To Capture Her Heart
Page 7
As soon as the reply from Terric had come, her mother scribbled out a hasty response, ensuring him that they would arrange to travel to Herfordshire Castle for the festivity. Gwendolyn anxiously and swiftly traveled to the village to post the response and to tell Jarin of the good news. He had been elated and they had spent the remainder of the morning going over every last detail of their plan.
They had arrived at Herfordshire Castle the prior evening, and now that they were there, Gwendolyn began to grow even more anxious about her upcoming plans. She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted to attend the magic festival. Of course, she couldn't explain to her family that was the reason for her abundant cheerful attitude, and instead, they misplaced her excitement at the upcoming festival for excitement at her upcoming entrance.
“Tell me, Gwendolyn, has some new lad caught your eye?” She was walking down the corridor with Rosalind, heading to her personal chambers where she was to have the final fitting of the gown she would wear to her entrance.
“Nay, not at all. Surely if one had, you would be amongst the first to know.”
“Then why all of a sudden do you insist on having your entrance? I never have taken you for the type who craves the attention of dancing in front of a crowd.”
“Right you are,” Gwendolyn said with a nervous laugh. She wasn't sure how to explain her anxiousness without lying outright to her dearest friend. It didn't sit well with her.
She debated momentarily if she should divulge the truth to Rosalind, if she could be trusted to keep her secret. But something inside of her knew she couldn't. It wasn't that Rosalind couldn't be trusted. It was just that she was so devoted and in love with Terric that she knew she couldn't possibly keep it from him, and if Terric were to know about her upcoming plans, he would squash them most definitely.
Finally, she settled on an acceptable, yet lame excuse. “I guess I'm just restless, anxious to move on to the next phase of life. I find I'm quite bored back at home without you there to keep me entertained.”
“And you are eager to find some young man to take my place?” Rosalind asked, her eyes sparkling.
Gwendolyn ignored her as they approached the entrance to her guest chamber at Herfordshire Castle. She led the way in where they found a seamstress waiting, a gauzy white gown draped over one arm.
“There you are child,” the woman said, stepping towards her and instructing her to remove her clothing.
She didn't hesitate to do as she was told, quickly removing her green velvet gown and letting it fall haphazardly to the floor. Another servant materialized out of nowhere and retrieved the gown, spreading it carefully on the bed so as not to wrinkle it. Soon the young girl was back at her side, fitting her body with the custom-made corset that was designed to enhance her slight curves and make her appear more womanly.
She was just about to curse the dratted undergarment, as the serving girl pulled the laces in an effort to squeeze her last living breath out of her, when the girl finally stood back and smiled. “You look very desirable. Very much the woman.”
Gwendolyn doubted that, but turned towards the looking glass to get a glimpse of herself. Sure enough, the girl was right. She gingerly touched her hands to her slender waist, that now appeared even more so. The corset had cinched her waist in more fully, causing her hips to bell outwards in greater contrast, making them appear more full than they were naturally.
When her eyes roamed up to her newly found cleavage, she couldn't contain her laughter. “'Tis amazing what some stiff fabric and lacing can do. I hardly recognize myself.”
Rosalind joined in her laughter. “It does seem sort of absurd, doesn't it? 'Tis funny to think that some proper clothing and a dance performance can transform you into a woman, as if by magic. My own entrance was not something I looked forward to with much eagerness.”
Gwendolyn tipped her head towards Rosalind and asked in a hushed voice, “But tell me, is it worth it?”
“Is what worth it?” Rosalind asked, her own voice lowering to match Gwendolyn's whisper.
“Is it worth going through all of the ridiculous formalities?”
Rosalind's face broke into a breathtaking smile. “Of course it is. If you find the right man, somebody you love with all your heart and who is loving and gentle in return, it most definitely is worth any absurdity. Terric is the most tender, yet the most passionate—“
“Stop right there,” her hands went before her face. “I can't allow myself to hear more without becoming ill! A simple yes would have sufficed.”
“But you wanted to know,” Rosalind defended herself.
“Mayhap, but I didn't want details. Your lover is my brother, lest you forget.”
Rosalind blushed. “Gwendolyn, I can't wait for you to find a mate, that way I can harass you in return when you fall hopelessly in love and start doing and saying silly things yourself.”
“At least it won't be with your brother.”
“You never know. If you wait around long enough, Colin may be interested one day.”
“I'd gladly wait around for your wee brother to come of age if he has a gift to bestow upon me.” The girls looked at each other and grinned. The thought of Gwendolyn waiting around for nine years for Colin to become a man was absurd—gift or no.
“Come over here, child, and put on this dress,” the seamstress said with a touch of impatience in her voice.
Gwendolyn did as she was told, raising her arms as the dress slid into place on her body. The white, gauzy fabric shimmered with tiny silver threads that had been woven by hand intricately and delicately into the fabric. The square neckline was lower than any she had worn before, expertly showing off her enhanced bosom. She twirled around and watched as the bell-shaped skirt floated out dreamily around her.
“Stop fussing about, child. I don't wish for you to trip on your skirt.”
Rosalind came to her defense. “But surely the dress was made to withstand much more twirling than that, or how else is she supposed to perform the Saylatee?”
The flustered seamstress stammered her apologies as Gwendolyn floated once more to the looking glass, anxious to take in her appearance.
***
Gavin muttered under his breath as he entered the castle, his body soaked through from the most recent rainstorm. He had been out walking Talbot when a loud bellow of thunder rumbled throughout, warning him of the imminent storm. He quickly tugged on Talbot's rope, hoping to make it back to the castle before the storm broke. But, as usual, the insolent beast had stubbornly refused to move. A tug-of-war had ensued, with Gavin eventually coming out conqueror, but not before the sky had opened up and poured buckets full of thick rain on top of them both.
Talbot instantly began shaking the moisture from his fur, splashing the water furiously over Gavin and anything else within reasonable distance. Gavin scowled as he began walking towards the tower that housed the spiral stone staircase. He was intent on finding King Terric as soon as possible so he could get out of the dratted beast's presence and into some dry clothing.
Talbot followed dutifully behind him for once, that is, until they reached the tower. The staircase proved much too narrow for the both of them, both of them fighting to be the leader. Finally, Gavin rolled his eyes at the absurdity. He was fighting with a dog, both of them shoving each other back and forth in an effort to be in charge. What had his life come to? At that moment he resented the dog more than anything else in his life.
Finally, he stepped aside and allowed Talbot to run ahead. “There you go, you big dunce. Go find your master.”
Running a hand through his hair, he attempted to remove the excess water that was rolling down his neck. Much like Talbot had done earlier, he shook his tawny locks out, hoping to dispel most of the moisture. Mayhap he and the dog were more alike than he'd care to admit. The thought was very unsettling.
Gavin followed dutifully behind as the beast walked eagerly through the corridor, pausing occasionally to sniff at a wall or a door. At one
door in particular, his sniffing turned mad. The ever-present drool in the corners of his mouth began to produce more rapidly in his excitement as he began to bark eagerly, something he rarely, if ever, did indoors.
He sped up to catch up to the dog as he attempted to hush him. “That's not your master's door. Let's keep going, you oaf.”
Just as he was about to clamp down on the dog's leather collar, Talbot put his front paws on the thick, wooden door which quickly flew open under his weight. Gavin growled as he lunged for the dog, but it was too late. Talbot pounced into the room, Gavin closely behind him. He lunged for the dog once more and missed before letting out a curse.
The startled gasps drew his attention to the occupants of the room. Queen Rosalind stood, her mouth agape, her face as pale as a sheet. Next to her, stood two servants who wore equally shocked expressions. He knew the intrusion was a surprise, but he failed to see the complete horror in it. That is, until he heard a solid thud followed by a high pitched squeal and turned to see what had horrified the ladies so terribly.
Talbot had pounced, pinning a lady to the floor, his enormous two hundred pound body dwarfing the woman trapped below him. Gavin stood, his mouth wide open in shock as he watched a head full of raven locks shake back and forth wildly, attempting to avoid the streams of drool dripping from the corners of the beast's mouth. Two tiny hands were attempting to pummel the dog's sides, but Talbot seemed unaware.
When Talbot began to growl, Rosalind screamed, “Do something Gavin, before he kills Gwendolyn.”
One of the servants stepped forward, shoving him forcefully towards the scene. “Save the dress, save the dress!”
Gavin acted quickly. He reached both hands around Talbot's belly, pulling him forcefully off of the girl.
He gasped in shock as Gwendolyn rose angrily, her hair flying wildly in every direction. “You lousy swine!” she screeched, her eyes dancing with fire. Gavin chuckled. It pleased him immensely to see that he wasn't the only one Talbot had taken a dislike to.
All eyes turned as a deep voice from behind them spoke. “Be careful Gwen, that's my dog you are speaking of.” Terric strode in the room calmly, ignoring the smoldering glares he was receiving from all the women.
“I wasn't talking about your beloved pet,” Gwendolyn spat out. “I was referring to that man!” One slender finger pointed accusingly at Gavin.
“He just stood there and let that filthy, vile creature attack me.” Her hands shook as she angrily wiped a string of drool off of her face, shuddering in revulsion.
Gavin was vaguely aware of all eyes turning on him, but he only had eyes for the angry spitfire in front of him. He had seen her angry before, but that paled into comparison to the wrath she was directing at him now. Her small hands were clamped into angry fists at her side, as if she wished she could strike out at him. And, had there not been an audience present, he was certain she would have done just that.
He couldn't peel his gaze away from her sapphire eyes that had, in her anger, darkened to nearly black. They flashed with rage, failing to conceal the emotions raging within her. His stomach flipped over and, oddly enough, his knees went weak. She was a passionate imp, nay, a passionate woman, he re-thought as he let his eyes slide from her face and slowly down her form.
He watched her stiffen in response, but he didn't let that bother him. He took his time returning his eyes to her face, allowing his gaze to roam over her person without restraint. The air around him thinned and he found it hard to breath as he realized he was very wrong in his first assessment of the girl—she was most definitely not a child.
The seamstress rushed forth, inspecting the ethereal dress frantically with both of her hands. Gwendolyn's breathing was anxious and Gavin worried she might faint. She irritably pushed the woman away and took a step toward Gavin, who was rooted in his spot, unable to look away.
“What were you thinking?”
Gavin took a step back away from her, not able to think clearly when she stood close enough that he could smell her warm, fresh scent. “I find it rather refreshing, actually.”
“Pardon?” she scowled.
“'Tis nice to know that I'm not the only one the infernal beast hates.”
Rosalind moved to stand next to Terric, who was rubbing a now calm Talbot behind the ears. “'Tis not true. Talbot doesn't hate anyone.”
Terric nodded his head in agreement. “This gentle giant wouldn't hurt a soul. I'm sure he was just welcoming you. You should feel flattered by his attentions.”
“Can you not see that your gentle giant nearly killed me? He was growling at me!” Gwendolyn screamed.
“And he very nearly ruined her dress!” the seamstress added, as if that was more offensive than his attack on her person.
Terric gave her dress a cursory glance. “It looks as if your dress has fared well. See, there was no harm done. Trust me, if he wanted to hurt you, he would have.”
Gavin hid a grin behind one hand as Gwendolyn looked at Terric incredulously. It seemed she was just as surprised as he had been that the king and queen were oblivious to the dog's odious nature.
“Nay, he very well would have harmed me had this man not rescued me. Rosalind saw the whole thing.”
Rosalind looked at her with amusement. “Gwendolyn, just moments ago you referred to this man,” her head tilted towards Gavin, “as a lousy swine. And now, he is your rescuer?”
Gavin couldn't hide his smile as he watched Gwendolyn stammer, her cheeks blushing furiously. He bit his lower lip in an attempt to hide his amusement, but it just wasn't working.
He bowed deeply before her, “It was a pleasure and an honor to save your life, my lady.” He winked at her surreptitiously and watched as her mouth clamped angrily shut, her lips pursed together in rage before he turned to King Terric.
“Now that Talbot has found his master, I best be on my way. I'd hate to catch a cold in these wet clothes.”
Bowing respectfully before the King and Queen he turned to leave. He barely registered Gwendolyn muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hope you catch your death,” as he sauntered out the door, and he couldn't help laughing out loud.
Chapter 12
An Unfavorable Outcome
She was finally a woman, her entrance had been granted.
The hour was late by the time the feasting and dancing had died down and Gwendolyn had been able to retire to her room. She was pleased with the way she had danced the Saylatee—graceful and exact. The hardest part for her had come when she had been required to bow before her brother, King Terric, and ask him for permission to enter into womanhood. It felt so absurd bowing before her own brother and addressing him as king. She half expected him to call her a name and teasingly insult her dancing, much like he would have done when they were children. But he had not. He had been perfectly regal and had politely granted her permission to enter into womanhood.
She had been so tired after the endless hours of dancing that she had been sure that as soon as she crawled into bed, she would fall asleep instantly. But that wasn't to be so. She tossed and turned all night in a fitful slumber. Her emotions vacillated between great annoyance at her many vexing encounters with Gavin, and her tremendous excitement at Jarin coming to Herfordshire Castle the following day. Why she was bothering to think of Gavin at all was beyond her. She had worked furiously to put him out of her mind ever since the unfortunate encounter in her chambers, even reminding herself how relieved she had been to not see him present at her entrance, but it was to no avail.
Confusing thoughts kept intruding on her attempts to sleep. How come Gavin, the big brute, could elicit feelings in her that no other man could? He was arrogant, rude, and insulting, yet when he touched her, her skin tingled with awareness. His nearness caused every nerve in her body to become alert, and the sound of his husky voice sent shivers racing down her spine. Just the memory of his brown eyes boring into her own caused her to shudder involuntarily.
Then there was Jarin.
Closing her tired eyes, she ran both hands over her face and sighed. Gavin hadn't truly kissed her, she reminded herself. That had only occurred in her dream. For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if he did perchance kiss her in real life. Would his kiss be like Jarin's—empty, lifeless, and stolen?
Groaning, she threw herself onto her belly and stuffed her face into the down pillow on her bed and willed herself to sleep. She had to be prepared for the morrow when she would put her plan into motion. She couldn't afford to let anything mess that up.
***
“Gwen, did you hear me?”
Snapping to attention, Gwendolyn looked across the large wooden table to where Terric was sitting. “Excuse me, what was that?”
Terric sighed. “I asked if you were pleased at how your entrance went last night. For the third time, that is. Is something bothering you?”
She noted the looks of concern Terric, Rosalind, and her mother were giving her and made to assuage them at once. “Nay, nothing is bothering me. I find that I didn't get much sleep last night, is all.”
Rosalind looked horrified. “Was your bed not to your liking? Were your chambers too drafty? It did feel quite chilly when we were there for your dress fitting. Please forgive me; I should have paid better attention to your accommodations. I'm not a very good hostess.”