Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

D errick stood outside Gwen’s bedroom door. He was about to knock when he heard his aunt’s footsteps on the stairwell, and he darted back to his room.

Blasted woman .

He’d planned to ask Gwen to share a glass of wine, feigning insomnia. He wanted to spend more time alone with her. The woman was striking, and if he read things right, interested in him. Her cool attempts to keep him at arm’s length only challenged him more.

There was no doubt he’d sleep with her before she left Scotland.

Besides, the closer he got to her, the easier it would be to thwart any plans to remove the McRainey ghost. He needed Tristan McRainey to remain exactly where he was. For years, he’d toiled over every detail of the new McRainey resort, until every aspect of the plan fell perfectly in place.

It had been a painstaking process, having to fight not only his aunt, but also the town’s Council, who all foolishly believed the late Lord McRainey’s wishes needed to be adhered to, or bad fortune would befall the entire community.

Damned Scottish and their strong, superstitious nature.

Momentarily, he considered pushing the intercom button, knowing Hannah would answer. The maid would be in his bed without him having to put much effort into seducing her.

However, just the thought of it bored him at the moment.

He went to the large walnut desk at the foot of the bed. On it, the plans for the improved estate were laid out. He ran his fingers over the paper, knowing each detail by heart.

Still, even though he’d memorized every detail, it felt good to see it.

Soon he’d own the most magnificent resort in Scotland, he’d be able to host the elite people of Europe. He’d become a very rich man.

Power charged him, excited him like nothing else could. His lips curved up and he closed his eyes, his hand sliding to his erection.

Thoughts of success always aroused him. He considered taking care of himself. But why do it when there was a willing woman who would be happy to?

He reached to the intercom and pushed the button.

Tristan woke with a start. He’d fallen asleep, and still lay in Gwyneth’s bed. Gaining his bearings, he looked to the foot of the bed where she’d sat the night before, at once treated to a beautiful sight.

The enchantress lay across the bed, the notebook by her outstretched hand. She must have taken notes while he slept. How long had he slept? No doubt it was past time for him to return.

He removed the now almost dry cloth from his brow and moved slowly to avoid waking her as he slid off the bed. Pulling the blankets across the bed, he covered her with them. She snuggled into the warmth, her lips curving into a sweet smile. His hand hovered over her face, but he dared not touch her.

He had to leave, the pull from the alter-world almost unbearably strong now. Pulling his shirt back, he studied the wound. The pain of his return leap would not be unbearable now that his wound was almost healed.

He picked up the book and looked at her writing. Several pages contained a full description of him, his clothing and sword, even his mannerisms. She was very thorough. The next words caught his attention. She’d started working on the spell.

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

So it is spoken, so let it be done

Tristan read over the words several times, nothing happened, no shift, no sense of any effect. He whispered them again and still nothing. Then a slight shift. Hope swelled. Perhaps the pull affected it. He wondered if they had to chant it together. He peered back down at the sleeping woman and considered waking her. They could try the spell.

Before he could reach out to her, the pull claimed him.

He leaped through the now familiar dark tunnel.