She walked to his side. “The man said our meeting place was only about twenty minutes north of here, at the big tree.”
He nodded and began leading the way.
Gwendolyn was more aware of every sound of the forest in the still of the night. The merry sounds of the festival had finally died down, leaving nature alone to provide the earth with music. Pine needles crunched under their feet as an owl hooted above them. Early in the evening, she had insisted on a fresh coat of walarute blood on her forehead, and as they walked deeper and deeper into the forest, she prayed it would be enough to keep them safe.
When they had been walking for nearly twenty minutes Gavin asked, “How will we know the exact spot to meet him?”
Gwendolyn shrugged though he couldn't see her. “He only told me to meet him by the big tree.”
“A big tree as in wide or a big tree as in tall? That is an annoyingly vague description.”
Gwendolyn looked around her at all the trees, but each one seemed the same. For the first time a wave of doubt washed over her. What if he had been leading her on?
They walked on for several more minutes. Finally Gavin came to a stop and chuckled softly. “Aye, I guess the man was descriptive enough after all.”
Gwendolyn stepped around him. Directly in front of them was a large tree with a wooden plaque nailed haphazardly to its trunk. Painted on it were the words, “The big tree.”
Elation filled her when she realized they were in the right place. She looked around, trying to make out another person in the ample light of the moon. She began pacing in her anxiousness, hoping the man didn't forget about their meeting. Back and forth she went, dreaming of the gift the strange man would bestow upon her. There were an endless number of gifts out there, how would he know which one would suit her best? She wasn't even sure she knew which one she'd most want to possess.
Gwendolyn was unaware of how much time had passed when Gavin slid to the ground, his back leaning against the trunk of the tree. “Do you think he has forgotten about the meeting? Are you sure he said to come tonight?”
“Aye, I promise he told me tonight. Mayhap he got busy and is just running late.”
“Mayhap. Here,” Gavin patted the ground next to him. “Come sit. We will wait a bit longer, and if he doesn't come, I insist we go back.”
Gwendolyn sighed, then did as he said. “How is your foot?” she asked, suddenly feeling guilty for making him embark on a walk when he wasn't fully healed.
“Still somewhat sore, and the bruise looks horrendous, but it feels a thousand times better than it did yesterday.”
“Good,” she replied sincerely.
More silence ensued as she anxiously awaited the arrival of the stranger. Every noise caused her to startle and look around expectantly, but to no avail.
Gavin started to speak and she was sure he was going to tell her it was time to leave. Instead he surprised her by saying, “I have a gift I would be willing to give you.”
Gwendolyn squinted her eyes at him suspiciously. “Oh really, what?”
“You must lean close,” he instructed, his voice as smooth as velvet. “There's only one way it can be transferred.”
Gwendolyn's mind couldn't think clearly when he was so close she could feel his breath fanning her face as he spoke. But, she did as he said and leaned close to him, their faces nearly meeting. Gwendolyn gasped as his lips met hers. Heat furled in her belly at the contact.
Surprised by the unexpected kiss, she pulled back and exclaimed, “Gavin!” and playfully hit him on the arm.
A silly grin broke out on his handsome face.
“You tricked me, you big oaf.”
“Ah Gwen, I couldn't resist.”
“Only my brother calls me Gwen,” she said, surprised at his use of the nickname.
“I will stop if it feels too brotherly. It just seems to fit you.”
Gwendolyn paused, thinking. “Nay, don't stop. You don't feel brotherly to me at all.”
She didn't miss the look of triumph on his face. “Good, then Gwen it will be.”
“But only you and Terric may call me that, understand?”
“Perfectly,” he said through a smile.
The more time that passed, the more Gwendolyn realized that the man who had promised to meet her was probably not coming. Finally she turned to Gavin and said, “Mayhap we should leave. I fear he is not coming.”
Gavin looked at her so long she started to feel uncomfortable. Finally he spoke. “Can I ask you something?”
Swallowing beyond the lump of disappointment in her throat, she answered, “Of course.”
“Why do you seek more gifts? You already have plenty.”
Gwendolyn looked at him curiously. “Nay, I haven't a single gift.”
“Of course you do, you have many. You are very adept at holding a conversation. You're lively and spirited, and very likeable. And every man you meet seems to fall at your feet. What more could you want?”
Gwendolyn laughed mirthlessly. “Those aren't gifts, Gavin. That's just who I am.”
“Well, isn't who you are enough?”
“Nay, I never feel like it is.” She cursed the tears she could feel forming in her eyes. She hated to appear vulnerable, but she couldn't help it that his questioning was provoking the emotion.
“Don't cry, Gwen.” Gavin gently cupped her face with his hands. “I didn't mean to upset you; I was just trying to understand.”
One tiny tear trickled from her eye, rolling into his hand. “I can't explain how I feel, all I know is that I've always felt this way, like I've never been enough...”
“Enough what?” he probed gently.
“I don't know,” she stammered, frustrated. “Just not enough. Haven't you ever felt that way? Or have you always been confident and sure of your purpose?”
She could have no idea how her questions pricked at his heart.
He pulled her head to his chest and leaned once more against the tree, gently running his hand through her hair in a tender gesture, though he remained silent. Gwendolyn listened to his heartbeat, strong and sure, as she laid with her ear to his chest. She wasn't sure he was going to answer her.
When she couldn't stand the silence any longer, she spoke. “I feel as if I've been wandering through life aimlessly with no purpose and no meaning. I don't know which direction I want my future to take and it frightens me. If I had a gift, it would give my life purpose. Then I could know what I am supposed to be doing.”
All Gavin said was “Hmmm,” so she continued.
“Terric is off being King of the Southwest as well as a devoted husband; Aeden is the High King's lead defender, and I sit at home with my mother, looking for silly things to do to preoccupy me. What kind of existence is that?”
“You should be grateful your mother is still alive,” he gently rebuked, but Gwendolyn could hear the pain in his words.
Lifting her head so she could look into his eyes, she asked, “What about your mother? Is she still alive?”
Even though the darkness of the night shadowed them, Gwendolyn could see Gavin's dark eyes deepen with pain. His eyes bespoke of heartache, of hidden secrets that she longed to know. Reaching one hand up to his face, she gently traced the scar on his cheekbone with her thumb.
“Tell me about her,” she urged, quietly.
Gavin just stared at her, seeming to measure her sincerity. She desperately hoped he could see in her eyes that she truly longed to know what pain he kept hidden, that she would help ease it if she could.
He cleared his throat several times before he finally managed to speak. “My mother died seven years ago when I was ten and eight.”
“Oh Gavin, I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be sorry for me; be sorry for her.”
“What do you mean?” Gwendolyn asked confused. “She's in a better place now, or don't you believe that?”
“Of course I believe that. I meant only that you should feel sorry for her that I wasn't the son she deserved.�
� His voice was full of self-loathing.
Gwendolyn wasn't sure what to say, so she didn't say anything but waited for him to continue when he was ready.
“I was young and selfish and determined to become a defender. I left home at ten and two years old to begin my training, never once thinking about her or how she would get along all by herself. I was an only child, and my father had died, but I never once thought of how that would affect her. I only thought of myself as I ventured off to Herfordshire Castle to pursue my dreams. I went home for a visit when I was ten and eight only to learn that she had died several months prior and I had never been informed.”
“Oh Gavin,” she breathed, feeling his pain as if it were her own. If her mother had died while she was away and no one had told her, she'd be devastated.
“I felt like the most selfish cad in the universe when I realized that I hadn't even known of my own mother's death, because I was too busy worrying about my own goals and ambitions. I gave my mother nothing in return for her endless love. I was a horrible son. She didn't deserve that. So, when Clarice came along I was determined to change.”
“Who's Clarice?” she asked him, anxious to hear more.
Gavin averted his eyes. “She's no one. I shouldn't have said anything.” A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clamped his mouth shut.
“Please tell me,” she urged, her curiosity growing by the second.
“Trust me; you don't want to hear it. It's not a flattering tale.”
“Of course I do,” she said, and those four words were enough to break down his defenses.
“She was a girl I met in the village,” he started slowly. “I was instantly attracted to her ethereal looks—she was what I imagined an angel would look like, so beautiful.”
For a moment Gwendolyn regretted asking him to tell her about Clarice. Jealousy knotted in her stomach as she heard him describing her beauty. How could she compete with an angel?
“It didn't take me long to fall in love with her. After my mother died, I vowed that the next time I loved someone I would give them everything I had. I would go to the ends of the earth if I had to, to prove my love. Clarice was a painter and always dreamed of traveling around the Kingdom, painting landscapes in every territory. She begged me to travel with her once we had wed, and I was only too happy to oblige.”
“Wait, you were engaged to her?” Gwendolyn asked, hoping he couldn't detect the envy she felt.
“Aye. A week before the wedding I quit my job as a defender, determined to follow Clarice all over Darth.”
“You quit?” she asked, clearly surprised. “But how did you anticipate providing for a family?”
Gavin shrugged. “I told you I was foolish. I didn't give much thought to anything beyond pleasing her.”
“So what happened? I see you are not married, at least I hope and pray you are not since you've...since we have...”
“Since I kissed you?” he finished for her. “You are correct; I am not married. The night before the wedding, Clarice informed me she was in love with another man.”
Gwendolyn inhaled sharply. “Nay!”
“Oh 'tis all very, very true,” he said bitterly. “I was left with no other options than returning to Herfordshire Castle and begging for my post back. I was fortunate that they allowed me back, though I didn't rightfully deserve it, leaving the way that I did. So you see, I'm the most lowly defender your brother has, worthy of all the inferior jobs at the keep—hence my charge to care for that beast he calls a dog.”
Gwendolyn was in shock. That explained the way Tristan treated Gavin, the way everyone was constantly ordering him around as if he were naught but a mere servant. A defender was honor bound to the king they served, rarely leaving their job until they either died or retired. To do so for any other reason was considered great cowardice.
“So, the moral of the story is this: I gave nothing of myself to my mother and she died. I gave everything I had to Clarice and she betrayed me. I've come to realize that either way, I am never enough for anyone. So mayhap, Gwen, I can understand how a person simply feels as if they are never enough. That's why I've decided that I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than to live with bitter regrets. It seems it is I that will never be good enough, not you.”
Chapter 21
A Deal With The Devil
Gavin looked down into Gwendolyn's eyes fully expecting to see pity or perhaps disgust. He was surprised to see neither. Instead, her face was filled with compassion.
“Don't give up on people, Gavin. Not everyone will betray you or disappoint you. There are still good people out there.”
He smiled. “You're beautiful.”
She pulled back from him, her eyebrows scrunched together in a scowl. “Do not attempt to distract me.”
“'Tis not my intent at all.”
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then guided her head back to his chest. “I'm sincere when I say that you are beautiful Gwen, inside and out. Whoever ends up capturing your heart will be a lucky man indeed.”
Gavin was loath to move, for he knew it may be the last time he was able to hold her in his arms like this. Disappointment furled within him as he realized that because of his past, because of who he was, he would never be loved by someone like Gwendolyn. Nay, he corrected himself, he'd never be able to be loved by Gwendolyn, for someone similar to her would never be enough now that he knew the real her.
Disappointment warred with regret. He cursed the choices he had made in his life that led him to where he was. He cursed Clarice for betraying him and hardening the last bit of his heart that was brave enough to love, and he cursed the woman in his arms, for she made him hope for things he could never have. At that moment he craved nothing more than a mug of ale to numb his pain. The desire for reprieve left him wishing he could find a tavern that was open in the middle of the night, but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky. He would be cursed to live with the pain until morning.
Settling his head back against the tree, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the unwanted emotions. Within minutes, sleep mercifully claimed him.
***
Gwendolyn scrunched her already closed eyes even tighter together as she felt something cold hit her face.
Plop.
Another cold, wet drop splashed on her cheek. She reached up and brushed the moisture away, hoping to return to the dream she was having. She was dreaming of her father.
The loud rumbling of thunder shook the ground, causing her to startle, coming fully awake. She felt strong arms tighten around her and struggled to look up at her captor. Then, she remembered. She must have fallen asleep in Gavin's arms. She relaxed and breathed deep of his scent as she stared at the chorded muscles of his arms. He was so strong, she felt so secure in his embrace. She wished she could stay there forever. But alas, the rain began to fall in torrents, wetting her completely in only a matter of moments.
“We need to get back to camp.” Gavin's deep voice startled her. She hadn't realized he was awake.
They both rose quickly. Gwendolyn hung her shawl over her head in an attempt to keep some of the rain from her face as they began walking briskly through the trees. Another loud bang of thunder blasted through the air. Gwendolyn shivered as the cold rain continued to pelt her skin. Letting the shawl drop to her shoulders, she took off in a sprint, anxious to be warm and dry.
Several minutes passed before Gwendolyn remembered Gavin's injured ankle. Feeling contrite, she slowed to a stop and turned to wait for him. She was surprised to see he wasn't far behind her.
He slowed as he approached her.
“I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking about your ankle. I just wanted to get out of this rain.”
“No need to apologize. Injury or no, I'd have a hard time keeping up with you. Now let's keep going before we both catch a chill.”
She took off in a jog, forcing herself to slow her pace so that Gavin could keep up. By the time they reached camp, they were drenched completely.
&
nbsp; “Go change into dry clothing and get under your furs to keep yourself warm.” Gavin turned to leave, but he didn't head for his tent, instead he headed in the direction of the festival.
“Where are you going?” Gwendolyn called out curiously.
“'Tis none of your affair. Now get out of this rain at once,” he barked before turning and hurrying away.
How odd, Gwendolyn thought as she watched his strong shoulders disappear out of sight. She realized she was shaking from the cold and scurried into her tent, relieved to see that Brigit was still fast asleep. She quickly peeled her wet clothes from her body, replacing them with dry ones. Her teeth chattered together angrily as she climbed under her furs. She hoped that wherever Gavin was going it was dry. That was the last thought she had before she fell fast asleep.
Several hours went by before Gwendolyn awoke. The first thing she noticed was that the rain had stopped—she could no longer hear the drops pelting the tent and smiled in relief. The next thing she noticed was that Brigit was still laying on her side in the exact position she had been in when she entered the tent.
Gwendolyn hurried to her side. Was something the matter? She shook her shoulder but Brigit didn't move. Leaning close, she put her cheek to her face. Relief flooded her as she felt Brigit's warm breath puff against her skin. She wasn't dead, but mayhap she was sick. Gwendolyn felt her forehead but it was cool to the touch. She didn't appear to have a fever.
Sitting back on her heels, Gwendolyn huffed. Perhaps the lady was merely tired from all their traveling. She hated to wake her if indeed she did need the sleep. She quietly tip toed out of the tent, so as not to wake her. The sun was attempting to cut through the thick clouds overhead, and Gwendolyn had to lift her skirts above her ankles to keep the hem from getting muddy. She looked around for any sign that Gavin had returned but found none.
Shaking the side of his tent she called, “Gavin,” but got no answer.
Mayhap he was sleeping too. In the distance she could hear the tinkering of bells and the trilling of music. She felt compelled to return to the festival. Perhaps she could even find the man who had promised to tell her how to acquire her gift. Making up her mind, she decided to go to the festival on her own while Brigit and Gavin slept, promising herself she wouldn't be gone long.
To Capture Her Heart Page 13