Storm Warrior

The tiny country was beautiful, rich with quaint charm and friendly people, and she felt comfortingly close to her beloved grandmother at every turn.

I guess that’s what I was really looking for. Morgan deeply missed the woman who had raised her. As Gwen finished reading the tale of the Cross Keys ghost, Morgan smiled at her. “You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Wales, but it’s been extra nice to meet you on the tour and travel together. I hope it doesn’t offend you if I say it’s a little bit like having Nainie along.”

“What a lovely thing to say, dear,” said Gwen. “How could I be offended when it’s obvious you loved her very much?”

“I guess I talk about her a lot, don’t I?”

“Not the way you think. You point out places and things she’s spoken of. Why don’t you tell me more? You said that you lived with her.”

“My parents died in a boating accident when I was five, and so I went to live with my grandmother in Spokane…” They were all the family each other had left, but it had been enough. Nainie Jones had a generous spirit and had loved Morgan with a marvelous blend of humor and patience. And Morgan had felt her grandmother’s pride in her at every turn, from the first time she walked to kindergarten by herself to the day she left for veterinary college on a full scholarship.

“Nainie told me such wonderful stories, and she taught me through them too. If I did something wrong, she always had a story that would show me why I shouldn’t do that again.” Morgan laughed. “It usually worked, at least when I was younger. When you’re sixteen, it’s tough to be afraid of the Fair Ones stealing you away!”

Gwen’s eyes twinkled. “At that age, I imagine not being asked to dance would be far more terrifying than the faery folk.”

“I didn’t know what terrifying was until Nainie died.” Morgan had been in her third year of veterinary school when it had happened. “It was so unexpected. She’d always seemed so healthy, so full of life. But she passed away in her sleep. The doctor said it was her heart.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. You must have been devastated.”

“I was.” It had been a terrible blow, bringing back all the pain and loss she’d felt as a little girl when her parents didn’t come home. And fear…This time, she was totally and completely alone in the world.

Study was therapy and so was work, and Morgan had thrown herself ever deeper into both. Within a few years of graduation, she had built up a thriving veterinary practice and had brought in two partners to help handle the volume of clients. The extra hands meant she could finally take a break, and it was long overdue. Morgan passed over the bright flyers advertising exotic destinations and told the travel agent to book her a trip to Wales.

“So here I am,” Morgan finished. “I can’t help but wonder if Nainie would be pleased if she knew I was here.”

Gwen’s bright eyes looked far away for a moment. “I think those who have gone on are very happy to know that they are still cherished.” Then her gaze turned mischievous. “And I’m certain your grandmother would have enjoyed it thoroughly when you asked the shopkeeper for a purple cat yesterday.”

Morgan put her hands to her face. “Omigod, that was so embarrassing! I grew up hearing Nainie speak the language, but I never quite got the hang of the pronunciation myself. You’re right; she sure would have laughed at that one.” In fact, Morgan could almost hear the rich, deep chuckle that had seemed so huge for such a little woman. No one had a laugh quite like that, although Morgan had heard snippets and echoes of it on her trip, especially in a family pub the night before last. It was said that the Welsh laughed with their entire bodies, and it certainly seemed to be true.

Gwen looked over her shoulder, then back at Morgan. “You know, dear, I’m not really up to date on what girls consider handsome these days. Tell me, do you think that silver-haired fellow at the bar is good looking?”

“Mmm, not bad at all. But the one standing by the door has a much better butt.”

It was a game they’d played almost every night of the tour, and it set the tone for the rest of the evening. The two women talked and giggled like high school girls throughout the meal, even more so when Gwen ordered chocolate cheesecake for each of them.

“This is so decadent!” Morgan laughed, picking off a decorative curl of shaved chocolate and popping it into her mouth.

“Not at all. One must take their pleasures where they can find them. Besides, I heard one of the ladies on the bus say that calories consumed while vacationing don’t count.”

“I sure hope not, or I’m going to have to pay an extra baggage fee on the plane just for all the pounds I’m gaining.”

A woman with a seeing-eye dog passed their table, and the black Lab reminded Morgan of the strange dog that had been following the bus. A sudden impulse had her flagging the waiter. “Do you have a bone left over from that lovely roast?” she asked him. “It’s for a pet.”

“Of course. I’ll be glad to wrap that up for you, miss.”

As he disappeared, Gwen leaned over. “My goodness. Is that for what I think it is?”

“I can’t help it,” Morgan said and laughed. “I’m a veterinarian, so I have a compulsion to look after animals. And if I wasn’t a vet, I’d still be worrying that the dog was hungry. Or lonely. Or something. I thought I’d get the bone just in case.” In case she ever got close enough to the huge black mastiff to offer it.

The hotel room was plunged into blackness when Gwen switched off her reading lamp. “Oh my. Is that too dark for you, dear?”

“No, it’s just fine, thanks. I sleep better when it’s like this.” In fact, it was almost country dark—obviously, there were no streetlights on this side of the building. Morgan was pleasantly reminded of the old farmstead she had moved to just outside of Spokane Valley. There, the dark was peaceful. She seldom even turned on the yard light, preferring the stars and the moon at most.

“You’re a brave girl. Aren’t you even a teeny bit frightened to have that great black beast following you everywhere? Why, it gives me the shivers to know that it’s a harbinger of death.”

Morgan imagined Gwen had the same kind of shivers that many people did—there was a certain deliciousness to such fear and an eagerness for more. It was human nature to be fascinated by mysterious things, especially scary things. “I’m sure he’s not following me; he’s just following the bus.”

As a vet, Morgan had observed that pets could develop just as many neuroses and odd behaviors as their owners. In her own practice, there was an Alsatian that insisted on following the family’s kids to school and waiting for them outside the fenced grounds—even though the school was four miles away and the children were driven there. The dog’s behavior was understandable on some level, but the urge persisted even if it was a weekend and the children were at home. Unless tied up, the dog would make the journey, every single day.

The mastiff must have a similar compulsion. Why he chose to follow the tour bus around, Morgan couldn’t imagine. Maybe the bigger the dog, the bigger the object of its obsession. She’d already checked with the bus driver, but the man was new and had never seen the animal before. The young tour guide was no help either. Thank goodness there were just a handful of miles between towns in this very tiny country. Still, she fell asleep wishing she could do something for the enormous canine.

The dream began with a scent. The smell of cool, damp earth and rain and the faint whiff of horses. She was naked, lying on furs and facing the open door of a tent made of skins. The breeze was slight but enough to make her shiver and cause her nipples to harden. Her ass was warm, however. In fact, her entire backside was heated, pressed tightly against a very large, very male body. Not a stranger, although in the whimsical reality of dreams, she didn’t know who he was. She wasn’t afraid, although she could feel the rock-hard muscles of his arms, his chest. He was a powerful man, yet every instinct told her that she knew him as well as she knew herself—she could feel the bond between them more powerfully than even his touch. As if on cue, his large hand, calloused and work-hardened, slid over her hip and traveled gently upward. Her skin tingled deliciously beneath the rough palm, and she shivered again, not from cold but from pleasure as his hand rubbed over her breasts, fondling and squeezing.