Free Enchanted Warrior by Sharon Ashwood Page B

struggled between the truth and sparing her feelings. “Merlin was a mighty spell caster. Unfortunately, he always believed he knew what was best. There were those who warned him against a war with the demons, but he would not listen and so broke the world as we knew it.”
    â€œHe was flawed,” Tamsin said.
    â€œThen why do the witches honor his memory so deeply?”
    Tamsin lowered her eyes until all he could see was the crescent of her lashes. Her voice grew quiet. “Because he reminds us to be humble. If even the best of us can fail, we must cherish obedience. The Elders govern how we live now.”
    Gawain barely resisted the impulse to reach across and raise her chin. She had beautiful dark eyes but also a way of hiding them.
    â€œI don’t think Merlin himself would have approved of your Elders. He never valued obedience.”
    She gave a lopsided smile. “I think that’s the point.”
    This time Gawain laughed. “Serves him right.”
    â€œBut you trusted Merlin to put you to sleep for nearly a thousand years.”
    â€œI did that for Arthur. He is my friend. I would not let him wake alone in a strange land with no one to guard his back.”
    Now she did look up, turning the full force of her dark eyes on him. They were the deep brown of rich forest loam. The color made him think of new life and deep mysteries. Tamsin had immense power, even if she did not fully realize it; despite himself, he could feel it like the warmth of sun against his skin. Too much to be thrown away on a man she didn’t like or caged by Elders who thought they knew best. With sudden clarity Gawain understood how much she wanted her freedom—and how much he wanted her to have it.
    As he looked, her gaze grew clouded with emotion. “You are a very loyal friend to risk so much. Your king is a lucky man.”
    â€œHe deserves no less.” Gawain cleared his throat, thrown off balance by her reaction.
    A brief silence fell. He realized he’d cleaned his plate, eating every delicious bite. “Thank you for dinner. It was very good.”
    â€œWould you like another helping?” Tamsin asked. She’d finished, too, but her portion had been much daintier.
    He did want more but wasn’t sure what was considered polite these days. It seemed better to exercise restraint. “No, thank you.”
    And yet Gawain wasn’t ready for the meal to end. He rose and walked to the balcony, looking out at the city lights. She’d left the curtains open again, instead of shutting them against prying eyes. He should scold her for being careless but had lost the heart to chide her. He’d walked into her home guarded against seduction and, instead, found simple hospitality. He hadn’t been prepared for that.
    â€œI’ll tell you a story about my king,” he said. “When I first came to Camelot, I knew no one. Arthur was my kinsman, but we had not met. My father, King Lot, was a great and wealthy lord and much was expected of me. I was eager to prove my worth and nobility as a knight, and as the Prince of Lothian.”
    He remembered Camelot with jewellike clarity—the fine clothes and rich food. It had seemed exotic to a lad from the north. “I entered every tourney, accepted every quest and fought every battle that came my way. Eventually, Arthur gave me the task of rescuing three maidens held for ransom by the Black Knight. Of course, I set off at once.”
    He turned from the window to see Tamsin leaning on one hand, her elbow on the table. Her attention was entirely fixed on him, and Gawain felt like himself again—a rare thing since awakening in this strange and disheartening century. “The Black Knight’s castle was in the Forest Sauvage, a place fraught with magic and treachery. I lost two of my companions along the way, but in the end we laid siege to the castle and brought the women home. When I knelt once more before Arthur,