CH 2

The ticking of the clock on the wall reverberated through the stone room as a rhythmic reminder of the late hour. Heero found sleep impossible. Try as he might, every time he closed his eyes he saw hers. The sorrow held in them weighed heavily on him as nothing ever had before. He threw off the blankets and walked to the balcony. The room he'd been given was lavish and beautiful, as if something out of a medieval novel. The balcony was more a small, circular outcropping jutting out just in front of the door a few feet. There was a moon out tonight fighting its way through the cloud cover and casting an eerie silver glow to the countryside below.

He took in the view with a deep breath; the moisture in the air was so thick that he could feel it on his tongue. The hazy fog swirled in the cool night wind. Everything here seemed to be something from a dream. His thoughts turned to her again. Did she live here alone? He had seen the butler but no one else. And then there was the ring on her finger. She had said she wasn't married but something about her tone when she declared it told him another, sadder story. He wanted to know, and this desire to know stemmed from more than his desire to find a good story. He wanted to know her; to find out why she pulled at him so…

A figure caught his eye walking in the swirling mists. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head thinking it might be a side effect of his lack of sleep. The figure was small and pale but certainly feminine and strangely hypnotic. The spirit, it seemed, might not have been a fable after all. As fast as he could, he pulled on his jeans over his boxers and tugged on a shirt, shoving his feet into his shoes without pause. He barely remembered his camera before he hastened to the door and made his way down the steps as quickly but quietly as he dared trying not to wake his hostess. He made his way to the large wooden door and out into the front courtyard, dashing off in the direction where he had seen the specter.

The air was cold and damp and smelled of wet grass and earth. It was dark and he cursed himself silently for not having the presence of mind to take some sort of light with him. Still, the moonlight was strong enough to light his way. The soft earth squished and rustled beneath him as he continued on his quest to find whatever it was that he saw. This would be quite the story if the spirit was real! Heero was never one to believe in ghosts or the supernatural. At times, he wasn't sure he even believed in God. He wasn't one for publicity or fame either, and never really cared about making a name for himself. However, this was too good to pass up. There was a mystery that needed solving and he wasn't going to walk away from it without a bit more research.

Finally, in the mists, he saw her.

She was in a silk, white nightdress, a shawl draped around her shoulders, honey hair left down to billow in the wind. The light cast an ethereal glow on her countenance that entranced him and took his breath away. She moved with an otherworldly grace and poise that spoke of the royal heritage of which she claimed to belong. A bark broke through the silence of the night and the hound from earlier charged at him. He took a step back but found himself relieved when a rebuke from her brought the dog to a heel.

"What are you doing out here so late?" She inquired, her eyes regarding him with the same intense stare.

"I could ask the same of you." His voice was a little harsher than he'd meant but it to be, especially toward her. He was angry with himself for falling for the fantasy, if only long enough to make an ass out of himself. Of course there would be a woman on the property. This woman owned the property and could do as she pleased when she pleased.

"I was taking Wolfgang for a walk." She stated. "He gets restless at times and letting him out to run allows him time to get it out of his system." Heero nodded. It was a perfectly natural reason. Many dog-owners took their dogs out at all hours of the night.

"A wolfhound named Wolfgang?" He smirked. "Clever." Her eyes flashed with brief indignation, a small frown forming on her face.

"I'm glad my choice in names amuses you." Somehow he knew she wasn't truly cross with him and took the liberty of walking closer. Was she shivering? He thought, for a moment, of pulling her closer to warm him, but mentally shook himself and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your evening walk." her eyes softened, her lips relaxed into an apologetic smile and shook her head.

"No, it's fine. Actually, I wouldn't mind the company. Usually it's just Wolfgang and I around here. And, of course Pagen, but having someone else to talk to is a nice change." She was smiling again, and -this time- it reached her eyes making them sparkle. He grinned in response and took another few steps forward.

"You should be more careful though."

"Oh?" She raised a brow, something unknown sparking in her aqua eyes.

"If people see a beautiful woman wandering around in the mists they might mistake you for your rumored apparition."

She paled at his words and he realized his compliment may have been a bit much. Why had he called her beautiful? He was just here for a story, damn it! How was she having this affect on him? Most women hardly caught his eye. He was usually so focused on work he never really had time to date or spend hardly any time with the fairer sex. Why was he feeling so out of character around her? Who was she?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He closed the distance between them and reached out a hand to take hers; so small and cold in his own. The brief contact sent an electric shock up his arm and into his chest and for a moment, he found it hard to breathe. Her eyes shot up to lock with his before she looked down at their joined hands. He felt the cold of her ring in his palm and let go. She seemed to blush as she pulled her hand back.

"Not at all." she began and turned from him. "It… it was a lovely compliment. I thank you." Why did he have the desire to pull her close? In all his time in the dating world he had never felt anything real for any of his girlfriends in the past. They had been nice enough and even gotten along well, but he soon would find himself losing interest as though something had been missing. So then… why now...with her was he so… entranced?

"Relena…" He walked forward again, boldly reaching for her hand once more. She turned as though he had struck her and shrank away from him, eyes widened for a moment in something akin to shock…? Fear? Of what? Then, her expression returned to neutral pleasantness of a gracious hostess.

"We should get back inside. It's cold out here, and one can get lost in the fog." She made her way past him, her dog rising to follow. Once again, this mysterious woman left him alone to his thoughts.

As they walked back into the castle it was clear his hostess had no desire to dwell on the awkward subject. He followed her, however, as she made her way back to the kitchen and reached for the kettle.

"Tea?" She inquired. He nodded though she did not look at him long enough for him to know if she saw. She grabbed two mugs from the hooks on the wall and an old kettle that had clearly endured some wear. She filled the kettle and turned to the stove to light the burner and as the fire roared to life on the stove she made her way around the kitchen. She grabbed the honey, two tea bags and a lemon from the fruit basket on the counter. Every move she made was deliberate and graceful and he found himself mesmerized.

'It must be my exhaustion.' He tried to shake himself out of it.

"Do you take honey, or sugar in your tea?" She asked, still not looking at him.

"Honey." He answered, and the corners of her lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Of course." She said nothing more but took hold of the lemon and cut off a slice, offering it to him. He waved it off and she placed it on the rim of her mug. A small whine came from the left of her and she turned to face her large hound who sat patiently at her side. She grabbed a treat out of a seemingly ancient clay jar in the corner of the surface and gave it to her dog.

"Does your dog follow you everywhere?" She looked up, eyes not meeting his but rather just in acknowledgement of his question.

"He does unless I tell him to stay."

"You've trained him well then."

"Thank you." She folded her hands in front of her on the kitchen Island. "Although, it is not my dog you wish to talk about."

"No." He tried to catch her eyes with his but she seemed to want to cast her gaze anywhere but on him.

"I thought not." She sighed and looked at the clock on the wall: old, ornate and fitting for the ancient atmosphere. "Are you wanting to go get your recorder?"

"No," he started, "This conversation can be off the record. I'm here for information on the castle. Polite conversation hardly qualifies as newsworthy material." She let out a soft, feminine chuckle in response.

"I suppose not." He found himself hypnotized by the curve of her lips as they held the slight upturn of a smile… The piercing cry of the kettle interrupted the short moment and she took it off the heat to pour the water. "So, Mr. Yuy-"

"Heero."

"Heero." She agreed and poured the steaming water into the waiting cups. "How long have you lived in Ireland?"

"What makes you think I'm not from here?"

"Your lack of accent for one thing. And Yuy isn't exactly a common name around here."

"Neither is Darlian."

"True."

"Care to explain why?" She raised a brow and gave a wry smile.

"I asked you first."

"Indeed." She stared at him expectantly while dunking her teabag in and out of the cup. "Yuy was my great grandfather's name. He was Japanese American and served in World War II. He was stationed here in Ireland where he married an Irish woman and moved here officially after the war. Unfortunately, his family had lost everything when they were forced into the internment camps and so he started a new life here. My father, however, moved back to America and married there. As I said, I like to travel, so I spend half of my time in the U.S. and half of it here." She nodded and passed him the honey, offering it to him first before fixing her own cup.

"And how did you come to be a journalist?" She inquired and took a sip of her tea.

"I don't know." It was an honest question; one he really hadn't given much thought to. "I suppose I liked finding out as much as I could about whatever interested me. Being a journalist gives me credentials… a way to get around and ask important questions about important things."

"Like why I decided to rebuild my family's castle?" Her eyes locked with his for the first time since they entered the kitchen. Again, he could have sworn he saw an aged, heaviness buried in their aqua depths but he didn't have much time to explore why before she looked down at her cup.

"Yes… like that." She nodded and took one last sip of her tea before standing and taking the cup to the dishwasher.

"Well, I suppose we had best try to go back to sleep. Your official interview time with me tomorrow begins at nine?" He nodded, eyes glued to the way her nightdress flowed around her form…

"Very well then. Breakfast will be at eight. Pagen makes amazing French toast but do try to be punctual. He hates it when the food is left to get cold." Again, Heero could only nod as she made her way to the door. "Goodnight… Heero."