Would that even work?
This had been Rose’s turmoil for the last sixty-two hours. Longer, really, if she counted her time in Lanzarote.
Until the dream last night.
Since she’d only dream-walked two people—Alejandra and Fionn—and both were in the same room with her when she did it, Rose guessed that was the deal. She had to be in the same room as the person she dream-walked.
When she’d begun dreaming of Fionn and his children the night before, she assumed she was in Fionn’s head. But the dream transitioned too smoothly to her running through a forest, free and fast, bounding over tree limbs and bracken. When Rose woke, she remembered that the images she’d dreamed were taken right out of Fionn’s own memories.
Her very sore and shattered heart was reminding her subconscious that Fionn had his reasons. That maybe she shouldn’t assume it was so easy for him to choose revenge over her.
Rose had a plan. She wouldn’t force anything between them. Rose was going to talk, and Fionn, if he wanted An Breitheamh from her, would have to share himself with her.
The shitty weather had broken and Rose was determined to enjoy the crisp, sunny air. She dressed in jeans, a sweater, a jacket, and a scarf she’d found in her wardrobe, along with a pair of black leather ankle boots that fit perfectly. Seriously, the guy had an uncanny ability to pick a wardrobe.
After scoffing down some toast and coffee, Rose had searched the castle for Fionn. Her impatience (and worry) was growing by the second when she caught sight of a lone figure on a cliff top facing the sea.
At the sight of him, that overwhelming ache of want filled her.
She set out of the castle for the first time since her arrival. The main door was inconspicuous. One might expect mammoth arched double doors, drawbridge, and moat. But the single door was in a small vestibule off the main hall.
Well, not just a single door but a heavy, solid, wrought iron door.
Probably heavy to a human, Rose thought. She could push it open like it was made of cardboard.
Rugged stones acted as a stairway, leading her down to level ground. A garden that was probably spectacular in the spring surrounded her. Neat flagstone paths led off in all directions toward the high, defensive stone walls that encompassed the castle grounds. One huge wrought iron door seemed to be the exit. To her right, near the base of the castle, was an archway carved into the stone, leading out toward the cliff top where she’d seen Fionn. She was just about to walk that way when he appeared through it.
Rose shivered in the late November air.
The fae walked toward her, his expression unreadable. He wore only a black cashmere sweater with a shawl collar, dark blue jeans, and walking boots. Rose liked him like this. Sure, he was all kinds of hot in his suits and overcoat, but the more casual look worked well with the rugged unkemptness of his hair and stubbled cheeks.
Attraction awoke inside her. It was always there, ready to be prodded to consciousness with Fionn’s arrival.
Jesus Christ, she realized she would never escape this mating bond.
Which was another thing she wanted to talk to him about.
As Fionn slowed to a halt before her, Rose gestured to the door leading out of the grounds. “Is it safe to go for a walk?”
“The spell reaches miles beyond the castle.”
“So that would be a yes?” When he continued to watch her, Rose stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Would you like to come with me?”
Fionn studied her, as if trying to work out her motivation. Finally, he nodded.
To her delight, Rose saw there was a little bridge outside the wrought iron gate. It was built over a small stream that ran past the castle and out into the ocean. “Where is it from?”
“Water finds its way throughout the hills here, moving over valleys, either funneling out toward the sea or downward to the faerie pools.”
“Will you show me the faerie pools?”
She felt his perusal again before he answered in the affirmative.
Beyond the bridge was the coastline to their right and forestry to their left. Fionn pointed out dips in the cliff edge that led down to the dunes.
“There’s not a lot of beach here, and it’s pebbled, not golden sands. But, if you feel like dipping your toes in the water, that’s where to go.”
Rose nodded and then followed him as he led her to a worn path through the woods. The sun shone through the seminaked trees, the forest floor covered in a carpet of autumn leaves soggy from the last few days of rain.
“How did you come to own a castle?” She broke the silence, looking up at him, a towering figure walking beside her with the grace of an athlete.
“I bought it roughly a hundred years after the Blackwoods woke me up. It was built in the fourteenth century for a lord of Ireland. I’d discover upon awakening that Ireland had been invaded by England in the late twelfth century, and the reign of the high kings was over.” There was a hint of grim melancholy in his voice. “Ireland would never be the same again.” Fionn glanced down at her, his expression softening a little. “Almost two centuries before I’d awaken, the title of lord of Ireland would be abolished. By the late 1800s the castle had been added to over the centuries and was now under the ownership of an English lord whose coffers were rapidly dwindling. Such situations were commonplace among a dying aristocracy that refused to get their hands dirty by investing in the Industrial Revolution. I discovered this earl had financial troubles and offered a lot more than the castle was worth. He sold it to me.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because …” He seemed to hesitate. “The gate to Faerie is on this land. I wanted to be able to protect it.”
“Until you could use it.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory. Just matter-of-fact.
“Aye.”
“You bought this place and spelled it. But you don’t stay here all the time.”
“No. But it is home.”
“Is it near your old home? When you were human, when you were king?”
Fionn shook his head. “No, my homestead was in what is now Northern Ireland. Near Enniskillen.”
Letting silence fall between them, Rose followed Fionn through the forest, wondering if he was taking a path buried under the leaves. When they reached a fallen tree, he held out a hand to aid her over it, even though they both knew she didn’t require anyone’s help.
Taking a deep breath, Rose accepted his hand, unable to meet his gaze as his fingers closed tightly around hers. She hopped over the fallen tree with Fionn’s steadying touch and immediately let go of his hand as soon as he was over the obstacle.
He stepped over it like it was a puddle.
Tingles sparked all over Rose’s hand and she stuffed it into her pocket, aware of Fionn flexing his before fisting it at his side.
He’d felt it too.
She gathered her courage to say what had been on her mind all morning. “I don’t think I ever properly said how sorry I was about Caoimhe and Diarmuid.”
His head whipped toward her so fast, she was sure he must have gotten whiplash. Green eyes blazed intimidatingly at her, searching her expression.
She allowed her sincere empathy to show. “I’m truly sorry for what happened to you. That you lost them.”
Satisfied Rose was telling the truth, he gave her a clipped nod and focused his attention forward again.
Feeling brave, she continued, “I’ve had time to think about that. Kids weren’t ever something I thought about. They were this possibility to consider way off in the distant future. However, they were a possibility … and now they’re not.” Loss filled her. “It’s not the same, I know that. But I feel like I’ve lost something, anyway.”