It was late into the night before Caoimhe finally opened the package Turlough had left for her and only because she could not sleep wondering just what the box held. On opening it she felt immediate shock that hit her with such and impact her reaction was almost as if she had been punched on the stomach. The box held a black rose which was clearly hand made and of a rare delicacy, it was not however, it’s physical form that gave such an impact. Black Rose was a name Darragh called her when they were alone and only two people knew that and Darragh was dead. As they were both in the military at the time and it flew in the face of so many rules their relationship had remained a closely guarded secret right up to his death, a death she still felt responsible for even if it was at the hands of the enemy. She felt her hands shake as did her whole body. How could Turlough know of the significance of the black rose? A man who was from another place, another time and had never met Darragh and, while Caoimhe had discussed him with Turlough, there was no way she would have mentioned the tale of the black rose. It was not the sort of gift one would fall across and she was sure he had commissioned it’s creation expressly for her. Now as she struggled to control both her emotions and her body, more questions flooded her mind. Was this the reason he had not given her the gift face to face? Was he aware of the questions she would ask, ones he would not, or could not answer. It also sent her mind reeling back to the times with Turlough when he seemed to know her thoughts almost before she did. There was clearly far more to Turlough than she could have imagined and now he was beyond her reach leaving all her questions unanswered. She felt her loss now as deeply as she ever had when Darragh was ripped from her and she knew tonight she was slipping back to her old ways, tonight she would cry herself to sleep.