Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

T he Internet yielded very little information into the world of Tristan McRainey. It seemed that scholars did not find very much worthy of reporting and left a large span of history during his lifetime blank. Most of the information Gwen had gathered from Tristan could not be verified. Information could help with the spell, a spell usually hinged on one crucial thing or event.

Tristan had said that each of the trapped men was to be freed separately, and that each spell would be different for the knight in question. Perhaps she needed to ask questions of a more personal nature on his next visit.

Repeating the words she’d felt an impulse to write hadn’t worked for them. She closed her eyes, opened her mind to the universe and chanted them several times.

Nothing happened, not even a stirring.

Letting out a long breath, she decided to try once again, this time not expecting anything, except for inspiration for other words to come. She repeated the words in her head.

Vanquish the shields of time

Remove the walls of deception

Arise the winds of change and move

Unleash the spell of old from its holder

At first her vision was foggy, but slowly an image became clear, and she rocked side to side, repeating the words.

It was a long, deliberate process, as the image seemed reluctant to form. Finally she made out what looked like a young child, a little girl, dark-haired and very slight, no more than six or seven years old. As the girl moved, so did a large shadow behind her. With frightened eyes, the child stumbled forward, looking around frantically. When Gwen could stand it no more, the child finally slid into the hollow of a tree. The shadow passed by, not harming her.

Scant seconds later, the girl left the safety of the tree and ran back in the direction she came, only to be seen by the shadow and chased again. A scream echoed in her mind and Gwen shrieked startled. Her eyes sprang open, and the vision was gone.

Who was the little girl? What did she have to do with Tristan’s enchantment?

A rap on the door made her jump. Gwen straightened and called for the visitor to enter.

Expecting Edith, she was surprised when Derrick stood in the doorway. Dressed in a business suit, he cut a professional figure. The tailor-made jacket fit his wide shoulders perfectly. He strolled in and gave her a questioning look.

Gwen looked down at her leggings and t-shirt and shrugged at him. “Yoga,” she explained. “You, on the other hand, are dressed less comfortably, but very nice.”

“Nonetheless, you are a lovely vision, and thank you.” Derrick leaned in to kiss her, and she turned her face allowing him to kiss her cheek. His expression remained blank as he moved back. “I came to return the portrait, but Aunt Edith is not home. Do you know where she is?”

“She went to Edinburgh and won’t return until tomorrow,” Gwen replied, anxious to run downstairs to see the portrait. “She’s gone to see about your Uncle Roan, who is in the hospital.”

“Ah yes, of course,” Derrick replied, frowning deeply and looking worried. “Uncle Roan has been ill for a very long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Gwen said. Finally she could wait no more. “Is the portrait back up? I must go see it.” She dashed from the room, Derrick right behind her.

Tristan McRainey was undoubtedly the most handsome man she’d ever made love with. A warm blush heated her face as she looked up at the portrait. This time he’d been captured wearing his tartan and sporran. Standing by the fireplace in the great room, he embodied every bit the laird of his clan and every bit a mouthwatering hunk. Gwen allowed her eyes to feast on every inch of the face on the canvas, before finally lowering her gaze to look down his muscular chest to his well-formed arms and hands. Oh those hands, what they could do.

“You never did say if this is the man you saw.” Derrick interrupted her thoughts. “Have you seen him again?”

“He looks familiar,” she stuttered. Okay stupid thing to say. “I mean, yes, of course it’s him. Tristan McRainey. And yes, I saw him again, just yesterday.”

“So this means you won’t be leaving then.” His eyes locked on her lips and Gwen felt uncomfortable, not just at Derrick’s closeness, but that he flirted with her in front of Tristan’s portrait.

“No. Yes, actually, I am leaving. I have to fly to America, but I’ll be returning.” She was going to get the book, but didn’t want him to know that.

“Is it really necessary?” Derrick asked, not explaining if he meant her departure or her return.

“Yes, I have to see my sisters about a family matter,” Gwen told him, not exactly lying, “and I do have to return. I will not give up until your aunt decides all that can be done has been done.”

Running his hand down her arm in a slow deliberate manner that no doubt yielded him results with many women, Derrick gave her a lazy smile. “Do you honestly believe in the fairy tale, Gwyneth?”

“If I didn’t believe in the spirit world, what kind of a medium would I be? Derrick, look—many doubt my profession. I am not bothered by it. I have helped the departed find their way home and families get the closure they utterly needed. I am very proud of my calling.”

As she spoke, he moved closer. Gwen tried to take a step back, but she was cornered.

“Tea, sir?” The maid’s voice was shrill. When Derrick turned to glare at the intruder, Gwen took advantage and ducked past him into the sitting room.

“Thank you, Hannah,” Derrick gave the maid a curt nod. “You may leave.”

Hannah’s eyes slid to Gwen. She didn’t seem inclined to leave. “Do you require anything, miss?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“No, thank you. I will pour,” Gwen replied. Glad to have something to do and put space between her and Derrick, she went to the tray, preparing to serve the tea.

“Very well,” Hannah said, retreating.

Derrick ignored the teacup Gwen placed in front of him.

“I have to ask you to desist at once in your efforts to free Tristan McRainey.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. I haven’t told you this before. The man was a murderer. If what you believe is true, do you want to release his like into our world? What of my aunt’s safety? Do you not care about her well-being?”