A Matter of Time

Prologue

An rud a bhitheas an dan, bitheadh e do-sheachanta.
One cannot bypass one's fate. 'Tis as ‘twas meant to be.

The heat! Dear God, the heat!

He tried to move away but it surrounded him, entrapped him. He forced his eyes open and still his body would not obey his commands.

Flames! Taller and wider than he. Waves of heat washed over him, stealing his breath, overpowering and terrorizing him. His mouth and throat were parched, but sweat gathered and ran down his face, his chest. He knew he couldn't survive much longer—he felt his strength draining away. He could fight no longer.

Then she was there. Her presence called to him, urged him on in his struggle. He stared at her, amazed that someone could brave the fire's heat. In an instant, she stood before him—her head barely reached his chin. With her head bowed, he could not see her features, only the porcelain translucence of her skin and the flowing black hair.

Look at me, he thought, unable to speak the words.

Her head lifted, revealing to him long lashes matching the black strands of hair and a full, red mouth.

Open your eyes, he pleaded soundlessly. Look at me.

Her glowing green eyes startled him. She raised her hands and reached out to touch his face. Their gazes locked as he waited for her touch. A blessed coolness spread through him from her hands, through his head, chest, stomach, limbs. He saw the flames and knew their heat had not lessened. But he felt only her hands. He allowed her comfort to strengthen him, to remove his pain, to bring forgetfulness.

Then the glow left her eyes and she stepped away. His stomach clenched in fear of the heat and the pain he faced without her intervention. He tried to reach for her but his body would still not respond. He saw regret in her eyes as she backed away and moved through the flames.

She was gone.

No! his mind screamed.

Stay....

Please .... help me....

* * * * *

"Help me!"

The loudness of his own cry woke him from the troubled sleep. Douglas lurched up in his bed, entangled in the damp sheets, covered in sweat. Panting, still in the clutches of the fear and pain of the dream, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and pushed the sheets down and off his legs.

He balanced unevenly on those still-shaky legs, dragged his fingers through his sweaty hair and swallowed long and deep trying to clear his clogged throat. Then he made his way to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on a light. He knew from experience that the terror would pass quickly and he would be left with ...

He would be left with a vision of a woman who either saved him or tempted him every night in his sleep. He'd never met her, didn't know her, other than in his dreams.

But, his soul told him that she would alter his life when they met... and they would meet. In turning away from other women, real women in his life, he knew it was just a matter of time before he found the lady with green eyes.

Just a matter of time...