Colin rolled his eyes. "I'm not appointing you Lady Tabitha's jailer. I want you to guard her against all harm." He slanted Tabitha a look that warmed her heart and almost made her forget he was leaving her. "She is a most precious charge."

"Oh." The hulking boy looked vaguely disappointed. "Very well, sir. I'll look after the witch." He cut her a wary look. "If she'll promise not to cast any spells on me."

Tabitha gave the amulet a mocking stroke, but Colin shook his head at her in warning.

Before she could come up with any more compelling arguments for taking her along, he had swung himself astride the stallion.

While Arjon was mounting his own horse, Colin unhooked one of the bulging knapsacks from his saddle and tossed it to Chauncey. "No witch burning, lad."

The boy cast the handsome stake with its thicket of crisp brush a crestfallen look. "Aye, sir."

Colin shifted his scowl to Tabitha. "And you? No witchcraft!"

"Yes, Darrin," she muttered.

He squinted at her. "What was that?"

She bobbed a mocking curtsy. "Yes, darling."

He nodded his approval and wheeled the horse around. Tabitha's spirits plummeted. He was just going to ride out of her life without giving her so much as an affectionate pat on the head.

But as he and Arjon reached the edge of the clearing, he drew back on the reins and clucked a command at the stallion. The horse pranced around to face her in an equine minuet of breathtaking grace. The morning wind rippled through Colin's hair, making him look as if he could have ridden straight from the gilt-edged pages of one of her mama's books. Tabitha's breath caught with poignant yearning. Until that very moment, she'd never realized how much it had cost her to stop believing in those fairy tales.

He nudged the horse into motion with his well-muscled thighs. As the beast came trotting toward her, Tabitha stood her ground, trusting that Colin would not trample her fragile heart underfoot. Drawing the horse to a rearing halt, he leaned down, wrapped one powerful arm around her back, and lifted her to his kiss.

As his tongue swept through her mouth like sweet wildfire, Arjon and Chauncey seemed to vanish as if she'd wished them gone. She and Colin were alone just as they'd been during the night, free to pour all their pa.s.sion into each other.

As he lowered her to the ground, she clutched both the quilt and his knee, surprised her trembling legs would support her.

He reached down and stroked her tousled hair, the fierce light in his eyes softened by tenderness. "All will be well, my lady. I swear it."

Tabitha gazed after him long after he was gone, bittersweet longing tightening her throat. If his vow was true, then why had she tasted such desperation in his kiss?

Tabitha and Chauncey perched on the stoop of the cottage like a pair of sulking gargoyles. They relaxed their bored vigil only long enough to exchange a sullen glance or pinch another hunk of bread off the loaf they'd shared for lunch. The moments crawled past, ticked off by some giant invisible clock.

Tabitha yawned. Chauncey scratched at his waist-length mop of auburn hair. She eased a few inches away, wondering if he had head lice and if so, just how far they could jump.

She squinted up at the pale disk of the sun. The men had been gone for less than two hours and already her patience was waning.

She brushed a bread crumb from the wrinkled skirt of Magwyn's gown. "They could be gone for days, couldn't they?"

"Weeks," he replied glumly.

She looked at Chauncey. Chauncey looked at the sprightly sorrel tethered to a nearby cedar.

"You didn't want to be stuck here with me, did you?"

"No, my lady."

"You wanted to go with Sir Arjon, didn't you? To serve as his squire."

"Aye, my lady." His expression was growing more wretched by the second.

"But Colin told you to stay here and you always do what Colin tells you, don't you?"

He nodded. "With the old master gone, Sir Colin is my laird."

"Well, he's not mine." Tabitha rose and started for the horse, the skirt whipping around her ankles with each of her determined strides. "And if he thinks I'm going to spend my life hanging out of castle windows tearfully waving a kerchief while he gallops off to fight pagans or Brisbane or whatever dragons he believes he's been divinely appointed to slay on any given Friday, then he's got a few things to learn about modern relationships. And Tabitha Lennox is just the woman to teach him." She threw a searching glance over her shoulder. "Aren't you coming?"

Chauncey sprang to his feet, slack-jawed with shock. "We dare not disobey Laird Colin. His word is a" "

" a" the law," Tabitha finished with a weary sigh. "Well, this is one law I have every intention of breaking. Do you know the way to MacDuff's castle?"

Chauncey nodded. Apprehension had bleached his face, making his freckles stand out.

"Then I'll have to insist that you accompany me."

He stole another longing look at the horse, a thread of excitement creeping into his voice. "If I do, Laird Colin will surely punish me."

She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice to a menacing purr. "And if you don't, you'll be stuck here with one very unhappy witch."

Tabitha had never before used the threat of magic to intimidate anyone. She nursed a brief spark of guilt, but as the boy started eagerly for the horse, it was smothered by a flood of wicked exhilaration. After all, she was only making him do what he really wanted to do anyway. What harm could there be in that?

Chauncey mounted and she swung herself behind him, biting back a wince of pain. But the tenderness lingering between her legs only strengthened her resolve. She belonged at Colin's side and she had every intention of proving it to him. Even if it killed her.

Now that Chauncey had decided to commit himself to the low road, he did so with enthusiasm, pointing out a barely discernible path that wound its way through the dense underbrush. "I know a shorter way. I didn't tell Laird Colin because I didn't want him to tell that I'd been sneakin' over to MacDuff lands to court one of the auld tyrant's milkmaids."

Which is how a beaming Tabitha and a cringing Chauncey came to arrive at the perimeter of MacDuff's moat approximately three minutes before Colin and Arjon came cantering across the meadow. Before Colin could rein his horse to a complete halt, Chauncey had flung himself off the sorrel, landing on his knees in the gra.s.s.

He clutched at his laird's leg, his voice cracking from the strain of being a boy trapped in a man's body. "Oh, please, sir, don't have me flogged. The witch made me bring her. I begged her not to, but she fixed me with a devilish glare and enslaved me with a wiggle of her fingertips." He shot Tabitha a triumphant glance from beneath his stringy bangs before smothering Colin's leg with kisses.

She rolled her eyes and sniffed. "I did no such thing. The boy was just as eager to come as I was."

Colin struggled to disengage his ankle from Chauncey's grip. "Cease s...o...b..ring on my boots, lad! I've no intention of flogging you."

That promise only succeeded in earning him a fresh spate of kisses. "Bless you, my laird. You are the most kind, generous master Ravenshaw has ever known. I tried to resist the witch, truly I did, but her charms beguiled me." He shuddered. " 'Twas most distressing."

Colin turned his narrow gaze on Tabitha. "Believe me, I know just how persuasive the lady can be."

Her sunny smile failed to warm his stormy glower. She had expected him to be furious with her for disobeying him. She had not expected to find such a wild glint in his eye. He looked almosta trapped. Although he'd faced the monstrous Scot-Killer in armed combat without betraying even a trace of fear, her unexpected arrival seemed to have thrown him into a panic. Arjon clapped him on the back. "Come, my friend. Your lady has proven her devotion and risked much to join you. Is that any way to welcome her?"

His manic joy only intensified the apprehension p.r.i.c.kling down Tabitha's spine. If the impish Norman knight was that happy, it couldn't bode well for any of them, especially Colin.

Tabitha blinked up at the imposing edifice looming over them. "So what do we do now? Ring the doorbell?"

It seemed that wouldn't be necessary. With a deafening clanking of chains, the ma.s.sive drawbridge began to lower. Tabitha could not quite suppress a wistful sigh. Here at last was a castle worthy of her mother's fantasies. Soaring towers and flying turrets crowned walls of white stone. Wrought-iron bars shielded the lower windows, but high above them, ruby and emerald panes of stained gla.s.s basked in the glow of the sun. A graceful standard rippled from the highest tower, boldly proclaiming the might and splendor of the lord who dwelled within. As the drawbridge crept downward, Tabitha would have almost sworn she could hear the distant strains of "Camelot" wafting on the wind.

She stole a glance at Colin. His expression was so grim she might have thought the gates of h.e.l.l were creaking open to swallow him up. Kneeing Chauncey out of the way, he slid off his horse, plainly wanting to face whatever terror would emerge from that yawning abyss on his own two feet.

Utterly baffled, she looked at Arjon. His expectant smirk revealed nothing. The drawbridge thudded to a halt at their feet. But the creature who appeared at its peak was hardly the horned demon Tabitha had expected.

What enchanted castle, after all, would be complete without a fairy princess?

The lithe sprite came scampering down the ramp, a cloud of ebony ringlets rippling behind her. Her tiny feet barely seemed to skim the planks and her every movement was a study in artless grace. Tabitha sat up straighter in the saddle, making a conscious effort not to slump.

"Colin!" The girl sang his name as if it were an angel's hymn before throwing her arms around his neck and smothering his flushed face with kisses. Her feet dangled nearly a foot off the gra.s.s.

Tabitha frowned. That was odd. Colin had never mentioned a sister. And he certainly wasn't old enough to have a daughter soa soa voluptuous.

"Oh, Colin," the pet.i.te pixie chirped, "I thought you were never coming back! Papa vowed you were a man of honor, but six years is a very, very long time to wait. It seemed like an eternity."

Colin pried her arms from his neck and gently set her on her feet. She beamed up at him, her lovely face so radiant Tabitha almost wished for a pair of sungla.s.ses.

His answering smile was wan. "My goodness, Lyssandra, how you've" a" his despairing gaze seemed to drop of its own volition to a bosom that was even now threatening to burst from its silk confines a" "grown."

Arjon reached down and nudged Chauncey's jaw shut before he could drool.

"As have you, my lord. When you left, you were little more than a lad." The girl trailed one coral-tipped finger down his chest, stopping only when she reached the silver links of the belt slung low on his hips. She fluttered her fringe of sooty eyelashes, managing to look both shy and seductive. "Now you're a man full grown."

"That's it," Tabitha muttered beneath her breath. She slung one leg over the horse, fully prepared to jump down and s.n.a.t.c.h the little minx bald.

The appearance of a second figure on the drawbridge stopped her. "Ravenshaw, is that you?"

The demand boomed like a cannon blast, rattling gla.s.s and teeth for miles around.

The flush drained from Colin's face, leaving it drawn and pale. This must be the demon he had feared!

"Aye, sir. 'Tis me." He squared off with the newcomer with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man facing a firing squad.

The squat stranger rested his hands on his hips. Although his legs were spindly, his girth was ample. He possessed what, in less polite twenty-first-century terms, could only be called a beer belly. "Rumor has it that you've been home for nearly a sennight, yet haven't troubled yourself to ride over and greet the lord who fostered you. Have you forgotten the manners I taught you?"

"No, sir. I've simply been otherwise occupied."

Tabitha could sense Colin struggling, for some inexplicable reason, not to look at her.

"And I suppose you expect me to overlook your churlish lack of courtesy?"

"If it pleases you, my lord."

The man rocked back on his heels, startling them all with a boisterous laugh. "Always could charm the devil himself, couldn't you? Very well then, lad. All is forgiven now that you've finally come home to claim your bride."

Tabitha swayed and would have fallen off the horse if Arjon's hand hadn't steadied her shoulder. Lyssandra, still beaming, slipped her slender arms around Colin's waist and snuggled her cheek against his chest as if that was where it had always belonged. Colin slowly turned his head to meet Tabitha's stricken gaze, his eyes darkened in appeal.

Chapter 20.

Tabitha Lennox was a loser.

She'd been born a loser and she would die a loser and no amount of money or magic could change that one fundamental truth. She'd been born to both power and privilege, but had spent every waking moment since that snowy Connecticut night b.u.mbling her way from catastrophe to disaster with all the hapless inept.i.tude of a gate crasher at the party of life.

And now she'd traveled over seven hundred years into the past to find the man of her dreams only to discover he belonged to another woman.

Not just any woman, either, but a fairy princess who slept in a tower and possessed the gamine flair of Audrey Hepburn and the pet.i.te grace of a Ukrainian gymnast. As Tabitha watched Lyssandra flit about the bedroom, filling the awkward silence with her musical chatter, she was tempted to peek over the girl's shoulder and check for wings. She fingered the amulet, battling a spiteful urge to wish for a giant fly swatter.

She would never know how she'd survived those first dark moments outside the castle. It had taken every ounce of spinal starch she possessed to slide off the sorrel without doubling over.

But she had.

She'd even managed to paste on a brilliant smile and slip her hand into Lyssandra's, a.s.suring the blushing bride-to-be that she and Colin would surely be very happy together. If her bloodless fingers felt like ice, Lyssandra had been too polite to comment.

Rubbing the back of his neck in abject misery, Colin had fumbled for an introduction. Tabitha would have let him twist in the wind if she hadn't been afraid he was going to introduce her as his spinster aunt. So she'd cranked up her smile another hundred watts and blithely announced that she was Colin's cousin visiting from the distant village of Gotham.

Unfortunately, that had led to the discovery that Lyssandra's ethereal beauty was surpa.s.sed only by her generosity of spirit. The girl's velvety brown eyes had sympathetically taken in Tabitha's travel-stained gown and disheveled hair. She'd chided Colin and Arjon for their thoughtlessness, then gathered Tabitha under her gossarner wings and hustled her up the winding stairs for a medieval makeover.

She wasn't even to be allowed the satisfaction of hating Colin's fiancee. After only an afternoon in her company, it was apparent that everyone loved Lyssandra a" from the lowliest servant who hastened to do her bidding to the pug-nosed terrier who crouched at his mistress's dainty feet, following her every move with his moist, adoring eyes. If everyone loved Lyssandra, how could Colin not? Tabitha thought despairingly.

There was even something naggingly familiar about the girl. Her aimless chatter and tinkling laughter was oddly comforting. Perhaps she was just one of those rare people you meet once and feel like you've known forever. Or at least for seven hundred years.

As Lyssandra fluttered from the four-poster bed to an ornate chest, Tabitha slumped on her stool, feeling more like Quasimodo with each pa.s.sing moment. Although she was fresh from a jasmine-scented bath, she could already feel herself wilting a" a homely dandelion smothered by the shadow of a rose.

Lyssandra threw open the chest and dove in, tossing veils left and girdles right in her frenzied search for something Tabitha could wear to the banquet the MacDuff was hosting in honor of his prodigal son-in-law-to-be.

Even m.u.f.fled, Lyssandra's voice retained its enchanting lilt. "I had no inkling that Colin had a cousin. Tis odd he never mentioned you."

"I could say the same," Tabitha muttered, wondering if she could live with herself if she tiptoed over and slammed the lid of the chest.

Lyssandra bounced up, gripping a bouquet of hair ribbons. "Are the two of you very close?"

We were last night, she mentally replied, blinded by a vision of their moonlit bodies entwined in a lover's kiss. Blinking back the threat of tears, she inflicted an airy smile on her stiff lips. "Where I come from, you might call us kissing cousins."

Lyssandra clutched the ribbons to her heart with all the drama of a lovesick teenager, which, as Tabitha noted, she probably was. "I do believe I should swoon if Colin kissed me." She demonstrated her faint by tumbling back into the chest. "Ah-ha!" she trilled, popping back up like a manic-depressive jack-in-the-box. "Here's one that might fit you. Let's try it, shall we?"

Whipping several yards of brocaded damask from the chest, the woman-child skipped across the chamber, even doing a flawless pirouette around Tabitha's stool. Before Tabitha could protest, she was tugged to her feet and the sleeveless slip she'd been forced to don after her bath was covered by her hostess's find.

The gorgeous smock, too tight in the shoulders, too loose in the bodice, fell to just below her knees.

"I do believe my slip is showing."

"Oh, that won't do at all." Lyssandra's dismayed pout was the only mirror Tabitha needed to know she must look like a giraffe wearing a tutu. The girl's expression was so crestfallen, Tabitha almost apologized for disappointing her.

Then a sparkle of inspiration lit those almond-shaped eyes. "Don't give up hope. All is not lost. I know just the thing."

As Colin's fiancee dashed from the room, Tabitha sank down on the stool, more dejected than before. Longing for Lucy's purring company, she reached to pet the terrier. He bared his crooked teeth and growled at her.