The Willows (42 page)

He sighed. “Trouble is, right about now
I haven’t a moment to spare.”

“
A mere hour here and there
would mean the world to them.”

She went back to butchering her fish,
her sonnets giving him time to consider her suggestions. Suppose he
could drop by now and then, especially this new Gwen would be there
to greet him. Odd, how much it pleased him to think of her standing
by the door, her face lighting up with a smile as he approached the
cabin.

Lost in the pleasant image, it took
some moments to realize that he heard voices, coming from the
marshland behind him.

“
Speak of the little
devils.” Gwen looked up with a grin. “Of all the luck. Once they
see you are here, they will never believe I clean these fish by
myself.”

“
I suppose I could sneak
back to my boat and pretend that I just got here.

“
Would you?”

It was amazing how lighthearted he
suddenly felt. “Sitter me gone.” he dipped into a bow.

“
You are not going to leave
for the night?” She asked with a sudden catch in her voice. “Will
you be staying for dinner?”

Looking from the marshland to the
slaughter fish on the table, could it help a little laugh. “Oh, I
will stay. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

Gwen cleared the table, listening to
Michael and the children’s talk about the meal in silence. A short
time ago she’d have bristled and snapback, but she now knew they
meant it in fun. Teasing each other was what families did, she
realize, and it pleased her to no end to be included.

He smiled, thinking how pleasant the
meal had been, spite the jokes about her butchered fish. Talking
with Michael this afternoon seemed to have cleared the air between
them. Gone was that awful tension, and with it, the need for anger.
Seems suddenly possible that they could begin to understand each
other at last.

Are there, hearing him talk about his
grandparents, she could see why her past be a very had triggered
his resentment. She had to convince him she change that she was
nothing like those snobbish, uncaring people.

And why would you want to do
that?
Caution asked, but one glance at
Michael, deep in the conversation with children, and she had her
answer. It was enough, for now, just to have the man smile at
her.

And perhaps it would be a good part of
the reason she dress with extra care tonight, pinning up her hair
and donning her mother’s locket. She wanted Michael to see Gwen,
the lady, a gracious female not covered with fish slime or mud from
the swamp. Call it vanity, but she wanted him to see her as a woman
well worth a smile.

“
Can you read
now?”

She came out of her thoughts to find
little Christopher standing before her, tugging at her skirt. He
held up the battered copy of Ivanhoe.

“
Me? Read?” She asked,
surprised. “Why, I suppose that would depend on how many more
compliments about dinner I must suffer through.”

“
Weren’t me” he bit his lip,
looking so contrite, when found a hard to keep teasing
him.

She turned to his brothers instead. “No
more comments about fish chunks?”

They shook their heads.

“
No more spitting out
imaginary bones?” At another fierce shake of their heads, she gave
a deep sigh. “Very well, but you will have to wait while I clean up
the kitchen. Unless, of course, you can convince your uncle to read
in my place.”

They stared at him as if this were a
new concept.

“
Don’t worry, I can read,”
he said to them, nodding over at Gwen. “And to better than she can
clean fish.”

“
Go on, give him the book,”
she told Christopher, showing off the others. “I think you all
deserve each other.”

And there was, smile she been waiting
for. He knew what she was up to, his expression told her, and he
appreciated the chance to be with the children.

He stressed out on the floor, leaning
on an elbow, his long, muscular frame sprawled on the rug. The
children gathered around him, telling him what page to start on,
chattering about what had happen in the story last time. Clearly,
the tell was one of Michael’s favorites, too, for he read it with
such passion, breathing life into every character, bringing magic
and glory to every scene.

Gwen couldn’t drag her eyes away,
fascinated by how he interacted with the children, they clung to
each word he uttered, gazing up and it was such an adoring glare,
he could well be the hero of the story come true.

Nor were they alone in thinking this,
for as Michael read on about Ivanhoe’s adventures, he help but
compare him to the romantic night in the story. His glistening
black hair, his aristocrat teachers, well formed the lambs went him
the same physical beauty, but Michael’s patients with the children,
his size of wariness at the end of each grueling day–these were the
marks of his own particular valor. Mrs. Tibbs had accused her of
never seeing underneath the other trappings, but tonight, Gwen’s
eyes were wide open. Michael, she could see, was a beautiful
person, inside and out.

It was never the silly posturing on a
tournament field that stirred the court ladies to romance, she
realize. It was the noble dream, and the man that drove to achieve
it, that one her admiration. It was what he believed in, and what
he accomplished, that made King Arthur the hero, and twice the man
that Lancelot had ever been.

Hard not to make the comparison to
Michael and Lance.

Even as she thought this, he looked up,
caught her staring at him. As she turned away in confusion, Michael
shut the book. “That is it for tonight,” he said to the children.”
It is your bedtime and time for me to go.”

Caught off guard, Gwen looked back at
him, silently echoing the children’s protests. He cannot leave yet.
What if their newfound harmony proved too fragile to last the
separation?

But determined to go, he shooed the
children off in turn for the door. Gwen try to tell her self it was
for the children’s sake that she followed him outside to the porch,
but it did not explain her sudden need to reach out and beg him to
stay.

She made herself stop on the top step,
while he paused at the bottom. “Thanks for the evening, my lady,”
he told her with a smile. “Dinner was delicious.”

“
Should we set a place for
you again tomorrow?” She asked, deliberately keeping her voice
light. “I promise to have something other than fish chunks on the
menu.”

He smiled, but the expression swiftly
faded. “I might have to leave again for a couple of
days.”

“
Again?” She blurted out
before she could stop herself, but at least she hadn’t stopped or
what, as she might have once have. “It will be a lot quieter around
here without you.”

“
No one which is more than
me that I could stay, but-“

Descending a step, she reached down to
place your finger on his lips. “You do not need to explain. It’s
just, well, we will miss you.”

He stared at her so intensely, it took
some moments to realize her hand remained on his mouth. A jolt of
desire–of need–shot through her, as she remembered those lives
against her own. She dropped her hand to her side.

“
Did you mean what you said?
Earlier, outback, about staying with the children?”

She nodded, unable to remove her gaze
from his mouth.

“
I would be relying on you,
since I could be gone a week or more at a time. Those children need
stability, security. I’d need to count on you to stick
around.”

She thought of her first day here, and
that useless walk through the swamp. “Where can I go?”

Her gaze drifted to his eyes, his
wince. “I was wrong to keep you prisoner. From now on, my lady, if
you stay, it will be of your own free will.”

A week ago, the prospect of escape what
have the realtor, but now, her world has narrowed down to the
little one island, to this man and his children, to the dark eyes
in which she now found herself lost.

“
The children have a boat of
their own,” he went on. “They keep it outback somewhere, probably
by their fortress. You need only ask, and they’ll take you were
ever and whenever you want to go.”

“
I want to stay,” she told
him truthfully.

His face lit up, making him seem
suddenly younger. “I shouldn’t need to impose on you for much more
than a month.”

“
Three months. Not a day
less laughing, he shook his head. “You won’t last long, if you keep
repeating my words back to me.” His grin faded as he searched her
eyes. “Where you serious about the other, too? About you and I and
starting over? Do you think you can forgive the past?”

She read doubt in this question, as if
he hadn’t much faith in the prospect, it even less in her ability.
Anxious to convince him otherwise, she took another step down. They
now stood eye to eye.

“
I doubt I can forget, but
maybe I shouldn’t. I’ve spent a good many years running from the
past, and I’ve yet to escape it. It’s part of me, even unpleasant
parts, a wound that must heal or else fester. We haven’t exactly
been perfect, either of us, but maybe if we were to leave the
wounds open, we can accept the past, learn from our mistakes, and
go from there.”

He studied her as she spoke. “I was
wrong about you,” he said, lifting her locket up offer chest. “You
are more like your mother then I thought.”

Yes, she was, and for once, the thought
pleased her. “Maybe, but I daresay there is a great deal you don’t
know about me.” She said.

“
I don’t doubt that for a
moment.” He let the locket drop, his hand brushing her chest. At
the contact, his eyes darkened.

Gwen held her breath. He must have felt
it, too, the awareness. He must have shared the deep, primitive
need to kiss.

But instead of reaching for her, his
hands dropped to his side. His voice was stiffly formal. “It’s
late. I better go. I will try to stop by again soon.”

Gwen still wasn’t ready to let them go.
Snatching at his hand, she said the first thing she could think of
to make him stay, if only for a few more moments. “You will be here
next Saturday? For the children’s tournament?”

“
I don’t know, my lady. I’ve
got a lot do.”

She was all too conscious of the war in
his hand. “I know you are busy, but it’s important to them. Please
make the effort. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

He smiled, a brief dazzling tug at her
heart, as he brought their join hands to his lips. Looking in his
eyes, breathing in the very sent of him, she thought she would die
if he didn’t soon kiss her.

“
I am your vassal,” he said,
gently kissing her fingertips instead. “I live to serve you, my
lady.”

She recognized the words. It was the
phrase that begun the bear play as children, the magical key open
the doors of Camelot. Perhaps they were starting over, she
realized. And this time, Michael would be her King
Arthur.

He squeezed her hand before he let it
drop, telling her in his one simple way that he was also reluctant
to and this evening. Watching him stroll off to his boat, missing
him already, she told herself this was for the best way. She now
have time to prepare, to make next Saturday extra special. As Jude
had said, they must do all in their power to make it Michael’s best
birthday ever.

And when they were done, when they
finish their cake and presents their gifts, she’d make damn good
and certain he would never want to leave them again.

***

Seeing her all call leave, Jude step
back from her hiding place by the doorway and hurry to join her
brothers in the bedroom, all eagerly waiting the
verdict.

“
She talked him into it,”
she told him, smiling ear to ear. “We are staying.”

“
All of us?” Chris ask
anxiously. “Even Gwen?”

“
Even Gwen?” Jude heaved a
sigh, which she realize was one of relief. “Looks like she’s one of
us now.”

Chapter 19

“
Yank it. Quick. Geez, Gwen,
you let it get away.”

As Peter shook his head hopelessly,
Gwen handed her fishing pole across the boat. She had learned great
deal since coming to the bayou, but fishing was a skill she would
probably never master. Even when Peter kindly baited the hook for
her, she still let her nibble wiggler free.

Watching the boy wait in line again,
she marveled at how he and Patrick brought her along on their
fishing expedition. She had not asked to be included; she wondered
if they’d seen her whistle glances when they talked about their
adventures. How in gearing that they would notice, that they would
care enough to invite her along.

She wasn’t sure what had changed their
minds about her, but ever since the night she clean the fish, the
children seemed less or less likely to shut her out. They still
watched her long, and grew impatient with her inability to do would
be considered simple things, but gradually, they begun letting her
into their lives, and making themselves part of hers.