Wren and the Werebear (20 page)

"There. Little Wren, princess of the forest."

"I thought you were off taking a naked swim," Wren said, adjusting the flower garland in her hair.

"I got up early," Dawson said.

"You sure did," Wren said, looking around. "What's the occasion?"

"You mean, besides your coronation as princess of the forest?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, of course. All the flowers just for little old me?"

"No, you're right. There's something else." Dawson looked at her and Wren swore she could see sparks twinkling in his irises. He was hiding something. She peered around.

"Are you hiding chocolate chip pancakes behind one of those trees?"

"No," Dawson said, laughing. "Sorry to disappoint you, but no pancakes."

"I give up. What is it?"

Dawson's smile twitched at one corner, and he took Wren's hands in his.

"Wren, you've been here for three months now. Every day with you has been wonderful."

Wren's heart twisted in her chest. Was he trying to ask her nicely to leave? Where was he going?

Her expression must have shown on her face, because Dawson stopped.

"What is it?" he said. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Wren said. All of a sudden her eyes welled with tears and her chest seized up with a tension she could not explain. She thought of leaving Maugham, of leaving Dawson, and her mouth went dry.

"Wren, what's wrong?"

"I don't—It's just..." Wren cast about in her mind for the right way to say it, but she was lost in her ideas of what he would say next. At the thought of leaving him, everything went dark in her mind. "It's just that I can't..."

"Can't what?"

"Not that I can't, I just don't..." Wren trailed off, completely flustered. How to tell him that she wanted nothing more than to stay in Maugham?

"Don't what?" Dawson squeezed her hands, and at his touch she blurted out what she'd been thinking but not willing to say.

"I don't want to leave!"

Wren clutched Dawson's hands.

"I know I've been here for a long time," she went on, brushing her tears away. "And if you need me to leave for a few days, or stay somewhere else, or if you just want your cabin back to yourself—"

"Wren—"

"Or if you want more privacy, I can stay at Matt's hotel—"

"Wren!"

Wren stopped and looked up at Dawson. A soft smile spread over his face.

"Wren, I don't want you to leave."

A rush of confusion swept through Wren. She swallowed.

"You don't?"

"Wren, of course I want you to stay."

"Then why...I don't..." Wren shook her head, flustered. All of her logic was useless here. She had no idea what he wanted, why he was here talking with her, anything. Then—oh lord, what was he doing?—Dawson knelt down on one knee and reached into his pocket.

He lifted the ring with fingers that trembled only slightly, but trembled nonetheless. The wind rose and whipped the garlands of jasmine, sending the scent of flowers whirling around the two of them. Wren's lips parted in shock.

"Wren, you are the most wonderful woman, and smarter than anything. Smarter than me, that's for sure. I want to spend the rest of my life hiking with you, and dancing with you, and splashing around in the ocean with you, and..."

Dawson took a deep breath. The birds were quiet in the trees, and Wren couldn't hear anything but his words anyway. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute. That Dawson would want her, would go so far as to kneel and propose... she didn't know how to respond, not at all.

"You had the good sense to go blazing by me on a motorcycle the first time you came here, and I didn't expect you to come back. But now that you're here? Of course I want you to stay."

Wren pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to stop the happy sobs threatening to burst through her quivering lips. Pure joy washed over her as he spoke the final words, his eyes locked on hers.

"Wren, I love you, and I want you to stay forever. Stay with me. Be my wife."

There was no logic, no thought necessary. Wren remembered her father's words, and she knew that this time, she would let instinct decide for her.

"Yes," she whispered. With shaking hands she reached out and let Dawson slide the ring over her finger. It was beautiful, a simple stone set in rose gold, but more beautiful were Dawson's golden eyes as she nodded in acceptance, tears running down her cheeks. "Yes, Dawson, of course I'll stay."

He hadn't fully stood up before Wren threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her close to his chest, and in that moment Wren knew that she could let go of the pain she'd been carrying with her for so long. He was hers, and she was his, and now, in his arms, she felt as though she'd finally found her place.

The End

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***

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Excerpt
:

Nim growls, his black fur bristling, his haunches tense. The soldier raises his gun, and fear tears through my whole body.

I throw myself at the soldier, coming up with a plan as I move.

“Help!” I cry out as I crash into him. I knock him off balance and his gun fires. I’m terrified that he’s hit Nim, but I can’t look back to see. My hands are against his chest, clutching at his arms.

The shock comes, again, through my body. It hits the soldier too, I can see it in his gold-streaked eyes. Something between us arcs hot and electric, and it makes me dizzy, but I can’t let him go. Nim needs to get away.

“Help me! Please!” I cry. The soldier finally gets his bearings and shoves me off of him, aiming his gun. I turn to look, fright choking me so hard I can’t breathe. But Nim is already at the end of the alleyway, darting off down the street.

The soldier kneels quickly at the side of the injured man. I don’t think he’ll live. Nim slashed into him pretty deep. I watch him as he checks the dead man’s pulse, unable to stop myself from noticing his strong arms, his broad shoulders. I swallow my desire back inside. Now is not the time.

Then the soldier looks up at me, his face stricken with anger.

He knows. He knows what I am. I’m sure of it.

***

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