Chapter 1
Briana enjoyed her daily walks through the ancient forest. Though she didn't know if it was actually ancient, she felt as if it’d always been there. It had to be older than the castle that stood just little more than a mile away; the manor that she had inherited from her Great-Aunt. It wasn’t a castle in the literal sense, but the history and feel of the place gave it a castle-like exuberance. She was the only living descendent of her bloodline remaining and Briana didn't see children in her future.
The cool morning air of September calmed Briana's nerves, but not her mind. There was a part of her that loved living in the castle that her ancestors had built, but it also felt wrong to be the only one inhabiting it and the thought of it serving only for decoration seemed blasphemous as so many generations of Blackstones had lived and died at the Manor. Briana simply did not know what to do with the place. It was huge and way too big for only her.
Briana Blackstone was nearly thirty and had been a successful archaeologist, devoted to her work in every way. She had had no time for men, pets or children, or any social life to speak of. She had finally decided to take a break after she received the news of her great aunt's death. Well, it hadn't been exactly like that, it had been more of Briana heading toward a mental breakdown. All her life she’d felt she needed to find something, which led her to the field of archaeological research. She’d found things all the time, mostly bits of things, though. Bits of pottery, bits of bone or cloth, bits of wood or stone. Yes, her life was comprised of bits. Bits of excitement and social activity—never the whole, juicy chunk—just enough to get the glands salivating and disappoint her when nothing more came. Her work had been fulfilling, though, and had appeased the driving urge to find something, for years. That's why she had decided to take her Great -Aunt's death as a sign; to connect with her roots—hell, to grow some. She’d known that her career wouldn't be enough to keep the loneliness at bay. So Briana had given it her all, thankful of the reprieve. And now, she was here, in the land of her ancestors, the last living descendant. She would find what she had been looking for.
Briana heard a thunder in the distance and started back toward the castle. By the time she reached her stone home, it was already pouring and she was soaked down to her underwear. After changing into dry clothes, Briana started a fire in the large hearth in the study and sat in front of the blaze to warm her skin. She had known that Ireland was humid, but she hadn't been prepared for the rain. She had been to Ireland when she was younger, but in those saturated memories nothing was ever too much or too little.
Briana made sure to light some candles on the way back to the study and she put them in the front windows of the manor. Her aunt had always done that in a storm for the "lost souls," and Briana found the idea charming, romantic and a bit eerie. She stretched out on the fur rug in front of the fire place and enjoyed the heat on her backside and neck.
She definitely needed to find a man. Briana felt the conviction some where deep inside of her. She needed to continue her ancient bloodline. She knew that, as a "modern" woman, she should probably be disgusted by the thought or even a little embarrassed, but she wasn't. She had always wanted a family, was that so bad? Now, she had an excuse. Briana laughed as she thought of approaching a man with the verdict of “I need to continue my ancient bloodline and you look of good stock, let’s have at it!” Though the idea wasn’t nearly as unheard of in these parts, she wanted a man of her own to wake up next to and babies to nurture; it was a timeless need, she wasn’t the first woman to long for such a thing, and she wouldn’t be the last. For thousands of years people had been doing just that, so why feel ashamed?
Briana huffed her annoyance with herself and lifted her drenched mane off of her neck, trying to dry the mess of strawberry blonde curls. She listened to the storm outside, remembering how much she loved stormy mornings. She didn't know what she was going to make for lunch; she didn't have many skills that could be used for cooking an edible meal. Briana had never been too domestic; she’d simply hadn't had the time to be such. At least she didn't have to torture anyone else with her cooking and she had always had a cast iron stomach, besides. She could easily survive on a diet of canned soup and sandwiches. She decided that she would forage around in the pantry and put away the items she had bought in the nearby town. It would keep her busy and keep her nerves calm to organize and clean. She didn't know why, but she felt as if something were waiting for her outside in the storm, and the thought put her on edge. Yeah, she laughed to herself, a whole lot of rain and soggy grass.
