To Capture Her Heart (16 page)

“Do you truly think that man is gifted?” Brigit's eyes were wide with wonder.

“I don't see any other way he could possibly know what he did about me if he weren't,” Gwendolyn responded, still in awe.

Her mind mulled over his offer as excitement filled her breast. Mayhap he was the answer to all her seeking and yearning for a gift. Was it truly possible that after what seemed like a lifetime of searching, she would gain a gift this night?

There was only one way to find out.

***

“Gavin, wake up.”

Gavin slowly peeled his eyes open to see Gwendolyn kneeling above him as she shook his shoulder fiercely. His first thought was that something had happened while he had fallen asleep. He sat up abruptly, nearly knocking her onto the ground.

“Tell me you are alright. I did not mean to fall asleep and leave you unattended.”

“I'm more than alright, actually. And I wasn't unattended; I had Brigit.”

“Please tell me she did not allow you to take some peculiar potion or waste all your money on a silly trinket.”

Gwendolyn laughed. “Nay, but I met a gifted man, and he says he can help me gain my own gift.”

Gavin brushed the hair off of his face, then brought his hand to his chin where he methodically rubbed his stubbled jaw. “A gifted man, you say? What gift did he possess?”

“He can read minds,” she shouted excitedly, hurting his ears.

Her eyes were wide and bright, and he thought he had never seen her more happy.

“And how, exactly, do you know that he can indeed read minds?”

“Because he read mine!”

Now this was interesting. He was actually envious of the man, for he could think of a few times he would have liked to be able to see inside her pretty head and known exactly what she was thinking.

“He told me that he could see that I was concerned about which gift I possess. Then he told me if I met him tonight he would tell me how I can obtain it. Don't you see, this is exactly why I wanted to come here.”

Her face was alight with joy, and he didn't want to be the one to squash it.  “But how can you be sure that you can trust him? What if he is a phony like some of the others?”

Gwendolyn harrumphed. “Gavin, he is not a phony. He read my mind and another lady's as well. Brigit witnessed it too; she can tell you that he is gifted.”

“I'm not sure I want you to go.”

“'Tis not up to you,” she said indignantly. “The entire reason I came here was to find my gift and if this is the way to do it, then so be it.”

“It very well is up to me,” he spat back. “Your brother put me in charge of...”

“My protection, not my decisions.”

Her chin was jutting out defiantly, much like it did the night he had found her attempting to run away and had taken her to her brother. The girl was determined; he'd give her that.

“What if I feel that it's unsafe for you to go?” he asked, feeling his resolve slipping.

“Go with me then,” she pleaded. “Nothing could happen to me if you are there.”

For a moment Gavin felt a swelling in his chest. Her trust felt good, albeit foreign. It had been a long time since he felt like anyone trusted him.

“Fine,” he finally relented. Lowering his voice to a whisper he said, “But I refuse to take Brigit with us. Her change of character is unnerving me. We will go after she has fallen asleep. Understand?”

Gwendolyn threw her arms around his neck, almost causing him to fall over. He braced himself and held on tight. It felt good to make her happy.

Chapter 20

Hidden Secrets

The bright, three-quarter moon was illuminating the earth when Gwendolyn stepped out of her tent, pulling a shawl tightly around her. She had spent the last several hours listening to Brigit snoring and wondering when the time would finally come for her to escape with Gavin to the designated meeting place. She worried he had fallen asleep when she didn't see him waiting for her, but as soon as she called out his name he appeared from his tent.

He was fully clothed, with his sword in his scabbard and his hair tied back with a thin strip of leather. He looked like a magnificent warrior, even in the dark.

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.”