Authors: Gwen Rowley
Gawain (36 page)
“You are older than me,” Aislyn remarked casually. “By the time I am a crone again, you will be
ancient
.”
ancient
.”
Gawain halted, then turning swiftly, bent her back across his arm. “And will you love me then?”
She pursed her lips. “Do you think you will grow ugly?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Liar. You are a man. You will merely be
distinguished
.”
distinguished
.”
“I am distinguished now,” he said, righting her and offering his arm. They rounded a corner, and light from the archway opening on the hall flooded the flagstones with gold.
“A bit
too
distinguished,” she grumbled as they passed by the entrance to the hall, where the sounds of pipes and drums drifted out into the corridor.
too
distinguished,” she grumbled as they passed by the entrance to the hall, where the sounds of pipes and drums drifted out into the corridor.
“What did you say?”
“You don’t
dance
,” she said, gazing wistfully over her shoulder.
dance
,” she said, gazing wistfully over her shoulder.
Gawain laughed. “Oh, is
that
what you are muttering about! Well, Aislyn, I’ll have you know that there was only one woman I ever cared to dance with. As she was . . . unavailable . . . I gave it up.” He made her a flourishing bow. “My lady, will you do me the honor?”
that
what you are muttering about! Well, Aislyn, I’ll have you know that there was only one woman I ever cared to dance with. As she was . . . unavailable . . . I gave it up.” He made her a flourishing bow. “My lady, will you do me the honor?”
“It would be my pleasure. But must we stop at one?”
“We can dance all night if that pleases you.”
“Oh, yes, let’s! Only—let us retire before dawn. If Morgana was wrong—not that I don’t trust her, but . . . well, I’d rather be alone with you.”
He yawned and stretched, then stilled abruptly and turned to draw back the coverlet beside him. Aislyn’s hair caught the sunlight in a blaze of gold, spilling over the edge of the bed to brush the floor. He pushed it aside and kissed her neck.
“’M I the crone?” she mumbled.
“Hmm, now, let me see. Well . . . I don’t know, Aislyn, it’s hard to say. Let me have a closer loo—”
His words ended in a muffled shout as a pillow hit him squarely in the face.
Sooty, denied her morning petting, cast them a disgusted look as she leapt through the window and stalked off to find her breakfast. Behind her, bright laughter spilled into the courtyard, fading into broken words and murmured endearments, and then, at last, to silence.
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