Gwen pursed her lips at their suspicious behaviour but Miss Brecken linked arms with her and together, they followed Isabelle and Mari down the path. A breakfast feast would be awaiting them back at the house and indeed, her stomach felt as hollow as a reed.
The gate was held open by Mari whose eyes danced in merriment.
What was going on…
Oh my.
Two horses, reins clasped by Captain Brecken, twisted their heads to peruse her – Flint, whose saddle was decorated with ivy, and Maeve, a sturdy Welsh cob whose mane was entwined with red and lilac ribbons.
“W-what is all this?”
Bearing lanterns and wide grins were Rhys and Hugh, while attending to the saddle bags was Tristan…
He turned. “Gwen, mycariad. I was hoping we might ride to the stone circle ofBedd Ddraigtogetherfor the dawn of Christmas Day.” He wafted a hand. “I have blankets in case you are cold and plenty of food, and these lanterns hook to the saddles, though it will be light soon enough and… I’m wittering.” He smiled and proffered an arm. “Would you do me the honour, my lady, and join me for breakfast at sunrise?”
Gwen brought fingers to her lips. “I would be delighted, Tristan.” She peered to Mari and Isabelle. “You knew, didn’t you? Made me wear this gown with its ample skirts so I could ride without my habit.”
They gleefully chortled, before assisting her to mount Maeve while Tristan swung himself into the saddle of Flint.
With jubilant grins, Hugh and Mari clasped arms, Isabelle and Rhys likewise, while the Breckens and Elen – who still wore the captain’s over-sized gloves – gaily waved them off.
Gwen and Tristan nudged their horses and settled to a sedate walk.
Little by little, the hubbub of the churchyard faded as they made their way through the village, past windows lit by candles, chimney smoke scenting the air with sweet roasting hams.
They were silent a while to concentrate on the cobbled thoroughfare as unseen ice lingered and the soft glow of their saddle-lanterns only stretched so far.
But Flint and Maeve came into their own as they began the ascent into the snowy hills, greased hooves steady and muscular frames sturdy.
A dawn tinge now lit the land and Tristan twisted in his saddle. “I hope you’ll forgive the subterfuge, but we’ve barely had a moment alone and…” He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you most certainly did.” She grinned back and adjusted her hat. “I adore the stone circle, as you know, and have never been there for sunrise. Let alone in this glorious snow.”
“I came up here yesterday afternoon just to check it was passable. Mr Pugh gave me a sack of gravel for the worst parts.”
They continued their gradual ascent, chatting of the inconsequential, but Gwen also knew they would soon have to talk of the consequential. She still wished to travel. If not this year, perchance the next and she wondered if Tristan–
“Look!”
She sat up in the saddle. And there ahead was the stone circle ofBedd Ddraig. It appeared so different. Jagged grey teeth that broke the snow and yawned wide.
Tristan guided Flint to a lone tree and dismounted, looping the reins over a branch.
All around them was fabled mountain, hush snow and deep chill. But a comforting chill – crisp and life affirming.
Then there he was at her mare’s side, appearing so handsome within the glow of the lantern, stubble burgeoning upon his jaw, his Llanedwyn-crimson waistcoat and pure-white neckcloth contrasting with his charcoal-black hair.
He proffered a broad leather-gloved hand. “Allow me.”
Tristan caughthis beloved’s waist as she slid from Maeve, but as chance would have it, the use of his entire body was required to steady them both.
Her lithe frame pressed close, cheeks flush with the cold, those endless blue eyes gazing at him.
What was a man to do?
He clutched her yet closer, bent his head and kissed her.
With no witnesses but for the ancient stones and mountains.
