Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 4

As Jenna stepped out the front door of the cottage at twilight, the screech of a bird drew her gaze skyward. There, circling the glen, was a large white raptor. Squinting for a better look, she studied the noble creature, trying to work out what breed it might be. She’d always taken an interest in wildlife and bird watching, but she’d never seen anything like this magnificent specimen, whose snowy feathers shone as bright as the moon against the iridescent violet sky. Was it a white owl? She didn’t believe so. But neither could she think what other kind of winged predator hunted after sundown.

She watched the bird wheel on the cool, gentle wind. It seemed to edge closer, to know she was there, to observe her as she observed it—with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. Then, she got the oddest sensation. As if energy were flowing between them. When prickling goose pimples erupted down her arms, she tore her gaze from the sky and shook the feeling off.

You’re imagining things, Jenna. It’s just a bloody bird.

Or, maybe it wasn’t.

Making a mental note to ask Mr. McGregor more about Sir Axel’s habits when he called about her car, she switched on her torch and headed into the glen.

She’d passed the afternoon trying not to obsess about what she would say to Sir Axel if they met. Trying, but failing miserably. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be kind or stony? Would he
persuade
her to have sex with him?

Would he need to?

All the times she imagined her wedding night, she’d pictured William on top of her, coldly thrusting away. And still she wanted it, wanted the intimacy, wanted to be desired as a woman even if she didn’t enjoy the sex. William’s physical aloofness had destroyed her self-esteem. Not that she had much left after her father had gotten through with her.

Never once had either one of them told her they loved her. Never once had they shown the least consideration for her feelings. As a woman, she wasn’t their equal. According to
The Bible
, as both men frequently reminded her, women were put on this Earth to bear children, cook and clean, and look after their fathers and husbands.

Jenna bristled at the neanderthalic notion, even though a small part of her had been brainwashed into believing it. Was it any wonder her mother took her own life? Or so the police suspected. There was no other way to explain why her car made no skid marks before leaving the road.

“Put that wild idea right out of your head,” her father told the detective who’d come to their house. “Because my Claire was a good Christian woman who would never interfere with the will of the Lord. Especially in the horrible, selfish, and sinful way you’re suggesting.”

Jenna didn’t share her father’s confidence. He had been as cold to his wife as he’d been to his daughter. On the few occasions her mother had tried to kiss or embrace her husband, he pushed her away—a sight that always broke Jenna’s heart.

Just as it did when William treated her with similar coldness.

Only someone who’d been under the thumb of such a person could understand the power they held. They wore their partners down, eroded their spirits, their sense of self, until there was nothing left but a void. A black hole of dependency and need that craved approval more than it yearned for escape.

A chill went through her at the thought of how close she’d come to crucifying herself. In twenty years, would she have driven off a cliff to escape her miserable marriage? She flung the dreadful thought away. Thanks to her dream, she was free now. Free to live her own life, to be who she really was, and to make better choices.

Jenna drew in a rattling breath and tightened her grip on her mother’s grimoire, which she’d brought along for reasons she couldn’t explain. She was deep in the glen now, having made her decision. Please, let Sir Axel not run away. Her bruised ego couldn’t endure another rejection.

The white bird landed on the branch of a nearby tree and watched her with a keenness that gave her the willies. Rather than an owl, it looked to be a falcon or hawk of some sort.

Cocking her head, she met the bird’s penetrating gaze. “What are you staring at?”

Crashing from the tree, the raptor took flight. Jenna walked on, her pulse racing from the shock of the sudden departure. The ground was damp and spongy beneath her feet as she left the footpath and headed toward the waterfall, hoping to find Sir Axel where he’d been the night before.

Clouds covered the darkening sky, but the full moon broke out every now and again to help guide her way. All was eerily quiet. A fine mist hugged the ground and the trees assumed sinister silhouettes.

As nervous as she was, Jenna refused to turn back. She’d spent her whole life pleasing other people. It was high time she did something to please herself, however crazy the scheme might seem.

She was almost to the waterfall when the bird appeared again. A flash of white in the shadows flying from tree to tree. Forging on, she followed, keeping her distance. After a few more minutes of hard walking, she reached the falls. As she gazed in awe upon the cascading water, the clouds opened, painting the scene with silvery light.

“What manner of offering do you bring the faery of the glen?”

Jenna froze. He was behind her. Heart in throat, she pivoted slowly, half expecting to see the white falcon perched on a branch in one of the trees edging the clearing. What she found instead was the man she’d seen the night before. Bare-chested and broad-shouldered, he wore only skintight tartan leggings over the long, lean lower half of his body. She drank him in as she’d just drunk in the falls. He was equal in magnificence and just as wild.

At this moment, nothing existed but the moon above, the drifting mist below, the tumbling water behind, and the gorgeous woodland warrior in front of her.

Now that he was closer and no longer wet, she could see his high cheekbones, straight nose, and deep-set eyes. His beard was trimmed in an odd way she’d never seen before and a few shades darker than his long, sun-streaked hair, which he wore center-parted with the left side tucked behind one ear. To her surprise and relief, the ear she could see had no elven point.

Numerous scars ornamented his chest and shoulders. Most had faded with time, but one was still quite pronounced. A gnarled round bump on the left pectoral plateau, a few inches above the nipple.

A heart wound.

As her gaze jumped to his, electricity crackled through her. Even in the color-shifting moonlight, she could tell his eyes were as blue as a Nordic wolf’s.

Wearing a puzzled expression, he studied her in return. “Can you see me?”

“Of course I can.” She puckered her brow. “You’re standing right in front of me.”

“You are a witch, then?”

She crossed her arms, both to hide the grimoire and to shield her from his probing gaze, which made her feel naked and exposed. “What makes you say that?”

“Only witches can see through the spell that conceals me from human eyes.”

“My mother was a witch, but I’m not.”

He moved closer. “The daughter of a witch has magic within, whether she chooses to use it or not.”

She licked her lips, unsure what to say. “Are you the one they call Sir Axel?”

He nodded and stepped nearer, his gaze holding hers. Her legs were shaking. She might possess untapped powers, but she felt defenseless under his scrutiny.

“How long have you lived in the glen?”

“Many lifetimes.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“In a cave behind the falls.”

Looking behind her, she saw nothing through the heavy screen of falling water. Turning back to him, she asked, “Do you ever get lonely?”

“Aye.”

“Would you like some company tonight?”

There. She’d finally found the courage to be truthful about why she’d come. In the silence that followed, she died a thousand deaths. If he turned her away, she would die a thousand more. The temptation to flee surged through her blood, but something more potent than fear kept her standing there.

Drawing nearer, he stopped inches from her and reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. She had to tilt back her head to see his face. Though she wasn’t big on beards, she didn’t mind his. There was something incredibly virile about it.

“Your hair is the same vivid shade of red the maples of the glen turn in October,” he said.

He was even more attractive up close, and smelled as good as he looked. Like fresh apple blossoms—one of her favorite fragrances.

“Were you the bird I followed here?” She was willing to believe anything was possible at this point.

“Aye.”

Her mouth had gone dry and her heart was pounding hard. “What kind of bird were you?”

“A gyrfalcon.”

She’d never seen a gyrfalcon before, as it was an arctic breed rarely found in Scotland. He was so close she could smell his breath. Apple blossoms, again. Did he somehow know apple blossoms were her favorite flower or was it pure chance that he smelled that way? Her memory produced a picture of him bathing naked beneath the waterfall with the moonlight kissing every masculine ripple and curve. Possessed of an overpowering urge to do the same, she licked her lips and mustered the nerve to ask again, “Do you want me to keep you company tonight?”

“Aye, lass.” He stroked her hair. “But let us go to your cottage—after I dress myself and see to my horse.”

Jenna swallowed and stepped away. His proximity was making her head swim. “You have a horse?”

“Aye.” His lovely Viking eyes twinkled. “For what is a knight without his faithful steed?”

“True.” She glanced around, half expecting to see Pegasus grazing somewhere nearby. “What sort of a horse is it?”

“The four-legged kind.” He smirked. “What other kind is there?”

A blush warmed her face. “I meant, is it a faery horse or a regular horse?”

“Faery horses are forbidden on this side of the vale.” His expression and tone were sober.

Jenna took a moment to select from his straightforward-yet-intriguing statement which thread to pull first. “What
vale
do you mean?”

“The vale between Hitherworld and Thitherworld.” He shrugged one powerful, moonbeam-bathed shoulder. “That is why I must guard the glen. To prevent humans from passing through the vale separating the realms.”

“There’s another realm?” She blinked up at him, blown away by his disclosure. “And the vale between them is right here in Faery Glen?”

“One of them is.”

“Are you telling me there’s more than one?”

He nodded. “There are as many as there are Thitherworld domains.”

“Domains?” His eyes were so blue and hypnotic, she was having trouble focusing on the conversation.

“Aye. Lands or kingdoms, more or less.”

“I see. And which land do you come from?”

“Scotland, originally,” he said. “But now serve the Queen of Avalon.”

Avalon, Jenna knew from her studies of Arthurian legend, was the magical otherworld isle ruled by the sorceress Morgan Le Fay. “Serve her how?”

“As a knight and a portal guardian.”

“So, you’re an actual knight?”

“I’ve been knighted twice. The first time was at Bannock Burn when King Robert knighted me the morning of my last battle.”

Shock weakened Jenna’s knees. The Battle of Bannock Burn was fought in 1314, which meant he’d been walking around for more than seven hundred years! It was all too staggering for her brain to take in. She looked around for a place to sit down. Finding a nearby boulder, she made her way over and parked herself upon its smooth, cool surface.

“What year were you born?”

“Twelve eighty-one.” He closed the distance she’d opened between them in two long strides. “I was taken by the faeries after being felled by an English arrow.”

Hard though it was to think clearly, she did the math. He would have been thirty-three when the faeries abducted him, and did not appear to have aged a day since. Though centuries old, he was still handsome and virile. Brave, and yet gentle. Real, and yet…otherworldly.

“You strike me as remarkably content. Are you?”

“None of us can choose our fate.” His wolf eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “That task belongs to the Norns. We can only choose how we react to where we find ourselves.”

While the truth in his words was indisputable, she couldn’t help wondering if he would choose a different life if he could. “If you could escape the faeries, would you?”

“And do what? I’m not exactly equipped for life in the modern world.”

A strange, deep, unconscious knowing awoke within her. All at once, she could see the truth clearly. Everything that had happened to her in life, good and bad, was a stepping stone on the path that led her here. To him—the man who waited for her. So she could free him from the faeries and look after him. She didn’t know the how or why of the plan just yet, but she had a feeling the answers would present themselves when she was ready.