The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (11 page)

She blushed again.

His eyes met hers, his lips still on the bandage, and he slowly lowered her hand.

“‘Tis a beautiful necklace ye wear.”

She reached for it and brushed the crystal with her fingertips. A small sparkle flickered within. “Thank you. My mother gave it to me before she died.”

He cocked his head. She obviously didn’t realize the crystal’s power. “Was this a recent event?”

She let go of the necklace. “No. She and my father died years ago.”

He dipped his head low for a brief moment, but kept his eyes on her. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“Ye miss ‘em a great deal.”

“It’s an emptiness that never seems to go away.”

He felt the sadness in her. “I understand.” He gently brushed his fingers over her hand. “I’ve lost many loved ones as well.”

His fingers intertwined with hers, and Kylie looked down at their hands. He was so mysterious and yet, she felt as though she knew him.

Without saying a word, he stood, taking her with him, and guided her to the dance floor. He took her into his arms and looked deeply into her eyes. Gazing back into his, she became lost.

A vision struck her . . . a large hall where a couple danced; the woman wearing a beautiful pale blue fifteenth-century gown, and the gentleman—Cianán—dressed in attire fit for royalty. The floor of the hall was marble tiled with circular carvings etched into each one, and the columns—engraved with knots and strange looking animals, Celtic carvings. A colossal fireplace big enough to stand six people in was the room’s centerpiece. It had a beautifully decorated mantel with the same carvings as the columns and a large mirror placed above it, angled down. Suits of armor stood in each corner, as though guarding the room, and there were seven grand candelabrums around the room, seven candles burning brightly on each. Celtic tapestries hung on the walls, each bearing a different symbol. Heavy burgundy drapes covered the windows.

Kylie was in awe of what she saw, and it wasn’t the first time it’d happened. But it wasn’t normally while she was awake, either.

He turned her, placed her back to his chest, and slipped his hands around her waist to her stomach, taking both of her hands in his.

He whispered in her ear. “Still nervous?”

She closed her eyes. He turned her and brought her body against his once more. He gently touched her face.

“No.” Her heart fluttered. She opened her eyes again.

He slipped a hand gently under her chin, bringing her forward. His cool, moist lips touched hers. It took her breath away. Her knees weakened and time ceased for them. They glided across the dance floor, and before she realized it, it was after midnight . . . again.

She remembered the comment she’d made to him the night before.
Good thing I’m not Cinderella
. She laughed inwardly.

They were the last to leave the restaurant. Cianán had apparently made arrangements for them to stay late. He drove her home, and she felt like she was in the dream once again and might wake up at any moment.

If that’s true, at least it’s a better dream than the last
.

After Cianán parked his car on her driveway, he exited the car before she could and opened her door, offering his hand, as a true gentleman would.

He walked her to the front door. “I thank ye for such a wonderful evening.” He kissed her hand. “I do hope ye enjoyed it.”

“I did, Cianán. Thank you.”

“I’d like to see ye again, if that’d be okay with ye.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He gently touched her cheek and slid his hand around to the nape of her neck. He pulled her forward and kissed her.

“Would you like to come in,” she said, “for a drink?”

“I’d love to, but I have to say no. I’ve a business meetin’ early tomorrow,” he replied. “A rain check, perhaps?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Very well. I’ll call on ye soon,” he said. “Again, thank you, Kylie. I’ll not forget this eve.” He kissed her again and walked back to his car.

She watched him from the front step. A flit of feeling on her hand made her look at it. The bandage came off on one side and she pulled it back. The cut had healed completely.

“How in the . . . . Is that possible?” She looked up, and Cianán started the car.
Did you somehow heal my hand?
He backed onto the street and waved as he drove away.

She sighed heavily at the idea of walking into a nearly empty house. “Sometimes I just hate being alone.” She opened the door and walked inside.

 
“Oh, you won’t be tonight,” Grant whispered from the concealment of the shadows. He watched Cianán drive away.

Grant stood in the darkness later that night, and watched Kylie through the French door windows as she slept. He carefully studied her breathing and movements. The white beast in the corner of the room watched him for a bit and reluctantly fell to sleep after he motioned for her to put her head down.

He stared in awe of Kylie’s resemblance to the woman he once loved long ago. She slowly turned, and the moonlight gently caressed her face. For a brief moment, he believed she was his lost love and stepped forward. But the barrier wouldn’t let him pass without invitation. God, how he wanted to sit on the edge of the bed and gently caress her cheek. To kiss her. Taste her.

She drew in a deep breath and let out a small sigh. She rolled over, exposing her bare back and the small dragon tattoo on the lower part of it.

Staring at Kylie, he was reminded of a day long ago. The day he met his love.

* * * * *

1402 A.D., Ireland

A beautiful summer afternoon, and everyone in town attended Grantlund’s good friend Aengus’ wedding. He’d stood next to Aengus during the ceremony when he first saw her . . . and the mere sight of her took his breath away. She was an angel in his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman made him feel that way. Perhaps never.

He’d waited for the right one to come along, taking the chance he’d never meet her and grow old alone. It was his thirty-fourth year. His friends already called him “old man,” teasing him about the fact he’d never married when they had small children running around.

After the ceremony, he tried to find her and looked everywhere. He was about to give up hope of ever seeing her again and, like a vision, she appeared before him. The crowd separated and there she stood. The gentle breeze softly played with her gown, giving the impression of wings on her back.

An angel
.

He drew in a deep breath, swallowed his heart, and walked over to ask her to dance.

“Ye dance well, my lord,” she said.

They made their way around the floor.

“Thank you, my lady.” He smiled warmly. “But dare I say it’s you who gifts me with such grace.”

She blushed, lowered her head a moment, and slowly looked up to meet his ice blue eyes. “Go raibh maith ‘ad, my lord.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, and the music stopped. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “‘Twas a pleasure dancing with ye, my lady.”

She curtsied.

“Would ye care for some refreshment?” He didn’t want this beautiful woman to slip through his fingers.

“Aye,” she said, and he led her away.

They chatted and shared laughs. He told her some of his fondest memories and stories. He also revealed to her that he was an artist.

“Oh no, I don’t think my da would care for ye much, my lord.”

“Why would ye say such things?”

“He’d say you ‘ave no future. You’re a dreamer, an’ he’s told me to stay away from men such as ye.”

He laughed. “What’s wrong with a little dreamin’? If it were not for dreams, no one’d venture out into the world. It’s a dreamer who takes that first step, to start a new life. These cottages would ne’er ‘ave been built” —he waved his hand around, showing her the homes— “and the castles; that kind of structure takes an imagination, does it not?”

“Aye, I s’pose it does.”

He smiled at her again and leaned forward. “Then I shall just have to convince your da I’m worthy.”

She giggled. “That will not be easy, my lord.” Her brothers approached. “I hope you’re up for the task.”

“Siobhán,” the largest of them said. “Da wants us home . . . now.”

The hostility in his glare didn’t faze Grantlund, but he wondered about the reason for it.

“Why, Fergus?”

“I didn’ ask an’ neither should ye. He told me to come an’ get ye.”

“I apologize, but I must go now,” she said, turning to Grant again. “Thank you for your company, Grantlund. I enjoyed it.”

“As did I. Shall I see ye again?”

She smiled. “I hope so.” And her two brothers whisked her away.

Fergus, he hadn’t met before, but John, he knew of. He’d be damned if he’d known the man had such a beautiful sister.

He sighed deeply. “Again, thank you for the dance,” he said softly and walked to rejoin the reception.

* * * * *

Present day, Phoenix, Arizona

Back then, he didn’t understand Fergus’ expression was a warning. Her beauty and his love for her blinded him. The sad fact was, Siobhán’s father promised her to Cianán, and they lived well because of it; otherwise, they were mere farm laborers. By the time Grant understood, however, it was too late. He’d become vampyr, and Siobhán would soon be dead.

He shook his head slowly and stared at the flagstone beneath his feet. How he remembered dancing with her. She moved so gracefully, much like Kylie did.

He looked to Kylie again as she slept, then up to the quarter moon. Perhaps he should leave. He found it very difficult to tear himself away, but it was too dangerous for him to stay. By staying, he risked the chance of frightening her if she awoke to see him watching through the window. He’d certainly lose her then.

Grant watched Ana’s jewelry store from across the street, and listened carefully to the thoughts running through her mind.

“M
y word, you certainly are beautiful,” Ana said to the locket, attempting to open it. “Come on.” She tried to pry it open without damaging it—not an easy chore. Grant knew it wasn’t possible. She’d tried everything, even resorting to some of the old techniques she’d learned throughout her education. Techniques she barely remembered because her instructor assured the class they’d most likely not be used in today’s jewelry stores. Grant chuckled at her thoughts.