by Lyn Horner
Flipping back through the mysterious gibberish, she wondered what on earth it all meant. Did the letters form some kind of code? The answer struck her like a jolt of electricity. Gasping at the revelation, she hastily counted the pages of writing. Six! She was right.
The mixed up letters were indeed a code. Each page must give directions to one of the other six Guardians, who Lara had met only once, at her initiation as Uncle Malcolm’s apprentice and the next High Guardian.
She’d often wondered if the others knew of Malcolm’s death. Had they felt him pass through the veil to join their ancestors, or did they await his call to gather for the annual ceremony honoring the great Goddess? A call she had no way to send because Malcolm had never told her how to contact them. Not that she blamed him. He’d been intent on teaching her the Old Ones’ difficult alphabet, wishing her to translate the High Guardian’s scroll – the Ruling Scroll – for herself first of all. He’d thought they had plenty of time for everything else.
Lara choked down a cry of grief. She mustn’t break down again. She had to be strong. Somehow, she must decipher these pages and evade the Hellhounds until she was ready to call the Guardians together. Perhaps with their help she would be able to put an end to the threat their enemies posed and find her sister. Alive, pray Danu!
Unfortunately, she had no idea how to decode the scrambled letters. Could she hire someone to do it? No, that was out of the question. What if the person was untrustworthy, or what if he or she fell into the hands of the Hellhounds? It was far too risky.
Her thoughts turned to Conn. He’d been in the Special Forces. Had he been trained to break secret codes? Did she dare ask him? Did she have the nerve to request his help after implying she didn’t trust him only moments ago? For that matter, did she trust him enough to allow him access to information that might endanger not only her but her fellow Guardians and the all important scrolls?
What a quandary! Part of her wished she’d never seen or heard of the Scrolls of Danu. Then she and Sara would be safe, going about their lives in happy ignorance of the burden their uncle carried. If only Malcolm hadn’t chosen her … but he had, and she must do her best to prove his faith in her wasn’t misplaced.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two days later, Conn cajoled Lara into going on another, longer motorcycle ride. They got an early start, leaving right after breakfast because he planned to follow the scenic Ring of Kerry, a drive he’d taken by himself shortly after arriving in Ireland. Lara had never had that pleasure. He wanted her to experience it, but they’d need to take it in stages, stopping often along the way so as not to tire her too much.
Catching N71, he zigzagged southwest from Killarney past bogs and mountains, taking it slow on the narrow, twisting road, giving his passenger plenty of time to soak up the sights. She cried out in wonder more than once and shrieked in his ear the first time they came to a hairpin turn and had to veer out of the way of oncoming traffic.
“Easy, honey, we’re fine. No need to scream,” he said.
“I’m sorry, but that was awfully close.”
“Nah, we had plenty of room. Next time just close your eyes. We’ll be okay, I promise.” Taking his advice on the next sharp turn, she not only closed her eyes but hid her face against his shoulder and hugged him tight, making him smile at the feel of her breasts molded to his back.
They spent several minutes at Ladies View, overlooking Killarney National Park, where a nearby sign read, “Ladies View gets its name from the pleasure expressed by Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting on their visit in 1861 to this spot.”
“It’s breathtaking with the lakes and mountains fading off in the distance,” Lara murmured, snapping photos of the vista with Conn’s cell phone. She had left hers behind when fleeing Louisiana, she’d told him, fearing to use it lest the Hellhounds trace it to her location. “Ireland really is as green and beautiful as people claim.”
“It is that.” With the wind tinting her cheeks pink and her smile as bright as the Irish morning, he thought her the most beautiful thing in sight.
Moving on, they crossed over Moll’s Gap and headed down toward the coast, stopping again at a sheep farm to watch the owner’s dogs work a herd of woolies. Conn carried Lara over to the wire fence enclosing the pasture and lowered her carefully onto her good foot. Steadying her with an arm around her, he smiled to himself when she pressed to his side and clung tightly to his waist. Having carried her in his arms a number of times, it felt odd for her to stand next to him, but not unpleasant. Her head reached barely to his shoulder and the curve of her hip bumped his upper thigh. No, definitely not unpleasant.
If she thought about their new situation, she gave no sign of it. But then, she was too enthralled by the sheepdogs and the show they were putting on to notice anything else.
“They’re so smart!” she said in awe. “The man whistles a certain way and they know exactly what to do. It’s amazing.”
“Yup, he’s got ’em well trained.” Enjoying her excitement, Conn was tempted to kiss her but settled for giving her a squeeze. Then he waved to the farmer, who’d caught sight of them. The man returned the gesture but kept working, and after a few minutes Conn convinced Lara it was time to ride on.
A short time later, she oohed and ahhed over the brightly painted buildings in Kenmare, a pretty town at the head of Kenmare Bay, and begged him to stop several times as they traveled along the long, narrow bay so she could take more pictures. They passed through other colorful towns, rounded the end of the Iveragh Peninsula and paused to gaze at the blue water of the North Atlantic, watching waves crash against the rocky shore.
After turning northeast on the final leg of their ride, they stopped near Cahersiveen to eat at the Thatched Cottage Restaurant. A tour bus was parked out front, meaning the place must be packed.
“You can’t carry me in there. It’s too crowded,” Lara said flatly.
“You’re tired and you need to eat.”
“I don’t care, I won’t be carried through a crowd of people like a helpless child.” She crossed her arms, tossed her head and glared at him.
Conn didn’t know whether to laugh at the stubborn set of her jaw or curse. Scraping a hand through his hair, he paced off a few steps, muttering under his breath, wishing he’d taken her car and brought the damned wheelchair along. Swinging around, he studied her, thinking.
“You can put weight on your left foot.”
“Yes, but –”
“Okay, hop on it and I’ll support your other side like I did at the sheep farm.” He grinned. “I’ll be your crutch.”
She frowned at his feeble attempt at humor. After a tense moment she said, “All right, but the doctor said I’m not to put weight on my shattered leg until x-rays show it’s healed. You must promise to keep me steady no matter what.”
He winked. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll hold you steady as a rock.”
Helping her off the bike, he moved to her right, wrapped his arm around her waist and molded her slender curves to his side. She glanced up and gave him a nervous little smile, giving him hope that she might be as aware of him as he was of her. Taking it slow, he assisted her to the restaurant entrance and eased through the doorway. The place was as packed as he’d expected. Cooking aromas filled the warm air, making Conn’s stomach rumble while he scanned the noisy room for an empty table. He didn’t see a single one, but in the far corner a middle-aged couple sat by themselves at a table for four.
“Come on,” he said. Maneuvering between tables, he led Lara toward the couple.
The gray-haired man noticed them and said something to his blonde companion. She glanced up and gave them a welcoming smile as they neared the table.
“Do you mind if we join you?” Conn asked.
“Please do,” the man said, rising and pulling out a chair for Lara. “We’ll welcome the company.”
“Thanks.” Conn lowered Lara onto the chair and took the one opposite her.
“I’m Mike Hanson,�
�� the man said, extending his hand, “and this is my wife Penny.”
Once the introductions were complete, Penny Hanson spoke up. “You two weren’t on our bus, were you? I’m sure I’d remember you if you were.”
Seeing Lara stiffen, Conn knew what was going through her mind. She thought the other woman meant she’d remember Lara’s scar. She was way too self-conscious about it.
“No, ma’am, we’re by ourselves,” he told the inquisitive blonde, whose hair color had to come from a bottle judging by her lined face.
“Well, you’re obviously from the States same as us,” Mike said, “and unless I miss my guess you’re from the south.”
Conn smiled. “You guessed right. I hail from Texas, but Lara here comes from up north.”
“Oh, where do you call home, dear?” Penny asked.
Lara lowered her gaze and shrugged. “I’ve moved around a lot.”
“Really? Aren’t you lucky. This is the first time Mike and I have ever traveled more than fifty miles from home. We’re from Iowa, by the way.” The woman chattered on about how much she and her husband were enjoying their tour of Ireland. She paused briefly when the waitress came to take their order then resumed her gushing. Mike nodded agreeably now and then, managing to squeeze in a comment or two.
Conn said a silent thank you when their food and drinks arrived. The shepherd’s pie he and Lara had ordered was delicious, and his frosty glass of Guinness hit the spot. Making it even more enjoyable, Penny remarked on how tasty her bowl of Irish stew was and stopped talking a mile a minute. Mike shot an amused glance across the table as he tucked into his own bowl, letting Conn know he was well aware of how his chatterbox wife affected other people. It was also clear he adored her.
Lara sipped her Guinness as she ate. She’d never tasted it before, not being very fond of beer, but she had to admit she kind of liked this spicy reddish-brown stout. The more she drank the more relaxed she became. When Penny finished her stew and started running on again about the sights she and Mike had seen on their journey, about their family and their Iowa home, Lara didn’t mind. She even laughed a time or two, maybe three, at the woman’s stories.
Was she a bit tipsy from one glass of beer? She must be, or when it came time for the older couple to depart with their tour group, she wouldn’t have felt sad. Ridiculous! She barely knew these people, but they … they were so normal. Longing for normalcy in her life, she envied them and wished they didn’t have to leave so soon.
Conn helped her stand and she hugged both Penny and Mike. Leaning on her muscular crutch outside, she watched them climb back on the bus, struggling to control her foolish emotions. She blinked to ease her stinging eyes.
“You okay?” Conn asked, cocking his head to study her.
“Of course. It’s just the wind making my eyes burn.”
“Uh-huh.” He plainly didn’t believe her but he let it pass. “You ready to get going?”
She gave a brisk nod and let him help her back to his bike.
“There’s a special place I want to show you,” he said as they put their helmets on. “I discovered it when I rode through here the first time. It’s a little off the main route, but I think you’ll enjoy the view.”
“All right, as long as it doesn’t take too long. I don’t want to worry Una again.”
“It won’t. Hang on now.” With that, the Harley growled to life. A few miles farther on they reached the village of Glenbeigh, where Conn made a turn to the left that took them along a narrow road. It led to a view that caused Lara to cry out in wonder.
She stared, speechless, at the wide expanse of sea breaking on a beautiful golden beach that ran along a narrow spit of land sticking out across the water.
“This is Rossbeigh Beach. It juts out a mile or more into Dingle Bay,” Conn said, pointing to the deep blue water. “Across the bay is Inch Beach, or strand as it’s called. And behind us on the other side of the sand dunes, is Castlemain Bay.”
“It’s spectacular,” Lara murmured, thinking she was going to run out of superlatives before this day was done. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Want me to drive down there?”
“Yes, please.”
He drove on slowly while she took in the scene. A few people strolled along the beach, some walking dogs. A couple with three young children had spread a blanket on the sand and were having a picnic, evidently oblivious to a vigorous wind blowing in off the sea. Most astonishing of all were several surfers riding small waves into shore or paddling out to catch another cresting wave. Two had donned wetsuits, but the others wore only regular swimwear. Looking at them made Lara shiver.
Stopping, Conn switched off the motorcycle, dismounted and lowered the kickstand. “Let’s get closer,” he said, motioning for her to swing her right leg across the bike so he could pick her up.
She complied, eyeing him uncertainly. “Can you manage me on the loose sand?”
“Oh, I reckon I can.” With a crook of his lips, he lifted her into his arms, sending her pulse spiraling upward as it always did when he held her. “See those boulders along the base of the dunes?” He angled his chin toward the large, dark colored rocks.
“Yes,” she replied, enjoying the feel of his strong arms beneath her and the unyielding wall of muscles she rested against.
“How about we sit on that biggest one?”
“Fine.” She looked this way and that, engrossed in their surroundings as he trudged through the sand. When he stepped in a low spot, causing him to jerk sideways, she yelped in fright and clamped both arms around his neck.
“Easy, darlin’, I’m not gonna drop you,” he said in her ear.
“I’m sorry.” She loosened her hold on him, embarrassed by her overreaction, but she didn’t fully relax until he set her down on the massive black boulder. He seated himself beside her and they watched the surfers, the gulls diving for fish, and the sea glistening in the sun, rolling on to the horizon.
“Those surfers are mad. The water must be frigid, this far north.”
“Un-uh, the gulf stream flows past here. The water is actually pretty warm.”
“And how would you know that?” She angled a skeptical glance at him.
He grinned. “I went wading the first time I stopped here.”
“Oh.” Lara gazed at the water wistfully. “I wish I could do that.”
“No reason you can’t, with a little help.”
She frowned impatiently. “Don’t be absurd. I told you I can’t put weight on my right foot yet.” If ever, she added to herself.
“Yeah, but the docs didn’t say you can’t get it wet, did they?”
“No, but … .” She stared at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“Simple. I’m your crutch, remember? Take your shoes off.”
She opened her mouth to refuse but excitement burst through her, stilling her tongue. Could he hold her steady in the lapping waves? Was it worth the risk? Watching him bend to remove his boots, she decided it was. She untied the homely black oxfords she was forced to wear and kicked them off, but when it came to removing her brace, she hesitated. She’d never taken it off in front of anyone except Una. Shy of letting Conn see her do it, much less someone walking along the beach, she had second thoughts about her crazy impulse to go wading.
“There’s nobody close enough to see,” Conn said, seeming to read her mind. “And you don’t have to worry about it bothering me. I’ve watched my mother and sister take off their AFOs plenty of times.” He held her gaze with his gray eyes, smiling encouragement.
“Very well.” Reaching down, she gathered up the leg of her corduroy pants and undid the wide Velcro strap that bound the brace to her calf, just below her knee. Laying it beside her shoes, she peeled off her long white cotton socks that not only provided warmth but also prevented the plastic brace from sticking to her skin and causing irritation. By the time she rolled up both pant legs, Conn was standing, waiting, also barefoot and bare legged up to his knees.
>
“I’ll carry you to the water. It’ll be quicker.”
Nodding, she looped her arms around his neck again, loosely this time. When they reached the water’s edge, he let her down gently and kept one arm firmly around her as she balanced on her left foot. She twined her own arm around his waist and caught hold of his leather jacket with her other hand.
“Ready?” he asked.
“As much as I’ll ever be.”
Step by slow hopping step, he led her into the water. It was surprisingly warm, as he’d said. Loving the touch of the low waves lapping around her ankle and calf, she lowered her right foot enough to glide it through the silky liquid. It felt soothing.
“It’s wonderful!” She laughed in delight, looking up at Conn.
“Yeah, it is,” he said in a husky voice, watching her. “You want to keep going?”
Pulse leaping at the smoldering fire in his gray eyes, she nodded, unable to speak as a surge of heat sizzled her nerve endings. She quickly looked away but couldn’t shut out the desire she’d read in his burning gaze. He really did want her, scar and all, it appeared.
Brushing aside such thoughts, she focused on enjoying the soft, silky feel of the water caressing her skin as Conn waded along at a slow pace, cautious of her safety. Finally, with regret, she signaled him to stop.
“My left leg hasn’t gotten this much exercise in months. It’s starting to ache. I guess we’d better quit.”
“No problem. We’ll come back another day.” Scooping her up, he carried her back to their boulder. “Stay put. I’ll get something to dry our feet.”
She watched him hike over to the motorcycle, admiring his fluid gait, his long legs and muscular flanks. The man was hot with a capital H! With that body he could drive a woman wild in bed. He dug in one of the Harley’s saddlebags, found what he wanted and started back to her. Embarrassed by her lusty thoughts, she told herself not to get dangerous ideas about him. He might stir long buried yearnings, but she wasn’t about to trust him with her heart.