Epilogue
A week later
Gawyn was breathing hardas he looked up from chopping the wood. Most of the wood they collected had fallen in the forest and they had dragged it back to the farm. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and looked toward the forest where Justina was gathering bracken for the oxen beds. He scanned the edge of the forest but saw no sign of her.
A tremor of unease coursed through him and he called, “Justina!”
When no response came, he dropped the axe, moving quickly toward the forest.
His heart skipped a beat when he reached the edge of the forest. He scanned the area for her, his instincts taking over. He had to tell himself she was in no danger, to calm himself. He knew brigands and robbers lurked in the woods near Acquitaine. Had one of them found their way to the farm? After the Hungar attack, it was difficult for him to be calm about her safety. When he didn’t find her, he glanced at the forest floor, searching. It was only a moment before he discovered a group of crushed leaves. Footprints. She must have been working here. He scanned the area until he found another trampled batch of leaves and brush.
He saw the path then. It led into the forest. He carefully followed it deeper into the woods until the path disappeared. He froze, listening. No animal sounds. No birds call, no crickets, no noise.
That was when he understood. He grinned darkly. It was all part of the game, part of the training. He had been trying to elaborate on her father’s teachings. It never hurt for her to be able to defend herself. He slowly turned to find Justina standing behind him, a dagger held to his throat.
“You make it too easy,” she said softly.
“You kicked the brush to hide your tracks this time.” Gawyn was proud of her for thinking of that.
Justina smiled.
Gawyn’s heart answered, missing a beat. He adored her. “Your feet are planted. It makes it easier to do this.” He blocked the hand with the dagger, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him in one, quick move.
Her breath escaped in a rush.
He stared down at her through lidded eyes. She was beautiful. Those large brown eyes, her windblown hair. He lifted a hand to tuck a lock behind her ear.
Her chin came up. “Maybe I wanted you to do that.”
Gawyn chuckled deeply. “I’m sure you did.” Her father taught basic skills on defense and survival, but Gawyn wanted to teach her everything he knew to keep her safe. “You must always keep your knees bent, your feet ready to move. You could have easily avoided my grab.”
She wrapped her arms behind his neck. “Then I would have to do the chores.”
Gawyn loved the way her lips moved, the feel of her body pressed close to his. “What else did you have in mind?”
She took his hand and began to lead him back to their new cottage with a sly, sultry look on her face, a sexy tempting slant to her eyes.
Gawyn followed her lead with exuberance and excitement. He never knew farming could be so thrilling.
Suddenly, she stopped and turned to him. The look had vanished and there was sincerity in her lovely eyes. She put a hand on his chest. “Are you happy?”
“I will be in a moment.” His manhood hardened at the thought of being with her.
“No. I mean are you happy, here with me, on this farm?”
Gawyn scowled, confused at her question.
“You’ve given up so much. How could this compare with captain of the guard?”
Gawyn understood. But she was thinking of this all wrong. It was she that had given up everything. Her uncle. Her brother. Her father. He cupped her face, gazing at her with anguished longing. He had given up far less than she. “I would be happy anywhere with you.”
She sighed against him.
He brushed his lips against her warm, soft ones.
She tilted her head back. “What if I was a gong farmer?”
Gawyn’s lips quirked in humor. “I would stand knee deep in shite to be beside you.”
