“Now you’re really driving me crazy,” Gray complained. “Spill it.”

“Okay. It starts off in the field, where the stone circle is? Funny, it’s like I dreamed it was there before I saw it. But that’s not possible. Anyway”—she waved that away—“it’s raining. Cold, there’s frost. It sounds like glass grinding when I walk on it. Not me,” she corrected with a half laugh. “The woman in the dream. Then there’s a man, dark hair, dark cloak, white horse. You can see the steam rising off them, and the mud that’s splashed on his boots and his armor. He rides toward me—her—full out. And she stands there with her hair blowing. And—”

She broke off. She’d caught the quick, startled look in Brianna’s eyes, and the silent exchange between her and Gray.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Sounds like the witch and the warrior.” Gray’s eyes had darkened, focused intently on Shannon’s face. “What happens next?”

Shannon put her hands under the table and linked them together. “You tell me.”

“All right.” Gray glanced at Brianna, who gestured for him to tell the tale. “Legend has it that there was a wise woman, a witch, who lived on the land here. She had the sight and, burdened with it as much as blessed, lived apart from the rest. One morning when she went to the dance to commune with her gods, she found the warrior in the circle, wounded, his horse beside him. She had the gift of healing and treated his wounds, nursing him until he was strong again. They fell in love. Became lovers.”

He paused to add tea to the cups, picked up his own. “He left her, of course, for there were wars to be fought and battles he’d pledged to win. He vowed to come back, and she gave him a broach to pin to his cloak and remember her by.”

“And did he?” Shannon cleared her throat. “Come back.”

“It’s said he did, riding to her across the field in a storm that shook the sky. He wanted to take her to wife, but he wouldn’t give up his sword and shield. They fought over it bitterly. It seemed no matter how much they loved, there was no compromise in either. Next time he left, he gave her the broach, to remember him until he returned. But he never came back again. It’s said he died in another field. And with her gift of sight, she knew it the moment it happened.”

“It’s just a story.” Because they were suddenly chilled, Shannon wrapped her hands around her cup. “I don’t believe in that kind of thing. You can’t tell me you do.”

Gray moved his shoulders. “Yes, I can. I can believe those two people existed, and that there was something strong between them that lingers. What I’m curious about is why you’d dream of them.”

“I had a couple of dreams about a man on a horse,” Shannon said impatiently. “Which I’m sure any number of psychiatrists would have a field day with. One has nothing to do with the other. I’m tired,” she added, rising. “I’m going to bed.”