Believe (16 page)

“You said witch, right? With a W?”

“You will drive me mad before this ends,” he muttered.

“Yeah.” She grinned. “But it should be one hell of a ride.”

“…A
nd then, when I was in third grade, my dad was…”

The cry of the birds and rustle of the wind mixed with the constant chatter of the woman on the mount by his side and he paid it as little heed. Galahad should have known his silence would not still her tongue. In the scant hour they’d ridden from Camelot, Tessa had barely paused for breath. Was the fair lady affected by nerves now that their quest was truly underway? ’Twould not be a mark against her. The bravest of men were known to hesitate before plunging ahead into the unknown.

With every passing moment, he understood more and more of what she said. Not each and every word, but the meaning of her comments taken as a whole was clearer to him. ’Twas difficult to ignore the often intriguing images she brought to mind but at this moment he needed to sort out the myriad of emotions and thoughts in his own head.

“…It was the Greeks, of course, who originally developed…”

Her words droned on like bees, unheeded, her voice
an almost pleasant accompaniment to his thoughts. His gaze strayed to a long, shapely leg, exposed by the tuck of her skirts beneath her. She’d insisted upon sitting her horse astride in the manner of a man and complained of her missing
jeans
, the heavy leggings she’d worn on her arrival. He admitted privately they would have served her well but aloud merely noted the impropriety of a woman clad in such a garment. His comment earned him a quick retort, her words unfamiliar but her meaning unmistaken. He smiled to himself. She was indeed an unusual woman.

But what did she have that he needed? He slanted her a thoughtful glance. She sat straight and tall, her chin high, her firm breasts thrust forward proudly. Aye, he bit back a grin, she did indeed have what he needed. He’d be a fool to deny he wanted her in his bed. And a greater fool still to disregard that the emotions she triggered within him were far deeper than the lust in his loins. ’Twas equal in strength to the love he’d had for his wife yet ’twas as unlike that sentiment as night to day.

He pushed aside a nagging sense of guilt. He could not help but wonder if his attraction to Tessa was a betrayal of Dindrane. Certainly she would not have thought it so and would have expected—nay—insisted he marry again long ago. Yet that knowledge did naught to allay the unease that gripped him when he ventured too close in spirit to the Lady Tessa. Dindrane would not begrudge his feelings for Tessa. Feelings so different from those he’d held for his wife, he was unsure of their meaning even as he struggled with their depth.

Dindrane was the moon and the stars and the heavens. She was as close to perfection as a mortal woman
could be. Quiet and yielding and wanting only what he wanted and he had loved her with a fervor that lasted well beyond her death.

And what of his feelings for Tessa?

“…It was that whole business about not using your hands that I couldn’t…”

Surely, if this was love ’twas an odd variation of the emotion. If Dindrane was the heavens, then Tessa was the earth: unyielding and stubborn and strong. He knew of no other woman, save perhaps Guinevere herself, who could face his approaching arrow without swooning. Or refuse to temper her opinions to match his own. Or insist on treatment such as he would bestow on few men, as if she were as good as he.

Perhaps she was
.

Nonsense. She was naught but a woman.

Then why did every moment with her challenge every belief he’d ever held regarding females and their proper place and their suitable demeanor? And more, challenge his own mind?

What did she have that he needed?

Perhaps the answer lay hidden in the questions that lingered about the Lady Tessa. His was not a curious nature. He’d wanted to know why she was here only because he’d been confident her answer would have a direct bearing on his own endeavors. And indeed, he was right. Now, it may well be time to learn more about the mysterious land she came from. ’Twas exceedingly odd. Most foreign visitors he’d encountered in the past were all too willing to expound in great, and often boring, detail upon the country of their birth, yet Tessa appeared not merely reluctant but uneasy at the topic.

She was a riddle as complicated as that which led their quest. In this they shared a common bond: he too was not fond of riddles. They seemed to dance in his head with neither rhyme nor reason, frustrating his attempts to unravel even the simplest. Although he would never confess such a weakness to her.

When all was said and done, in the privacy of his chambers, in the quiet moments of his life, Galahad considered himself an ordinary man with a firm belief in honesty and integrity, honor and justice. ’Twas was no more than the times he lived in and an admittedly stronger than ordinary taste for adventure, that thrust him into the role of knight and servant to the king. ’Twas not an especially humble opinion, yet ’twas naught but the truth.

“…But real underwear would probably brighten my entire outlook…”

He was in no way a scholar and while he had been taught the fundamentals of writing, ’twas not a skill he found particularly interesting or useful. Not that he was a stupid man. No, he was simply a man of action more attuned to work of the body than the head. He was prone to respond with the first and most direct solution to any problem, drawing his sword as often as not.

‘Twas different with Tessa. She obviously was fond of the written arts. Why, she’d even insisted on taking along the small, odd book he rarely saw out of her keeping. Useless, of course, but she clung to it as if it were an amulet for her protection or salvation. He’d not expected such superstition from her. Tessa was clever, with a sharp wit and a keen mind. She would, no doubt, put thought ahead of action.
’Twould serve her well in the days ahead. Would that he was as—

He jerked up straighter and stared at her.

She cast him a sincere smile. “Don’t you think so?”

He nodded in silent agreement. What she’d asked was of no real consequence. All that truly mattered was the realization that cut through him with the sharp edge of truth. ’Twas all clear to him now. Why Merlin insisted he could not find the Grail without her. And why the king had supported the wizard’s stand.

They complemented one another, he and this strange, lovely creature. Each had what the other lacked. His courage was forged from strength, hers from knowledge. They were halves of the same whole. Complete only when together. And together they could find what they sought.

Then the truth shall be revealed and that which each man seeks shall be his
.

‘Twas clear this was the truth revealed. His heart lightened. The riddle may not be so difficult as he’d feared.

He glanced at Tessa. If he could unravel one riddle, then there was indeed hope for another.

‘Twas yet another challenge. He heaved a silent sigh. He was not at all fond of riddles.

“So what happened to the brass bands? The crowds of cheering well-wishers? The going-away parties?” Tessa shook her head in disgust. “You haven’t heard one word I’ve said, have you?”

“Indeed I have, my lady.” Galahad’s voice was a long, lazy drawl, the tone of a man humoring a woman.
Was there anything more annoying? “Each and every word.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“Allow me a moment to gather my thoughts. ’Twas so much…” He furrowed his brow in an exaggerated gesture, probably the Middle Ages version of sarcasm. “You discussed the journey of your family from a land called
Nebraska
when you were engaged in an adventure I believe you referred to as the
third grade
. You further droned on about the contribution of ancient Greeks to various develop—”

“That’s enough.”

“—at one point, you again noted the influence of the good Sister Abigail upon your life with particular emphasis on your dislike of something—what was the word, ah yes,
soccer
—”

“All right. Stop.” She laughed. “I give up. You were paying attention.”

His lips quirked up in a small, satisfied smile. Was he really listening or did he have some weird ability to play back everything he’d heard? Like some kind of human tape recorder? Somehow, she suspected the latter.

“So,” she tilted her head and eyed him, “answer my question.”

“Which question was that, fair Tessa?”

“The last one. Why wasn’t there a big send-off when we left the castle? The king didn’t even come out and say good-bye.”

“’Tis not the nature of a journey such as this. While our purpose is not a secret—”

She snorted. “From what I’ve seen it would be pretty hard to keep a secret in Camelot.”

“—the king prefers a certain amount of discretion. Those who were witness last night, from noble to servant, owe their allegiance and loyalty to Arthur and him alone. Word of our quest will not travel beyond the walls of the castle.” His voice rang with a quiet confidence.

“So, what’s the big deal?” Why didn’t she want to hear his answer? “Why does he want to keep this under wraps?”

Galahad paused as if deciding how much to tell her. “There are those who would try to stop us.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He pinned her with a sharp glance.

“You’re not kidding.” She shook her head in disgust. “Of course you’re not kidding. Everybody has gone on and on about challenges and dangers and risks. I should have known there’d be a bad guy in all this. What’s a good adventure without a villain? So who is it? A rival king? Another wizard? Vikings?” The answer flashed in her mind. “Mordred, right?”

He stared at the road ahead, his tone level and noncommittal. “’Twould be impossible to say for certain. The king has no proof as to Mordred’s treachery. It may well be other adversaries do not exist and our concerns are groundless. Or—”

“Or the multiple-choice answer is all of the above.” Her stomach lurched slightly. The sway of the horse had already produced that effect several times but this was different. This was fear. “Swell.”

“’Tis no need to worry as of yet. We are barely out of sight of Camelot.” He shrugged. “When I spoke to the king—”

“When did you talk to the king?”

“Shortly before we departed. He said—”

“You talked to Arthur without me?”

“Aye,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “He said—”

“Why did you talk to him without me? I thought we were in this together?”

“Tessa.” He caught her gaze with his. “I am resigned—nay accepting—of your presence at my side. You have proved your worth. I do not doubt your courage. I no longer even question the reasons behind your inclusion in this venture. But I am unused to dealing with a woman as,” he shook his head in disbelief, “as I would another man. ’Twill take some time to accustom myself to the idea. I beg your patience with me.”

She stared for a long moment.

Galahad smiled. “What? No quick retort? No biting lash of your tongue? I can scarce believe at long last I have silenced the Lady Tessa.”

“Neither can I,” she said, struggling to digest his apparent change of heart. She must have impressed the hell out of him with that archery business. “It takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong.”

“Oh?” He lifted a dark brow. “When was I wrong?”

The fire crackled and snapped and sparks escaped into the night.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk again.” Tessa sat staring into the camp fire, wondering just how stiff she’d be in the morning. Right now her body ached from her scalp to her toenails. There was a lot more to riding a horse than she’d suspected. A lot more pain anyway. She pulled the meager blanket around her
shoulders tighter. The coverlet was thin and scratchy and apparently all she’d get in terms of a bed. “You really think it’s a good idea? Sleeping in a cave like this?”

Galahad stirred the flames with a long stick. He’d settled on the opposite side of the campfire, about as far away from her as he could get. Ever since they’d stopped for the night, and he’d helped her off her horse, holding her a bit longer than was probably necessary and a bit shorter than she would have liked, he’d kept his distance. Was he scared of her? Or himself?

“A cave is easy shelter to be made use of. We will not be this lucky every night.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing back there?” She glanced at the darkness that seemed to stretch forever. They sat with their backs to the chill wall, the opening of the cave on one hand, its yawning depths on the other. Creepy. Very, very creepy.

“’Twas no sign of bears or wolves.” He tossed a short, fat branch on the fire. “There is little else to be of concern.”

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” she murmured. He ignored her, apparently caught up in his own thoughts. Too bad. She needed to get her mind off of what might have lived in this cave once and what could still come back. “So,” she groped for a topic of conversation, “worked out the riddle yet?”

He glanced at her sharply. “Nay. Have you?”

“Nope. I told you, I’m terrible at riddles.”

He sighed. “’Tis not my greatest skill either.”

“Maybe we can figure it out together?”

“Aye.” He stared at her from across the fire. Was it
the reflection of the flames that burned in his eyes? His voice rang with intensity. “Together.”

“Aye,” she said softly. Exactly what did
together
mean? What did he want it to mean? What did she? She shook her head mentally, pushed away the images of
together
that crowded her mind and tried to concentrate on Merlin’s puzzle. “I really wish I’d written that damn riddle down somewhere. I can’t remember exactly—”

“When the peril is naught save illusion, when the infidel comes to the fold, when the offering can be no greater, then the truth shall be revealed and that which each man seeks—” Galahad’s dark gaze bored into hers. His deep tones echoed in the cave, “—shall be his.”

“Wow.” She wanted to melt into a small puddle. Why did he have to look at her that way? Why did he have to sound so good? And why did she want so much more? She struggled to pull herself together. “I mean, that was fantastic. I don’t believe it. We only heard the riddle once. How did you do that?”