Chapter 2 #2
Through all her life, she had known nothing but security here. She had never known what it was like to be afraid until…
Until the night the Fire had raged. And the kiss of the flame had been burned into her heart forever.
Oh god. That was so long ago.
And this was now.
Happening. In truth.
She barely breathed, studying the stones that stood like silent sentinels on the hill crest.
Again, she heard movement. And this time she cried out in fear.
The shadow was definitely no figment of her imagination. A caped figure was now running directly toward her.
The night had been so still. When he first heard the cries, he thought that they were whispers of the rising wind. Then he heard them more clearly.
And he saw the woman running from the shelter of the Druid Stones. Saw her clearly, for the moon chose that moment to break free from the clouds and cast a shimmering glow of light down upon her.
She was dressed in ivory cotton and lace, a gown appearing soft and fragile as it flowed behind her on the wind.
Like the sheer gown caught on the wind, waves of ebony hair were caught in a banner flow as she ran.
She was fleet and agile, running barefoot across the terrain with the grace of a gazelle.
She appeared like an ancient wood nymph, a sprite, seductively magical in the mist beneath the moon, that dark hair of hers, appearing blacker than midnight, floating in her wake, rich, wild, as full of a cloak about her shoulders as the soft knit shawl that covered the soft cotton of her gown.
Dear god. Shawna.
Aye, Shawna.
Come to him already…
It seemed that every muscle within his body went suddenly tense, as if a fire, liquid and wickedly hot, ignited within his limbs at the very sight of her.
How often had he dreamed of seeing her again. Of the fury he would feel. Of the longing to reach out and shake her.
Or just touch her. For it seemed that even now, just the sight of her awoke in him a passion that was fueled by both fury…and hunger.
Shawna…
He would not be swayed by emotion. He would be as hard and steadfast in his purpose as the rock with which the castles had been built.
Yet, she came to him still. Here.
How damned curious.
Then he saw that she was being…chased.
Chased!
Indeed, from the stones burst forth another figure, tall, caped, features hidden beneath a cowl.
What in God’s name…
He’d be damned if any other man was going to get his hands on the girl. Not when he’d come back from hell itself for his own vengeance.
He crouched instinctively at the water’s edge.
And he watched.
And waited…
This is madness.
She’d lived here almost all her life. She was the lady here. She knew not just every soul who resided in their wild hills and valleys, but knew their life histories as well.
Yet she was being chased.
She had to be dreaming, she told herself. However, this was a very realistic dream. She could feel the dew-dampness of the grass beneath her feet, feel the soft caress of the misty night, the movement of her muscles, the chill touch of the wind…
She could hear the gasping of her breath, the rampant pounding of her heart. She could feel the burning sensation in her lungs.
Oh god, wake up.
She couldn’t wake up. It wasn’t a dream. She could hear and feel now the pounding on the earth behind her as her pursuer gained on her.
Then she stepped down upon a rock. Screamed in startled pain, staggered, fell.
It felt as if a thousand needles were ripping into her foot.
The footsteps were still coming from behind her. Coming harder.
Coming closer.
Running.
Coming after her with sheer menace.
She staggered back up, found her balance. Ran again. She had given him time, allowed him to get closer and closer. She zigzagged, realizing that she had been heading straight for the water.
A good idea, perhaps? She was an excellent swimmer. Yet, where would she swim? It was more than a mile across. Perhaps her pursuer could swim as well, swim, and drag her down…
She heard a strange rasping sound and turned back. In horror, she saw that the dark figure had drawn a sword. She gasped out again, seeing the sword glitter in the moonlight.
Then suddenly, all light was gone. A cloud had scuttled cleanly beneath the moon, and hills and valley both had been cast into total darkness. She swallowed back a cry and spun, terror filling her heart as she raced along the shoreline.
He was behind her. So close she could hear him, almost feel him, smell him. He was going to reach out, touch her. A scream rose in her throat. Exploded from it.
The cloud slipped slightly. The palest light ventured forth upon the night once again. She veered toward the water, gasping, choking…
Then suddenly, out of the strange glow and shadow of the night, a form appeared.
Tall, massive, in the near darkness.
Huge, growing…
A beast coming from the water. Nay, a man. Nay, a demon.
Rising.
A man’s form. Towering against the moonlight, dripping, broad-shouldered, formed as hard and solid as a Greek statue that might have been thrust up from the loch.
Naked—save a sword.
A massive, naked form, risen from the water.
She had lost her mind completely.
But the vision didn’t go away.
And she could not stop herself. Her momentum was such that she couldn’t stop, nor could she veer away. She saw the sudden, startling, impossible form, and then she crashed straight into the man, beast, or demon who had risen like the mist from the water’s edge.
He was real. As solid as rock.
She shrieked in terror.
Hands gripped her shoulders. Powerful, rough hands. Cold as ice from the water. Hard pressed against the figure, she could feel muscle and flesh.
She shrieked again, yet before she could fight the steely hold upon her, she found herself cast aside and falling down to the damp softness of the earth.
She tried instinctively to turn as she fell, to watch what was happening, to discover if she was being rescued—or damned.
She had to catch herself, had to fight for herself, if she was going to survive.
But she could not stop her fall.
Her body struck the ground against a cushion of grass. Her head struck a jagged piece of rock.
Sharp pain exploded in her head.
As her vision blurred, she saw the naked figure of the man who had seemed to appear like a selkie or demon from the water quickly raise the sword he carried. His steel sliced the air just split seconds after he had cast her aside.
The hooded figure was upon him already, his sword slashing as well.
Slashing air…
Where she had stood just a breath of time before.
The two came clashing together now in a roar of steel.
She saw that much.
But saw them in mist, everything spinning.
Then dizziness seized her completely.
And she saw nothing but ebony mist engulfing her, blacker than the night.