by Ines Johnson
Without hesitating, Lance wrapped her in his arms. He flung them toward the ground, angling his body so that he hit the ground first. Through his body, Gwin felt the impact and it stole her breath.
They stayed on the ground for the briefest of seconds. Then they were up. Lance swooped up his sword in one arm and her in the other. And then they were running.
Their escape wasn’t soon enough. The fire raced up the side of the house faster than Lance’s feet could carry them. The explosion shook the earth.
They went airborne. Lance caught Gwin’s body again, in mid-air this time. Wrapping himself around her, they fell again to the ground. She felt no impact, only his body cushioning hers.
This time, instead of holding still for a second, they rolled. She was light as she landed on his chest but then felt him crush her as she reeled over and beneath him. On and on it went. Until finally, they came to a crashing halt in a ditch. Even when they came to a stop she was still cradled in his body.
Lance lifted his head, glaring down at her. The anger and fury that had been directed at the Templars were now aimed squarely at her.
“What are you doing here?” he shouted, his chest heaving.
“I-I needed to find you.”
“I’m on a quest.”
“I … I …”
“You could’ve been killed.”
“I saved your life.”
“That is not your job.” He reared up, crowding over her. “You’re not a knight. You have no training. You don’t belong here. Your place is in the castle. It’s in your job title; Lady of the Castle. Not Lady of the Quest.”
The shock of him yelling wore off quickly. She felt her muscles quiver as the tension built. The flush of heat that swept through her was not one of desire.
Gwin opened her mouth, preparing to raise her voice right back at Lance. She wasn't sure what she was going to say. She'd never know because a dark figure moved in the distance. The figure didn't move toward them. But she could feel the menacing energy reaching toward them. Her hackles raised as the figure's arm did.
Gwin grabbed Lance and pulled him down. She rolled with him deeper into the ditch as the bullets whizzed past his head. Down in the crevice of the earth, Lance stared at her. His blue eyes shining brighter than the stars in the night. He shut his mouth as they heard the slam of a car door and then the tear of tires.
13
The sound of car doors slamming and tire wheels screaming at the asphalt didn’t assuage Lance’s pounding heart. His limbs tingled as they crouched over Gwin’s body. Inside, he felt his organs quivering with anxiety.
First the blades, then the fire, then the bullets. She could’ve died three different ways tonight. His stomach churned at the very thought of it.
He had no care that the blade had pierced his skin. Even now blood dripped down his neck. He didn’t think twice about the ruined skin of his wrists where the fire had bit at him. He had no concern that a bullet came close to launching into his skull and knocking his mortal lights out. His only thought was for Gwin’s safety.
That’s why Lance remained over Gwin longer than was prudent. He covered her body with his to keep any more danger at bay. His body only barely touched hers, but where it did he felt a flame hotter than the fire that consumed the manse.
Even though he was battered, burned, and bruised, his body felt alive. He told himself it was the adrenalin, that it was the magic. But he knew it as all because of her.
He had her in his arms, exactly the opposite of his intentions when coming here. Nothing had gone right tonight. The bad guy had got away. But Lance had gotten more information.
Gwin was safe. Unfortunately, they had no quick escape with the ley line door gone. Malegant, and what was left of his weak army, could spot them easily if they took the road. The two of them were sitting ducks.
He had to get her out of here. But he had to let her go first. Slowly, carefully, reluctantly, Lance lifted himself off of Gwin.
He crouched low as he rose, surveying the area for danger. The house burned in the moonlight. The road was bare without tail or headlights. He saw movement in the distance. It was the four-legged variety. Just what he needed.
He extended his offering down to Gwin. But she didn’t take his hand. Her eyes glistened in the night. His heart stopped.
“Are you hurt?”
She couldn’t be wounded. God couldn’t be so cruel. He’d done everything in his power to keep her out of harm and take the brunt of every assault that had neared her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her voice was so small, so frail. It pierced Lance everywhere the Templar blades had failed to penetrate. He crouched down over her, searching for her wound.
“Where?” he demanded.
“My heart.”
Lance looked down at her chest. There was no blood. He put his hand on her chest. Her heartbeat was steady. In fact, the beats increased.
Their gazes connected.
He and Gwin didn’t get to share many words in their life. She could communicate with just a blink of her eyes how she felt. She didn’t blink now. A single tear seeped from the corner of her right eye.
Lance caught it with his thumb. With the tear shed, her emotions were clear on her face. Looking into her eyes, Lance saw the same feelings in his soul reflected back at him.
It had always been plain for all to see that there was something between them. The only difference tonight was that Gwin wasn’t fighting it any longer. She wasn’t holding her feelings at bay. Why?
“Is he dead?” Lance asked. He tried to keep the hope from his voice. He was certain he failed.
“Who?”
“Your husband.”
“No.”
Lance shut his eyes. He pulled his hand from her heart. He lifted his body from hers.
Gwin sat up. “Why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep turning away from me? I finally open myself up to you and you treat me like a pariah. You yell at me for saving your life. Lance, if there’s someone else, if you don’t care for me any longer, just say so.”
“If I don’t care for …?”
He stood now. He was backlit by the burning house. If there was anyone about other than the agitated livestock moving away from the house, he’d be an easy target.
“You kissed me in front of your dying husband and a stranger. You hid me behind a curtain like something to be ashamed of.”
“A curtain?”
Lance regrouped, getting back on track. “I knew I wasn’t good enough to marry you. But I never expected you to treat me like a bastard.”
“No.” She let the word out in a rush. “You know I don’t feel that way about you.”
She also stood. The two of them casting long shadows on the ground as the flames licked up to the roof.
“I love you,” she shouted. “I’ve always loved you.”
Her words didn't surprise him. They soothed his weary heart to hear out loud, finally. But like an aspirin, it only offered temporary relief to an underlying ailment.
“Yes,” he nodded. “In the pure way, in the chivalric way. Your love is the best thing about me. Please don’t ever sully it with offers of adultery and secret kisses.”
Her eyes widened in shock. Guilt dampened her lashes. Shame glittered in those irises.
For the first time in a long time, Lance felt like a bastard. Watching the torrid emotions play across Gwin’s face confirmed that she had acted out of love and not lust. She was not like the widows and wanton wives of Camelot.
Lance reached out and tilted her chin up so that she met his gaze. He let his heartbeat resonate in his gaze. Her gaze begged forgiveness. He brushed a few more tears away until he was certain she saw his absolution.
Lance held out his hand again. “Please, let me get you to safety.”
Gwin took his hand. He wrapped his palm around hers and allowed her warmth to run a course through his blood. Once she completed her invasion, Lance cursed himself. He could’ve gotten m
uch closer. She could be in his arms, instead of just connected to his palm. He could’ve kissed her again.
But that wasn’t who they were.
Retracing their steps back to the complacent companionship they’d shared for decades, they walked the fields in silence. The path they were on looked different than it had in the past. Lance knew the right thing was to let her go.
He’d done his duty. She was not in immediate danger. His next obligation was to get her back home. The closest ley line was in Paris, a far cry from Champagne. Luckily, their ride pranced in front of them.
Letting Gwin go, Lance held up his hands to approach the stallion. The horse eyed him warily. “Might I beg a ride for myself and the lady?”
The horse neighed and reared up on its hind legs. Lance took a few steps back, making sure to keep Gwin behind him. But looking back, he saw that she had rounded him and was approaching the horse.
The dark stallion bowed its head in clear deference to the lady. It was clear that the two of them were communicating, leaving Lance out of the discussion. The horse was of the magical breed that had been brought to Europe centuries ago by the first knights. The ley energy had enabled the horses to communicate with other magical beings.
Lance had to assume that since these horses had been on lands without knights for decades, they were out of practice. But it would seem they still had their manners when it came to ladies.
The horse bobbed its head, as though it were agreeing to Gwin’s request. It lifted one of its front legs allowing her to step up and swing her body over its back. They both turned to Lance.
Lance swung his body up and over the horse. It was a snug fit on the broad stallion’s back as his groin rested against Gwin’s backside.
It was going to be a long ride to Paris.
14
Gwin had been an avid rider her entire life. But, over the course of her life, her horses only ever strolled her around the castle. She rarely had occasion to gallop. Ladies weren’t meant to be jostled, said her mother. So, Gwin spent her life atop a horse moving at a trot.
The wild steed from Champagne ran at top speeds through the French countryside. The magical stallions which had come over from the Holy Lands centuries ago and settled in places of great ley energy easily reached one hundred miles per hour. The stallion that carried them, Meginhard the steed said his name was, flew beyond that.
The pins flew out of Gwin’s hair, leaving it streaming behind her like a blonde flag in the black night. She leaned forward, burying her hands and her nose in the steeds flowing curtain of dark hair. The strength, the scent, the feel of the horse should’ve been her only thoughts.
They weren’t.
The press of leather-clad legs boxing her in from either side made her pulse race. The muscled arms holding her tight stole her breath. The defined abdomen at her back sent heat rushing down to her seat.
Lance consumed Gwin's every thought, her every inhale, her every exhale, her every twitch, and even her stillness. In the stillness of her mind, his words played over again in her mind.
Your love is the best thing about me. Please don’t ever sully it with offers of adultery and secret kisses.
She took care of everyone around her. She prided herself on knowing their needs better than they did. How had she not anticipated what her words and actions would do to Lance?
He was the person she most cared for, the one she paid the most attention to. And she had hurt him deeply, carelessly, selfishly.
She knew there were still some in their community who thought ill of him for his parentage. A matter that he’d had no control over. A non-issue that he had risen above to become the best knight in all of Camelot.
And she’d denigrated his character with that kiss and her offer of what? Adultery. Because that was all she could offer him while she was still married.
Even now his sadness choked her. She wanted to turn and embrace him, but she knew it wouldn’t be received well. So, she held stiff in his protective embrace as they rode into the night.
They were headed to Paris, where the closest access to a ley line was located. Paris was about 150 kilometers from Champagne. They reached the city lights of Paris in just under three hours under the horsepower of the magical steed.
The sun was just beginning to stretch its rays after a good night's sleep when Lance hopped off the horse’s back. He reached up for Gwin. Her limbs were stiff and instead of landing straight down, her body crashed into his.
The feel of his hard chest against her softness made her breath catch. He gasped as well and his hot breath hit her hard. She held onto him as her knees buckled. When she looked up, their lips were close.
Everything in her urged her to close the distance between them and capture his mouth with hers. Her gaze rose to meet his. In his eyes, Gwin saw turmoil.
Desire mixed with despair. Hunger mixed with shame. Indecision mixed with certainty.
She made the decision for them both. “I’m so sorry,” she said stepping away from him.
“Gwin,” he started and then stopped. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I need to get you to safety,” he said finally.
She understood. He was retreating to duty. It’s what she would’ve done in his position. It’s what she was doing now. Focusing on his comfort instead of her own.
They walked the empty streets of the most romantic city in the world in silence. They moved side by side. Lance walked on the side closest to the street even though only a few cars were in gear. As they moved farther into the city, the streets became peopled with workers and health enthusiasts out for a jog. Those people stared at them with dismay, some crossing to the other side of the street.
Gwin scanned both herself and Lance to understand why. Their clothes were muddied and torn from the fight, the fire, and the ride.
“We can’t get into Notre Dame looking like this,” she said.
Their destination was the church which held an active ley line that would lead them back home. They walked a bit more until they came to a market. Lance stopped her with a hand at her low back. No sooner than his fingertips touched her did he jerk his hand away as though she’d scalded him.
Lance ducked behind a row of clothes leaving her alone, but still within his sight. Gwin stayed where he'd left her and watched him interact with the saleswoman.
Lance emerged from the rows of racks with a pair of women’s jeans and a blouse. He held the garments out to her as though they were meant for her.
Gwin looked doubtful. Modern day clothing was made one size fits all unlike the fitted dresses of her time. It wasn’t likely that these jeans would fit.
But she humored him. Perhaps they could laugh at the ill fit when she emerged. Perhaps that would settle them back on the road to an easy camaraderie.
She ducked into a washing room, splashed water on her face. Used soap from the dispenser, and paper towels to clean what she could. She felt almost human, which wasn’t saying much since she was a witch.
She slipped into the jeans. She was surprised to find that the garment fit her perfectly. When she went shopping with her sister and Loren, they’d spend hours trying to find the perfect garment. But Lance had done it in only five minutes.
She emerged from the bathroom to find Lance was waiting for her. He’d tugged on a clean shirt and was scrubbing his face with the ruined cloth of his old shirt.
“You can go and wash up if you’d like,” said Gwin.
He gave a gruff shake of his head. “I’ll not leave you alone.”
“I’m a witch and not some helpless damsel.”
“Witches can’t dodge bullets. One nearly got you.” He tensed, as though the memory materialized and socked him on the chin. “Never do that again.”
“I won’t.” She ached to reach out to him, wanting, needing to comfort him.
“If a bullet or a blade comes between you and me, promise me you’ll never step in front of it.”
She frowned, trying to make sense
of his words. “No. I’ll never promise you that. If ever your life is in my hands, I’ll do whatever is necessary to save it.”
“Your life is worth more than mine.”
“Not by my calculations.”
“Gwin—”
“I won’t hear any more of this. You carry this false belief that you’re not worth much. It’s the falsest thing I’ve ever known. You are the best man I know. You’re entirely selfless, unendingly caring. And you have a surprising knack for choosing women’s clothing. You’re a treasure.”
That last comment accomplished what a caress or a hug would not. It loosened the knot of anxiety within them both. It cracked the corner of both of their mouths into a smile. It pushed forth gasps of humor from their lips.
“You’ve always had my good opinion,” Gwin continued. “You'll never lose it. Please forgive me for hurting your pride and your honor. It was not my intention. I just … It was selfish of me. I was thinking only of myself, my desires. I’m so, so sorry, Lance.”
“I love you.”
They were just three little words, but they flooded her with a warmth that witch fire could never rival. The hands that ached a second ago to reach out to him clutched at her belly as she held her breath waiting for his next words, his next move.
Please let his next move be with his mouth on hers. But Lance didn’t move. He held his ground and spoke logically.
“That’s not a shock. You’ve always known that. Everyone knows that. But we both took vows. I’ll not break my word. It may not be how we wanted to live our lives. But we’ll do what we must. We won’t be brought into temptation. You have my heart. You have my sword. You don’t need my body.”
“Right …” She tried to nod her head, but it wobbled.
“We’ve always had a connection on a spiritual level. We have no need of the physical.”
