Free Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy by Melissa Macfie

hand, and caressing the back of it, he said, “I’ll wait; and Brenawyn, I was no’ exaggerating.”
    Breath hitching in her throat she nodded dumbly at him and turned to unlock the door, trying to calm her hammering heart. “I’ll be right back.”
    Running the dog upstairs, she unhooked his leash, and gently kissed her sleeping grandmother on the cheek. Covering her with the afghan from the couch, Brenawyn’s earlier concerns were temporarily forgotten. Spencer sniffed Leo’s hand and in her sleep she patted the dog’s head. He lay down, giving a doggie grunt as he settled himself at the base of the couch.
    Brenawyn pulled at her restrained hair, quickly ran a brush through it, and grabbed a sweater from her room. She paused at the open door, looking back at Leo, and quietly whispered to her sleeping grandmother, “I’m not mad. I just have to digest it for a while. We will talk, but I’m not ready yet. I love you.”
    Locking the door behind her, she wasn’t quite prepared for Alex leaning against her car. He was the picture of masculinity and sex, with rippling biceps and well-muscled thighs in form-fitting blue jeans that left little to the imagination. A full head of dark wavy hair fell to brush the collar of his shirt, too long to be professional, and a day or two’s growth of beard. Her mouth went dry with the thought of how it would feel against her skin. He smelled good too, of soap and sun and mmm… man, remembering in vivid detail her short stay in his arms. He gave her a sexy smile, noting her perusal. Pull yourself together and stop staring like you want to have him for dessert.
    “Are ye sure ye’re going ta be warm enough in tha’?” nodding to her sweater.
    “I’ll be fine as long as we keep walking.” Stepping down off the stairs, she took his hand and they began walking. “So, what stories did the students beg you to tell them?”
    Alex looked sideways at her, “Are ye sure ye want ta hear tha’?”
    “Yes, I love mythology, and it’s filled with risqué stories about the gods and goddesses. You’ll find that I am a rapt audience and won’t laugh and titter about every little innuendo.”
    “Och, then it will truly be a change o’ pace. Just based on test scores, I think everyone is thaur ta hear those stories; no one listens ta me otherwise,” he responded, laughing at himself.
    “Oh wait, you didn’t tell me that there would be an exam. Damn, let me think…” chiding him and stepping playfully closer so her hip and the length of her leg brushed him. “No, I still want to hear.”
    “Aaricht, but I did warn ye.” Alex began, “Wait until we get to the park. The town finished setting up for th’ ceremony. It will be a good backdrop for auld stories.”
    “Setting a mood, are you?”
    “Wha’ storyteller doesna?” Squeezing her hand, he said, “Besides, I think ye’ll like it.”
    They walked in companionable silence until the park came into view. “Haur we are.” He stood back to let her take it in.
    Standing at the edge of the grassy park in the center of town, Brenawyn looked around and thought that the architect of the park had some forethought, with oaks and sycamores planted at intervals surrounding the grassy knoll. Stopping mid-step she whistled low and quipped, “Jeez, the residents do not take the tourist lure lightly here.”
    At the center, new to the park’s landscape, standing stones stood as silent sentinels awaiting some ancient and sacred ritual. Come daylight, she suspected the surrounding backdrop complete with cars, buses, museum-style velvet ropes, and quaint stands selling the usual variety of souvenirs wouldn’t be enough to diminish the pull of the circle.
    “Aye, tha’ is th’ truth o’ it.” Alex responded. “Though thaur are quite a few people haur tha’ are believers in Druidism and Wicca, ‘tis mainly in th’ observance o’ th’ high feasts: Beltane, Lughnasadh, Samhain, and Oimelc.
    Brenawyn approached and held out a