Free Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny by T L Blake Page A

spongy
moss.  She had already unearthed three names listed on the stone as she
carefully washed off the plant material.  The most recent name had been
that of a child, a girl, aged eight years old when she
had died with two adult relatives.  Robyn stared at the grey stone
wondering how you coped with a loss so great, when the sun came out from behind
a cloud and shone brilliantly.  The pure, radiant light lit up the grey
stone before her but thin, comparatively black lacerations ripped across the
vision.  As if clawed there, the slashes gouged through the light and
across the newly revealed family like a scar.  Robyn’s skin prickled as
her hairs arose even though she knew the reason for the shadowed scene.  A
sparse limbed tree, left to grow out of control near the wall, was playing
shadows across the stone.  Despite her knowledge, insistent butterflies in
her stomach would not cease their fluttering and somewhere, in the back of her
mind, she became convinced that there was a message within the vision.
    Balancing
on the balls of her feet, afraid to touch the stone itself, Robyn stared,
awaiting enlightenment, when the slashes were suddenly replaced by the distinct
shape of a person.
    “Can’t
stay away can you?” Deep, sharp and disapproving, the voice was cacophonous
against the silence of the churchyard and very close behind her.
    Startled,
Robyn lost her balance and, in the grip of paralysing fear, collapsed to the
ground.
    She
cried out as icy water from the sodden grass seeped into her jeans.
     
    God, was she
here to torment him?  Who had put her up to this?  For years this
place had been all but private, a place to come and contemplate, to hide. 
He’d often come here as a child, and on those rare occasions he’d always felt
the solace welcoming, but now, twice in one week, this woman had shattered his
calm.
    She
snapped her head up, even as she called out.  It was involuntary, he
realised immediately, as fear showed plainly in her eyes.  Wide and
terrified, her hazel glare captured him as none other ever had.  She was
dangerous.
    Robyn
let out a sigh filled with both relief and growing frustration before trying to
get up from the ground.
    Andrew
stepped back to give her room and was more than amused when she slipped back
into the mud.  In his mind, it was only recompense for her destroying his
pleasant afternoon.
    “Are
you going to help me up or just stand there?” It was a challenge.  The
vehemence in her voice could not be misinterpreted.
    Andrew
reluctantly held out a hand, chivalry outweighing his growing need to get away
from her.
    She
reached out and grabbed him, and Andrew watched in fascination as her eyes
glazed over and her mouth parted, just a little.  He hadn’t wanted to
consider her mouth, had purposefully avoided looking at the plump softness of her
bottom lip.  Now it was all he could do to avoid pulling her to him and
devastating her with his own mouth over that precious pink one.
    Pulling
her to standing quickly, Andrew pulled his hand away, leaving Robyn to stumble
forwards before she righted herself.
     
    He had all but
thrown her into a standing position, Robyn thought as she stumbled two steps
forwards from the abrupt yank that Andrew had given her.  She was still
recovering from his touch, from a heat that smashed through any and all
barriers to take complete possession.  In contrast to his cold persona,
Andrew’s touch was wild with life.  It warmed her to the core as it washed
into her skin, crawled into her bones and radiated inside her as it moved
through sinew and tissue.  Now that it was gone, she found herself bereft
without it, bereft and cold.
    Finally
stable, Robyn turned around, aware that her anger was barely contained, but
before she could let out the bitter stream of words that were forming in her
furious mind, the wind whipped up the cove and licked across her soaking
legs.  Shivers pulsed through her and made her gasp in a