To Capture Her Heart

by Hartman, Ginny

  Gwendolyn gasped as her head was pulled quickly under the water. The weight of her wet dress threatened to pull her down and keep her under. She fought with all her strength to break through the surface, inhaling a much needed breath of fresh air. Wiping the water from her eyes, she squinted them angrily at Jarin who was treading water a few feet away.

  “What were you thinking?” she screamed at him, furious for his intrusion on her privacy.

  She couldn't even comprehend why seeing his face in front of hers instead of Gavin's when she awoke infuriated her so badly, but it did, possibly even more so than being dumped so suddenly into the moat.

  Before he could even answer, she was screaming at him again. “Did you kiss me?” She knew the answer by the deep shade of red his face suddenly turned.

  “How dare you,” she continued. “What were you thinking?” The thought of him taking a kiss without her permission galled her to no end. Her first kiss had been stolen from her.

  Jarin stuttered out an apology, but Gwendolyn paid him no mind. She quickly swam to the side of the moat and hoisted herself inelegantly onto the swampy shore beneath the willow tree, peeling her sopping dress away from her body, ever aware that it was clinging to her frame immodestly. Jarin was close behind her. Pulling himself from the water, he sat down next to her which only made her more mad. She quickly stood up and made to leave.

  “Don't go. I have something important to tell you,” he pleaded.

  “Jarin, you just rudely kissed me without permission, then proceeded to tip me into the moat. What makes you think I give a fig about anything you have to say right now?”

  “I'm sorry for that, truly I am. I was so excited to see you and to tell you what I found out, that I begged my father to allow me to leave the shop for a few hours so I could come tell you myself. As I approached the castle I saw you asleep in the boat. It had found its way to the shore. You looked so still, at first it frightened me. I came to see if you were well. I climbed in the boat with you to check on you, but it soon become apparent that you were only sleeping. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful, I just couldn't help myself,” his speech tapered off as he hung his head in embarrassment and mumbled, “Please forgive me.”

  Gwendolyn stiffened her shoulders and titled her chin haughtily. “Well if you ever desire to kiss me again, I insist you ask me first.”

  “May I kiss you?” He surprised her by asking boldly.

  “Nay!” She squealed.

  “Mayhap later?”

  “Mayhap never.” How could he believe she'd ever kiss him again after that?

  “Now if you don't mind, I'm going to catch a chill if I do not get out of these wet clothes. You best return to the shop before your father gets angry.”

  Jarin rose swiftly. “I will let you go, but not until I tell you what I came for. I overheard some people talking in the village. They appeared to be traveling gypsies for I had never seen them before. They were talking about a magic festival that is held every year in the forest near Herfordshire Castle.”

  “And this interests me why?” She was still mad at his odious behavior and refused to let him know that indeed her curiosity was piqued.

  He stepped closer. “Gwendolyn, do not be daft. It's a magical festival. Magic. All sorts of people come from all over the Kingdom, people with special gifts. Sorcerers, magicians, gifted folk. I thought that mayhap you'd like to go, that mayhap you might be able to find out what your gift is if you were surrounded by people who were in possession of so many different gifts themselves.” His face was eager, hopeful as he searched hers for any sort of positive reaction.

  “When is it to be held?” she asked passively, still concealing her interest from him.

  “In a month's time.”

  Her mind raced with the possibilities. She knew she couldn't simply ask her mother permission to go, she'd never grant it. She crossed her arms as she began to shiver. “Thank you for the information. I will think on it. Good day.”

  Turning from him, she began to jog towards the castle entrance, her wet skirts making it hard to go fast. She could feel Jarin's eyes on her as she left and it made her cringe. Though she was grateful that he took the time to come to her and tell her of the festival, her excitement couldn't completely dispel her annoyance at him for kissing her. She felt as if he had tainted something reverent that she had shared with Gavin.

  She had to place her shaking hands on the heavy wooden door in front of her for support. Closing her eyes she exhaled deeply. It had only been a dream. Terric and Rosalind were not in danger. Gavin hadn't truly kissed her. But the magic festival was not a dream, and that's what she would choose to concentrate on.

  Pulling her dripping wet hair over one shoulder, she pushed the door open and entered the Great Hall. Her mother looked up from the book she was reading. “Gwendolyn, whatever happened? Come sit by the fire and warm yourself before you catch a chill.”

  Grumbling she said, “'Tis truly silly. I accidentally fell from the boat as I was trying to get onto shore.” She wouldn't tell her mother that Jarin had been there.

  Millicent quickly rose and retrieved a thick woolen blanket from a trunk. She hurried over to where Gwendolyn was making a puddle on the floor and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, directing her towards the heat of the fire.

  “I think I will go upstairs and change. I will never get warm with these dreadfully wet clothes still on.”

  “But of course. I will have the servants make you something hot to drink.”

  Gwendolyn fled up the stairs to her chamber, wasting no time in stripping her wet clothing from her frame. She let them fall haphazardly to the floor in a soaking lump. She rummaged through her chest of drawers to find a clean chemise and a simple muslin gown died a bright yellow color. She deftly braided her hair then let it hang down the middle of her back as she anxiously returned to her mother and the fire that promised to warm her.

  Curled up before the fire with a steaming cup of barely tea in her hands, Gwendolyn let her mind wander to the magic festival. She had never traveled into the forest's bordering Darth, but if anything could provoke her to do so, it was this. Her mind was filled with excitement at the thought of so many magical, gifted people in one location. Surely she could learn about gifts that she had never even heard existed. Mayhap if she truly did not possess a gift, there would be a magical skill that she could learn. The possibilities were endless. She simply had to find a way to go.

  Taking a drink of her tea, she felt the warm liquid travel the entire way down her throat and into her belly. “Mother?”

  Millicent once more looked up from the book that she had resumed reading. “Yes, dear?”

  “Have you spoken with Terric to arrange my entrance?”

  Millicent's eyes sparkled with mirth. “Why the sudden interest in your entrance? I thought you were in no hurry for it to take place. Could it be you have taken an interest in a young lad?”

  “Nay, 'tis not that at all,” Gwendolyn argued. “'Tis just that I find that I am missing Rosalind dreadfully and am eager to travel back to Hefordshire Castle to see her.” At least that part was true. She would feel bad lying to her mother outright.

  “I will write to Terric and set a date.”

  “I will take it to the village posthaste and find somebody to deliver it.”

  Her mother laughed at her fervor. “Are you sure you haven't taken a sudden interest in some lad? I've never seen you so eager to speak of your entrance before.”

  “Positive,” she said, but the broad smile that she couldn't manage to hide behind her mug of tea did little to convince her mother otherwise.

  Chapter 10

  Gwendolyn's Grand Plan

  Gwendolyn snatched the parchment from her mother's hand, anxious to be on her way.

  “Careful child,” Millicent scolded gently. “The ink hasn't yet dried. You will smear it if you are not careful.”

  Gwendolyn waived the sheet of parchment impatiently in front of her as she w
aited for the ink to dry just enough so she could fold the missive into thirds and tuck it safely into her satchel next to the note she had written Terric herself. In it she had pleaded with him to schedule her entrance for three weeks’ time. That would give her just enough time to travel deep into the forest to attend the festival. She was not going to miss it. She refused to think of what she would do if he refused to schedule her entrance so soon.

  Kissing her mother quickly on her cheek, she turned and jogged from the castle. Her mood was light as she traveled. She went over the note she had penned to Terric a million times in her head, hoping she had worded it just right and had not sounded overly eager. Her brother would grow even more suspicious than her mother if she wasn't careful.

  Before she knew it, Gwendolyn had reached the village. She wasted no time posting the notes she carried, desperately hoping she would hear back from Terric in a timely manner. Her stomach began to rumble, reminding her that in her haste she had not yet broken her fast. She wandered happily over to the baker's cart and purchased a sweet roll, hungrily devouring it in record time. Next, she grabbed a juicy looking apple from a vendor's cart then dug in her bag for a coin.

  Walking leisurely through the village, she took her time looking through the goods and wares on display in the shops as she finished eating her apple all the way down to the core before discarding it. Licking the last remnants of juice from her fingers, she decided to pay Jarin a visit.

  Approaching the Blacksmith shop, Jarin was nowhere to be seen. Impulsively, Gwendolyn marched right up to the entrance and pushed her way in. She was immediately assaulted by the suffocating heat coming from the furnace. Jarin was furiously pumping the bellows up and down while a large man, presumably his father, stood at the forge, a rod of iron stuck deep in the flames.

  Both men turned and looked at her, but it was the father that shouted, “Get out of here, lass.”

  Gwendolyn froze, her eyes darting to Jarin. “Gwendolyn, 'tis no place for a lady to be. Go outside and I will come speak with you in a moment.”

  “You will keep working, boy.” His father grumbled angrily. “You can see your lass later.”

  Gwendolyn didn't like the way he called her Jarin's lass. She took a step closer to the forge and meant to tell him exactly that, but Jarin pleaded with her, “Please, just go.”

  Not wanting to upset either of the men, she turned and did as she was told. The cool outside air was refreshing after being in the overly hot shop. She paced back and forth, anxious to speak with Jarin so she could return home.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jarin came out of the shop. “Gwendolyn, you can't just come into the shop. We are busy in there; 'tis dangerous inside. 'Tis no place for a lady, that's for sure.”

  “But I needed to speak with you,” she explained, coming to a stop. “I just posted a letter to my brother. My mother has written him to arrange my entrance.”

  His eyes lit up expectantly, his face breaking into a wide, lovestruck grin. “'Tis excellent news. When will it be held?”

  “We don't know yet, but I'm desperately hoping that Terric will agree to hold it in three weeks’ time.”

  Jarin clasped one of her hands into his own, “I can hardly wait.”

  “Nor can I. Everything will be perfect---”

  He cut her off, “I quite agree. Perfect.”

  “It will be so much easier to escape to the magic festival from there. But I need your help.”

  “Of course,” he said readily. “Then mayhap I could speak to your brother about courting you.”

  “What?” she looked at him oddly.

  “You know,” he said sheepishly, “after your entrance has been granted and all, I thought that mayhap I'd ask King Terric for his permission to court you.”

  Gwendolyn didn't want to disappoint him by outright refusing his pursuit. She needed his help if she wanted to get to the magic festival.

  “Mayhap that can be arranged,” she said hesitantly before expertly changing topics. “But first, let's talk about my plan. I will need you to come to Herfordshire Castle. You will ask to speak to my mother, but of course I will come as well. You will tell her that you have heard of her extraordinary healing abilities and that your mother is dangerously ill. You will beg her to come heal your ill mother.”

  “I fail to see how this will help your plight.”

  “Let me finish. After we have listened to your case, I will beg my mother to let me go be the one to heal your mother. I will convince her to let me go by telling her that I am eager to work on my healing, that I am starting to realize it may be my given gift after all. Surely she won't refuse. I will meet up with you to travel to your home and while she thinks I am off caring for your poor mother, we will really be going to the festival.” Her face lit up in a satisfied smile. “Isn't it a brilliant idea?”

  Jarin rocked back slightly, running one hand nervously through his hair. “Do you really think it'll work?”

  “Oh Jarin,” she was gripping his arm now. “It just has to. Please say you'll help me.”

  Just like she had figured, it didn't take much pleading before he agreed. “Very well. Of course I will do it. I just need to figure out what I will tell my own family. Surely they wouldn't be pleased to find out I ran off with a girl I was not married to, to attend a magic festival nonetheless. Mayhap you'd agree to marry me first, then we could do as we wished without anyone's interference.”

  “Don't be silly; there wouldn't be time for a wedding. Besides, you have several weeks to figure out an excuse. I have faith in you.” Gwendolyn was almost positive that Jarin's chest puffed out at the praise.

  “Now get back inside before you get on your father's bad side. As soon as I've heard from my brother, I will send word.”

  With a nod of his head, Jarin quickly returned to the shop, the wheels in his mind turning furiously as he tried to figure out how to pull off Gwendolyn's grand plan.

  ***

  “You swag-bellied brute!” Gavin swore as the fawn-colored mastiff, that was his latest in a long list of undesirable assignments, came barreling towards him, nearly knocking him over as he wiped a trail of drool across his midsection.

  The beast called Talbot was King Terric's latest addition to his new family. He had explained to Gavin that he was eager to own a dog for the first time in his life. His former life as a defender did not allow him to have such a pet, and now that he was a wedded man, and a king no less, he was anxious to feel settled. All of that was fine and well, except that now Gavin had the responsibility to take care of the beast when Terric was seeing to his other duties.

  From the moment they met, Talbot had not taken kindly to Gavin. In the presence of King Terric or Queen Rosalind, he acted like a saint, like a giant furball with impeccable manners. But as soon as Gavin was alone with Talbot, the dog's personality changed immediately. He growled; he slobbered; he pounced. He was altogether too moody for Gavin's liking. And cleaning up the dreadful beast's droppings stole the prize for the worst task he had ever performed as defender, hands down.

  Gavin threaded a rope through the leather collar that had been custom made to fit the beast's enormous neck. It was time for him to take Talbot on his daily walk through the gardens. Unfortunately, Talbot usually ended up being the one who walked him.

  As the unlikely pair made their way down the grassy path that led to the gardens, Gavin's mind wandered back to the time in his life he decided to become a defender. Like most young lads, he had been enamored with the thought of defending one of Darth's three kings. From the time he was barely learning to walk, he remembered knowing vividly that he would pursue being a defender when he became of age.

  He looked forward to the year he turned ten and two years old, knowing that was when he could apply for an apprenticeship at the nearby Herfordshire Castle. His father had died the previous year, but he hadn't let that hinder his dreams. Neither had his mother. He had been young and selfish back then, not once taking the time to think ab
out leaving his mother to care for herself. In his mind, he was doing the noble thing. He was seeking employment to help better both of their lives.

  As the years of his training wore on, he felt less and less guilty. He saw her as often as he was able, but his rigorous schedule did not permit frequent visits. A fresh wave of regret washed over him as he remembered his visit home when he turned ten and eight and was ready to leave his apprenticeship and become an official defender.

  He used all of his strength to pull Talbot to a halt as the pain of that visit flooded his memory as if it were yesterday. He closed his eyes to the pain, but the simple task did nothing to alleviate the heartache. All the years melted away as he relived the day as if it had just occurred.

  He had returned to the village only to find his childhood home occupied by another family. He briefly wondered if his mother had moved and forgotten to tell him. How absurd, he thought, as he made his way to the neighbors to inquire about her whereabouts. That's when he found out she had died.

  The air was sucked out of his lungs as the man, his lifelong neighbor, informed him that his mother had died months prior. She had taken ill shortly after his last visit, but refused to let him know. She knew how important his dream of being a defender was to him and found her own declining health would only get in the way of his career ambitions, and she refused to hold him back.

  He laughed sardonically which only served to startle Talbot. The beast growled ferociously at Gavin before resuming his walk, forcing Gavin to follow behind. If only his mother could see him now, he thought bitterly. She'd be almost as ashamed as he was of what he'd become.

  Chapter 11

  A Lousy Swine

  The last two and a half weeks had crept by insanely slow, even though Millicent had attempted to keep Gwendolyn steadily busy in their haste to prepare for their upcoming trip to Herfordshire Castle. The first several days after Gwendolyn had posted the missive to Terric inquiring about her entrance had driven her half crazy. She worried on more than one occasion that her letter had somehow not gotten to her brother. Just when she was about to send a second missive, his reply came, and just as she had hoped, he agreed to schedule her entrance for three weeks’ time. It would coincide perfectly with the magic festival, though no one other than Jarin was aware of that.