Warriors Of Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque, Kathryn Loch, Dana D'Angelo

  His brow furrowed. “People inside of it?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes,” she insisted. “It was like they were ghosts or something, and I could hear them, like whispers. They kept trying to talk to me and reach out to me. But I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”

  He was trying not to grin at her, thinking that her problem was more than likely just an overactive imagination. Ancient tales and an ancient site could do that to people who were not accustomed to such things. Personally, he didn’t really care why she was here, crazy stories notwithstanding, because it gave him an excuse to see her again. He remained casual in his reply.

  “So you’ve come to me to interpret your nightmares?” he said. “That’s really not in my scope of work, but I’ll give it a try. What did they say?”

  Destry thought a moment, terrified that if she closed her eyes again to remember the words, then she would start having those visions again. They swamped her all night, faceless wraiths that invaded her dreams and whispered mysterious words to her. Even thinking about them again made her heart pound. She had been so scared that she had sat up most of the night in the bathroom with the light on. She just couldn’t face the dark again. She gazed at Conor with some pain in her expression.

  “I hope you can figure it out,” she murmured sincerely, “because I’ve never had anything like this happen to me, ever, and you were the only person I could think of that might know.”

  “Like I said, I’ll give it a go. What were the words?”

  “I don’t even know what language they were. They sounded like gibberish to me.”

  “More than likely, since it was a dream. Do you remember them?

  She took a deep breath before haltingly spitting them out. “Fanacht, morrigan, gnáthlá agus oiche og ceanna; tar ar cúl do sinne.”

  Conor’s smile vanished with unnatural rapidity. He stared at her, sitting forward in his chair as a queer expression crossed his features.

  “What?” he said, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Where did you hear that?”

  She looked sick and scared. “I told you,” she said wearily. “That’s what those… those ghosts said to me in my dreams. Do you know what language it is? Is it even a language?”

  The longer he looked at her, the more confused he became. He suddenly stood up, moving his big body around the side of the desk, all the while seemingly greatly torn. His expression was full of confusion. Destry watched him anxiously.

  “Do those words mean anything to you?” she asked again.

  He looked at her. Then, he plopped his buttocks on the edge of his desk and reached out, taking her hands. Flesh against flesh met, the heat from his enormous hands searing her skin. He ended pulling her off the chair, holding her hands against his broad chest as he looked at her with the most confused expression Destry had ever seen.

  “You’d better start from the beginning, sweetheart,” he said with a mixture of confusion and patience. “Where did you hear those words?”

  She was starting to become frightened. “I told you,” she repeated. “Those ghosts said them to me. But… but I didn’t tell you all of it.”

  “Then tell me all of it.”

  She hung her head miserably. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  He squeezed her hands, still clutched against his enormous chest. “No, I’m not. Tell me.”

  “But I even think I’m crazy,” she insisted, her eyes coming up to meet his. “Yesterday when you were talking to your students, I walked around the mound.”

  “I know. I saw you.”

  She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I went down to where the passages were,” she told him. “I was looking in one of the passages when this wind blew up around me and then I heard someone whisper ‘Etain’.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Etain?” he repeated. “Is that why you asked me if I’d ever heard the name?”

  She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And… and right at sunset, right when the sun’s rays hit the stone slabs of the passage where I was standing, something really weird happened.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not lying about this.”

  “I know. Tell me what happened.”

  She took a breath for courage, trying to ignore the fact that he was caressing the fingers he was holding so tightly against his muscular chest. “The passage way got really bright,” she said, her voice lowering seriously. “And as it brightened, this wind kicked up, like it was blowing out of the tunnel. And I could hear these whispers, like they were coming from inside the mound, like hundreds of people whispering at me. They said ‘fanacht, morrigan, gnáthlá agus oiche og ceanna; tar ar cúl do sinne’.”

  He gazed steadily at her. “The same thing they said to you in your dream.”

  “Exactly,” she looked imploringly at him. “But what does it mean?”

  He sighed and continued rubbing her hands, clutched against his chest. He thought a moment. “Well,” he said. “The literal translation is Be still, fair queen, as day and night become the same. Come back to us.”

  She stared at him, digesting his words, and her eyes suddenly widened. “You… you understood that?”

  “I did,” he replied. “It’s an old dialect of Celtic.”

  She swallowed hard and pulled away from him, a hand to her head as if to hold in her baffled brain. She stumbled back, confused and frightened, before sitting heavily on a small couch he had against the wall.

  “But that’s impossible,” she finally said, looking up at him. “I don’t even know Celtic. I don’t know anything about it. How could I dream something like that?”

  He stood up from his desk, moving slowly in her direction. “You’ve been in Ireland for a few days,” he said. “Maybe you inadvertently heard something like that. Who knows how the mind works?”

  She shook her head, baffled. “But that’s a full phrase,” she said. “More than that, I swear to you that something from that mound touched me yesterday. I could feel it brush against my hand. And I kept hearing ‘Etain’. I didn’t even know who that was until you told me. How could I imagine that?”

  He drew in a long, thoughtful breath before lowering himself next to her on the couch; she was such a little thing compared to his enormous size and he resisted the urge to put his arm around her to comfort her. She seemed like she needed it and he would have very much liked to. Instead, he rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands to keep them from reaching out to her.

  “Who knows?” he said quietly. “I wish I could tell you but that kind of thing is out of my line of work. I wouldn’t get so upset about it; it was probably just a fleeting thing.”

  She looked at him, as close to him as she had ever been. She could see the smoothness of his pale skin and his long white eyelashes.

  “So you don’t think I’m crazy?” she asked softly.

  He smiled faintly. “No,” he said. “I think you’ve got some jet lag and an exhausted mind playing tricks on you.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I think I might be able to help, though.”

  “How?”

  “Dinner and drinks. I’d like to show you a little of Dublin and take your mind off your troubles.”

  A small but genuine smile spread over her lips. “I’m not a charity case, Doctor. You don’t need to take me on a pity date because deep down, you really think I’m crazy.”

  He laughed, displaying his big white teeth and slightly prominent canines. He had a magnificent smile.

  “Are you joking?” he snorted. “If anything, people will think you’re doing me a favor simply by going out with me. In case you haven’t realized it, you’re an incredibly beautiful woman. I realize that you’re way out of my league, but I’d be honored if you would at least consider the dinner and drinks.”

  Destry was appalled to realize that she was actually considering it. But there was a larger part of her that was bent on self–protection given what she
had just gone through. It was enough to make her greatly indecisive.

  “I’d like to,” she said honestly. “But… well, it’s just not a good idea for me right now. But thank you for the offer.”

  Based on what her friend Aisling had told him yesterday, he had a pretty good idea why she was rejecting him and he wasn’t the least bit offended. Nor was he deterred.

  “I’m really a cad, you know,” he said softly.

  “Why?”

  He wriggled his red eyebrows. “Because I’m going to stalk you until you agree to go out with me.” As she started to laugh, he grew more animated; he started throwing his big arms around for emphasis. “I’m going to hang out in your hotel lobby and plead my case every time you come out of your room. I may even latch on to your leg and refuse to let go. And if you don’t go out with me, I’ll… I’ll throw myself from the roof and then you’ll be sorry.”

  She shook her head, still snorting with laughter. “Don’t do that,” she told him. “I’m not worth it.”

  His blue eyes glimmered with humor, with warmth. “Yes, you are,” he insisted, his voice softening. “I know this is supposed to be your honeymoon. I may not be your groom, but I’d certainly like to treat you like a very special lady once or twice while you’re here. Please don’t turn me down.”

  Destry stared at him, her smile fading. “Did Aisling tell you that?”

  He nodded. “When you walked away from me so quickly yesterday, I thought I had offended you. I told Aisling to apologize to you on my behalf but she said that I hadn’t done anything wrong. She told me that you were supposed to be in Dublin on your honeymoon but that it hadn’t worked out. So I apologize if I upset you yesterday commenting about the Davenport’s grand honeymoon suite.”

  Destry averted her gaze, away from his handsome face and probing eyes. After a moment, she sighed faintly. “You didn’t,” she said. “I guess I’m just going to have to get used to the idea.”

  “What happened?”

  She looked at him, sharply, preparing to tell him it was none of his business but she could see that he wasn’t trying to invade her privacy. His gentle question felt caring and sincere. She found herself answering him before she really thought about it.

  “I was stupid, I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders. “We had been dating about a year. He was a professional athlete and I’d heard rumors of him having other women, but I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. I thought I could be everything to him. We had this big wedding planned and on the day of the wedding, I’m all dressed up at the church and his best man came in with a note. The note said that he was sorry but he just couldn’t go through with the wedding. So I put away my wedding dress and brought Aisling along with me on what was supposed to be my honeymoon. And here I am.”

  Conor gazed at her, shaking his head with great regret when their eyes met. “Can I say something, please?” he asked softly.

  “Sure.”

  “He is the stupidest man who has ever walked this earth. What fool would turn down a chance to spend the rest of his life with you?”

  “You don’t really know me; for all you know, I could be a major pain in the ass.”

  He laughed softly. “If you were, I would have already seen the signs by now.”

  “The nightmares aren’t enough of a sign?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a sign that you’re a future mental patient, but not a sign that you’re a pain in the arse. Your fiancé is a moron and you’re better off without him.”

  She smiled faintly; somehow, in telling him, it had eased her damaged heart a little. His words made her feel comforted, supported. She shrugged again, looking at her hands.

  “I guess I would rather have him back out before the wedding than after,” she said. “The main thing is that I’m going to enjoy this trip if it kills me. But this thing with the nightmares is really getting to me. I’m afraid to go back to the hotel and try to sleep even though I’m exhausted.”

  His gaze drifted over her face. “You look exhausted,” he agreed. Then he suddenly looked around, grabbing a pillow from behind him. He wedged it against the arm of the couch where Destry was sitting. “You can lay down here. I’ve got some work to do at my desk and I’ll sit with you for a while. If the nightmares come back, I’ll chase them away.”

  She smiled gratefully. “You really don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “I’ve already taken enough of your time.”

  He waved her off and began shoving her sideways so she would lie down on the couch. “Don’t fight with me,” he said. “Just lie down. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

  “But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… well, because we just met each other. This is really strange.”

  “If you won’t go out with me, then at least lie on my couch. It’s the least you can do since you’re going to break my heart.”

  She snorted. But the thought of trying to sleep with his enormous, protective presence just a few feet away admittedly brought her comfort. She could feel herself relenting as she lifted an eyebrow at him.

  “Well…,” she said reluctantly. “You’re not going to try anything funny, are you?”

  His brow furrowed. “Like what? Whisper old Irish phrases in your ear while you’re sleeping?”

  “You’d better not.”

  He grinned. “I won’t, I promise.”

  They smiled at each other for a few moments, the first true genuinely warm moment they had ever shared. He was breaking Destry down with his chivalry and kindness, something she very much needed. She finally lowered herself down onto the couch as he stood up, taking her legs and putting them up on the couch. He stood over her a moment, watching her get comfortable.

  “Are you cozy now?” he asked.

  She snuggled down against the pillow, instantly feeling very sleepy. “Fine,” she said. “Thanks, Dr. Daderga. I really appreciate your kindness.”

  He watched her, realizing he’d probably give everything he owned at the moment for the chance to lie down next to her. He couldn’t explain the strong attraction to her or the fact that he wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go. He’d known a lot of attractive women in his life but he’d never known a pull as strong as this one. It was unsettling but marvelous.

  “Please call me Conor,” he said softly. “And it’s my pleasure.”

  Destry smiled at him as he winked at her and turned back for his desk. She didn’t even remember him sitting down behind it before she was fast asleep.

  Destry was screaming again before she realized it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Destry was gasping with panic, black terror from the darkness of sleep that was squeezing the breath out of her. Along with the gasping came the tears and it took her a full minute to realize she was wrapped up tightly in someone’s arms. Her face was pressed into a warm, broad chest and a deep, soothing voice was speaking softly to her. She could smell fabric softener and deodorant.

  “It’s all right,” Conor was sitting on the couch with Destry smothered in his big, warm embrace. A big hand held her head against his chest, fingers in her hair. “Quiet, now; you’re all right. Everything is all right.”

  Destry’s panicked gasps gave way to hysterical weeping and she began to cry as if her heart was broken. He rocked her gently.

  “They… they…,” she sobbed. “They came back.”

  His cheek was against the top of her head. “I know,” he murmured, his big hand caressing her head. “I heard.”

  His voice was so sweet, so soothing. Destry forgot about her heartbreak, her sorrows, and allowed herself to feel his comfort. She pressed against him, disoriented, exhausted and half–asleep, as he gently rocked her. It was heavenly. Eventually, her sobs lessened and she shifted so that her right cheek was against his chest. She could hear his heart beating strongly and steadily, finding more comfort than she had ever known in the arms of a stranger. Before she realized it, she was asleep again.

>   Her next awareness was of Conor speaking softly into the top of her head. He was telling her to wake up and Destry did, gradually, feeling groggy and exhausted. Becoming more oriented, she realized that she was lying against Conor’s chest as he sat back against the couch. His big hand was on her head, caressing it, as his soft voice gently brought her around.

  “Destry?” he murmured. “Are you awake?”

  She sighed heavily, not wanting to move. He was warm and comfortable. “Yes,” she whispered.

  She swore she felt him kiss the top of her head before speaking. “I’m truly sorry to have to wake you, but I have a class in a few minutes.”

  “That’s okay,” she sighed again, forcing herself to wake up. “Oh, my God… that was insane.”

  His mouth was against the top of her head. “What was?”

  His hot breath sent shivers down her spine. “The dreams,” she finally lifted her head, looking up at him. He was so close that she could have licked him had she stuck out her tongue. “Why in the hell would they come back again? Have you ever heard of recurring dreams like that?”

  He shook his head, realizing he wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her. It was a badly misplaced impulse that he struggled against. But to have her in his arms wiped out the memory of every other woman he had ever known; no one had ever been so sweet or soft or warm. No one had ever come close.

  He had been sitting at his desk when she had first started to whimper in her sleep. By the time he looked up to see what the trouble was, she had been in full blown hysteria. The only thing he could think to do was to throw his arms around her and hold her tightly, hoping that would give her enough comfort to chase the nightmares away. It had worked, at least for the half–hour he had sat with her in his arms. It had been the best half–hour of his life.

  “No,” he said honestly. “But like I said, this is out of my scope of practice. Did they repeat that phrase again?”