Chapter 3

Chapter Three

D espite the fog in his head, Tristan caught himself and moved away from the gorgeous woman in the bed.

What was he doing? This was certainly not the time to attempt to seduce a woman. For starters, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to remain in the current realm much longer, and secondly... he had more important things to consider.

His freedom for instance.

How long since he’d been with a woman, a beautiful one like the one who watched him with interest? Did he even remember what it felt like to hold someone? How long since he’d been thoroughly spent, buried deep inside a vixen like the one before him now? He dared not try to ponder it any longer.

A part of him he thought long dormant awakened. Was it hope? By the hammering of his heart underneath his breast, just the possibility was almost more than he could bear.

He looked down at the enchantress who eyed him in return with suspicion. He was willing to bet the woman didn’t realize what an enticing sight she made. If not for his current state, he would not hesitate to join her in the bed, kiss her until she gave in, and then make love to her for hours.

Would she enjoy his touch?

She was lovely, her rumpled midnight-black hair cascading down her back, a curtain of silken tresses, like velvet fabric it swayed each time she moved. It took all his strength to stop from reaching and wrapping his fingers around it.

Hands fisted, he stalked back to the window, his favorite element of each room. Windows served as portals where he could look outside and catch glimpses of the changes that had transpired through the years.

Hundreds of years of trials and captivity, and now at last he had hope.

Before he could begin to explain the rules of breaking his enchantment, the strong pull jerked at him. Time was up and he had to return.

In a matter of minutes the pull would become too strong, and he’d not be able to resist and be forced to return to the alter-world.

Tristan rushed back to the bed. Without thinking, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled the surprised woman to him.

His mouth covered hers.

Her gasp the only invitation he needed. Driving his tongue deep into her mouth, he almost collapsed on weakened legs from her taste. Mint intermingled with her natural flavor, reminding him of the wild fragrant plants that grew on the Scottish countryside.

Too long. So many years, waiting for this moment. How he missed women, their touch, their scent, and their taste. The kiss became savage, hungry, and passionate. Tristan feared he’d lose control, his craving barely satisfied. For a split second he wondered if he hurt her, but as if on cue, she moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands traveling to his upper arms to pull him closer. The feel of her breasts pressed against him was his undoing, he groaned at the intensity of the moment.

No longer in control, his hands slid to the small of her back. The feel of her silky hair between his fingers almost brought him to his knees, then the pull became too strong, and he could not fight it.

“No,” she whispered as he vanished.

Tristan hit the ground hard, his body convulsed in agony. Each time he moved between planes and returned to the alter-world, the pain was excruciating. He writhed from the torture, a feeling like that of muscles peeling away from bones. Clenching his jaw to keep from screaming, he could not stop the tears that flowed down his face. A firm hand on his shoulder instantly calmed the pain, until finally the hurting subsided, becoming bearable.

Still it took a few moments before he could breathe normally, and Tristan opened his eyes. The healer maintained a close eye on him, his hand still gripping his shoulder.

Prior to entering the enchantment, a powerful enchantress gifted each knight with an amulet and a special power.

Niall, the knight who knelt beside Tristan, received the gift of healing, which came in handy. Especially after moving between worlds.

“My gratitude, Niall.” Tristan sat up, allowing his head to flop forward until his chin rested on his chest. He managed to lift his hand, and Niall pulled him to his feet.

“Ye were gone too long this time. Ye are vera weak.” The dark Irishman gave him a worried look. “Shall I carry ye? The others await us inside. We had a wee bit of trouble while ye were gone.”

That being the most he’d heard Niall say in a long time, Tristan didn’t question him further.

He shook his head, the action costing him when a dizzy spell hit. “No need to carry me, I can make it.”

Nail gave him a dubious look and walked away without another word.

Tristan followed him at a slower pace toward a large stone castle where they lived, most of the time, sometimes for years, without incident or challenges.

Both men continuously scanned the surrounding area. They knew better than to be at ease. Their captor didn’t allow for a peaceful existence.

“What kind of trouble, Niall?” Not able to restrain his curiosity, Tristan asked his friend when he caught up to him.

Niall motioned with his right hand for him to pick up the pace and they jogged toward the keep. The Irishman looked skyward and scanned the vast expanse.

Finally he pinned him with one of his usual annoyed looks.

Niall MacTavish, one of Scotland’s best lancers, had won many a joust in his lifetime. Back then, he seemed to live for the accolades of winning the many competitions but once off the field he reverted to his norm, a silent solitary man.

Already a quiet male, since coming to the alter-world, Niall had become even more sullen and withdrawn, rarely joining them for meals, even less for conversations.

“Liam will explain,” Niall finally replied, as they continued on into the keep.

A rumble from the purple-hued sky alerted them to the possibility of rain. In this realm, rain could be anything from water and ice to fire, so they hurried inside to the security afforded by the solid grey stone walls of their home.

As soon as Niall and Tristan were inside, hail began falling, pelting the roof, the sounds of it echoing throughout.

Used to it, Tristan ignored the noisy bangs. He trusted that the youngest knight, Padraig’s, magical wards were strong against the assault. Besides, the matter at hand seemed quite serious, by the stoic faces of the other men inside the main room.

The gloomy chamber, lit with magic torches and a vivid fire from the enormous fireplace, relieved Tristan’s chill.

Three men sat around a large plain wooden table where they took their meals. They’d kept certain habits such as sitting together and sharing meals, as a way of staying in touch with their humanity.

He and Niall joined the men at the table.

The four men had become his family since having been spellbound together for centuries.

Besides the morose Niall, there was Padraig Clarre, a young, brash, humorous Scottish warrior, the youth of the group who kept them entertained with his antics and magic tricks.

Then there was Tristan’s childhood friend, a Scottish laird, Gavin Campbell. His unrivaled beauty had always made it impossible for anyone that came upon him not to gawk. Thankfully, over the many years, he and the others in the room were immune to the man’s beauty. Gavin, who had the power of seduction, rarely had occasion to use his gift in the alter-world. A fact he repeatedly insisted was a gift in itself.

The fourth man was Liam Murray, an English knight, whom they’d come upon on the fate-filled day they’d been bound to the enchantment. Murray’s gift of foresight proved to be almost as valuable as Niall’s healing during their many travails.

The men had endured much during the years in the alter-world as they were constantly tested by different challenges. They’d been attacked by dragons, soulless warriors, and individually thrown into whatever surreal torment the evil mind of the wizard Meliot conjured.

As a result, the men had become closer than brothers. After so many trials and seeing each other at their worst, it was doubtful they could ever find any other person who could ever come close to breaching their bond.

Tristan met each of their gazes before sitting, reassured when not one of them averted their eyes.

Liam leaned forward from the head of the table. Lord Liam Murray was of Norse ancestry, evident by his piercing ice-blue eyes and almost white-blonde hair, which he kept short, barely past his nape. The knight looked around the room before speaking, as if measuring his words. “The day ye left we were attacked.”

Astounded, Tristan’s eyes widened. “How long was I gone?” That time moved differently on the two planes made timekeeping difficult for them while leaping. Although time seemed to move at a normal rate in the alter-world, when they went to current time, it moved faster.

“Two days,” Gavin told him.

He’d thought to have been gone less than an hour, if that. But the fact that, in this plane, he’d been gone so much longer didn’t surprise him. Nothing did anymore.

Tristan looked back to Liam. “Attacked how? Were ye caught outside? Were they able to enter the keep?”

“A group of centaurs and a couple Minotaur attacked before we could make it back inside, after escorting ye out to leap,” Liam replied.

Minotaur were exceptionally strong, but not usually a deathly threat when in small numbers. “There were about twenty centaurs,” Padraig added shaking his head.

Tristan now noticed bruises and some bandages. Gavin sported a nasty gash on his jaw that was already healing. Padraig’s left eye was slightly swollen, his bottom lip split, and Liam’s right hand was wrapped in bandages.

It seemed Niall had been busy.

Liam spoke again after allowing Tristan to look about the room, pride in his voice. “Of course, we were able to defend ourselves and managed to kill more than half before making it back to the keep.”

“A missive was nailed to the front door when we reached it.” Gavin handed Tristan a piece of rolled parchment.

The parchment crackled as Tristan unrolled it, everyone’s eyes landed on him as he read the words.

“ Betrayal will come. Lord McRainey will turn against all of ye in his quest for freedom. He will gain his freedom at the expense of yours. Be warned .”

Tristan slammed his fist on the tabletop and jumped to his feet, his chair falling behind him. “I will never betray any of you and I will not leave unless we all leave together. That is my oath.”

Padraig, who’d sat next to him, stood as well and placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “We don’t doubt ye Tristan. But ye cannot make such an oath.”

The young knight looked around the room at the other men. “Ye know the rules of the enchantment. We can only leave one at a time, unless by some chance two of our fates are linked. Each of us will have a different quest, a different enchantress, and a different outcome.”

“Of course, this could be Meliot’s way to dissuade ye from seeking the enchantress that will free us,” Gavin replied, his golden gaze meeting his. “And since the rules don’t allow for us to know what is true and what is not...” He didn’t finish, turning toward the fire.

“To hell with this place and its damned rules,” Tristan exclaimed. “Why do we even try? Everything in this accursed place has been and will always be a lie. If this enchantress manages to get past Meliot’s spell binding me here, I have little doubt another binding of some sort will take its place.”

He stormed from the room tired of all the tricks and rules and even more exhausted by the hope that had dared to flicker within him.

As he walked away, he overheard Padraig chuckle, “We didn’t even get to ask him about his trip.”

He hesitated in the hallway, trying to decide if he needed to return to the room. Truth be told, he shouldn’t have lost his temper. It wasn’t their fault. They, like him, went through the same experience.

“Be silent, Paddy,” Liam admonished the young knight. “More than we can imagine is in store for Tristan.”

Liam, who had the gift of foresight, continued. “I only hope this lass is as strong as he needs her to be.”