He clasped her hand, kissed that palm. “When I returned, I felt affection for a cherished friend, but that affection so swiftly deepened and grew. I’ve a passion so deep for you, Gwen Evans, that can never be lost.”
“But… You apologised for kissing me. Said you felt…odd.”
A cacophony of tuts and mutters proliferated.
“No, Gwen, I felt like a king, but…I felt unable to declare myself.”
“I do not understand.”
Tristan drew back. “I found…” He twisted to his holdall on the table, and began to root around – blanket, compass, another woollen jacket, scarf…beef sandwich?How did that get there?His fingers met satin and he brought out the lilac ribbon.
“I found this,” he said, “with some other keepsakes, and because I had no memories of them, I feared that I was not free to declare myself to you. I feared that I’d promised myself to another in that lost year, when in truth, it was always you. Also…” He began to fumble at his cravat, unravelling the fierce knot.
“No undressing, my lord.” declared Coachman Jones. “I don’t hold with undressing. Haven’t seen Mrs Jones undressed since 1801.”
Tristan found a gap in the material and hauled out his pendant.
Gwen broughther hands to her cheeks, stared in disbelief.
A flawless dragon carved into a semi-circle.
He still possessed it. After all he’d been through.
They’d seen the drawing in her father’s book and thought it a perfect charm for them both, an unending circle of Welsh folklore and devotion.
“This,” he said fiercely, “was my talisman in that sea and then in Ireland when I had nothing. I felt it binding me to…someone, somewhere, though I knew not who. Yet, in the end, Gwen…” He gently smiled. “The past does not matter. Remembering would not have mattered.”
She opened her mouth to–
“Why was that?” enquired a Ghoul Robber.
“Because, Gwen Evans, over the past weeks, I’ve fallen in love with you all over again. Because although circumstance may alter, my love, my ardent love for you will always follow.” He stood near – she could smell leather and salt. “My mortal mind may have forgotten, my body altered,” he whispered, “but my heart remained true to this pendant. To us. I always felt as though I’d a void within my soul that ached and sought. Only when you were standing by my side did it fill and soothe. Yet that foolish mind refused to see that the past and the present were the same. The sole question is…” His gaze dropped to his boots. “Do you still feel the same, Gwen? I have returned to you…a little battered.”
A hush filled the slate hut; even the audience remained mute for her answer.
Gwen reached up to her collar, unfastened the top button and tugged on a silver chain.
Withdrew her own pendant.
“I thought to remove this last night,” she said, tears clogging her throat, “but found I…could not. For I love you, Tristan. I love both the man you were and the man who has returned yet more so. A man who fought so hard for life.”
They placed their pendants together and the two fitted. Perfect and whole.
“I fought so hard because of you, Gwen…” His hand reached up to cup her cheek once more and she shifted to kiss the palm. “For home. For Mari. For family. Fought for…love.”
Ahhhsresounded. “Now, give her a kiss, eh?”
Gwen felt her cheeks flush as the assemblage drummed their fists on the table. “Perhaps we should wait until later.”
“Hir yw pob ymaros,”declared a Ghoul Robber.
Their gazes turned from each other to find him rummaging his hand in the holdall, a half-eaten beef sandwich in his other.
Tristan smiled. “Owen is correct, Gwen, ‘waiting is long’ and–”
“Ah ha!” the Ghoul Robber cried, drawing from the holdall a sprig of…mistletoe? “Knew I’d seen this when I was…er. Well, anyhow, there’s no excuse now, your lordshipfullness.” He clambered onto the bench and waved it about, chalk dust drifting like snow.
Gwen’s beloved quirked a brow. “It appears my daughter packed for every eventuality.”
