Page 11

Chapter Eleven

T ammie glanced between the worn book resting on her lap and the cell phone buzzing insistently on the side table, its happy ringtone jarring against the quiet of the room. Her eyes narrowed when her mother’s name flashed across the screen. She held her breath, tension coiling in her chest, and exhaled in relief when the ringing stopped. No message. Her mother’s silence didn’t fool her—she knew it was only a temporary reprieve. The inevitable conversation loomed, thick with unanswered questions.

Since Gwen had come to Scotland, her mother had voiced that she’d prefer it if Tammie not go to Scotland. Then when Sabrina had gone, she’d actually demanded it. Why had her mother been so adamantly opposed to her traveling to Scotland? And what did that cryptic mention of her fate mean?

She couldn’t run from it forever, not when the answers mattered so much. Still, facing her mother over a video call felt hollow. Tammie wanted to see her in person, to gauge her reactions, though she knew how well her mother could mask her thoughts. Frustrated with her own hesitation, she grabbed the phone, considering calling back—until voices in the hallway interrupted.

Niall’s unmistakable deep timbre rumbled through the corridor. “Aye, everyone is fine. Padraig and Liam are both well.”

It had been several days since she’d last seen him. Unable to resist, she rose and moved toward the library door. Niall and Tristan were walking toward the sitting room, their strides confident, purposeful. Her heart stuttered as her gaze fixed on Niall’s broad shoulders, the effortless strength in his movements. Almost as if he sensed her presence, he turned, his stormy grey eyes locking with hers, intense and unreadable.

“Hello, Tamara.”

The men paused, waiting for her to join them. Flanked by their imposing forms, she felt dwarfed, yet not threatened—just more aware of Niall’s presence in a way that made her pulse quicken.

Once inside the sitting room, they waited for her to sit. She chose a loveseat, hoping Niall would sit beside her. He did, though he left a careful space between them, a distance she wanted to close.

Tristan poured himself a drink. “What could possibly interest Meliot in that particular border region? There’s nothing there but a simple village.”

Niall shook his head, and for the first time, she noticed a faint bruise along his jawline. Concern flared.

“What happened?” she asked, leaning toward him.

“We fought alongside Atlandia’s warriors to defend the village from an attack.” His voice was steady, but he avoided her gaze.

“Are you all right?” She reached out to touch his face, but he pulled back, evading her hand.

“I’m well.”

She frowned, withdrawing her hand, irritation flickering in her chest. “Your charming personality seems to be intact, at least,” she muttered.

Tristan cleared his throat. “I will leave you both to talk.”

The moment he left, Niall rose and moved to the window, his back rigid, his focus on the world beyond the glass. Something in his posture made her chest tighten—distance, isolation, a quiet pain he refused to share.

“The sky is different in the other realm,” he murmured, as if speaking more to himself than to her. “More purple than blue. Any day now, three moons will grace the sky and remain for several weeks. Padraig’s enchantment is tied to that.”

Tammie stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “How many moons are there normally?”

“Two, most nights. Sometimes three suns during the day, depending on the season.”

“And yet, it’s a frozen land? How does that work?”

“Only certain regions are frozen. Where we lived, the weather was much like here.”

She moved to stand beside him. “How are the three moons connected to Padraig’s enchantment?”

“That’s for Padraig to explain, not me.” He didn’t turn, his voice distant. “I’d rather not get it wrong.”

Frustration simmered beneath her skin. She turned to face him directly, determined. “Fine. Then let’s talk about you.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

Her jaw tightened. “Can’t you try, for once? You mentioned something about a family. What exactly are the terms of breaking your enchantment?”

His lips pressed into a hard line, and she knew that look—he wouldn’t talk. But she couldn’t back down now.

“Niall, for the love of God, can’t you let someone in? Let someone help you?”

He finally met her gaze, his grey eyes dark and turbulent, and for a moment she thought he might answer. Instead, he turned away. “I must take my leave.”

An idea struck. Before he could disappear, she grabbed his shirt, forcing him to stop.

“Were there three moons when you first fell under the enchantment?”

His brows lifted in surprise at her sudden shift. “Aye, there were.”

“Then maybe the approaching three moons are tied to the attack on that village.”

He stilled, considering her words. “You may be right.”

Emboldened, she pressed on. “Could Meliot be after the women from that village?”

“Aye.” His tone grew more serious. “That could be his goal.”

Their eyes locked, tension thick between them. She wanted to shout, to beg him to open up, to tell her what she needed to know before it was too late.

“Please, Niall,” she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. “Tell me what it takes to break your curse. Tell me how to save you. Do you know more than the words you spoke when we were last together?”

His gaze darkened, but no answer came. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that stole her breath. The tenderness caught her off guard, yet she leaned into it, surrendering to the soft, insistent pressure of his mouth. His arms encircled her, pulling her close, and she let herself fall into him, hoping to convey what her words could not.

Choose life, Niall. Don’t give up.

Her hands slid over the hard planes of his arms, fingers threading through his thick hair as he deepened the kiss. When he drew her against him, the warmth of his body sent shivers racing through her. His lips moved to her throat, and she arched into him, her knees weakening under the sweet torment of his touch.

“Niall…” she whispered, urging him on.

He silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, more desperate. Just as she thought she might break from wanting him, he released her abruptly, stepping back. His storm-dark eyes met hers, both of them gasping for breath.

Tammie reached for him, unwilling to let him go. “Stay, Niall. Don’t leave.”

But before she could say more, he vanished.

“Damn it,” she hissed, her hands clenching in the empty air where he’d stood.

Three lives rescued

Three moons high

Two hearts restored

One must die

Padriag’s spell was ominous. He’d repeated several times, then Tammie and her sisters had dissected every word for hours.

Too tired to remain seated, Tammie stalked from one side of the library to the other. Gwen and Tristan sat on a couch and watched her. She’d repeated the verses so many times; she could say them in her sleep.

“Niall said the three moons would rise in a few days.” She stopped pacing and looked to her sister’s husband. “What is the significance of it?”

Tristan shrugged a broad shoulder. “It’s a rare occurrence in the alter-world, happens every hundred years or so. I don’t recall there being anything different during the last time it happened.” He gave her a worry-filled look. “We think that perhaps it means that the last knights will be able to break free of the enchantment, but someone will die.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Gwen cried. “That would be horrible. After all that time in captivity, only to die upon being rescued.”

Liam materialized. The knight was so bundled in furs, only his blue eyes were visible. He began to immediately remove the layers, dropping them on the floor.

When only a tunic and breeches remained he finally addressed them. “The icing began when I left. I didn’t want to chance returning in the midst of it without being properly dressed.” He explained.

Tristan stood and went to him, placing his hand on the Brit’s shoulder. “Liam, how are you?”

“Well, but more than ready for all of this to be over.” Liam told them. “We have volunteered to remain behind at Middlesex to defend the village from further attacks from Meliot. It is not the best of circumstances, but at least it gives us the freedom to return here at will.”

Gwen stood and went toward the doorway. “I will get you something to eat. Please sit down Liam, I’ll be right back.”

He followed Tristan to the desk and sat. Tammie studied Liam. With the whitest blonde hair she’d ever seen, clear complexion, and ice-blue eyes, he was very handsome. She knew he could leave the alter-world at will. His enchantment was broken. Yet, she wondered why he chose to remain behind until the other two left. He was in love with a man named John, and yet, didn’t seem in a hurry to remain with his lover. Was it loyalty?

As if sensing her though process, his gaze met hers. “I am very anxious to see John again, but we’ve decided it’s best for him to remain in Edinburgh for now. It would be too tempting for him to utter the words that would force me to break my word to remain in the other region.

“Of course,” Tammie told him, warmth filling her. “I am just in awe of your loyalty and the strong ties you men share.”

He smiled at her and nodded. “It is rare indeed to form such a strong bond with others. Yet in our circumstances, it was not our choice.”

“Oh I think it was,” Tammie insisted. “You could be in Edinburgh and away from all this; you choose to remain so that you can be of help.”

Tristan patted Liam’s shoulder. “Tammie is correct. Do not take away from what you are doing for us.”

“Liam,” Tammie started. “Do you have any idea regarding the conditions of Niall’s enchantment? You have the ability to see the future. Have you at any time seen anything that could help?”

He shook his head. “Niall has never spoken of the terms. None of us ever pushed him, knowing it must be a rather difficult thing for him. I know he rarely sleeps well. Of all of us, he is the one found pacing the keep at night while the rest of us slept. I sometimes wondered if breaking his enchantment had something to do with whatever happens to him while he sleeps.”

“I think he is attacked at night. I am not sure how often.” Tammie met each of their gazes. “I believe he thinks that it will continue even if he breaks free and comes here. Is that possible?”

“I do not know,” Liam replied. “But it’s possible.”

“I will have to confront that woman, thing, whatever she is. He is going to tell me everything.” Tammie frowned at the thought.

Both men had identical reactions, their lips pressed together to keep from saying anything.

Tammie waved her hand at them. “I know he will probably react badly, but we’re running out of time. I am going to have to go at him with everything I’ve got. There has to be some way of getting him to talk.”

“Promise me you’ll come home immediately.” Her mother’s voice, edged with urgency and something close to desperation, echoed through the phone. “You must listen to me. You can’t stay in Scotland any longer. It’s too dangerous.”

Tammie inhaled deeply, willing herself to remain calm, though frustration prickled beneath her skin. “If you’d just explain what this supposed danger is, I might consider it. But you can’t expect me to drop everything and board a plane without a reason.”

“Tamara …” Her mother’s voice hardened, using her full name as she always did when anger flared. “I need you to trust me. It’s not safe for you there, and I’ll explain everything when you get home.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I will call you later. Call me if you want to tell me why you’re so against me being here. I love you.” Tammie’s tone was firm as she ended the call before her mother continued.

Anticipating that her mother would call back immediately, she powered off her phone and stuffed it into her pocket. Her heart raced, more from the tension in her mother’s voice than from her own irritation.

The house was eerily silent as she wandered through it. The library was empty, as was the sitting room. Even the kitchen, where the scent of baking or simmering soup usually lingered, was void of life. She glanced toward the stairs and hesitated, debating whether to check upstairs. Gwen had mentioned staying close by since they expected tension to rise with the impending third moon in the alter-world.

Climbing to the second floor, she found the master bedroom door slightly ajar. Peeking inside, she was surprised to find it empty. A pang of unease rippled through her. If Gwen and Tristan had gone somewhere, they would have told her, especially now, when every movement felt crucial.

Crossing quickly to the window, Tammie scanned the garden below. No sign of Gwen or Tristan. Her eyes landed on the housekeeper, bustling across the yard with a bundle of linens in her arms.

Tammie raced from the room and down the stairs. She dashed outside, cutting across the lawn to intercept the housekeeper.

“Have you seen my sister or Lord McRainey?”

“They’re at the stables checking on the horses since Mr. Campbell is away,” the housekeeper replied without slowing her pace. “Your sister said she’d be back soon to discuss dinner plans.”

Tammie offered a distracted nod and returned to her bedroom. As she reached the hallway, a sudden chill washed over her. She paused, instinctively glancing behind her, and gasped. A figure loomed in the shadows, cloaked in thick furs. Before she could scream, his hand clamped over her mouth.

“It’s me, Niall.”

Relief coursed through her, and she relaxed, allowing him to lower his hand. “You really need to stop appearing out of nowhere,” she muttered, leading him into her room. “I was just about to grab my spell book. I found something interesting—something that might help with your enchantment.”

Niall shrugged off his furs, and Tammie hesitated mid-stride. It was impossible to look away. He filled out the dark jeans and fitted sweater far too well, his broad shoulders and lean hips making her pulse flutter involuntarily.

“Er … anyway,” she stammered, turning quickly to rummage through her things. She snatched the spell book from her bed, only to back straight into Niall’s solid frame.

“Where’s Tristan?” His voice was low, his breath warm against her cheek. He stood so close, she could feel the heat radiating from him.

Without turning, afraid she might do something reckless, she said, “Tristan and Gwen are at the stables. Sabrina and Gavin are still at Castle Campbell. They’ll be back by morning.”

“I came to say goodbye.”

The words hit her like a slap. She whirled around, bumping into his chest. “Goodbye? What do you mean?”

“I must stay behind if Padraig is to be freed,” he said quietly, his expression unreadable.

Fury ignited in her chest. “That’s it? You’re giving up? Letting Meliot win without even trying to fight?” Her fists clenched, and before she could stop herself, she punched him square in the chest. Pain shot up her hand, and she winced. “Ow! Damn it.”

Niall reached for her hand, but she yanked it back. “Don’t you dare touch me, you stubborn, insufferable man.”

“You don’t understand the full nature of my enchantment,” he said, his storm-grey eyes darkening with frustration.

“Oh, of course I don’t,” she shot back, stepping closer until they were nearly nose to nose. “You refuse to tell me everything! You won’t raise a finger to help yourself, and yet you expect us to somehow figure it all out and accept it.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. “It’s impossible?—”

“No! Nothing is impossible,” she snapped. “If you want to sulk in the corner while we do all the work, fine. But don’t you dare tell me it can’t be done.”

“I will help free Padraig. You should focus your efforts on him, not me.”

Silence hung between them, tension crackling in the air like an impending storm. Slowly, Niall reached out, his fingers brushing along her jawline. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, his eyes softening. “You’re a brave woman, Tamara. My crusader.”

Before she could respond, his mouth descended to hers, fierce and demanding. She met him with equal intensity, threading her fingers through his hair as he pulled her tightly against him. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed her—this was raw, wild need.

With a growl, Niall swept her up, and they tumbled onto the bed. His hands moved urgently, pulling at her clothes as she did the same.

Finally skin met skin, heat rising between them like a flame that refused to be doused. Tammie arched into him, reveling in the feel of his hard body, the strength that surrounded her.

“Niall …” she whispered, her voice a breathless plea as he plunged into her, his movements slow and steady, each thrust drawing her closer to the edge.

Their rhythm quickened, and Tamara met every single one of his drives, arching up, their bodies colliding until the intensity was such that they were both panting, their blood on fire, unable to stop as they chased the elusive release that seemed just out of reach. Tammie dug her fingernails into the small of his back, somehow needing him closer, deeper.

His heavy breaths fanned across her face as their eyes locked. He was so breathtakingly handsome, and even in the throes of passion, the storm in his gray eyes remained.

When he threw back his head, the thick cords of his neck and shoulders bulged. Tammie began to lose control, her breathing hitching until her body and mind exploded, flying, tumbling, reeling.

Her hoarse cry intermixed with Niall’s deep groan as he too fell over the cliff, his huge body shuddering before collapsing.

For a moment, neither moved, their breaths mingling in the stillness.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around him as if to keep him from vanishing again.

“I will … for a while,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

They lay entwined, the weight of unspoken words between them. Tammie traced lazy circles on his back, savoring the rare moment of peace. But even in this quiet, she knew the stillness wouldn’t last.

The fight wasn’t over—not yet.

Tammie ran her hands over his back, massaging the hard planes. She smiled when he sighed at her touch.

“I should move. I am crushing you,” Niall told her and tried to move.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him in place. “Not yet.” When she nuzzled his neck, he relaxed again.

“I will stay with you for a bit,” he told her lifting his head and looking at her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. This kiss was soft, the kiss of a well-satisfied man.

Reluctantly, she allowed him to roll off of her, and she snuggled against his side. He remained silent, his fingers tracing small circles on her arm.

“What are you thinking?” Tammie asked him and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“I can’t remember ever feeling like this,” Niall replied surprising her with his candor. “I could remain here in this room, with you in bed forever.”

“We would eventually have to find food,” Tammie teased nibbling at his ear.

His low growl told that he enjoyed the sensations. “Aye, we would.”

She raised and leaned on his chest. With a finger, she outlined his lips. “I suppose if it came to life or death by hunger, we could just call and ask the housekeeper to bring food and eat in bed.”

Niall nodded. His lips curved. Her breath caught. It was the first time she’d seen him smile.

The smile vanished as if he caught himself. And she kissed his lips. “Tell me about Atlandia.”

He put his arm behind his head. “It’s ugly.”

Tammie laughed. “Wow, that draws a great picture.”

“I suppose it could also be described as beautiful, white as far as the eye can see. Unlike the area where we lived, which resembles this realm, Atlandia is stark. Everything is covered in snow and ice. There are some trees that barely survive, but for the most part, you can travel for days and not see another living creature.”

“Yet some people continue to live there.”

“Aye, for the most part in small villages that are supported by the Royals. The village of Middlesex is protected on one side by a mountain, so the air is not as frigid. They manage to grow some crops and raise wooly animals, much like cows, but smaller.”

“What a hard life,” Tammie replied, then lay her head on his chest. “I don’t think I want to visit.”

He didn’t respond and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep until he kissed the top of her head.

Tammie took a deep breath. “I want to ask you a question. Promise you won’t be angry, just answer my question.”

At his lack of response, she looked up at him. “Promise.”

With a slight nod, his wary eyes met hers. “All right.”

“Is part of your enchantment something that happens in your dreams or in your sleep?”

Niall didn’t need to reply. She knew she’d guessed right at the stiffening of his jaw and the way his brows drew together before he caught himself and erased all expression from his face. “No.”

“One night, while I slept, it was as if I slipped into your dream,” Tammie told him without inflection in her voice.

“Dreams are different than dream travel,” he told her in a flat voice. “Not everything is easily defined.”

Once again, Tammie ensured to keep her tone neutral. “I dreamed about you, that you were being tortured, that this dark-haired woman threatened you.”

Niall went to move away, but she pretended not to notice and lay her head on his chest. “I suppose I had this dream because I constantly worry. But it was so vivid. In my dream, I was powerful, and I was able to keep the woman from hurting you. Isn’t that interesting?”

“It is,” Niall replied, his entire body still.

“Not exactly pillow talk, is it,” Tammie teased. “I would rather do something else than to talk about such dreary things.”

She ran her hand down his thigh, at the same time she flicked her tongue out at his nipple, loving it when his breath caught.

Slowly, sliding her fingers up his inner thigh, she took his sex in hand, curving her fingers around the hardening member. Niall closed his eyes.

Trailing kisses down his chest, she slid her hand up and down on his shaft, delighted when he bucked into her hold.

She had part of the answer, on how to fight his enchantment. In the other realm, she was powerful. Somehow, she’d find a way to go there. Once there, she’d confront the dark-haired demon.

Her lips curved as she took Niall’s shaft into her mouth, relishing his grunts of pleasure.