by Sakwa, Kim
It was one of the most ridiculous moments of Gwen’s life. But it helped break the tension and they all laughed together.
Lady Madelyn went to the bed again and picked up a beautiful headpiece. It was made from a simple gold braided cord with four long, delicate strips of ivory tulle attached to the back. She placed it on Gwen’s head so the front rested above her forehead and the sides angled down to the back.
Gwen laid her hand on Isabelle’s shoulder while Anna placed beautiful strapped sandals, fashioned with a delicate heel, on her feet. The thin leather straps were covered with gold chiffon. They were actually quite saucy, Gwen thought as she looked at them.
“Well, do I pass?” Gwen asked, biting her lip. They had stepped back to admire their work and were smiling from ear to ear.
“Aye,” they exclaimed together, obviously thrilled with the result.
“Come, Gwendolyn, we’ll go to my chamber so you may see for yourself,” Lady Madelyn offered, taking Gwen’s hand.
They walked hand in hand and didn’t stop until they were in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. Isabelle and Lady Madelyn watched Gwen stare at her reflection. They smiled at her reaction.
“You’ve outdone yourselves,” Gwen said with tears in her eyes. “I’ve never felt more beautiful in my entire life.”
“You are beautiful, Gwendolyn,” Lady Madelyn said softly. “What the eye can see…and in your heart as well.”
“Please don’t cry, Gwen, you’ll ruin the makeup Mother has applied.”
They had applied their own makeup and had their hair done before she’d returned with Gavin. Gwen helped them now, lacing the backs of the dresses after they slipped them over their heads. Each wore a dark-purple dress that scooped low in front and had been embroidered with the same pattern as on her wedding gown. When they finished, Lady Madelyn had asked if she’d like to go downstairs and wait in the great hall.
“May I stay, just for a few more minutes?” Gwen had asked. She needed some time to herself and hoped that they would understand.
“Of course, Gwendolyn, take whatever time you need,” Lady Madelyn had replied.
Gwen looked at her reflection in the mirror again before walking to the window. She was terrified of what came next. Terrified of seeing Greylen, really seeing him for the first time. She said a quick prayer, hoping everything would be all right. She imagined how it would’ve been had he not been called away.
She saw Gavin ride into the courtyard. He was alone and quickly dismounted. He wore a crisp beige linen shirt tucked into black trousers and tall black leather boots. He looked to the window where she stood, smiling as he took the steps.
He was coming for her.
Gavin knocked softly against the open door. His breath caught audibly when she turned. “You look beautiful, Gwendolyn.”
“I feel like a sacrificial lamb,” she said, covering her nerves with sarcasm.
“No sacrifice shall be made today, Gwen. You’ll know the truth of it soon enough.”
“You look handsome, Gavin,” she said genuinely. She smiled, taking the hand he held out to her.
“Our soldiers march, Gwen. They’ll be here soon.”
“Did you see Greylen?”
“Aye, by the lake. He stopped to bathe and change before entering the courtyard.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
He gave her a warm smile and stepped closer, holding both of her hands now. “You’ll be fine, Gwendolyn. Tell me how I can help.”
“Will you still be my friend, now that Greylen’s home?”
“’Tis something I fear as well,” he said honestly. “No doubt, I’ll miss the time we spend together.”
“So will I, Gavin,” Gwen whispered, looking down.
Gavin lifted her chin. “That night Greylen pulled you from the water…I pledged an oath to you, Gwen. I swore then my life for yours. And I’d do so willingly. Not because ’tis my duty, but because you’ve become a friend such that I’ve never known before. But my best friend comes home to you now. He’s the brother I always wished for, Gwen. He’s the man who will make all of your dreams come true.”
Gavin held her a moment longer, then stepped to her side as his eyes fixed on the distant rise. “Come, Gwen, ’tis time.”
“I can’t seem to move.”
“There’s nothing to fear.”
“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not the one wearing a wedding gown.”
Gavin smirked. “He’s very subtle.”
“Yes, quite,” she agreed dryly at his sarcasm. “I can’t go down there, Gavin,” she whispered, suddenly serious. “I can’t do this in front of everyone.”
He sighed as he brushed his fingers through his hair. “Very well then,” he conceded. “But stay by the window, you’ll not want to miss this.”
My God, he was right.
It was one of the most magnificent sights of her life. A procession of such pageantry her breath caught at the display. Her hands splayed the window of their own accord, her heart beat so rapidly she feared it would burst.
Hundreds of soldiers filled the path, and they rode in perfect symmetry, their lines seemingly endless. A squire held a flag high in the air, and it danced in the soft, warm breeze, an ebony dragon emblazoned in its center.
The procession continued, until the last of their lines finally topped the crest. The crest high atop the slopes of Seagrave. The crest where one man remained.
He stayed there alone, like a true hero who chose to protect rather than be protected. His dark hair blew in the wind, his bronzed skin aglow beneath the rays of the setting sun. His name whispered from her lips as her forehead pressed to the glass, for even at such a distance, his presence was omnipotent.
That young man whose image she’d memorized above the fireplace in the library—that young man ready to conquer the world—was no more.
This man had already seen the world.
He’d lived through its wonders and atrocities alike, and God help her, prevailing dominance radiated from every inch of his form. His force seemed to draw her, like some kind of gravitational pull, and at that moment, Gwen knew she would sell her soul just to be with him.
He remained completely still, watching as his soldiers continued down the path. They passed through the open gates, and amid another beautiful display, formed two lines on either side of the courtyard. Only then did he finally nudge his mount forward.
He rode through the line of men and stopped in its center. Then dismounted, looking to the steps where his family stood with his men. A boy came forward, lifting his palms high in the air, and Greylen unsheathed his sword, placing it upon his steady hands. He ruffled the boy’s hair, a warm smile on his lips. Then he turned his gaze to the window where she stood.
It was a flash of such intensity, a look so chilling, Gwen gasped and stepped back. Her heart seemed to break from that look in his eyes, the hurt he’d shown her for only a second. Furious with herself for being such a coward, and knowing now, too late, she should have been there for him, she ran from the room.
She clutched at the banister with both of her hands, practically tumbling down the stairs in her haste. She grabbed at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fumbled with the latch and pounded in frustration before it finally opened. She pushed her way through Gavin and Lady Madelyn atop the steps, and Greylen’s men at the bottom. Then she stood completely still, relieved, and at the same time terrified, that he hadn’t moved.
Greylen released the breath he held, his eyes closing as Gwendolyn’s presence washed like a balm through his soul. Soothing the ache, the plummet of his heart when he realized she wasn’t there. But then she’d come after all. And quite determinedly too.
He’d heard her cry as she won her battle with the door, throwing it open with such force, Kevin, who must have been
leaning against it, nearly fell inside. Then she’d pushed her way through a score of people, stopping short with some distance still between them. And then the world seemingly faded away, till ’twas only just the two of them.
He shook his head, disbelieving she was real and thinking mayhap she was just a trick of his mind. But then the vision started toward him, flawless beauty with waiflike strides.
Gwendolyn.
Her name, but a whisper in his mind for weeks, released now from inconceivable depths. It became a battle cry as his head lifted to the sky. A call answered as hundreds of swords were unsheathed and raised in silent support.
Then he closed the distance. Determined, pensive strides quickening to match her own. His arms opened wide a scant second before she threw herself against him, and he crushed her in his embrace, overcome with such emotion he fell to his knees, taking her with him.
He cupped the back of her head as his arms pressed her to his chest. And he kissed her. This woman who ruled his very heart. This woman who owned his very soul. He branded her for all the world to see, kissed the very breath from her. Tasted each tear upon her lovely face while hushing her whispered apologies with those of his own. Which was a feat in itself considering his people’s ridiculously loud cheers.
He finally pulled away, gripping her shoulders to bring her within an inch of his face. Staring at her so intently she couldn’t look away, staring into the depths of the one thing that had always eluded him. “My God.” He breathed, resting his forehead against hers. “They’re green.” His words brought fresh tears to her eyes. He smiled, shaking his head as he wiped them away, and kissed her again. He would have continued, too, if not for another bout of resounding cheers from his people.
“You’ll have me, Gwendolyn,” Greylen demanded.
“Have you? Greylen,” she whispered, looking down, “you’re stuck with me.”
Greylen shook his head and lifted her chin. “I’d give everything I have to be stuck with you.”
“Really?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Really.” He pulled her into his arms again and squeezed her as she sighed. “God, how I missed you, Gwen.”
“I missed you too.” She smiled and squeezed him back.
He stood with her but did not release her. She continued to lean against him, her question muffled against his chest. “Did you get my message, Greylen?”
His joy was so great, he laughed. “Which one?” he asked.
“I only wrote one letter, Greylen.” Her tone and expression lay somewhere between perplexed and annoyed.
“Aye.” He grinned. “One letter, riddled with messages.”
“I wouldn’t say it was riddled,” she denied.
“You’d not?” he argued.
“I’d not,” she denied again and placed her hands on her hips.
He took a menacing step toward her and leaned down, purposely crowding her space. “Say you we start with the one I think of most importance,” he challenged in a voice thick with victory.
She didn’t retreat but couldn’t seem to stop herself from fetchingly biting her lip. “Which one would that be?” she asked imploringly, as if begging him to get it right.
Greylen stared her down. He wanted to throttle her. Which one would that be? “You left me,” he barked.
He would have sworn she’d feel victorious that he understood; however, she put a finger on her chin to feign a memory lapse. “Really, did I write that?”
“You know damn well you wrote it,” he shouted. “You underlined the words.” Good God, he was going to throttle her. “And you threatened to kick my ass—again.”
“Only if you didn’t come home safely. Oh my God.” She started running her hands over his entire body. “Are you hurt?” Happiness seemed to give way to fear and her inspection turned frantic.
“Gwen.” Greylen grabbed at her roving hands. She seemed completely panicked. “Gwendolyn,” he called again, this time with a gentle shake. She finally looked up, and her expression stopped his heart.
“Tell me you’re not hurt,” she cried in a whisper. “Please…tell me…”
“Ah, Gwen…I’m sorry I left you,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m fine, love, I swear it. I came home safe.” That seemed to make her cry again, and he held her a moment longer before asking, “Better?”
“That depends,” she answered, her expression both cautious and hopeful as she looked up. “Did you stop by the store and get more brandy?”
“You’ve depleted our entire supply?”
“So it seems.” Gwen sighed.
“Did Gavin tell you ’tis all gone?”
“Yes,” she admitted, looking down in shame. “I’m sorry, Greylen, but you have no idea what I’ve had to deal with,” she said in her own defense. “The little boy—I just needed some Motrin. But we don’t have any. And then…then the butcher, oh God, do you know how they…” She couldn’t finish. “Well, it’s disgusting. This isn’t funny,” she yelled, poking his chest. “I had to listen to stories, too, Greylen. Stories of you—and your frigging sword.”
“Shh,” he hushed, pulling her against him. “I’m good with my sword, Gwen,” he assured her. “And as for the other things, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you. But you’ll be happy to know,” he said, using her words, “we have plenty of brandy, a cellar full.”
“That liar! I swear I’m gonna—”
Greylen kissed the last of her threat away, knowing exactly what ’twas. Then he held her a moment longer. “Come,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “There’s much to be done.”
They walked to the steps together and their smiles returned as Lady Madelyn, Isabelle, and Gavin met them in the courtyard. Greylen greeted his mother first and kissed her cheek. “’Tis good to see you, Mother.”
“’Tis good to see you, my son,” Lady Madelyn replied, touching his face.
“Isabelle, have you behaved in my absence?” Greylen asked his sister.
“You expected less?” she returned with a demure smile.
“Aye, Isabelle,” he replied dryly. “Now that Gwendolyn is with us, I fear I do.”
“In that case, mayhap there was an occasional lack of propriety.”
Greylen looked to Gwen, resigned as he shook his head. “So I’ve heard.”
Grateful she had the decency to blush, he turned to Gavin next. “Gavin, you’ve done well in my absence.” Greylen placed his hand on his first-in-command’s shoulder. “But from now on, I’ll see to Gwendolyn. Understood?”
“And he won’t lie about the brandy,” Gwen muttered.
He and Gavin both shook their heads. “Good luck,” Gavin remarked, pulling him into a quick embrace. “You’ll need it.”
Greylen acknowledged his words, knowing the truth of them, then turned back to Gwen. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Ready? For what?”
“To be my wife.”
“Now?” She asked it as if he’d gone witless.
“Aye, now,” he answered in the same tone. “I’ll not wait longer.” When she seemed to dig her heels into the spot where she stood, he took her hand. “Come.” It took no more than a small tug before they were walking toward the chapel.
As the line of soldiers parted, revealing the chapel and Father Michael waiting in front of its entrance, she gasped. Flowers all but spilled from the windows and steps. He was pleased to see Gwendolyn did not miss the effort of everyone’s labors as they made their way inside.
Once situated, Father Michael gave a warm smile and began the ceremony immediately. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together…”
Greylen stood to Father Michael’s right and Gwen to his left. Somehow Gavin was now between them, obviously torn between following his commander’s direct orders to leave Gwendolyn to him or to protect
his mistress, who chanted under her breath “ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod” again and again. Then Gavin had the nerve to reach for her hand.
“Release her hand, Gavin. Now,” Greylen bit out. He fixed Father Michael a look while motioning with his hand…on with it, man!
Father Michael cleared his throat and moved right to the vows. “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live togeth—”
“I will.” Greylen’s sharp command cut off the priest’s words as his eyes implored him to continue. It took the priest a moment to register the alteration, then he pulled himself together and looked to Gwendolyn. Her lips still moved, though now, in silent litany while her hands visibly shook.
Father Michael began the vows again, this time to Greylen’s bride. “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance…”
Gwendolyn continued to look at Father Michael, her lips slightly parted, his words seemingly meaningless. Father Michael finally stopped speaking and cleared his throat. He gave Gwendolyn a warm, beseeching smile, then did it again, as if ’twould somehow pull her out of her reverie. Then he did it again!
“Your words, Lady Gwendolyn,” the priest finally prompted.
“My words?” she asked.
“The vows, mistress—wilt thou…”
When Father Michael leaned forward yet again, Greylen sighed audibly, shaking his head. His astute bride was in shock. She had no idea what the priest asked. No doubt she’d bite his head off for pointing out the obvious, but the responsibility was his—not Gavin the insolent, who was about to intercede. Greylen pushed the aforementioned cad out of the way, sorry he’d not fallen down the steps when he’d done so.
“Gwendolyn, look at me, love,” Greylen ordered when he stood in front of her.