The banquet that evening was filled with knights and nobles, gathered to bid a fond farewell to Sir William, the greatest knight of his time.

Gabby was unamused, quickly lulled into boredom by the constant din of conversation. The cloud of pipe smoke that hung in the air was thick enough to make breathing difficult.

She sat beside her mother, impatiently waiting to be excused. A smoky hall surrounded by pretentious nobles was not how she intended to spend the last night of her last tournament. She longed, instead, to be sitting around the fire with Abbi and Gareth, listening to Geoff's stories into the wee hours of the morning.

Jocelyn watched Gabby drum her fingers on the table, glancing longingly at the door. She leaned in and whispered softly "Gabby, pay attention. Count Klein is coming this way."

"Mother," Gabby whined, none to thrilled by the men that her mother thrust upon her.

Jocelyn shrugged. "What? You are of the age to be marrying, no harm checking out the selection."

Gabby shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the prospect.

Finishing his conversation with one of the other knights, Will returned to his family, kissing his wife on the cheek. "Let the poor girl go, Jocelyn. She wants to be with her friends."

"Alright," Jocelyn conceded with a smile. "I am outnumbered. Go have fun."

Gabby smiled brightly, kissing her father on the cheek. "Thank you, Papa."

"You spoil her," Jocelyn said as she watched Gabby sprint out the door.

"She is young," Will replied softly, taking her hand. "Tonight is about celebration. Dance with me."

Once she was safely outside, Gabby took in a deep breath of fresh air. Slowly meandering around the tournament grounds, she began pulling the pins from her hair so the curls fell loose passed her shoulders.

She has just pulled out the last pin when she came across two men on the path. One she recognized easily as Sir Anton's herald. He bowed and Gabby nodded absently.

"Good evening, my lady," the other gentleman spoke up. "My herald tells me that you inquired after me this afternoon. Allow me to introduce myself; Sir Anton of Kent."

Gabby smiled, caught slightly off guard by the fire dancing in his caramel-colored eyes. "Good to meet you, my lord."

"I beg your pardon, my lady," Anton continued, brushing the dark hair from his eyes. "A name."

"Gabby," she replied, quickly correcting herself. "Gabriella Thatcher."

"Lady Thatcher," he repeated. "The daughter of a knight?"

"Yes, my lord."

Anton cracked a smile, a small dimple appearing in his right cheek. "It is good to meet you, Lady Thatcher. I look forward to seeing you again."

Gabby watched the pair walk away, a tingling settling in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she turned and continued down the path.

Gareth stood in front of the hot flames, watching the metal turn to a glowing red. When it reached the perfect temperature, he moved from the flames to the anvil. Pulling out his hammer, he began to skillfully mold the metal into a beautifully crafted helmet.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even hear Gabby enter the forge. She stood behind him, leaning on one of the support posts. Patiently waiting for him to finish, she watched in awe as the sheet of metal began to take shape.

Gareth returned the metal to the flame, stoking the coals to get more hear before wiping his brow.

"I thought that I would find you here."

The wound of Gabby's voice in the empty forge made Gareth jump slightly. He continued to work for a moment without facing her. "I promised Count Stephen this helmet before he leaves for Normandy."

He mobbed back to the anvil to make a few quick adjustments to the helmet before dropping it into the water bucket beside the anvil.

Only then did he glance up at Gabby. His face began to feel even warmer, whether from the fire or the shock of Gabby in a burgundy and gold dress with her golden curls hanging passed her shoulders. Quickly trying to regain his composure, he turned his attention to putting away his tools. "What happened to the banquet?"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "My mother is trying to marry me off again."

Gareth began to chuckle.

"Hush you," she chided. She moved to the bucket and lifted the helmet from the water. Inspecting it, she nodded. "Impressive."

"It could be better," he replied, running his fingers along the rough edges. He moved back toward the fire.

"Gareth, stop," Gabby commanded, grabbing his arm. "It's perfect. Now will you please put the helmet down and come have some fun?"

He held his arms up in defeat. "Fine, you win. Just let me do one more thing."

Picking up the chisel and hammer, he carefully engraved the trademark that he learned from his mother.

Gabby tried to wait as Gareth made his finishing touches, but patience was never her strong suit. "Oh will you hurry up?"

"Impatience is not becoming for someone of your stature, Lady Thatcher," he teased, making one final tap on the chisel.

Gabby scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Watch yourself, blacksmith."

Gareth couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips when he glanced up at her. Chuckling, he moved to the flames and doused them with the bucket of water. With the fire extinguished, the only light in the forge was a thin sliver of moonlight from a single, cloudy window.

Moving easily around the familiar forge in the darkness, Gareth removed his heavy leather apron and exchanged it for a light coat that he inherited from Chaucer.

Losing her bearings slightly in the darkness, Gabby backed into the pole with a gasp.

Gareth was almost to the door when he realized that Gabby hadn't moved. Smiling he moved back to where she stood, silently taking her by the hand. When his hand came in contact with her smooth skin, it felt like lightning was shooting through his entire body. Trying to ignore it, he pulled her toward the door. "Come on."