Page 53 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“I’m not saying you shoulddoit. In fact, I think you should stop. But I just like it when your body is…”

She bit her lip, realizing what she’d said, and Bridget couldn’t stop herself from smirking, just a bit. It was nice to feel light and free and easy like this. It had been happening more often, around Gwen.

“Go on,” said Bridget.

“I was going to say ‘between me and danger’ actually, but you clearly think a lot of yourself.”

Her eyelashes were so devoid of color they almost looked translucent, just a hint of strawberries and cream against her freckled cheeks, or… not quite cheeks, really, but the place between the cheek and the curve of the eye that Bridget couldn’t name but enjoyed very particularly. She had wanted to kiss Gwen there before, and had stopped herself, because it was probably a weird thing to do.

She really had missed this. Her body missed it; her heart missed it. She’d forgotten that just standing with Gwen could feel this way: like catching her breath, or the momentary peace between bouts of pain.

“Ride with me today?” Gwen said, because she was too generous by half.

“Yes,” said Bridget. “Please.”

It was very evident when they all mounted up which members of the party had encountered wild boars, chronic ailments, and hound-sized kittens the previous day. Most everybody else was relatively chipper, unblemished, and ready to face the journey. Arthur had a long, fresh scratch on his face, just missing his eye, which could only have come from trying to “walk” his new pet, as he’d been threatening to do.

“Nobody talk to me this morning,” he said feebly when he passed Bridget setting out. “They’ve taken my kitten from me, and I am bereft. Besides… I’ve used all my words for the day already, there aren’t any left.”

“Can that be true?” Bridget asked Gwen.

She laughed. “No. Sometimes he tells me very officiously that he just wants us to coexist in my chambers or his in silence, both getting on with our own tasks, and he’s quiet for about sixteen seconds before he absolutelyhasto say something about the book he’s reading.”

“Sidney did say he’s been reading books.”

“Oh, yes. He’s been doing all sorts of alarming things. I think he’s trying to better himself. Noble, I suppose, even if it frightens me.”

“But you’ve been doing that too,” Bridget said, darting a sideways glance at Gwen’s expression as she did so.

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

“Hmm.” She took one hand off the reins to pull her hair away from her face, twisting it at the nape of her neck. They were still riding through mostly forested land and it was humid enough that, warmed by her armor and the effort of riding, Bridget could almost imagine it was a poor summer day instead of a fine autumn one. “I think I just realized I was… better at certain things than I’d thought. And Gabriel needed me, so I didn’t have much choice. But it feels good to be useful. It turns out that everything that makes me a terrible socialite is quite sought after in a strategist and a council member. Apart from the bit where I have to try to convince people I’m making sense, because according to Lord Best, I am exceedingly rude and a horrible diplomat. But I like the rest.”

“You’re very good at it.”

Gwen seemed to be blushing, judging by the blotch of color Bridget could see in profile. “I am.” She said it almost like a question, with uncertainty, but then repeated herself with more confidence. “I am. Yes. And there’s been a lot to do. Sorting through the political rubble after the uprising, trying to push ahead with some of Gabriel’s reforms, despite… significant resistance. He has great ideas, but he crumbles the second somebody tells him no. If it weren’t for a few of us on the council who back him up, someone would have said, ‘I don’t think you should open secular schools,’ and he probably would have said, ‘Oh yes, so sorry, don’t know what I was thinking,’ and shut it all down entirely. And then there’s… succession.”

Bridget had wondered. It was impossible not to. It featured so heavily in the lives of nobles and royalty, it was the sort of thing you were supposed to be planning for practically from birth.

“So the council knows…?”

“Oh, most of them don’t know the intimate details of Gabriel’s private life, but he’s made it clear that he has no intention of marrying or having children with anybody. Lord Best kept insinuating that a bastard was better than nothing, and then when it was clear that wasn’t going to work, he switched tack. ApparentlyI’mthe de Gray line’s last great hope.”

Bridget almost stopped her horse, which would have caused an unfortunate equine pileup. Jealousy flared in her, surprisingly fierce. “You? They want you to marry? To carry the heir?”

Gwen snorted. “Just wait until you hear who they want to father him.”

“Arthur,” Bridget said at once, her heartbeat pounding in her fingertips.

“Yes indeed, my erstwhile fiancé—the father of my child, apparently. Lord Best and the archbishop can’t understand why we haven’t married each other by now. They gave us a bit of leeway after the battle, but they thought the plan would still be on, because… it still makes sense, even with Arthur’s father in exile—makes it clear we’ve forgiven the cultists, even after all that’s happened. And if I had a son, Gabriel could name him heir, raise him at Camelot, everyone’s happy.”

Bridget hadn’t realized how hard she was gripping the reins until Fiona tossed her head in protest, and she eased up. She tried to reason with herself; Arthur was better than some vile stranger. Just because this sounded like hell to her didn’t mean it was hell to Gwen. Just because it was horribly dangerous and the process of growing a child sounded tantamount to physical torture; just because she’d have to… and withArthur—

“Bridget,” Gwen said. “Unclench your jaw. I’m not going to do it. I don’t want to, and Arthur doesn’t want to, and Gabriel looked like he was going to pass out when Lord Best brought it up, so that’s that.”

“Oh.” Bridget took a breath. “So what will your brother do?”