And then he had been folding himself into a sitting position, settling down beside her, tipping his head back, leaning it against the trunk of the tree, looking up through the tangle of branches above them to the starshot sky beyond. And Jane, tilting her head slightly to sneak a sideways glance at him, had felt her breath catch in her throat, because his eyes were awash in starlight.
"You know, we might see some real action tomorrow," he'd murmured, still gazing steadfastly upward. "The brigands are real, and I think they are close."
Jane concurred. Although they hadn't yet caught sight of any of the rogues, they had certainly found evidence of their presence in these woods, and fairly fresh evidence at that. Bits of rubbish; a footprint now and again, where the ground was soft; traces of campfires not long cold.
"Yes, I think we might," she had said softly.
Then he'd been turning to face her completely, his eyes boring into her, direct and completely disarming.
"Jane, I - things could happen tomorrow. There could be fighting. People could... could get hurt."
Her brow had furrowed, perplexed. It was true that they had never actually gone up against armed enemies before, but still, why did he feel the need to spell these things out? They were patently obvious. She didn't need him to tell her there could be fighting tomorrow. That's what they had come for. Well, they had come to take the brigands. But the brigands were hardly likely to surrender peacefully. Being brigands and all.
"Gunther," she'd said, "I know that."
Gunther had frowned. Raked a hand through his hair; an abrupt, jerky movement.
"Yes, but do you know - Jane, do you understand - what you - what I - oh, hell and damnation."
He had reached out then and gripped both her shoulders with nearly painful intensity. "You have to stay safe, all right? Promise me you will stay safe. It would kill me if anything happened to you. Jane. It would -"
He'd broken off abruptly then, given his head a sudden, sharp shake as if to clear it. His eyes had been blazing. Her head had been spinning. And then - then -
He had closed the distance - scant inches - that separated them, and had sealed his lips to her own.
Jane had stiffened for only an instant, and then melted into him. Would she have done it - would she have had the courage, or perhaps the recklessness to do it - if the liquid fire he'd given her to drink earlier hadn't still been coursing, singing through her veins? She didn't know and really, it hardly mattered. What mattered was this: losing herself in that kiss - that had undoubtedly been the fourth mistake.