To Capture Her Heart (17 page)

“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.

“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.

The rain had caused the walkways to turn muddy and slick, but the unfavorable conditions didn't seem to deter the merchants and magicians who were clamoring for attention. Gwendolyn's eyes scanned the throngs of people, hoping to see the brown-haired mind reader, but the spot where he had been the previous day was empty. Her heart dropped. He had probably left, and now she would never have the chance to get her gift.

Twisting a lock of hair in her hand, she thought about returning to camp. She was in no mood to be lectured for going off on her own. As she reached the end of the line, she turned to leave when she heard someone call out her name. The feminine voice was smooth and soft. She turned swiftly and her eyes beheld the fair haired Loreena.

“Come with me child. Roreck has been looking for you.”

“Roreck?” Gwendolyn questioned.

“Aye, the mind reader.”

Hope filled her. “Truly? You know where he is?”

“Follow me,” the girl indicated as she turned and strolled purposefully though the crowds.

Gwendolyn eagerly followed the tall girl, watching as she gracefully maneuvered her way through the people. Before she knew it, they had left the festival behind. Gwendolyn briefly wondered if Loreena was taking her to the big tree, but before they got that far, she turned in the opposite direction, weaving her way through a maze of trees, back and forth so many times Gwendolyn had a hard time figuring out what direction they were going in. Several times she felt as if they had done nothing but go in circles, but she was hesitant to question the girl.

Finally a small tent appeared in the clearing. Loreena held the flap back and indicated that Gwendolyn go inside, which she did so hesitantly. A small fire burned in the center of the tent, its thick smoke curling and reaching skyward, exiting through a small opening in the ceiling. The smell of burning herbs assaulted her nose. Her stomach rolled. The mind reader was sitting cross-legged on a fur next to the fire, a pleased grin on his face.

“You found her,” he cooed to Loreena.

“Aye, I told you I would.”

“Very good,” he praised her.

Then, locking eyes with Gwendolyn he commanded, “Sit.”

She did so, arranging her skirts modestly around her legs. “You didn't come last night.”

“I tried but you weren't alone.” His tone was disapproving and Gwendolyn suddenly felt guilty for doing something she didn't know had been wrong.

“What I have to share with you is special; 'tis not something I share with any commoner.”

“Then why are you sharing it with me?” she asked.

“Because you are not common. I saw in your mind yesterday the yearning of your soul. You desire a gift above anything else.”

'Twas true that she desired a gift greatly, but Gwendolyn wasn't sure it was what she wanted more than anything, but she kept silent, afraid to contradict the man Loreena had called Roreck.

“What gift do you desire the most?” he asked, his dark eyes never leaving her face.

Gwendolyn squirmed under his scrutiny. “I'm not entirely sure. There are so many wonderful gifts out there, I don't know how I could pick which one I favor the most. My sister-in-law Rosalind is a transporter, and there was a time I was insanely jealous of her gift. I couldn't understand how I came from a line of transporters yet she was the one with the ability. It wasn't until later that I learned that my brother, Terric, had deflected his gift to her and that...”

Roreck put up one hand to stop her. She was so nervous she hadn't realized that she had been rambling on. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or from the heat of the fire.

“This is very good to hear, very good indeed,” Roreck drawled. He dug his fingers into a small, leather pouch he had hanging on a string around his neck. Producing a small glass vile of golden liquid, he held it out to her so she could see.

Gwendolyn leaned in closer to get a better look. She reached up to take the liquid he was offering, but he quickly snatched it back. “Not so fast. I must first tell you how it works. Then you must make me a deal.”

Gwendolyn nodded.

“This potion is very powerful and works exceptionally well when administered properly, but if you fail to do exactly what I say, horrendous consequences will follow. It works like this—you must give this potion to the person possessing the gift you wish to obtain, but you must do it without their knowledge. Within an hour after they have consumed all the liquid, you must take something from their person—a strand of hair, a nail clipping, something of that sort, and brew it with these herbs.” He produced a small satchel of herbs and held it in front of her nose. “Once you have made the tea, you must partake of it in its entirety, making sure you don't tell a single soul what you are about. The gift will transfer to you, and you will find yourself with the ability to transport.”

“That's it?” Gwendolyn asked, thinking it sounded simple enough.

“That is all. Now just to reiterate what I have said—first you will slip this potion into your sister-in-law's drink.” He held up the vile of golden liquid. “Second, you will take something off her person and brew it with these herbs.” He held up the bag. “Then proceed to drink the entire contents. That is it. You will have your gift.”

Gwendolyn was thoughtful. Could it really be that simple? “But what will happen to Rosalind? Will she still be able to transport?”

Roreck laughed. “Nay, of course not. The potion derives the gift from her and gives it to you.”

“But I want a gift of my own. I don't want to steal hers and leave her with nothing. Isn't there some other way? Can I perhaps find somebody else with a gift, perhaps somebody who doesn't want the ability they possess and give the potion to them?”

“Nay,” he snapped at her quickly, angrily. “I've seen into your mind. I see that you wish for this gift above all others. The potion is only designed to work for somebody with real desire. Your sister-in-law will not miss the gift. For after she partakes of the potion, she will no longer recall she ever possessed it.”

Gwendolyn exhaled in relief. Mayhap she wouldn't feel so guilty taking the gift from Rosalind if she never remembered having it in the first place.