To Capture Her Heart

by Hartman, Ginny

  “What is it?” Gwendolyn asked curiously.

  “It's cudworth tonic, the first and only batch I've been able to make. It takes an astronomical amount of berries to get this small amount, but it's very potent. It's the most powerful healing agent there is.”

  “I don't understand. Why are you giving it to me? It must be very valuable.”

  “Aye, 'tis true. But I want you to take it with you, just in case.”

  Gwendolyn raised one eyebrow. “In case what?”

  Shoving the vile into her hand, Rosalind said impatiently, “In case something happens to you, or to Gavin, or to Brigit. The forest is a dangerous place and you never know what can happen. I'm hopeful that all will be well, after all Gavin is a splendid defender and more than capable, otherwise Terric would not have ordered him to protect you, but one can never be too sure.”

  Gwendolyn clasped the vile in her hand reverently, for truly it was a rare thing to possess. “I promise to be careful with it and only use it if necessary. Thank you.”

  Rosalind nodded her head. “Be safe Gwendolyn. I understand why you feel compelled to go on this journey, and I hope you find what you are looking for.”

  “You are not going to get mad at me or lecture me for my impulsiveness?” Gwendolyn asked, surprised.

  “Nay, for I know it wouldn't do any good. You are stubborn and will do as you wish. Your brother knows that and that is why he finally relented.”

  Gwendolyn placed the vile of cudworth tonic gently in the little leather pouch hanging from her waist. She was grateful beyond belief that Rosalind wasn't mad at her or that she hadn't come to try and persuade her to stay.

  The draft that swirled around their ankles was the first indication that someone else had joined them in the room. Turning, Rosalind and Gwendolyn watched the heavy door open and Millicent walk into the room. She held her head high, but it was clear by the red blotches on her face that she had been crying. Gwendolyn cringed at the thought that she had caused her strong mother such sorrow.

  “I will let you two speak in private,” Rosalind said as she quickly disappeared from the room.

  When the door clicked shut, Gwendolyn spoke, breaking the deathly silence that enshrouded them. “Mother, please do not be mad.”

  “Gwendolyn, I'm not mad—I'm worried for your safety, I'm disappointed in your attempt to deceive us all, and I'm concerned that you are searching for happiness in something that is not tangible. You are looking so far beyond what is important in hopes of seeking personal validation. You are a beautiful soul with great qualities in your possession, but you refuse to believe that unless you have a gift.”

  Gwendolyn felt as if she was two feet tall. Her mother's disappointment pierced her heart far worse than Terric's anger had. She had no words to try and defend herself, for it was clear that her mother understood her perhaps more than she did herself. She stood, her lower lip trembling, as she tried to will the ache in her throat to disappear. When her mother stepped forth and pulled her into her motherly embrace, she couldn't keep the tears from bursting forth from the dam she had tried to erect.

  Her mother ran her hands down her hair, soothing her in a way that only she could. “Go ahead and cry my dear, let it out.” Gwendolyn gave in to her mother's gentle commands and sobbed heartily in her embrace.

  She cried for letting her family down, she cried because she hated feeling like a reprimanded child, but she also cried for another reason, for her mother's words had hit upon a truth even she had never acknowledged.

  Perhaps in her heart she had always felt unimportant, like she wasn't as good as the rest of her family. Her father had once been lead defender for the High King. Then her brother's, Aeden and Terric, had also followed suit. It wasn't enough for them to simply be defenders, nay, they had to be the best. Her mother had also once been the best healer in the Kingdom. Her family was ripe with greatness, they never did anything with half purpose, nay, they always aimed to be the best and they always succeeded. That is, all of them except for her.

  Gwendolyn was never great at anything she did. Of course she had several talents, but she was only average in her abilities. She would never be as talented at healing as her mother was, nor save the entire Kingdom of Darth like Terric had done. Even her new sister-in-law Rosalind excelled at greatness. For without her, Terric would never have been able to save Darth. She felt like a weak link in an otherwise strong piece of chainmail.

  When her sobs subsided into calm tears that rolled down her cheeks, she pulled back from her mother and said, “Mayhap I shouldn't go to the festival.” It was the first time she had ever doubted her desire to go.

  Millicent looked into her eyes for several long seconds before finally speaking. “Nay, I think you need to go.” Gwendolyn was shocked. “I think you are on the brink of learning something very important about yourself and mayhap this is the only way for you to do so.”

  “Go,” she said firmly, with gentleness in her voice. “Discover what it is you are looking for.”

  Her mother's approval of her journey meant more to her than she could ever admit. Her heart swelled with love and gratitude for the wise woman she was lucky enough to call mother.

  ***

  Terric was already awake and pacing the room by the time Rosalind transported back to their bedchamber. “Where have you been,” he growled, already aware of her presence, though he hadn't turned to face her.

  “How do you always know when I am near?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Intuition, my love.” He turned to her then, and she went willingly into his arms.

  “I do hate seeing you so distraught. 'Tis not like you at all.”

  Terric nuzzled his head into her hair, breathing in her warm scent. “I'm worried for Gwen is all. She's too impulsive for her own good.”

  “Aye, that she is. But she's also lost.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, pulling back to look into her face.

  “She isn't sure what to do with herself or who she really is. She feels as if possessing a gift will give her purpose, will increase her worth.”

  “That's nonsense.”

  “Of course it is, but that's how she sees things. I think you were wise to let her go to the magic festival.”

  “Truly, you do?” he asked, trepidation lacing his words.

  “Aye.” Then looking at him flirtatiously she said, “And even with that scowl on your face, you're sill incredibly handsome. I hope that our baby looks just like you. Unless it is a girl, then mayhap it would be better if it looked like me, or at the very least a feminine version of you.”

  Terric stilled, his expression turning intense. “You are, of course, speaking of the future children we will have, are you not?”

  “The future, aye...” she trailed off. “Approximately nine months from now, I would wager.”

  “What!?” Terric scooped her into his arms, twirling her around in a full circle before hastily putting her back on the ground.

  “I apologize, I suppose I shouldn't have done that. Are you alright?”

  “Of course,” she smiled. “Are you?”

  “More than alright. Now come here, my love, and kiss me.”

  Rosalind didn't hesitate. Flinging herself into his arms she kissed him with all the love and passion she possessed. And for the next half hour, they were lost in each other, their worry over Gwendolyn all but forgotten.

  Chapter 16

  Walarute Attack

  Gavin was already exhausted before the arduous journey into the forest had even begun. He had been so angry after the conversation with King Terric he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. He didn't know why the king kept insisting that he be the one to personally care for Gwendolyn. If he knew some of the lustful thoughts he had harbored on her behalf, surely he wouldn't allow him anywhere near the girl, and mayhap that would be for the best.

  The girl vexed him to no end. She was carefree and immature and alluring all at once. He couldn't even begin to explain the surg
e of jealousy that welled up within him when he had thought she was trying to run away with her lover. Nor did he want to admit the extreme relief he felt when she denied his accusations and sent the poor lad back to where he came from. He had no right to feel anything for the girl, no matter how beautiful she was.

  They began their journey into the forest, Gwendolyn, Brigit, and himself, along with their horses just as the sun was beginning to rise. Brigit had yet to cease complaining the entire way about how improper it was for her to be atop a horse, or how unfair she thought it was that she had been ordered to go on this trip, or how miserable they all would be with the limited belongings they were allowed to bring with them. Gavin thought he just might die of a self-inflicted wound if she didn't cease her prattle long enough for his brain to get some rest.

  Gwendolyn on the other hand, had been quiet the entire way. She was withdrawn inside of herself, not at all like the spirited girl he knew her to be. He wondered if she was as tired as he was after the events of the previous night, but he didn't ask her. He just kept his thoughts to himself.

  It only took an hour to reach the edge of the forest. Gavin pulled Ichabod to a halt just before they were to enter into the thickly wooded trees. “The trees are dense so our speed will be greatly reduced. I want you to go first Brigit, followed by Gwendolyn. I will ride in the rear so I can protect you from behind if needs be.”

  He didn't mention that the real reason he wanted Brigit in front was so that she would be as far away from him as possible. He couldn't stand listening to her complaints much longer.

  “How will I know which way to go?” Brigit whined.

  “There is a slight path through the forest, but it is very narrow and hard to decipher at times. Keep your eyes trained to the way in front of you and remain quiet so I can call out directions to you if needs be.”

  Before she could voice any further complaints he kicked Ichabod in the flanks and said, “Let's go.”

  Brigit hesitantly went to the front of the line, Gwendolyn falling into place behind her, with Gavin in the rear. It didn't take him long to doubt his decision to have her directly in front of him when he couldn't take his eyes off of her graceful back. She sat perfectly poised atop her horse, her hair swaying delicately with each movement. At one point she pulled her hair over her shoulder exposing her neck to his view. It was a pale, slender neck that looked as smooth as an ivory tusk. His lips burned to feel the smoothness beneath them, to see if her skin was as soft as it appeared.

  Groaning at his wayward thoughts, he urged Ichabod forward so that he was riding beside her instead of torturing himself with the view from behind. Their horses barely fit next to each other on the trail, and when she turned questioning eyes on him, he realized she was close enough to touch. Instantly he regretted his hasty decision.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked innocently.

  Everything was wrong, he wanted to shout. It was wrong that he was forced to be alone with such temptation. Instead he said, “I just thought you might like some company.”

  The disdainful look she gave him made him want to eat his words. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he urged Ichabod to slow so he fell once more behind her as he said, “My apologies, I forget how distasteful it would be for you to have to associate with a brute such as I.”

  He had to pull back swiftly on his reigns as she pulled her own mount to a halt and turned on him. He expected to see her sapphire eyes ablaze but instead he was surprised to see they were filled with remorse.

  “Gavin, I'm sorry for those awful things I said. I was just upset and selfish. Can you forgive me?”

  He was shocked speechless, for the last thing he had expected from her was an apology.

  She continued, “I know I don't deserve it, but I was hoping that maybe we could come to a truce. Can we agree to be friends? It would make this trip much more enjoyable for the both of us, I think, if we could at least be friendly.”

  He swallowed hard. Being friendly with her could be torture, but it beat having her ignoring him and giving him nasty glares. “Aye, I would like that very much.”

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. They rode in silence for several minutes before Gwendolyn said, “So now that we are to be friends, tell me about yourself.”

  “There's not much to know. My name is Gavin Dekever, and I'm a defender at Herfordshire Castle.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Surely there's more to you than that. Do you hail from the Southwest?”

  “I do. I grew up in a village not far from the castle. My entire childhood I saw defenders come to the village on their days off and knew I wanted to be one myself when I grew up.”

  “And now you are. You must be proud.”

  His jaw tensed. Proud that he was a defender? At one point he had been. Now he was just ashamed of what he had let himself become—the lowest defender, the least trusted of them all, not even worthy of a real defending job, instead spending his time tending the king's sister and pup.

  Seeing his hesitation, Gwendolyn asked, “Are you not proud to call yourself a defender? 'Tis a highly honorable and sought after position.”

  “Aye. I am proud,” he finally relented, if only to get her to stop probing. “What about you?” he asked, deflecting the attention away from him. “Have you always wanted to be a magician?”

  Gwendolyn threw back her head and laughed. Her neck was even more beautiful from the front. Her laugh washed over him like a bucket of warm water, comforting him and satisfying him all at once. Brigit looked back at them and glared.

  “Keep your eyes on the path,” Gavin hollered, not liking her accusatory glare. Much to his delight, her head snapped instantly forward.

  “I don't wish to be a magician,” Gwendolyn pulled his attention back to her. “I just wish to find out what my gift is.”

  “Your gift?” he asked, one brow cocked.

  “Aye, my gift. My mother has the gift of healing. Rosalind can transport, and I, I have nothing.”

  “Do you believe that everyone has a gift?”

  Gwendolyn was thoughtful. Finally she replied honestly, “I don't know. What do you think?”

  “I have never truly thought about it, but 'tis well to suppose most people do not. I am only an ordinary man. My mother was the same, and I think 'tis fair to say that most people are as well.”

  Gwendolyn turned her head forward abruptly, her chin pointing in the air. “Well I am not ordinary.”

  “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

  Gwendolyn bristled and Gavin felt bad for provoking her. Obviously his question had struck a nerve.

  Just as he was about to apologize, her shoulders slumped and she said, “Both, I suppose.”

  In that moment the facade she had so carefully erected crumbled, and he saw her as she truly was—a beautiful soul unsure of herself, afraid that she held no worth. Wasn't he the same? Something stirred in his chest as he realized they were alike, the both of them.

  “Look at me.” His voice was deep as he waited for her eyes to meet his. When she looked at him, he felt as if her eyes were exposing her soul, and he wanted nothing more than to show her how amazing she was. “You are the least ordinary person I've ever met.”

  She turned questioning eyes on him, seeking for validity, which he was about to give when he heard an unmistakable cry emitting from deep within the forest. It was the cry of the walarute. The hair on his arms bristled as chills ran down his spine.

  “Both of you be quiet,” he whispered loudly to the women, though his command wasn't necessary—both Brigit and Gwendolyn were sitting stone still, a look of fear on both of their faces.

  They continued on the path, with Gavin's urging, though with every screech of the walarute's cry, he could tell it was getting closer. He pulled his sword out of his scabbard, ready to do battle when the time came. It wasn't the first time he had taken on a walarute, though it was the first time he had done so while also needing to protect two vulnerable women.

  He
reached into his boot and pulled out a sharp-bladed dagger and thrust it towards Gwendolyn. Both of her eyebrows rose in alarm. “What do I need this for?” Her voice was shrill, belaying her fear.

  “Hopefully you won't need it at all, but I don't want you to be without protection in case...”

  “In case something happens to you? Gavin, I don't like this. I'm scared.”

  He cupped her face with one hand, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Try not to be scared, they can sense your fear. 'Tis only one walarute, from the sounds of it, so I should have no problem slaying the beast.”

  “Have you ever seen one before?” she asked. Her voice had calmed, but it still shook ever so slightly.

  “Just once and I had wished to never see one again.” He pulled his hand away from her face and pointed to the narrow scar on his cheekbone. “I wear a permanent reminder of the encounter right here.”

  Gwendolyn gasped and reached her hand forward to trace the scar with her finger. Gavin's skin sizzled at her touch. He placed his hand over her own, clasping it firmly to his face. Her touch was addicting, but he wasn't sure he liked the look of pity he saw in her eyes. His first and only encounter with a walarute had scared the wits out of him, but he considered himself extremely lucky that the inch-long gash on his face was the only injury he had obtained.

  “Don't feel sorry for me. I can assure you that the walarute fared worse than I.” He gave her a half smile, hoping to ease her concern.

  “If something happens to you, I will heal you.”

  She was completely serious, and it stirred something in his heart. He hadn't had someone promise to take care of him since he was but a lad living with his mother. The girl was softening his heart with her concern, and it unnerved him. He had foolishly trusted Clarice and fallen for her charms, and now it seemed he was allowing himself to be drawn in by another female. He couldn't let that happen, his heart couldn't withstand any more suffering.

  He pulled back abruptly. “I need to speak with Brigit,” he said, trotting away swiftly, breaking the mood that was wrapping its way around them.