Pawl, the Court Healer and a widower, had a problem with drink for years and years until he’d recently married Lady Lindara. Now he was fit and happy, but still brewing up his tincture for those in need, like Gawain.
“Bless you, Perceval.”
Gawain uncorked the bottle, pinched his nose, and downed the gelatinous, repulsive fluid in one go, gagging the moment it slid down his throat. The taste and texture was that of a rotten egg. However, since this was the only effective remedy he knew of, he endured.
Perceval took back the empty bottle and stuck it in his belt. “Now start talking.”
“About what?”
Perceval dropped his hands to his hips and glared.
“Oh, fine, big man.
“You know I met Drea a few months ago when the queen ordered me to deliver …show more content…
But most important was the way he treated Wallace. Drea considered herself a good judge of character, and it was easy to see Gawain was not faking his genuine adoration of her son. It made her respect Gawain, start feeling things she should not…
Shaking her head and taking another sip from her mug, Drea reminded herself that she could not do this, have a relationship with a man right now. She was simply not ready. Perhaps years down the road, she’d try again. For now, she’d be a little more pleasant to Gawain, since her son adored him, and having such a positive relationship with a grown man was good for Wallace. Her sweet—yet active—boy deserved that.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes against the bright, late-morning sun and inhaled the autumn perfume of meadow grass from across the lane, warming hay, and the mild tang of goats from the farm down the …show more content…
As she motioned for him to sit beside her on the bench, she smiled, one of those rare, true ones, making his heart shudder and his throat tighten. Perhaps he should tell her the truth, that his mouth moved faster than his brain before, and the mention of a favor was a mistake, a slip.
“Well?” she asked encouragingly. “What is it you need?”
He stalled, pausing to slowly extract the wool from his nose, which was probably off-putting, but he needed as much time as possible to concoct this fake favor scenario. Realizing he had nowhere to put the bloody wool, he balled it into his fist, praying an idea would come to him about how to rectify this mess he’d created.
Oddly, an image of Arthur’s southern cottage floated into Gawain’s mind. That was the place the king had taken Guinevere after their row following the queen’s intimate night with Gawain, and Arthur’s time with Drea. Gawain recalled something about it being a quaint place, nestled in a small forest, with a clear spring off to the side, and a rope swing dangling over the water. An idea started to form, and once again, Gawain found himself talking before formulating a plan.
“I’d like to take some time
“Bless you, Perceval.”
Gawain uncorked the bottle, pinched his nose, and downed the gelatinous, repulsive fluid in one go, gagging the moment it slid down his throat. The taste and texture was that of a rotten egg. However, since this was the only effective remedy he knew of, he endured.
Perceval took back the empty bottle and stuck it in his belt. “Now start talking.”
“About what?”
Perceval dropped his hands to his hips and glared.
“Oh, fine, big man.
“You know I met Drea a few months ago when the queen ordered me to deliver …show more content…
But most important was the way he treated Wallace. Drea considered herself a good judge of character, and it was easy to see Gawain was not faking his genuine adoration of her son. It made her respect Gawain, start feeling things she should not…
Shaking her head and taking another sip from her mug, Drea reminded herself that she could not do this, have a relationship with a man right now. She was simply not ready. Perhaps years down the road, she’d try again. For now, she’d be a little more pleasant to Gawain, since her son adored him, and having such a positive relationship with a grown man was good for Wallace. Her sweet—yet active—boy deserved that.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes against the bright, late-morning sun and inhaled the autumn perfume of meadow grass from across the lane, warming hay, and the mild tang of goats from the farm down the …show more content…
As she motioned for him to sit beside her on the bench, she smiled, one of those rare, true ones, making his heart shudder and his throat tighten. Perhaps he should tell her the truth, that his mouth moved faster than his brain before, and the mention of a favor was a mistake, a slip.
“Well?” she asked encouragingly. “What is it you need?”
He stalled, pausing to slowly extract the wool from his nose, which was probably off-putting, but he needed as much time as possible to concoct this fake favor scenario. Realizing he had nowhere to put the bloody wool, he balled it into his fist, praying an idea would come to him about how to rectify this mess he’d created.
Oddly, an image of Arthur’s southern cottage floated into Gawain’s mind. That was the place the king had taken Guinevere after their row following the queen’s intimate night with Gawain, and Arthur’s time with Drea. Gawain recalled something about it being a quaint place, nestled in a small forest, with a clear spring off to the side, and a rope swing dangling over the water. An idea started to form, and once again, Gawain found himself talking before formulating a plan.
“I’d like to take some time