To Capture Her Heart (13 page)

“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 surge 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 She was withdrawn inside of herself, not at all like the spirited girl he knew her to be.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.

“I do not have any more weapons to give you.”

Brigit looked at him with a mixture of fear and revulsion. “I wouldn't wield one if you did. I am a lady.”

Gavin thought her attitude awfully high-handed, considering she was naught but a mere servant and her life could be in danger, but he thought it smart not to mention that to her. “Stay as close to Gwendolyn as you are able. If the walarute gets close to you, you must not run. It will hunt you down and kill you. They are incredibly fast. Hold as still as possible and keep as quiet as possible.”

“And pray tell, where will you be while we are attempting to defend ourselves? Taking tea by the stream?”

The aggravating wench.

He spoke through clenched teeth. “If you are left to defend yourself, that could only mean one thing—that I am dead.” He watched with satisfaction as her face paled and her mouth hung open in shock. “Now do as I say.” Turning, he galloped back to his place in the rear.

The three of them were completely silent and tense as they listened and waited for the walarute to approach. Each bone-chilling screech caused shivers to run down his spine.

When Gavin could tell that the beast was getting close, he turned towards the women and commanded, “Stay as still as possible,” then urged Ichabod slowly towards where the animal was waiting.

Icahbod thrashed his head from side to side as he skittishly moved forward. Eventually his destrier came to a stop and refused to budge, neighing in protest. Gavin cursed and dismounted from his back, scanning the forest for any sign of the monster. Dark shadows danced across the trees, and he knew it was getting close. His fists tightened around his sword as he waited.

A frisson of foreboding coursed through his body as the odd looking creature stalked slowly out of the trees, a predatory gleam in its eye. It had the head of a bison and the body of a gazelle, a stranger creature Gavin had never laid eyes on. Its thick fur was as black and as menacing as its stare as it made eye contact with him, as if it could sense his exact presence.

Gavin waited stiffly, hoping he wasn't awaiting his death. He was, however, grateful that the beast had yet to lay eyes on the women. The walarute continued to stalk its prey, and when it had drawn within a few feet of him, it charged.

Gavin tensed, slashing his sword wildly in front of him. The beast's massive head thrashed angrily as it screeched, almost knocking the sword from his hands. He held on as hard as he could as his arms twisted under the weight. He knew the animal’s strength was mainly centered on the front of his body. He needed to somehow get behind the beast and attack him from the rear, where his body was much smaller in size and much weaker. That is how he had successfully killed a walarute in the past.

Gavin lunged back slicing the beast's neck as he withdrew his sword. The animal yelped in pain, but the gash wasn't deep enough to cause any significant damage. He nearly lost his footing as he stumbled back. Quickly gathering his composure, an idea formed in his mind.

He took a steadying breath, and just as the animal was within inches of him, he threw his sword behind the beast, rolled himself into a ball and somersaulted between its legs, coming to a stop a few feet from where his sword lay. He lunged for it, and just as he did so, the walarute jarred back, stepping painfully on his ankle. He groaned as the crushing weight of the beast pinned him to the ground. A woman's scream sounded in the background causing Gavin to curse as the walarute flung its head wildly around and spotted the women and, without hesitation, began charging.