Donna Grant: Midnight's Temptation

Phelan carefully lifted Aisley one last time. He was tempted to do as Isla suggested and wait, but he knew it was wrong. He would be staring at a body, not the soul that had once been housed within it.

Phelan followed Isla through the forest to a spot near a small stream. On either side of the path were Warriors and Druids from the castle. And to his surprise, he spotted Rhys, Constantine, Banan and Jane, and Guy and Elena.

The pyre was built up over the ground so that Phelan had to take two steps so he could place Aisley’s body on top. He smoothed out her gown and hair and placed one last kiss on her lips.

“Be free,” he whispered.

When Phelan turned around, Charon was waiting at the bottom of the steps with a torch. Phelan took it as he walked down. Before he changed his mind, Phelan thrust the torch into the bottom of the pyre and walked back to the group.

The hardest thing he ever did was watch the fire grow, the flames getting closer and closer to his beloved Aisley.

Aisley felt the warm sun on her face, the light flickering even behind her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes expecting to find herself in Hell with Satan waiting with a smile to begin her torture.

Instead, she was in a forest.

She looked down to a dress of gauzy black and bare feet, but the pine needles weren’t hurting her. Aisley was growing more confused by the second.

Off to her right, a stag came bounding through the trees before he slowed to a trot and then stopped. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. The animal proceeded hesitantly before he halted again and lowered his head. When he lifted it, water dripped from his muzzle.

Aisley started toward the stag, amazed when the animal looked at her but didn’t run away. He seemed not to mind her presence.

The loch came into view with the sunlight glinting off the water that was smooth as glass. She smiled and stopped beside the stag.

“It’s so beautiful.”

The animal went back to drinking. Aisley grew bold and skimmed her hand along the stag’s back. His dark red fur was soft and bristly. With one jerk of his head he could gorge her with his antlers. Yet, she wasn’t scared.

Not about the animal, the fact she was somewhere she didn’t know, or that she was shoeless. Why was she shoeless? And why had she expected to be in Hell?

Then she remembered.

“I died.”

Her contentment burst as she thought of Phelan. All her memories of the battle returned. She recalled how gently he’d held her, how wonderful it had been to see his amazing blue-gray eyes looking at her.

It was a memory she would never let go of. Whether she was in Hell or Purgatory, she would hold onto that last memory of Phelan with all she had.

Aisley lifted her gaze and looked across the loch. Her body jerked as she caught sight of the cabin. Phelan’s cabin.

“It can’t be.”

The stag blew out a breath before he turned and walked away. Aisley didn’t follow. She stayed rooted to the spot looking at the cabin and the splash of color from the flowers Phelan had planted.

After awhile she sat, her knees huddled against her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. She couldn’t figure out why she was there.

It had been the last place she had been happy. Maybe that’s why. Or it could be some trick of the Devil’s. She wanted to swim across the loch, but what awaited her in the dark depths of the water?

For two days she sat there staring, the sun rising and setting without anything bothering her. She didn’t get thirsty or need any kind of nourishment.

When the sky burned a brilliant red and orange from the setting sun on the second day, Aisley stood and walked into the water. Whatever happened to her, she had to try and make it to the cabin.

She dove beneath the water and swam as fast as she could across the expanse. Not once did her muscles tire. All the while she waited for something to grab her feet and yank her down. But nothing did.

Her feet touched ground on the opposite side of the loch and she walked out of the water. Aisley reached back to wring out her hair only to find it dry. Her clothes were dry as well.

“Well, I am dead,” she said to herself.

Her gaze came to rest on the cabin, and she forgot all about her dry clothes and hair. Flashes of her time while at the cottage assaulted her.

The first time Phelan had brought her to his home, the first time she saw him gardening, the first time they’d made love. The first time she realized she loved him.

She didn’t try and stop the tears. She cried for what had been, and what she had lost. She cried for her mistakes, and the one thing she’d done right, which was Phelan.

But most of all she cried because she would never know his touch again.

“Is this my torture?” she screamed.

If it was, Satan couldn’t have gotten anything that would hurt her more.

Aisley angrily wiped away her tears and stalked to the cabin. She took the stairs and threw open the door. But she couldn’t make herself go inside.

It was hard enough standing in front of the cabin. By going inside, she would relive those few glorious days she and Phelan had had as if they’d been the only two people on the face of the earth.

Darkness grew with the last light of the sun falling behind the mountains. Aisley sniffed and lifted one foot. After a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold.

She closed the door behind her and made her way to Phelan’s bedroom. Everything was as neat and tidy as the first time she saw the cabin. She smiled wryly at the times she’d seen him pick up her stuff to pile it together.

Neatness had never been something Aisley managed to obtain. Usually people got angry with her. But not Phelan. He never said a word no matter how many times he tripped over her shoes.

She walked into his bedroom and crawled onto the bed. Aisley lay on her side looking out the large window that faced the loch.

Her time might have been short at the cabin, but the memories had been the best. The mornings waking up to see the magnificent view of the loch and mountains with Phelan’s arms around her.

The evenings when they had made love and fell asleep listening to the sounds of the forest.

Aisley closed her eyes and knew nothing could make her leave the cabin now.

* * *

The flames were licking at Aisley’s feet. Phelan wasn’t sure he could stay and see her body burn. But he couldn’t leave her either.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to need him. Which was absurd because she was dead. Lifeless.

Gone.

Phelan wanted to bellow his anger at the unfairness of it all. Scream at himself for not giving her a chance. How was he going to get through eternity after losing her?

More than that, how could he live with himself for what he’d done to her? He’d turned his back on her and given Wallace the chance to hurt her. After Phelan had sworn to keep her safe.

“This isna your fault,” Charon said.

Phelan fisted his hands that hung limply at his sides. “Ah, but it is. I gave her my word, and then broke it.”

“She didna tell you who she was.”

“I knew her, Charon. I had spent days with her. I should’ve at least given her the courtesy of listening to what she had to say. It was my blind hatred of droughs and being betrayed that prevented it.”

Charon sighed and shook his head. “It’s always easy to look back at something and think what you could’ve done or said differently. But that isna how life works. We are faced with something, and we react.”

“As much as I hate droughs , why is it I’d do anything to have her back?”

“Because you love her.”

Phelan clenched his jaw as emotion swelled through him. “Aye. I love her. And I’ve lost her.”