Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)

Gaetan was looking at her, the way her dark hair draped over her shoulder, the shape of her body beneath the cote that clung to her in places. But he also noticed she was sitting oddly with her right leg favored. He knew, from experience, that injuries like that hurt a great deal to the point where even routine movement was excruciating. But she bore it stoically; not even a whimper.

A strong lady, indeed.

“Your training has been invaluable in our quest to find our comrade,” he said. “In fact, I cannot imagine having made this journey without you.”

It was close to a compliment from Gaetan, as far as compliments went. He wasn’t the kind to give an encouraging or positive word, or so he seemed. Ghislaine dared to glance over her shoulder at him, her red cheeks partially obscured by her hair. “I would say that it is unfortunate that we had to make it in the first place, but somehow… somehow I am not. I believe some understanding has come out of this. Understanding for Normans. Mayhap you even understand my people more as well.”

He shrugged. “I understand that they are proud,” he said. “I understand that they are skilled but not organized.”

Before she could reply, more than likely to dispute his comment, Camulos wandered up, tail wagging. Instead of going to Gaetan, he went straight to Ghislaine and licked her on the chin with a big wet tongue and wet fur around his mouth. She groaned, wiping the slobbery kiss away.

“And I understand that Normans have smelly dogs that they treat like children,” she said, trying to move away from Camulos as he sat down next to her. “Why does this dog like me so much? Does he not know that I despise him?”

Gaetan laughed softly as his dog leaned against her. “He has good taste in people,” he said. “If he likes you, take it as a compliment.”

“I want him to go away.”

“Do you really?”

She thought better of her initial reply, which had been an affirmative. The dog had been her only companion when the knights had taken to ignoring her. Making a face that suggested surrender, she shook her head.

“I suppose I do not,” she said, putting a hand on the dog’s big head. “He is annoying but ridiculously sweet. I have never seen such an affectionate dog.”

Gaetan reached out to slap the dog affectionately on the back. “I acquired him with the hope that he would help me in battle,” he said. “Alas, that was not to be; the first battle I took him to, he ran right towards the enemy with his tail wagging. They almost stole him from me.”

Ghislaine looked at the dumb dog, grinning in spite of herself. “I would believe it,” she said. “I suppose he is not entirely annoying.”

Gaetan watched her pet the animal, who lapped up the attention. “He likes you a great deal,” he said. “In fact, you may have to take him with you when you return home. I am not entirely sure he will be happy with me any longer.”

Return home. Ghislaine pondered those words. In truth, she hadn’t even thought of returning to Tamworth since this quest started and now that the eventuality was on her mind, she realized that she couldn’t return to her lonely life. She would miss these arrogant, powerful knights who had made her feel more companionship than she’d ever felt in her life. She would miss this silly dog, the jittery priest, and the sense of purpose they all had. She didn’t want to lose any of it.

Her movements slowed as she continued to pet the dog.

“I do not think I should return home,” she said.

Gaetan’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” he asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged, feeling very bold with what she was about to say. “Because I do not think I should leave you alone in this country,” she said. “You do not know the people or the customs, but I do. I… I think I would be of great value to you.”

Gaetan watched her for a moment before a faint smile began to tug at his lips. He was quite glad she’d made that suggestion because the thought of her returning home, of leaving him, didn’t sit well with him either. The thought of losing his little mouse was a sad thought, indeed.

“You think so?” he said. He pretended to think on it. “Once I reclaim Kristoph, I am moving on to the north. I have been asked to secure it.”

She looked at him, then. “Then you need me,” she said firmly. “The north is a wild place with tribes and customs you would not understand. I understand them and I could be of great help to you.”

His smile grew when he realized she was eager to do it. Eager to go with him. God, was it really possible that she might be feeling something for him as he was feeling for her? It seemed like an impossibility given how they’d met and the trouble they’d had during their association, but there was no denying the magnetism between them. He looked at her, she looked at him, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. He couldn’t remember when it hadn’t always been like that.

He couldn’t imagine never seeing her again.

“You have already been of great help to me,” he said. “But what of your home? Won’t Edwin miss your presence? Surely he cannot do without you, either.”

Ghislaine shrugged, looking back to the silly dog. “There is nothing for me at Tamworth,” she said. “With Hakon gone these two years, there has been nothing there for me ever since he died. That place is a tomb for me. I do not want to go back, not ever.”

Gaetan was curious about the dead husband, the man she’d only mentioned once. “Hakon,” he repeated. Now the husband had a name. “You said that he had drowned?”

“Aye.”

“May I ask how it happened?”

It was a polite question. Strangely, she didn’t feel the angst she usually felt when answering it. “There was a shipwreck two years ago at Ponthieu when Harold tried to take men into France,” she said. “Hakon, as my husband, was one of Harold’s knights. He was one of the few to drown in the shipwreck.”

Gaetan remembered the incident, mostly because one of his allies had taken Harold hostage for a time after the shipwreck. “There were several ships, as I recall, tossed about by a storm.”

Ghislaine nodded. “Aye.”

“Did you have children?”

“Nay.”

“But you miss him.”

It was a statement, not a question. Ghislaine nodded, once. “Every day.”

She left it at that and Gaetan didn’t push her. He was starting to understand her sorrow at a dead husband she was evidently fond of, but it seemed more than that. No more husband, a home she didn’t want to return to… was that why she was willing to escort his knights northward? Because it helped her forget the memories of a dead husband? She was a lady with secrets and sorrows. Perhaps she was running from them; perhaps not. In any case, he appreciated that he was coming to know her a little more, as moments of conversation like this on this journey had been rare. But as he looked at her lovely face, he caught a glimpse of her red cheeks as she was looking at the dog. He’d been leaning back on an elbow but now he sat up.

“Why are your cheeks so red?” he asked. “Come here. Let me feel your face.”

The smile vanished from Ghislaine’s lips when she realized he was on to her secret. “That is not necessary,” she said quickly. “It… it is the sun. It has burned my face.”

Gaetan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That does not look like a burn from the sun to me.”

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