love he’d found another.
His father had returned to Camelot over and over through the years, torn between the needs of his king and the needs of his son. Galahad suspected that such a man chafed at staying overly long in the pleasant, yet too peaceful, world of Arthur’s court, and indeed his father accompanied him in his travels again and again. It was not until the spring before this that Galahad was at long last convinced to return to the only home he’d ever known. And returned as well to a king who looked upon him as a son and a queen who took the place of the mother who had died at his birth.
He leaned forward and trailed his fingers through the water. Ripples ran out from his touch to mar the smooth perfection of the pond. Odd. The pain of Dindrane’s loss had faded but so too had the joy of their short time together. They had but two full summers before she’d perished in the attempt to bear him a son. He tried to pull her image back into his mind. Vaguely, he could see a girl: tall and slender, skin like cream, hair dark as the night. But her face, her features, sweet as her disposition, shimmered in his mind, as elusive as the water between his fingers.
Why could he not remember? Guilt and frustration surged through him. For so long, the pain was too sharp to bear and he’d tried not to think of her. Now, he could not call her to mind at all. She was his first love, his only love and had stolen his heart forever. But he was naught save a mortal man with all the frailties of such, and only one face lingered in his mind.
Fair and delicate with a resolute expression and sparks that flashed in chestnut eyes.
Tessa.
Dindrane was a long-ago moment in his life. A moment perfect and unique and preserved forever in his soul. Tessa was here and now and he could not deny desire had teased him since the moment he’d realized she was a woman. Still, he had not remained celibate these long years. Indeed, he’d had his fill of comely wenches more than willing to quench the fire of a man such as he.
No, when he looked in the eyes of this maddening woman it was not the pull of his loins that kept him at watch by her bed. Nor was it the pure simplicity of the love he’d shared with Dindrane. This was altogether different. Indefinable. Inexplicable. And it tugged at something deep within him.
“God’s breath.” He stared into the water, half expecting to see her face gazing back from the cool, green depths of the pool “I am bewitched.”
He pulled himself to his feet, pushing the sorcery of this woman’s spell on him to the back of his mind. For now, there were other matters regarding Lady Tessa to consider.
He had not believed the absurd notion that she had come to Camelot to be his wife, although, he notedwith surprise, it was not an altogether distasteful idea. Nay, he had only said such to her in hopes of igniting the temper he’d already sampled. With anger would come truth.
What was the truth? Merlin and Tessa had spoken of a quest. He would never attempt such a thing with a woman by his side. The very idea was absurd. Yet, if the wizard decreed it, Galahad would have little choice. He clenched his jaw. Even a female as unique as Tessa was still a mere woman. Galahad’s journeys and exploits had been solitary or in the company of his father or other knights. Men willing and able to lay their lives down to save a comrade. Men dependable and trustworthy in battle and friendship. Men with a sense of honor and courage. Galahad had yet to meet a woman with the same.
Galahad strode toward his horse, decision firm in his mind. No quest on earth, save the simplest task, could be survived, let alone accomplished, with a woman along. Regardless of the magician’s plans, surely Galahad could convince Tessa of the dangers of such a ridiculous notion. She had a keen mind and could not fail to see the logic of his argument.
Indeed, he pulled himself into the saddle, Merlin himself could not argue with
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