Page 25 of Rekindled Prophecy
Just as Greylyn jogged back up the winding drive to the inn, she noted another car in the tiny parking lot to the side of the main house – the bride and groom had arrived, in an old, beat-up Chrysler LeBaron.
Due to her disheveled appearance – sweat-stained athletic wear and mud-covered sneakers – she did not wish to encounter the other guests yet. She skirted the main house by running around the tree line to the back. Luckily, there was no one in sight.
A quick, refreshing shower helped immensely. Droplets of water fell from her wet hair onto her small clothes sack as she pillaged it for something more presentable to wear.
Dammit! Only t-shirts!
She threw on a pair of wrinkled khaki shorts and her once-white-now-pink tank top. Another victim of her atrocious laundry skills.
A quick towel-dry of her hair, a smidgen of mascara and some peach-flavored lip balm and she was ready.
It was already past four in the afternoon when she quietly let herself into the main house. The sun glinted off the koi pond and metal roof making her squint up at the window where she had witnessed the vision yesterday. She planned to use the excuse of grabbing a quick glass of wine from the pub to relax before heading out to town for dinner. Not that she needed an excuse to be there. Maureen had made it clear last night that she did not expect her to stay hidden just because a wedding would be taking place. But she did not want to appear to be intruding on such a special occasion.
She found everyone convened in the pub area. A keg of Irish beer had been tapped for the men, while the young woman with short strawberry-blonde locks appeared to be sipping apple cider from a champagne flute. The innkeeper was apparently still nursing a slight hangover with no signs of an alcoholic beverage near her station at the bar, only a tall glass of ice water.
Maureen’s face beamed with delight as she entered the pub. “Kelly, Matthew, this is the young woman I was just telling you about, Greylyn. She’s staying in the Carriage House for a few days. Luckily, she has your handsome friend here to keep her company.”
Maureen just could not let the Cupid thing go, could she? Graciously shaking hands with the couple, Greylyn tried not to blush too much as their smiles clearly indicated the potential love match had already been discussed openly with them.
Stepping over with his hand extended was a tall, broad-chested man with an olive complexion, jet black wavy hair and a sweet smile. “Nice to meet you, Greylyn. I’m Matthew and this lovely lady is my bride, Kelly.” His handshake was firm and solid, not overdone like some chauvinistic jerks she had encountered, but not the “dead fish” handshake most people had sported since the 1990s. However, her guardian senses did not detect anything amiss. His aura was clean, radiant even.
Check the groom off the list.
The doe-eyed woman also stood and extended her hand in greeting. Giggling at Matthew’s remarks, she added shyly, “Hi, please excuse my hubby-to-be. He’s obsessed with only referring to me in terms such ashis bride, his forever love …you get the picture. It is a bit embarrassing, but … I love it. We’ve already heard so much about you from Maureen and Kael. I was beginning to think you were a myth.”
Kelly’s voice was soft and sweet, with just the faintest Southern belle tinge. She was a happy bride, but there was something that bothered Greylyn from the moment she had walked in the room. A glimmer of gray hung over her like a cloud. When they shook hands, waves of energy spiked from Greylyn’s hand all the way to her neck. Not painful, but more like the warmth of a cashmere blanket. Familiar, but foreign.
Greylyn’s mind flashed back to the vision of the woman in white silently screaming in the window. Although the vision had been hazy, there was no doubt that Kelly had been the woman. For a split second, another image emerged. Glazed hazel green eyes, but the face was blurred. Again, the vision morphed to pitch darkness surrounding the woman in front of her, like acrid smoke billowing off a bonfire. But instead of the smoke floating away from the source, it encircled her.
Shrugging off the vision, Greylyn pointedly focused on Kelly and forced a smile. “Well, as I see it, Matthew has every right to brag about his beautiful bride, so let him. He should appreciate what he has and be proud to shout it to the world.”
“Amen,” Matthew and Kael agreed together.
“However, I am a bit worried what crazy stories Maureen and Kael are spreading about me. Do not believe everything you hear,” she laughed before quickly turning the topic around to the wedding.
The group settled around the bar as Maureen refreshed drinks and poured a glass of Lusca for Greylyn. The conversation flowed easily as Matthew joked about most everything. He was a jovial soul. His orange aura radiated a good and generous heart, contentment, and optimism. Generally, it was the bride who glowed, but this groom exuded happiness in tidal waves.
All the while, Greylyn forced herself to avoid eye contact with Kael. From the moment she had entered the pub, the heat of his gaze seared her skin as if she had stepped too close to a furnace. After a while she was unable to resist the urge to look over. He was too quiet. He was smirking – a clear indication he knew full well she had been snooping around his room earlier. Just as she suspected, he not only knew but had planned for her to find exactly what she found. What game was he playing?
Trying to find out what she could about the couple, Greylyn turned the conversation to them. “So how did you two lovebirds meet?” The question was simple, but both groaned. Kael even rolled his eyes.
“Well, do you want the PG-rated version or the real deal?” Matthew laughed and Kelly blushed bright red.
“The full, unedited story, please. I love the juicy details.”
“This is not a story for the weak of heart.” Matthew’s deep chocolate brown eyes, almost the exact color of a Hershey bar, shone with mischief.
As she moved over to their table, Kael pulled out the chair for her. His lips were turned up slightly as if to smile, but there was a dark glimmer in his eyes as if he just made a genius move on a chess board.
“Thank you,” she whispered, but her mind saidMy, how freaking gallant can that toad be?He achieved his purpose. Everyone else in the room grinned broadly while exchanging knowing glances.
As she sipped her wine, the bride and groom bantered back and forth about the story of their first encounter.
“No, I absolutely did not come on to you first. You are the only man on the planet who would think a girl stabbing you in the hand with darts is a come-on technique.”
“You did what?!” Greylyn was astounded.
“She stabbed me with darts. I stick to my theory that the darts were poisoned. They obviously were dipped into a love potion or something because…here we are. I’ve been head over heels ever since.”