that thought was.
This man had already changed her life, and he would change it more. She knew it in her bones. The fire in her blood knew it and teased her with it. Brienne simply had no sense of how it would happen or when, but it would be soon.
Very soon
, the fire whispered.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
William watched as Brienne left, and that strange feeling in his blood began anew. This man was her father and offered no threat to her, and yet something insidehim knew that the man stood in Williamâs path to claiming her. He fought against releasing whatever pushed from within, repeating to himself that this man protected her as well. And he would protect her until she belonged to him. The heat racing in his veins eased and the redness in his gaze faded then.
âI would ask ye to keep away from my daughter, my lord.â
Though there was no disrespect in this manâs tone, there was a hint of guilt there. Or another emotion that William could not identify.
âWhat is your name?â
âGavin, my lord. Gavin the blacksmith.â
âGavin, I have done nothing to harm her. I would not dishonor or hurt her.â The manâs brow rose on one side, challenging him without a word. Others had tried; he knew that now. This man had kept her from harm. âI will not seek her out,â he offered, knowing the words to be a lie as soon as he uttered them.
âThank ye, my lord,â the man said, bowing to him, at what William could tell was great cost. âShe is our only child, and I would not see her abused or hurt.â
This man would do what he needed to in order to protect his daughter, whether that meant challenging a nobleman or humbling himself. He loved his daughter.
A tightness fisted around his heart, squeezing it and reminding him that no one had done that for him. As a bastard raised by a man who knew him to be the son of the king, no soft words were spared for him. A nuisance and an inconvenience to his mother, heâd interfered with her time with the king, shortened more so then by the kingâs need for a legitimate heir. Heâd learned early to depend only on himself and to expectnothing from even those he called parents. With only a small gesture, this man showed him all that was lacking in his life.
William could not force words past the tightness in his throat, so he nodded to Gavin and watched the man leave the clearing, following his daughter as he said he would. He wondered if she would be punished for being caught alone with a man, but then he remembered the glimmer in Gavinâs eyes as he spoke of her. She was safe in her fatherâs care.
As he made his way to return to his camp, waiting until he was certain no one could follow him, the pit of his stomach began to churn. William reached the camp and found that more of his men had arrived, so he spent the rest of the day organizing their weapons and supplies. Throughout the day, he thought about the cause of the pain he felt. Lying on his blankets that night, awaiting the rest of the troop, the truth of it struck him.
Brienne was not safe. Neither Gavin nor he himself would be able to protect her from whatever they would be facing. And chances were, William would be the one to hurt her worst of all. For if she were part of those endangering the king or his kingdom, William must stop her as well.
But the next morn, against his own better judgment, against the advice of his closest friends and his word to the blacksmith, William positioned himself along the path he knew she would walk.
And she did.
This time, she approached heading toward the valley, carrying a basket on her arm. Heâd been waiting a short time when she passed the place where he sat, next to the stream and not far from where heâd met herthe day before. When she noticed him, her step faltered a bit before she stopped and bent her head down in a respectful gesture.
âMy lord.â
âGood morrow, Brienne,â
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