For the Love of a Goblin Warrior (Shadowlands) (12 page)

Idella
stepped
back
as
if
to
rejoin
the
celebration, one hand going to her stomach as it swelled. She glanced down, then back at him, years adding weight to her stare. “What have you done?”

A
wound
opened
on
her
neck, blood poured out, and stained her clothes. This wasn’t what had happened. They’d gone back to the feast. Their first child hadn’t arrived for another two years. Then he realized his dream had skipped ahead. This was the night she’d died.

He
tried
to
reach
for
her
but
couldn’t move. “Idella!”

Meryn jerked awake. His hand rested on the stolen knife, ready for an attack that didn’t come. Instead, Idella stood by the fire, arms wrapped around her stomach, lips moving without sound.

“No.” He threw off the clothing acting as a blanket and dropped the knife in the dirt; he would save her this time. He caught her as she collapsed. But as he touched her, she disintegrated, her body becoming dust in his hands. The fine, gray dust of the Shadowlands coated his hands. The dust nightmares were made of. His memories were coming to life to haunt him and remind him of what he’d lost.

He remained kneeling, staring at his gray-coated hands. Idella hadn’t been real, just a memory given life by the Shadowlands. The beating of his heart drowned out all other noise. This time it didn’t break at the sight of her dying. Grief didn’t rip him apart. It should; the devastation should still burn, but what felt like yesterday had happened years ago. The screaming in his head was silent, as if the ghosts of his family had finally abandoned him and left him to his fate. He released a slow breath, grounding himself in the present.

There was no blood on his clothes or skin, only gray dust. Meryn rubbed his fingers together, feeling the fine, cold particles. It was definitely Shadowlands dust, but it shouldn’t be here and his dreams shouldn’t be forming in the Fixed Realm.

He lifted his gaze and looked around his small clearing, but no other nightmares from his past had joined him. He’d tried to forget her and his children once. Not even being goblin had erased the horror. It had lurked, waiting for him in the shadows, ready to drag him down and punish him for forgetting. Forgetting wasn’t the answer. Remembering was. He was happy to dream of Idella, but not like that. He would not remember her by her death, but by her life.

He wiped the dust from his hands on his trousers and stood. Slowly he picked up the knife and returned to his bed, sitting so sleep didn’t follow him. The gray dust on the ground shimmered in the moonlight. What new horror would it breed when he slept? Would everything he feared be given fresh life, only to fall apart at first touch and deny him a chance to change the past?

Chapter 8

Nadine jogged slowly along Fraser Avenue. When she saw Meryn on a park bench, a smile broke across her face.

She made her way over and sat next to him. “You look happy this morning.”

“You came back.” He returned her smile, a dimple forming.

“I was hoping to see you.” That was the truth even though she’d tried to convince herself she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again.

He looked at her as if trying to determine if she meant it or was just being nice. A bit of both. She was curious, plus she wanted to know if the spark was still there. It was. When she looked at him, there was a flutter of something that shouldn’t exist for a man she barely knew. Barely knew now, but that could be fixed.

“Why don’t you join me for a muffin and a coffee?” She tilted her head at the café.

He glanced over at the building and for a second she thought he was going to say no. She was too forward; she’d been told that before. Maybe he was just being polite in speaking to her; after all, she’d seen him while he as in a pretty bad place, but then again, he’d been here waiting. She held her breath for a heartbeat.

Then he shook his head. “I’ve no money on me.”

Ah, so either he didn’t want to talk to her or he really had no money. She glanced over his clothes again. He wasn’t dressed for running and he wasn’t dressed for an office job either. But he was clean and neat, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, but he could be one of those people who refused to let others see the real mess and who carried on as if everything was fine regardless of the cracks. And something had cracked for him to come into the hospital—but back then he’d actually look disheveled.

Now he looked like everyone else until she looked in his eyes. There was an edge and a hurt she should be wary of, but there were people in the café, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere alone with him. Besides, if he’d meant her harm, he wouldn’t have helped her twice.

She stood and held her hand out to him, offering him the assistance this time. “My treat.”

He paused for a moment as if reluctant. She could almost see him battling with his pride. This was a man not used to needing help and almost resenting it. Who was he and what had happened?

His fingers closed around hers and a jolt of electricity ran under her skin. There was something there—enough for her to continue believing that she was right: the spark couldn’t be grown over time. It was there or not. But just because it was there didn’t mean it had to be acted on. Meryn was a handsome stranger. His dark hair was pushed back of his face, the ends brushing his shoulders. Beneath the fabric of the long-sleeved T-shirt, she could see the curve of muscle. She was willing to bet that if he stripped off the shirt, he’d be lean and fit. She suppressed the smile that wanted to form at the idea. She shouldn’t be imagining him without his shirt on. Maybe once her curiosity had worn away there’d be nothing left.
Yeah, professional interest.
She didn’t believe it, but she refused to let herself think it could be anything else. Anything else was dangerous.

“Thank you,” he said simply as he stood. He didn’t release her hand as they walked to the short distance to the café.

While she could’ve pulled her hand free, she didn’t. She didn’t want to. She liked the touch of his rough palm against hers and the light pressure of his fingers. She couldn’t remember the last man she’d let hold her hand. They tended to lead her around like they were showing off what was on their arm. But Meryn wasn’t like any other man she’d known.

“Can I ask a question?” She glanced at him, aware of the heat seeping from his palm and into hers.

“You don’t need permission.”

Maybe not, but there was an air about him like he wasn’t used to being questioned about anything. “Why do you speak Latin?”

A frown crossed his face for a half second before he answered. “I had to learn.”

She waited for more but he didn’t give her anything else. Where did he go to school to learn Latin? Or what had he done that made it a requirement? She tried to study him without staring. He waited for her to ask another question or continue the conversation. How much could she ask before he would think her rude? She took the gamble and asked the question she needed answered.

“What was wrong with you the other night?”

Meryn stopped walking and looked down at his feet. “I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She turned to face him. “I just want to understand and make sure you’re okay. You had the nurses quite worried.” He’d had her worried, especially after he’d wandered off.

“I am okay. My wife…” He stumbled if he were trying to find the right words.

His wife, of course he would be married. The slap of jealousy caught her off guard and left a sour taste on her tongue. She pulled her hand from his. What had she been thinking?

He made no effort to take her hand again. “My wife was killed. I couldn’t think past the pain and memories.”

“Oh.” She touched his arm, but it was such a pathetic gesture. She knew how those memories could creep up and ruin a day. Was that what his nightmare in the hospital had been about? No matter how curious she was, it wasn’t right to ask how she’d died. “I understand.”

He looked at her as if there was no possible way she could have any idea what he was going through. Most people wouldn’t. Unfortunately, she wasn’t most people.

They walked into the café in silence. At the counter she ordered two coffees and two muffins. She got the triple chocolate one, because if she was going to eat a muffin for dinner, she was going to enjoy it and not even pretend to be healthy. Meryn went for the smart choice, blueberry.

She went to pick up the tray and carry it to a table.

“Let me. It’s the least I can do.” He picked it up and followed her to a table that caught the winter sunlight and had views over the Swan River.

They sat and she stirred two sugars into her coffee. He did the same and then tasted it carefully, as if he was expecting it to be scalding hot. Which it was. Nadine broke bits off her muffin as she considered the man opposite her. She was sure she could talk to him forever and never understand everything. How many questions could she ask before he started asking some about her? What would she do then? She swallowed and reminded herself that she was perfectly capable of having a conversation with a good-looking man without making an idiot of herself.

Her gaze landed on his hand as he tore off the top of the muffin and ate it. One hand was marked with a healing cut, but there were other fine, white scars that lined the backs of both his hands, and his knuckles showed signs of damage.

“How did you get these?” She touched his hand, unable to resist, her finger tracing an old scar.

“Fighting.” He sighed. “Soldiering.”

She’d guessed right at the hospital; he was ex-army. That explained the look in his eyes like he’d seen too much. “But not anymore?”

“No. Not since Idella’s death.” Every word was weighted as if just speaking about it was raw.

Idella. That must be his wife’s name. It was a pretty name; no doubt she’d been beautiful. Meryn would’ve had his pick of women, especially once he was in uniform. Although she couldn’t quite picture that and she didn’t know why a soldier would need to speak Latin.

Nadine’s clothes began to stick to her as her body cooled. She felt plain and sweaty in her running clothes, so she changed the topic. “You’re from Wales; do you have family here?”

He nodded and sipped his coffee, his nose wrinkling as if not finding it to his taste. “Yes. Cousins.”

So he wasn’t really alone, not like her. Maybe they were helping him—by leaving him alone to sit around the park?

“Do you see them?” Or was he really struggling to get through this without help? No one should have to work through something as big as the death of a loved one on their own. She’d had shrinks and foster parents, and while she’d resented their enforced help at the time, in hindsight, she could’ve been a real head case without it.

“It’s complicated.” He shrugged.

Wasn’t it always with family? “If there’s anything you need…” She let the rest of the sentence drift as his face hardened. That was obviously a raw nerve.

He took a moment, then smiled. She noticed there was no dimple this time—he was forcing it. “Thank you for the offer, but for the moment, I am okay. Life is simple when there is nowhere to be and no one to answer to.”

“True.” She couldn’t imagine a life without work and responsibilities. It was her way of proving she was better than her father and more than her mother’s death. Sometimes it was almost as if people had expected her to be useless and achieve nothing. They made the excuses for her and she’d always had to disprove them.

Maybe Meryn had the reverse problem; he’d lived up to expectations and done everything by the book, and now death had brought him to a point where he was free from conforming. She looked at his shoulder-length hair. If he’d dropped out of the army when his wife had died, how long ago had it happened? Had it been the anniversary of her death that had driven him to such despair? Would that happen every year?

Of course it would. She still had nightmares after twenty years. Something like that left a scar; it was just a case of how well that scar healed and how well it was hidden. She was an expert at that.

Meryn wasn’t.

But it was too soon to dig deep.

“So, ex-army, you’ve moved to Perth, have some family here…any plans?” She tried to keep it light and hoped it didn’t sound like she was looking for information. This wasn’t a first date, as such, more like a test run to see if she’d actually like more. Yet her stomach was tight and she was forcing bits of muffin into it.

Meryn looked her in the eye. “I’m having some time off. I’ve spent all my life…in the army…it’s nice to have the time to do nothing. What do you do when you’re not working?”

Nadine took longer than needed to finish a mouthful. “I run, watch TV.” As she spoke, she realized how super boring she sounded. She needed a cool hobby. “The usual. Because I work at night and sleep during the day, it kind of mucks up my social life.” There, it was out; she was already telling him that she was unavailable most of the time.