A Midsummer Night's Fling

Chapter Twelve

He was here.

My gaze fixed on him. Happiness filled me, and I invitingly stretched out my hand. There was a brief flash of hesitancy before a smile broke across his face, and he stepped forward. I made room for him, and tried to hide my disappointment when he chose a small crop of rocks instead. He was close, but not within touching distance. A feeling niggled within me—something wasn't right.

"Are you well?" I asked, studying his appearance. Fear lanced my heart. Hadrian was acting like a complete stranger.

"What are you doing?" He ignored my query and looked about him. "Are you gathering for the festival you've spoke about?" He bent down and scooped up a discarded flower. His soft breath restored the blossom to its former beauty and he leaned forward, while gently tossing it into my basket

"Yes. Since my mother's passing, gathering the proper plants and herbs for each festival has been my responsibility. It's a duty I enjoy immensely." I smiled. "I grew up with stories about the wonders of nature." I plucked a vervain blossom, showed him it, then reverently placed the blossom in my basket and continued to gather more. "When it is treated with respect, we can find great strength and healing. Not to mention, magic."

"You are definitely a lover of all things magic, my Aithne," Hadrian chuckled. "I've never beheld anyone who could look with such wonder and believe so wholeheartedly."

"I've been dreaming of it for what seems like a lifetime. Some of my earliest childhood memories were listening while the women talked about experiences they couldn't explain. At night, I would be put to sleep with stories of Fae princes and faraway lands filled with mystical wonder. Once I even ran away determined to discover magic for myself. My brother teased me mercilessly for every trap I set, with the hopes of meeting . . . well, of seeing someone like you. Even my imagination didn't serve you justice." I closed my eyes as I softly laughed over my past antics. "My father was always telling me to grow up, but to me, magic is forever."

"Not everything is. Sooner or later we must face reality and accept that not everything can be viewed through the eyes of a child," Hadrian spoke; the seriousness in his tone caused me to stop my gathering and look at him intently.

"What are you saying?" A burst of panic filled me.

"That no matter how much we try to hold on, some things are never meant to last—they're here mere moments before they are gone." His response was more to himself than me. "We are fools to try and convince ourselves otherwise."

"What's happened, Hadrian? Why are you speaking like this?" I abandoned my basket, hurried over to him and sat at his feet. I grabbed hold of his hands, only to have him slowly pull them away. He wasn't himself and I was frightened. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

"Who is the man I saw you with by the river?" Realization struck me—my indecision had been uncovered.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong? Why are you so distant?"

"Answer me, Aithne. What place does he hold in your heart?" His voice was firm. There was no cruelty or coldness there, but any form of familiar warmth was also absent.

"His name is William," I whispered. I couldn't meet his critical stare, so instead I studied my hands in my lap. "He is a childhood friend and . . ."

"Someone who wishes for more, does he not?"

I didn't speak, letting my nod answer for me. Confusion warred within me. This was not how I anticipated our next meeting. We'd never spoken of serious matters—caught up in the newness of our friendship—and I struggled to find our previous joy. I wanted the carefree, flirtatious, and charming Hadrian.