Spellbound Read Online Free

him. “She’s shameless around attractive men.” She set the tray down. “Won’t you sit, Calin, and have some tea?”
    “How do you know who I am?”
    “I’ll explain what I can.” Her eyes went dark and turbulent with emotions as they scanned his face. “Do you have no memory of me then? None at all?”
    A tumble of red hair that shined like wet fire, a body that moved in perfect harmony with his, a laugh like fog. “I don’t know you.” He said it sharply, defensively. “I don’t know your name.”
    Her eyes remained dark, but her chin lifted. Here was pride, and power still. “I am Bryna Torrence, descendant of Bryna the Wise and guardian of this place. You’re welcome in my home, Calin Farrell, as long as you choose to stay.”
    She bent to the tray, her movements graceful. She wore a long dress, the color of the mists curling outside the window. It draped her body, flirted with her ankles. Columns of carved silver danced from her ears.
    “Why?” He laid a hand on her arm as she lifted the first cup. “Why am I welcome in your home?”
    “Perhaps I’m lonely.” Her lips curved again, wistfully. “Iam lonely, and it’s glad I am for your company.” She sat, gestured for him to do the same. “You need a bit of food, Calin, a bit of rest. I can offer you that.”
    “What I want is an explanation.” But he did sit, and because the hot liquid in his cup smelled glorious, he drank. “You said you knew I would come, you knew my name. I want to know how either of those things is possible.”
    It wasn’t permitted to lie to him. Honesty was part of the pledge. But she could evade. “I might have recognized your face. You’re a successful and famous man, Calin. Your art has found its way even into my corner of the world. You have such talent,” she murmured. “Such vision.” She arranged scones on a small plate, offered it. “Such power inside you.”
    He lifted a brow. There were women who were willing, eager to rock onto their backs for a man who had a hold on fame. He shook his head. “You’re no groupie, Bryna. You didn’t open the door to me so that you could have a quick bout of sex with a name.”
    “But others have.”
    There was a sting of jealousy in her voice. He couldn’t have said why, but under the circumstances it amused him. “Which is how I know that’s not what this is, not what you are. In any case, you didn’t have the time to recognize my face from some magazine or talk show. The light was bad, the rain pouring down.”
    His brows drew together. He couldn’t be dreaming again, hallucinating. The teacup was warm in his hand, the taste of the sweet, whiskey-laced brew in his mouth. “Damn it, you were waiting for me, and I don’t understand how.”
    “I’ve waited for you all my life.” She said it quietly, setting her cup down untouched. “And a millennium before it began.” Raising her hands, she laid them on his face. “Your face is the first I remember, before even my own mother’s. The ghost of your touch has haunted me every night of my life.”
    “That’s nonsense.” He brought a hand up, curled his fingers around her wrist.
    “I can’t lie to you. It’s not in my power. Whatever I sayto you will be truth, whatever you see in me will be real.” She tried to touch that part of his mind, or his heart, that might still be open to her. But it was locked away, fiercely guarded. She took one long breath and accepted. For now. “You’re not ready to know, to hear, to believe.” Her eyes softened a little, her fingertips stroking his temples. “Ah, Calin, you’re tired, and confused. It’s rest you’re needing now and ease for your mind. I can help you.”
    His vision grayed, and the room swam. He could see nothing but her eyes, dark blue, utterly focused. Her scent swam into his senses like a drug. “Stop it.”
    “Rest now, love. My love.”
    He felt her lips brush his before he slid blissfully into the dark.
     
    Cal awoke to silence. His