"Where are we going?" Drea asked wonderingly when they had reached to road and she realised he was not heading for their new home.
"Somewhere nice. You'll see," he said calmly. He had thought that Arthur's idea of taking her outside Camelot was a good one. It would be a wonderful change for her. And the nice place that he had just talked about, had almost instantly popped up in his mind: An abandoned fisherman's cabin in a remote spot near the sea. It was sometimes used by the knights as a shelter on longer patrols. He had made sure no-one was going to use it for the next three days.
Drea leaned sleepily against him, nestling her head in the curve provided by his chest and his upper arm, as they rode across the green, rolling hills in the dark. All that could be heard was the rustling of silk, the dull thud of the horse's hooves in the tall, drying grass and the lone cry of an owl somewhere in the night.
He tightened his hold around her a little bit. You're mine, Drea. You are mine and I'll make sure you'll be alright. No-one can take you from me now. He buried his nose in her hair, breathed in deeply and let out a long, happy sigh.
