by Gina Cole
“I’m a little freaked out!”
“And it shows, but if you listen…”
“And what? Listen to what? Listen to some nutjob tell me she sent me back to the fifth century wherever she was… and claim that I’m not dead? Where’s the camera…” Gwen bit out painfully as she realized that this had to be a sick joke. Someone had to be recording this for a television show or YouTube channel.
Eve frowned heavily at her and pinched her fingertips together.
Gwen felt her tongue go numb suddenly as it collapsed flat in her mouth just as she was about to start ranting with a few more questions and observations.
“Let’s start over again,” Eve said calmly but there was a tinge of frustration to her tone now that made Gwen shiver as she recognized that the woman before her could be a threat. Something supernatural was going on and she wasn’t dumb enough to charge forward blindly. No, she needed data, hard facts, and time to draw up a conclusion.
“First off – I don’t appreciate being called a ‘nutjob’ repeatedly. I assure you that I’m quite sane… or close enough – well, maybe… to function in this realm. Secondly, we need to talk about rules.”
Gwen blinked in wide-eyed amazement that they were having a discussion in the middle of nowhere just like two business acquaintances talking about a proposition. It was… odd.
“I have a real dislike to cursing. Don’t do it or you’ll regret it. Secondly, play along nicely and there is a prize at the end. If you don’t want to play the game, then I will yank your game piece off the board. No threats; just promises. I’m here to help you - and you seem to be a little unappreciative at getting a chance to escape the life you once knew.”
Eve snapped her fingers again and a cowl appeared out of thin air. She walked over towards Gwen, who immediately tried to move away but was frozen in the spot. Eve kindly draped the cowl around her shoulders and over her hair, clucking her tongue and working it until it appeared to satisfy her. Gwen felt like she’d been wrapped in a bulky, short, woolen sheet that was bunched about her frame.
“There,” Eve said softly with a gentle smile. “You look lovely and will fit right in.”
Gwen tried to point to her mouth but still couldn’t move and was having a tough time swallowing. Can I talk now? she asked mentally, hoping that Eve would pick up on her thoughts as she’d done before.
“Bravo, little one. My clever, clever girl,” she praised and Gwen felt a strange unlocking sensation as there was a sudden movement in her tongue that caused her to accidently bite it. Wincing, she nodded, muttering ‘thank you’ under her breath.
“So what game is this?”
“My game.”
“So, you are going to toy with me for your own amusement?”
“No, but we are going to have some fun. Do you like fun? I do.”
“I think we have different definitions of what constitutes the term ‘fun’,” Gwen said carefully, watching Eve as she picked up the front of her skirts and stepped over the bubbling brook nearby.
“Come along. We’ve got a little bit of a walk.”
“Where are we going?”
“To our rendezvous point.”
“We are meeting someone?”
“Of course, we are silly,” Eve announced lightly with a knowing glint in her eyes. “That’s how soulmates work. You meet, you fall head over heels in love, and have a happily ever after.”
Gawain knelt in the clearing before his sword that was stuck in the ground. He loved the hilt and the careful craftsmanship of it, admiring the shadow it cast on his lap of the cross. He was relieved that his liege gave him leave to break away from the group to pray for their deliverance, safety, and a victorious fight against the onslaught that seemed to be forever coming in their direction.
Arthur was always battling in one way or another, slowly building his loyalty among his people. He’d had Gawain’s since the first day he’d met the man that seemed to be so much more than anyone expected. He was brilliant, charming, driven, and chivalrous – something to strive for as he led their people. He was followed by good men that seemed to be among the same mindset. They wanted something greater, but it was hard to determine just what greater meant to them all. Some wanted fame and heraldry, others wanted land, he wanted… well…
He wanted something more.
“Please, Father, guide me on a path that is mine alone. I wish to serve and be true to myself and my beliefs,” he whispered, clasping his hands together in prayer.
The sun touched his face as it streamed through the branches of the trees circling the alcove. He listened in devout prayer as he heard signs of His touch all around him. The breeze ruffled his hair, the birds sang gently in the distance, and occasionally he would hear his horse drinking noisily from the pond before him that was fed by a fresh spring nearby.
Life was good… it just felt like something was missing.
He needed more.
He needed a…
Splash!
An indignant screech interrupted his thoughts. Gawain opened his eyes to see a woman struggling in the deep pond nearby. He glanced at the cross his hilt made and realized he’d been sent a sign. Whomever this was, he’d been led to the right place, the right time to save her.
“I understand.”
“Where are we going?”
“I already told you – we are going to the rendezvous spot so we can meet up with your soulmate.”
“Did you not think to ask me if I wanted to meet a guy?”
“Not just any guy – THE guy.”
“And who is THE guy?”
“Your soulmate, remember? Don’t you listen?”
“Of course, I listen,” Gwen countered, stepping over a massive pile of animal dung in the grass. Good golly, things poo’d that big here? Would she find unicorns, griffons, or dragons living in the fifth century? Was she going to be fed to a dragon? Surely she wouldn’t have been saved only to be sacrificed to some mythical creature.
“There is no one else to listen to around here. Just you, yammering on about my soulmate and destiny, blah, blah, blah.”
“Yes. Precisely. No, let me get my daubers. I’ll be about five more minutes and then we can start.”
“Start what?”
“My game.”
“I thought we were starting my game after your threats to knock me off the board, remember?”
“I’ll take some pull-tabs too,” Eve muttered absently.
“Do what?” Gwen asked, completely confused.
“Honey, I’m trying to hold a few conversations right now and interrupting your elders is rude,” Eve said patiently, patting her on the shoulder. “Do be a dear and let me finish.”
Gwen gaped at the woman before her who looked to be about fifty when she was wearing her hippie outfit in the garden center but was now resembling someone in their early thirties. It was like the lines on her face were disappearing slowly.
“I’ll play six if they are the little sliding cards but if they are paper ones – load me up. I can handle at least twelve paper cards. Oh - and tell Gabe that he better not start playing without me or there will be trouble. Now dear, let’s get a move on.”
“Oh? Is it my turn now?” Gwen said sarcastically as they walked past several bushes and trees that suddenly seemed to break, revealing a meadow before them.
An occupied meadow.
“Actually, yes it is,” Eve announced, giving her a massive shove between the shoulder blades that sent her flying into a pond that separated them and the man kneeling in the sunlight. Stunned, Gwen landed face first into the cold water, fully dressed.
She tried to find the bottom as her clothes went from feeling bulky on her to suddenly weighing a ton and impeding her movements. She was sinking! What kind of person shoved someone into a pond without warning?
Gwen’s lungs burned as she began to try to unwrap the cowl that had been put around her shoulders. Freeing herself finally, she pushed her arms through the water, trying to surface. She’d been a
swimmer in her high school growing up, so why wasn’t she making any progress? Was this another attempt to kill her off?
Eve! Help me up! she thought wretchedly, trying to break away from whatever was holding her back. The chill in the water was seeping into her bones and she shook her head in an effort to keep from breathing. Oh my gosh it hurt so much right now and she didn’t want to go through this again!
A hand touched hers and it was like someone had finally released her from her hold. Gwen blindly reached for whomever it was, bursting through the surface of the pond. Drawing several breaths, she felt herself being thrust onto the bank, hearing the squish of wet clothing nearby. Blinking the water out of her eyes, she coughed several times and looked at her rescuer.
A man lay on the grass nearby in a thin shirt and roughhewn pants. He was trying to catch his breath and seemed to be just as fatigued as she was. His dark hair was slicked back away from his face, revealing his profile. Strong jaw, tanned skin, sculpted lips, and dark eyebrows. He was beautiful in a way she never expected. Steely gray eyes turned towards her as he began speaking.
“Béohseax ðu lóclóca sé lacu?” he bit out, looking at her. “Andecwise!”
“I have no idea what you are saying, but cute or not – you’ve got a tone I don’t appreciate! I’m the one that almost drowned!” she sputtered angrily, pulling herself fully out of the water and getting to her feet.
“Bæcern bbÓm ðu faru?”
“Faru you too, buddy,” Gwen muttered angrily, waving him off as he got to his feet.
“EVE! Eve? Where are you? This is not funny in the slightest! Get back here, snap your fingers, and put me in something dry,” she asked, turning in circles and yelling up at the sky when she realized Eve was nowhere in sight.
Glancing down at her dress, she realized that the thin gown was practically see through and when Eve had disposed of her old clothing, she’d included her bra. Glaring at the man before her, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him.
“Turn your eyes elsewhere, Mr. Faru!”
Gawain, Gwen heard Eve’s voice in her mind, correcting her. His name is Gawain de Grene. He’s a good man – you’ll like him.
“Get back here woman so I can shove you in the pond!” she called out angrily. “I know you hear me, but this isn’t funny.”
Get to know him.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
How else do you get to know someone? You talk to them.
“We don’t speak the same language!”
You do now… Ohhh I’m set! Gotta go – BINGO! Good luck, little one!
Horrified, Gwen slowly turned to look at the man behind her who was standing there watching her strangely.
“Milady, are you quite alright?” he asked with an accent that made Gwen shiver, and she was positive it had nothing to do with the cold water anymore. “From where do you hail? Where is your chaperone?”
“I’m lost,” Gwen said quite honestly, meeting his eyes.
Chapter 3
Gawain couldn’t help sneaking a glance at the woman before him. Her gown clung to her and he felt a rush of emotions racing through him as desire took hold in his gut. He couldn’t help but admire the soft curves of her body that were suddenly outlined before him.
He had focused on pushing aside the sensations repeatedly in the past, pledging himself fully to serving his king here on earth and in Heaven. He had a name to live up to – Defender of the Poor and the Maiden’s Knight were names he was proud of. He would give aid to any in need because that is what was expected of a good Christian man.
He would not give in to his baser urges, not like some he knew. Instantly Lancelot sprang to mind. The man never had to turn away women and seemed to ooze charisma, causing them to fall at his feet. Gawain had saved many a maiden from his fellow knight as well. He’d even seen Lancelot watching the maid Arthur was to marry, the Lady Guinevere.
Shaking his head, he was stunned at how fatigued his body was. It was as if he had to fight his way towards the woman who’d fallen into the pond. He had never struggled so much to reach her in water that barely came to his shoulders. He took it as a test from God and while it seemed simple, it had challenged him like no other – and the woman before him was a boon unlike any other.
She was lovely.
Clear, unblemished skin that looked faintly kissed by the sun and was outlined by brown hair that seemed to curl about her face. Her wide doe-like eyes and her cheekbones gave an air of grace to her. She was wildly beautiful in a way that was so different from other women he’d met in the past.
“Milady are you quite alright?” he suddenly found himself asking. “From where do you hail? Where is your chaperone?”
“I’m lost,” she admitted honestly, meeting his eyes, and he knew the truth in her words. She was lost. Her voice had the strangest accent that he could not place, that again rekindled a warmth in his soul. He knew that he could not leave her to be set upon by ruffians or thieves; instead he would offer help until her family could reclaim her.
“Nay, milady,” he replied quietly with a soft smile that he hoped would earn her trust as he outstretched a hand towards her. “I shall help you through your travels along the path God has placed before you. ‘Tis just another step along the way.”
Gwen stared at his outstretched hand, unsure. He’d rescued her from the pond and Eve had claimed that this was her soulmate. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of spark between them?
Yes, he was handsome to look upon, but that didn’t make someone your soulmate. That seemed to be a pretty lofty title to give someone and she would assume there would be some sort of chemical reaction between them… like peroxide and baking soda, you know? Something that fizzled up uncontrollably that swept you away mentally, physically, and emotionally.
She shook her head and turned away from him, scared. This all seemed to be so much to take in all at once. She was still reeling from the last hour’s events. Death, rebirth, and now this? Feeling a sudden touch about her shoulders, she whirled around, slapping at him immediately – only to feel like a fool.
It seems that Gawain was only trying to put a shawl about her shoulders to help warm her up.
“My apologies,” he began, stepping back from her. “I thought you might be chilled.”
“I am,” Gwen replied instantly, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I should be apologizing to you. Thank you.”
“Certainly,” he said gruffly with a tight nod as he handed her the fabric. She tossed it about her shoulders, grateful for the warmth it provided, and saw that he was now wearing a dry shirt himself.
Dang it! she thought unexpectedly as she realized he’d stripped himself of his shirt and she’d missed it. Just as quickly as the thought hit her, she pushed it away. She didn’t want to think or wonder what he looked like under his clothing, much less picturing it in her mind’s eye. Huddling under the large scrap of fabric, she watched him kneel before the sword in the ground. His head bent, he crossed himself, pulled the sword and kissed the end of the hilt before sliding it into a scabbard.
Very pious, she thought and felt a flush of guilt.
She was not.
Religion was always something private that she kept to herself. Her beliefs, thoughts, opinions seemed to be the very essence of her soul and not something she ever relished sharing. To share it always felt like she was giving away the deepest inner workings of who she was at the core – and it was something she was never prepared to do. There seemed to be such judgement back home – good and bad – when you discussed politics, religion, and things of a personal nature.
Gawain just seemed to be comfortable in who he was and his beliefs. It was almost refreshing how true he was to himself. You asked, you received. He was unabashedly honest and made no excuses as to what he was doing – it was as if he just didn’t care what anyone thought. If he wanted to kiss the hilt of his sword, he did.
It was surprising – and nice.
“Come,” Gawain offered, bowing lightly and indicating she should ride the horse. Gwen eyed the two beings warily.
“Where I’m from, we don’t ride horses,” she said carefully, unsure how it would be received. She saw the jolt of surprise in his face just before he smiled.
“Tis a long walk,” he countered lightly, “I will not let you fall. I swear.”
“And I believe you,” she admitted, feeling herself suddenly flush with warmth as she realized he would ride with her. They would be on the horse together. She would be close to him.
Reeeeealy close.
“Mercy,” she whispered, “…Into the deep end, girl.”
Gwen stepped forward and accepted his help to get on the horse. There was a saddle unlike any she’d seen before. It was firm under her bottom with no stirrups. Gawain pulled himself up and slid onto the saddle right behind her, making her blush profusely as she felt his body against hers.
“I can move,” she offered quickly.
“I would rather you not,” he said huskily, his breath tickling her ear.
“Why don’t I just walk.”
“I shall not have a lady walking while I ride.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Alas, I do. What do you call yourself?”
“Gwen.”
“Ahhh… a version of the queen’s name. I am Gawain.”
“Nice to meet you, Gawain.”
“And you, milady Gwen.”
He gave a slight whistle and Gwen nearly fell forward off the horse as it unexpectedly began to move. Gawain’s hands grasped her about the waist and held her before him. She was grateful that she didn’t fall. The idea of depositing herself, face first, off the horse into the grass before this man would certainly be humiliating.
“I will not let you fall,” he said. There was a hitch to his voice that almost made her look over her shoulder to see his expressive grey eyes but instead, she held herself frozen, unable to move for fear that she would truly fall.
“Rest easy and let yourself sway with the animal.”
