and picked up something that looked like bread from a plate on the table. The wolf followed, and Fionn reached out to scratch behind his ears. “Maidin Mhaith, Cónán.”
Chewing on the bread, Fionn strode toward the entrance, the wolf shadowing him.
Rose followed.
It had taken her slumberous mind to catch up, but as she dashed out of the roundhouse, her consciousness realized she was dream-walking again, this time in Fionn’s dreamworld. And he seemed to be dreaming about the past.
Rose marveled at the view as she skidded to a stop outside the house. She was on a hill. Sprawled below her was a village, a collection of roundhouses of varying sizes, all with land that was being tended. A great stone wall surrounded the village border. A pale blue sky hung above them as Fionn took in the view of people working and talking in the small town below.
She followed his gaze to what looked like the entrance to the fortified town where men with weapons sat outside what might have been a guardhouse.
“Taispeánann mo rí an iomarca dó féin dá mhuintir.”
The foreign words brought both Fionn, Cónán, and Rose’s heads to the left, where a striking redhead appeared, walking up the slope toward the entrance to the roundhouse.
Fionn strode toward the woman, turning her in his arms, and shocking the shit out of Rose as he broke into a wide smile.
She’d never seen him smile like that.
“Éad, mo ghrá?” Fionn asked.
The redhead shook her head, laughing as Fionn pressed his lips to hers.
Jealousy seared through Rose as they held each other tight, their kisses passionate, their embrace loving.
Who was this?
“Aoibhinn,” Fionn murmured as he broke the kiss. “D’airigh mé uaim mo bhanríon.”
“Tá do chogadh tábhachtach.”
Rose had no idea what they were saying, but the woman seemed to be reassuring him.
“Cá bhfuil na gasúir?”
The redhead grinned and turned her curvy body toward the entrance.
Fionn shook his head. “Níl siad istigh ansin.”
The woman chuckled, tipped her head toward the entrance and yelled, “Caoimhe, Diarmuid!”
Two seconds later, a young girl, perhaps seven or eight, hurried out of the roundhouse followed by a tall, lanky young man who could have been anywhere between the ages of eleven and eighteen. His physique said he was older but his baby face said he was very young.
Rose frowned. Where had they come from?
Oh. Right. Dream.
But who were they? Taking a step closer, she peered at the kids as the girl wrapped her arms around Fionn’s waist and he grinned down at her. He then turned to converse with the boy. Rose was stunned.
The boy had his smile. The girl had his hair.
Were these … Fionn’s children?
What?
Cónán moved toward the boy who curled his fist in the wolf’s ruff as he grinned up at Fionn.
“Níor choir duit a bheith imithe chuici.” The woman’s words, whatever they meant, caused a massive shift in Fionn’s dreamscape.
The children vanished and the village faded to a forest lit only with flame from a massive fire behind the woman. And Fionn … he was now beardless and wore leather trousers.
A gold circlet rested low around his neck. His torso was bare.
Without his beard, he looked more like the Fionn she knew, except his green eyes blazed with the light of another world.
Cloaked figures appeared out of the trees behind him, advancing menacingly as the redheaded woman watched on, chin raised in defiance.
“Mo grá?” Fionn reached for the redhead.
Revulsion crossed her face, making her look hard and cold where only moments ago she’d been soft and loving. “Ní mise do ghrá!”
As the hooded figures reached Fionn, Rose wanted to yell in warning, the words almost spilling out when she reminded her panicked emotions that this was just a dream. Her reminder came just in time because as the hooded figures fell upon Fionn, the black of their cloaks whipped out at Rose, covering the world in the fabric, rippling and whooshing like banners in the wind.
Then there was light.
Greenery all around.
Rolling hills of grass.
A gentle brook bubbling somewhere in the distance.
Birds singing.
“Rose?”
Thinking he’d discovered her in his dreamscape, Rose whirled to face Fionn and instead saw herself with him.
A dream version of herself.
Light sparkled off her, her eyes impossibly blue.
She was … beautiful.
Was this how Fionn saw her?
Rose ached at the thought.
She turned her attention to him. He was as he was now, dressed in one of his fine suits, his overcoat fluttering behind him in the soft breeze. Those startling green eyes gleamed in the daylight as he approached her with a tortured