The scene blurred. A smell wafted past, out of place here, and Ricky inhaled. Horse? He sniffed deeper, not trusting his senses. Horse and hay and dung.
He heard a skritch-skritch, and when his vision cleared, he was grooming a coal-black stallion, brushing it a little too hard, the beast's ears twitching in complaint.
"Sorry isn't enough," said a voice behind him. "Sorry can never be enough. I realize that."
He kept brushing.
"I made a vow," the voice continued. "It doesn't matter if I thought you weren't interested in her--"
"Not interested?"
He dropped the brush and spun to face the speaker, a young man, mid-twenties, fair-haired and blue-eyed. Even if Ricky didn't recognize Gabriel in that face--particularly the expression, gaze downcast, contrite, even cowed--he knew it was Gwynn.
When Gwynn spoke, it was with great care, as if not wanting to defend himself but feeling the need to say, "You've never given any sign. And you've taken many lovers, seeming happy with them..."
Because Arawn wanted Matilda to see that other girls fancied him. Other girls chased him. And he earned their interest--he was an attentive and skilled lover. Matilda would notice that and wonder what all the fuss was about and, perhaps, see him in a new light.
Or realize she was jealous. See Arawn with them and think, "Why not me?" and join the competition for his affections.
No, that last part put a distasteful angle on Arawn's ploy. He'd only been trying to position himself as a potential lover.
All that, and whom did she choose? Gwynn. Who had never taken a lover, never even cast a longing glance at a woman or a man. Because all his glances were for Matilda. And all hers for him. Both of them, since they were old enough to feel that longing, since Arawn first realized their connection and went to Gwynn...
"Gwynn, I need to talk to you about Mati."
"Hmm?"
"I don't think we should woo her. Either of us. In fact, I think we should make a pact that we'll never do so."
"I don't under--"
"I don't want you to get hurt. I'm afraid you would get hurt if I wooed her. I don't want that."
"Oh. Yes, I suppose--"
"So, it's a pact, then. We won't woo Mati. Either of us. But we can't tell her that. She'd kill us both. Now, let's go find her and race to..."
Arawn shook off the memory. He did have Gwynn's best interests in mind at the time. He hadn't wanted his friend to be hurt.
And then Arawn had proceeded to woo Mati in his own way. Through temptation and jealousy.
No, it wasn't like that. If Mati had come to him, he'd have told Gwynn. Been forthright and up-front. Told him the pact was over before he took Matilda. But he'd still have taken her. Still would have snatched her from under Gwynn's nose, knowing how Gwynn felt.
Just like Ricky with Liv. He'd seen how Gabriel felt. Sensed how Liv felt. Too bad, so sad. You snooze, you lose.
Arawn's thoughts pushed Ricky's aside.
Yes, maybe he'd acted less than honorably, but he'd never have gone as far as Gwynn had, all the way to the brink of marriage before admitting he'd been wooing Mati, kissing Mati, bedding Mati...
Arawn looked at Gwynn, standing there with the sheer gall to apologize, hanging his head like a misbehaving puppy.
"You broke our pact," Arawn said.
"I know. And if there's any way we can get past this, still be friends, all of us--"
"Oh, is that your offer? You'll let me still be friends with your wife? How generous."
"Friends with our friend. Our Mati. Neither of you needs my permission for that."