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C aledonian Forest , Scotland

R olf dug his heels into the side of his black courser, leaned forward to grab the mane, and urged the great beast up the next hill.

As he rode over the border into the Lowlands, he could not get her out of his mind.

They called her Melissa . Her nameless face had been in his dreams his entire life.

God’s teeth! Visions rarely gave him much detail or a way to act upon the knowledge.

His sight was more often a curse than a benefit.

But this vision had always been so compelling.

Who was Melissa? The cloak of finely woven wool, boots, and leather gloves told Rolf she came from nobility.

And her actions told him she possessed either courage or a great recklessness to slip away from her party without an escort.

Her beauty in person surpassed the woman in his dreams. Those emerald eyes danced before him and now haunted him in daylight as well as in sleep.

Melissa had looked at him with such expectation.

Did she recognize him? Had she ever seen his face when she closed her eyes?

Well, she had last night. A smile pulled at his lips as he thought of the silky blonde waves spilling across her pillow.

Rolf wiped a hand over his eyes to temporarily erase the memory of this woman who ruled his destiny.

You have work to do, Rolf. Get on with it.

At the top of the next hill, Rolf looked down upon the woods wreathed in fog.

Home. He spurred his horse on, anxious for a warm meal and a hot fire.

Just before crossing the timberline, he stopped to remove a parchment secured to a tree trunk by an arrow.

The royal messengers refused to enter the Forbidden Forest and delivered all missives by crossbow.

Slipping through the mist, Rolf entered the darkened forest. He stopped in front of the ancient Rowan. The bottom branches hung like old, crippled hands pleading for help. He dismounted and waited before the blackened hole in the center of the trunk.

“Where have you been?” The voice rang through the charred wood.

“Why do you ask when you know the answer? I am not a child any longer for you to question, Merlin.”

“Show more respect to your elder.” A shadowy image of the old man appeared in the tree’s cavity, his long white beard quivering as he nodded. “She has come.”

“Aye, her name is Melissa.” Frustrated, he peered at the old wizard. “Who is she, Merlin? When will I see her again?”

“A letter arrived earlier from the Queen. You are summoned to court and will see the girl there.”

“What if I cannot break the spell? My visions are of the woman alone, never the both of us together.” Agitated, Rolf ran a hand through his hair.

“We have spent fifteen years in preparation for this moment. You will succeed.” Merlin laughed, a rusty awkward sound. “It has been a long wait. I will not miss this godforsaken place.”

“I visited her last night. She may not be as compliant as I hoped.”

“The love between you must be genuine on both sides. You cannot force her or seduce her in dreams.” Merlin’s voice now sounded like the old man he had been in life.

His eyes appeared watery even in the gloom.

“I have learned all too well that a woman must follow her heart to be happy, or you will pay the price.”

“I shall do my best and let Fate show me the way.” Rolf bowed and mounted his horse. “Edric will bring word about my progress, but I know you observe through the amulet.”

“I am always watching. Your manservant only needs to come if you lose the stone.” Little by little, Merlin’s voice faded away. “Do not repeat the mistakes of your father and grandfathers. Time allows us but one more chance.”

R olf moved deeper into the forest and approached the clearing of his home with relief.

He would be glad for his own bed. Passing through the arched gate, he wondered that the portcullis had been raised then stopped in the empty courtyard to wait for Edric.

Merlin had built the stone manor as a hunting lodge, and it had served Rolf well.

Smoke curled up from the adjoined kitchen, and his belly growled.

To his right, a wooden building with a thatched roof served as a stable.

Rolf hailed the man who emerged through the large doorway and waved in return.

The servant, although only ten years his senior, had been like a father to him since the day he began his training.

While Merlin tutored him in the art of sorcery, Edric turned him into a soldier.

After a severe leg injury, the older man had turned from warrior to instructor.

“You have ridden hard, milord,” Edric said, grabbing hold of the courser’s reins and pushing a wild, brown curl from his dark eyes. “How goes it in England?”

“I shall let you know when I return from London. Make sure Saber is well rested. I shall take him the entire distance on this journey, and we leave in the morning,” he said, dismounting in one smooth motion.

With his home across the Scottish border, Rolf often stabled his mount in different locations across England.

Upon Merlin’s instruction, he had set up temporary dwellings to accommodate various forms of travel: a cave in one forest, a hut in another.

Small, unobtrusive places that would go unnoticed while he practiced his lessons and polished his skills.

His ability to shape-shift allowed him to cover long distances quickly and learn vital information, such as the location of an enemy.

He had saved King Henry’s army on more than one occasion.

“Edric, I need my shield, lance, and Saber’s rigging polished.”

“Aye, we must be in good form for the coronation. Merlin sent word by crow this morning, so we had time to prepare for your arrival,” he said, nodding toward the smaller building.

“Elsa has a pheasant roasting and hot water over the fire for your bath. Fresh bread and cheese await you on the table.”

Rolf stretched his shoulders. “It is good to be back. Your wife creates her own magic in the kitchen. I don’t know what I would do without you both.”

“I pray you will never need to know, my lord.” He gave his master’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and led the horse into the stable.

***

Rolf leaned back in front of the open fire with a cup of ale.

The flames lulled him into a thoughtful trance.

His mind went back to Melissa. Merlin said they would meet again in London, most likely at the coronation or the festivities beforehand.

Rolf would need more information before that first encounter.

He would use the form of the falcon, observe from a distance, and plan his course of action.

She would be his; he knew it with every fiber of his body.

He imagined sitting beside her, the heat of her body next to his, and stiffened with the thought.

When their eyes met, the attraction had been immediate.

Although a good sign, he knew he must not let desire guide him.

If he failed this quest, his chance at happiness disappeared along with Merlin’s freedom.

The ancient Rowan that held the old sorcerer was dying.

Once it did, Merlin would be gone and so would the magic that had been passed down for so many centuries.

The choices he made these next few weeks determined his future.

Edric cleared his throat at the room’s entrance.

“Will you need anything else tonight, my lord?”

“Nay. Go and spend time with your wife.” He waved a hand toward the kitchen. He felt oddly sentimental tonight. “And thank you. I don’t believe I voice my gratitude enough for all you have done over the years. Not many would stay in such an isolated place.”

“My wife says we should be grateful. After the jousting accident crippled my leg, not a baron would take me on. You gave me purpose and allowed me to continue to work as a man.” He shifted his weight off the good leg and stood tall.

“And my poor Elsa could find no employment in a village with the burn mark on her face. People avoided looking at her when she turned her head, and many feared her as a witch. You provided us a safe haven.”

Rolf nodded and turned back to the fire.

He wondered what Melissa would think of his adopted family and Recluse Manor, as he fondly called his home.

Her green eyes appeared in the glowing embers, and his lids shuttered to a close.

He pulled the amulet from under his tunic and rubbed the polished stone, concentrating on her face.

A peace settled over him, and he knew she slept.

With some guilt, he focused on the same dream he’d had countless times but with one addition.

Now he was able to touch her. His body relaxed as those thoughts traveled through the night and invaded her slumber.

***

The surrounding mist climbed Melissa’s boots and swirled in and around her legs like an affectionate cat.

Gentle but firm, it pushed her inside the magical forest. The stillness of the place struck her.

The kind of hush that fell over a room when something significant was about to happen.

Her heart raced in anticipation. In front of her towered a massive Rowan tree with charred branches that seemed to welcome her.

Between the gnarled limbs was a large blackened hole that filled the center of the trunk.

“I have been waiting for you.” She jumped at the sound of an old man’s voice. She screamed as a face appeared in the tree. “I do not mean to frighten you, child. I admire your courage. It’s a quality essential to your future.”

“Why am I here?” Melissa asked.

“To meet your Fate,” answered the raspy voice. The distant sound of hoof beats distracted the ghost–like image. “And he has arrived.”

Melissa turned toward the forest opening in confusion. “The mist...”

“Aye, it conceals our home from trespassers on the outside but does not impede our view from within.” The elderly man chuckled. “Rolf did not exaggerate your beauty.”

“Rolf?”

The hammering of hooves grew nearer.

“Ah.” The old man shook his head, regret in his eyes. “I must go.”

Horse and rider burst through the tree line. A presence enveloped her, an aura she recognized… The man on the hill. The same man that entered her mind each night. And his name was Rolf.

The great black beast came to a stop before her; an agitated snort escaped his flared nostrils.

The stranger dismounted in a swirl of black cloak and raw strength.

His eyes—glittering like gilded gold—fastened upon her, stealing her breath.

In one fluid motion, he wrapped a powerful arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his chest.

He spoke only one word. “Melissa.”

Her body’s response to him frightened her—already she gave in to his demands willingly. The nearness of him sent Melissa’s blood pounding through her ears. “Rolf?” she whispered, clinging to him, afraid to raise her eyes.

His fingers lightly stroked her cheek and sent a shudder through her body.

He lifted her chin, bent his head, and then paused.

Uncertain, she found the courage to look up, her mouth half–open in a silent question.

The intensity and passion in those falcon eyes told her he now claimed her as his own.

Their breath mingled for a moment before his lips brushed hers.

Then she threw back her head, surrendered to the sheer pleasure of his kiss, and her world shattered.

The soft touch of his mouth sent a shiver through her soul that made her knees buckle. His chest was hard beneath her palms. He buried his fingers in her hair and forced her head back, demanding more. She clutched at his surcoat to keep herself upright.

“I must have you,” he murmured as his teeth nipped her earlobe. His breath tickled and teased her neck. One hand roamed the length of her back, sending waves of heat to her core. His manhood pushed against her skirt.

Melissa struggled to free herself from this spell, this desire that brought with it a hunger she’d never known.

Her betrothed waited somewhere beyond the trees, and she knew instinctively this meeting would cause them both grief.

Even as her mind told her to run, her heart kept her rooted in place.

She stopped resisting, leaned into him, and gave way to pure passion.

But as her mouth opened to return the kiss, he slipped away. Her eyes flew open, and his image wavered then faded into the darkness. “Come back to me. Do not leave me like this,” she cried.

Melissa awoke, the tears wet upon her cheeks. Emptiness burned in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself and curled into a tight ball to shield her body from the pain. She should not have hesitated.