Page 58 of The Darkest Knight

Chapter Nineteen

The roaring sounds of the mechanical contraption he was trapped in hummed and sent vibrations though the entire craft. Niall clenched the arm of the chair he was strapped into, closed his eyes, and held his breath. This was not natural. Man was not intended to fly in something that wasn’t even alive.

The airplane, as they’d called it, had no connection to the world, no fear of plummeting. At least when flying on a dragon one knew the beast did not want to splat onto the ground below, not on purpose at least.

“Are you all right?” Sabrina, Tamara’s sister, asked him and placed her hand over his. “I imagine it’s pretty terrifying to fly in an airplane for the first time.” He opened his eyes and glanced at her. She smiled, but the lines of worry remained on her brow. “Once we reach a cruising altitude, er … height, it will be smoother. The pilot, Derrick, has a lot of experience.”

She referred to the man who guided the metal dragon. Derrick was related to Tristan, and he not only favored the Laird, but had the same stubborn, self-assured personality as his ancestor.

Derrick McRainey arrived just that morning announcing they’d leave within an hour to America. Evidently. Tristan not only had a huge fortune, but he also owned a private airplane, which Derrick flew.

The flight did not seem to affect Liam, who sat across from them sipping a drink and reading a glossy book. The Brit appeared to be relaxed.

The airplane finally stopped climbing and leveled off. Sabrina was right, the movement seemed smoother. They’d be flying for ten hours at least, so he took a deep calming breath. It helped, but not much. He frowned at Liam. “Why are you flying with us? You could have just stayed back.”

With a slight shrug, Liam replied. “I might as well get used to the new way of travel. It’s cumbersome don’t you think? It’s going to be an adjustment not to be able to will ourselves elsewhere.”

He gave Sabrina a crooked grin. “John is there for a book event and is excited about meeting me at the port.”

“Airport,” Sabrina corrected him. “Atlanta is a huge city; there is so much to do. You’ll love it. I believe it’s like London at its height when you lived there.”

Niall wondered if he’d like living there. He wasn’t sure what Tamara would demand in exchange for forgiving him. He’d prefer to return to Scotland, but at this point he couldn’t ask for anything. The most he could hope for was that she agree to be part of his life. If she wished to remain in America, so would he.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to her?” Sabrina asked, studying him. “When she left, Tammie was set on never seeing you again and not returning to Scotland until able to be around you. You hurt her Niall, and she’s a very proud person. I hope you can change her mind.”

“I hope so too. What can I do but hope that she cares enough for me to hear my explanation.” He gratefully accepted a glass of wine from a male attendant.

“I think, she will not only forgive you, but I believe she’ll agree to return to Scotland as well.” Liam remarked, stretching. How the man could be so relaxed was baffling.

“Is this a vision?” Niall asked.

Liam shook his head. “I don’t seem to have them when I’m in this realm.”

If his fate was to live alone in Scotland with his friends and his horse, then it was more than he could have ever hoped for. Still, he wanted Tamara to be part of it.

The odd thing about wet paint was that when she flung a still fresh canvas across the room, it made an interesting pattern. Once again she flicked the brush, speckles flying onto the canvas.

Tammie blew her bangs off her forehead and put her brushes down. In one week, she was to take part in an art expo. So far she only had four paintings.

She’d agreed to have at least eight. The green landscape she’d been working on was an abstract of a Scottish landscape. Shades of green under a grayish blue sky with bright slashes of brownish shades cutting between.

She bent and picked it up, putting it back on the easel. She cocked her head to the side. It didn’t help. What had been a mediocre effort at best was now ugly. She shouldn’t have flung the orange paint on it. Sweeping her arm across, her wrist collided with the edge of the canvas sending it onto the floor.

Tammie stormed from the room and passed through the darkened townhouse without noticing how empty and quiet it was.

Sabrina always kept the house fully lit, loving the ambiance of the different lamps and other light fixtures she and Gwen had collected over the years. There were spotlights for Tammie’s artwork, blown glass lamps that hung over the kitchen counters; Tiffany style lighting usually warmed the sitting area in the living room.

In her bedroom, she made a beeline for the bathroom, not wanting to get any paint on her bedding or rugs.

Once in the shower, she allowed the hot water to wash over her, relieving the stress of her muscles. She turned her back to the steamy flow and hung her head so that her spine stretched under the massaging water. She’d finally spoken with her mother and explained about her powers and losing them.

There was a different feel to her body, it was as if she had to learn to use her arms and legs again. It was lighter in a way, as if she’d lost pounds off her limbs. The magic was gone, the moment is had happened, when she’d transferred it to Valor, she’d felt it drain from every pore, every inch. Strange sensations akin to strings being pulled from under her skin had left her raw, barely able to stand touch.

When she’d faced her sisters, they’d immediately known.

“This is what mother was afraid of,” Gwen said. “That you’d give up everything if you came to Scotland.”

Sabrina had given her a knowing look. “The sacrifice.”