Ch. 4

"Are you alright, lass?" He asked and looked down to find Relena sitting in the bush. She was rumpled, and a bit worse for wear but nonetheless beautiful.

The way the sun caught in her hair made his heart skip. He reached down and offered her a hand. She took it, gingerly and allowed him to hoist her to her feet. More words were exchanged but he could not understand.

"...would be my honor to assist you." He spoke aloud. She smiled, nodded, and he helped her up onto his horse before joining her in the saddle. As her arms wrapped around him, his body lit on fire… he wished she were in his arms instead...

He woke in a cold sweat and smoothed the bangs out of his eyes. It was all so real. He could smell the dew-covered leaves. He could feel the cool of the day and the warmth of her arms as they wrapped around her. But why? Never before had dreams been so real to him. Never before had he felt so connected to something so completely that had nothing to do with him. A simple story was becoming so much more than he bargained for. He wanted to know why she always looked so sad. Why her eyes never seemed to hold any real joy. Why he wanted to pull her into his arms and chase her pain away. And he had no easy way of discovering the answers.

Deciding further attempts at sleep would be futile; Heero rose, took a shower and made his way to the castle's library, in the hope of finding something to help him with his research. Though the castle was not very large, it took him a few tries to find the room in question. As the wooden doors opened, the smells of old parchment, dust and stale ink greeted him. He flicked the switch on the wall, and the lamps lit rather quickly. All were made to look like ancient torches though it was clear that a standard bulb existed in each. The walls were covered in shelves, with a second level built in. It was hard for him to imagine so many books having existed and being readily available in the castle's original time period of construction, but he also somehow knew of the owner's deep love of the written word.

He selected quite a few of the older books depicting the countryside and detailing the history of the land. Some of the volumes were written by an author he had never heard of: Katrina Peacecraft. A brief internet search didn't reveal much about her: a woman whose age and date of birth was not specified. No current residence or date of death seemed to be noted.

"Either she disappeared from history," Heero started. "Or someone has gone to great measures to make sure she was forgotten." He continued to comb through the pages, trying to find any sources listed.

"So this is where you disappeared to." He turned to see his hostess offering him a rare smile. "It's good to see this room getting some use."

"You would know all about disappearing, wouldn't you?" Her lips tightened into a half frown. He immediately regretted the loss of her smile.

"I'm sorry about that. I did send the message that I had business to attend to." She responded and made her way over.

He noted the way the fabric of her turtleneck emphasized her slim build. It was a sky blue skirt and around her was a shrug-like sweater vest. Heero never cared to learn the names of those kinds of things. He noticed how the color brought out her eyes. Those eyes that already haunted his dreams… He mentally shook himself and cleared his throat.

"I was hoping you could take me around the grounds today? Since you canceled yesterday-"

"I have already apologized for that inconvenience." She looked at him. "But I do seem to owe you a tour, so, of you wish it; we may do so after lunch."

"Good." Heero could not take his eyes off of her. He kept seeing the dream in his mind. She blushed and fidgeted.

"Anyway," she broke the awkward silence. "I came to find you to let you know that breakfast is ready." Heero smirked. He didn't know why, but he liked the fact that he could make her blush merely by looking at her.

"Is it?" He began to walk toward her.

"Yes." She cleared her throat and began to make her way to the door. "Pagan's signature omelets. Best in all of Ireland."

"Then we should go eat." He was so close. He wanted to reach out and grab her and… He shook himself. Why were these thoughts- these actions… what was happening to him? He did not know this woman! He was a guest in her home! But he was two seconds away from pulling her into his arms and…

"Are you alright?" She asked. His eyes met hers and he gave her a crooked, half smile.

"Yeah. Just… hungry." She nodded and continued to lead the way to the dining hall.

They ate in relative silence as she read the paper and looked over various emails and other business-related things. He wanted to ask about his dreams. Perhaps the place really was haunted? But then, why would he have dreams from the male perspective? The ghost was said to be a female. There was so little that made any sense to him. He had yet to see the apparition himself and yet somehow he knew there to be some truth to the legend. He decided to ask the most knowledgeable source.

"I know you dismissed the idea of the ghostly maiden of the Mists, but I am also well acquainted with Irish folk stories. I have heard a theory that, if real, she might be a banshee." His hostess looked up from her work and frowned.

"I am not one to believe in ghosts, but she could not be a banshee." She laid down her tablet. "Banshees are said to wail into the night in grief and sometimes anger. No such occurrences have been reported."

"So people have discussed the spirit with you?" She nodded.

"I have had calls from paranormal investigators. Some calls have even come from producers of popular television shows, but I never give them much of my time. The only ghosts here are memories."

"Memories?" He leaned forward. How could she have memories of this place? "You have lived here long enough to make such memories?" Her eyes widened slightly. "The rebuilt castle is only a few years old." She opened her mouth to respond, closed it and then smiled.

"How right you are. But I have memories of finding the property and surveying its construction, do I not?" She was being evasive. But why? What was she hiding? The more time he spent with her the more he needed to know.

"Relena I-" he began, unsure what exactly he wanted to say. She raised a brow. "I thought we could bring a lunch with us on the tour. To get us going sooner."

"A picnic lunch?" He nodded. "Are you that eager to see the grounds?"

'I'm that eager to be alone with you…' he thought and immediately chastised himself.

"I just thought with the weather as unpredictable as it is that we could give ourselves more time."

"I see." She stared at him for a moment before nodding. "I don't see why we couldn't." He smiled. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and stood up. "I have a few things to attend to before we leave. I will meet you in the stables at eleven thirty." And she left the room. He couldn't help but feel that she was avoiding him. That she didn't want to be alone with him. He also had no idea why.

She showed up for their ride at exactly 11:30. He took a moment to appreciate the way the grey turtleneck clung to her. The jeans she wore looked tighter than they probably were and her jean jacket hugged her frame perfectly. Her long hair was in a high ponytail with her bangs still on her forehead. Even dressed for a simple ride she looked beautiful.

"Are you ready?" She asked as she led two horses out of their stalls.

"Do we have to saddle them ourselves?" She laughed. It was a warm sound. He wanted to hear her laugh more.

"Have you never saddled a horse?"

"I'm a city boy, Relena." She nodded; a smile still firmly on her face.

"Then I will teach you." She started to show him how, but he didn't need it. For some reason, he just… knew. As though it was second nature, he fixed the saddle and the bridle with ease. He felt his mind fog...

"Don't pull it too tight. You want to stay on the horse but not cause it pain in the process."

"You make it look so easy." She said and he leaned in toward her.

"You're one of the smartest women I know. You'll get it."

"Heero?" He shook himself and looked up at her.

"Hm?" He snapped out of it.

"I thought you didn't know how."

"I didn't…" he stared at the saddle and then at her.

"Well…" She was paler than before. She cleared her throat. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah." They mounted their horses and rode out.

The expanse of her land consisted of rolling hills and a small marsh. The hills varied in size from what seemed to be small mountains to tiny little mounds. Storm clouds rolled overhead and the wind began to pick up, but that did not prevent him from taking as many scenic pictures as he could. Then, through his camera lens, Heero saw in the distance three large stone slabs and used his lens to focus in. One of the slabs stood about ten feet tall, and the two on either side were about seven. They seemed to be made of the finest granite.

"Can we ride over there? I want to take a closer look at those stones." She paused, as if unsure, but nodded her consent and they rode closer. As they neared, he noticed that on each stone were inscriptions in a very old dialect of Gaelic the likes of which he had never seen as well as their own unique symbol engraved in the front. They were a site to behold, their polished surfaces glistening in the sun. No weeds grew around their bases. Fresh flowers set neatly in grounded vases. Someone took very good care of these markers. He dismounted his horse to get a closer look, tracing his fingers across the engravings.

"They look like tombstones."

"They are, of a sort." She came up behind him. "They are in memory of the king who first built this castle and his children."

"What of his queen?" She froze, color draining from her face slightly.

"It is said she survived to place the original stones here."

"She is supposed to be the spirit that haunts the grounds." Relena nodded to his comment, but her eyes were on the stones. She walked up and almost lovingly placed her hands on each surface one after the other. "You seem to have quite the connection to this… and them."

"You could say that." There was a pain in her voice. A longing. He wanted to reach out and hold her…

"But then, as their relative I suppose you would?"

"I suppose so." A loud crack of thunder overhead. The rain soon followed. "This way!" She called and to the back of the hill behind the stones was a small cave. The rain did not take long to soak them and the wind itself threatened to blow them away. They pulled the horses into the cave just as the storm really cut loose.

"Such a convenient spot. It's a good thing you know your lands so well." She did not respond, staring instead at the rainfall. "Relena?" As he looked at her, it was clear that the water dripping down her cheeks was not just the rain.

She was crying, but why? He walked up to her, but she did not look at him. She seemed lost in another time… and he wanted to be there with her. Or to have her there with him. Without thinking, he pulled her to him, crushing her to his chest in a warm, comforting embrace. He felt her fingers clutch desperately at the fabric of his sweater as she cried. It was a hard cry. Rough and strong with sobs that wracked her whole body. He held her, smoothing her hair, rubbing her back and just let her sob. She needed this. And, somehow, he knew she needed him.

As her sobs subsided, he pulled back enough to look into her eyes and wipe away her tears. She leaned into his touch, eyes closing. He couldn't help it. He leaned down and in and claimed her lips with his. Fire shot through his veins as every cell came to life. His mind reeled as flashes of things he never experienced came to him. Passion. Children. A life with her. It was all too much and yet he couldn't get enough. Her arms went around his neck and their kiss deepened as his tongue found entry beyond her lips. His hands began to roam, finding their way under her shirt to the soft, warm flesh of her smooth stomach. He craved this. Craved her. His entire body. No. His entire being begged for more of her. This woman he hardly knew and yet knew better than anyone in his life.

But a sob tore from her throat. She pushed him away, and he let her go as though she burned him.

"I can't." She all but whispered into the silence of the cave. Confusion and hurt overtook him. He reached for her but she stepped away.

"Relena… what?"

"I can't- we can't…"

"Relena…" he stepped toward her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you but-"

"You're right! You shouldn't have."

"But you kissed me back. You wanted it… wanted me." He reached out and caressed her cheek. She stepped back.

"But I shouldn't." She looked down. "And I can't."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean?"

"It's complicated."

"Why?" She looked up at him, those old eyes were back and full of so much pain that is made him take a small step back.

"Because… you're not him." Not him? What did that mean? He didn't have the chance to ask. She moved away to get on her horse, but he caught her and kissed her again. This time he felt her hot tears on his face as he held her close. When the kiss broke again, his eyes locked with hers.

"Relena… please?" But she looked away, lips tight, body stiff. He released her and took a step back, feeling a hole in his heart.

"We need to get back to the castle." She declared and mounted her horse. He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped. He mounted his horse and she clicked her tongue, sending her horse forward to lead the way back.