment”

“Not at all.”

She studied him as he began to rummage through the briefcase. His aristocratic demeanor did not distract from his looks. Derrick had definitely inherited his height and physique from the McRainey side of the family. Unlike Tristan, Derrick was fair, with light brown hair that barely touched the collar of his shirt. When he turned to hand her a miniature portrait, she noted that his eyes were dark brown, not green like his ancestor’s. They seemed too dark for his coloring, his penetrating gaze unsettling.

“This miniature was done for his future wife. According to family legend, he killed her before they could marry.” He watched for a reaction.

Gwen gasped, reaching for the miniature slowly. “Why did he kill her?”

Derrick shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “If one is to believe those things, it’s said that he killed her after he caught her consorting with his worst enemy. Some local man.”

Gwen didn’t reply. She studied the miniature, this time a younger Tristan. He looked to be barely a man, perhaps nineteen, however he did not have the carefree expression of youth. Instead, his brow remained pinched. He definitely did not like having his portrait done. She held on to the miniature and the photograph. “Can I keep these?”

“Of course. I have another copy of the photograph. The miniature is very old, so take care with it.”

He gave her a questioning look. “Well? Is he the same man that appeared to you yesterday?”

For an inexplicable reason Gwen did not feel inclined to trust Derrick. She’d been hired by Edith and would much rather talk to her first. “I’m not sure. The apparition was hazy, translucent almost. I hope when he appears again I will be able to get a better look and compare him to these.” She looked down at the miniature on her lap to avoid his eyes.