THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Morning Visitor

The next morning arrived with the sounds of crunching and pounding outside Teressa's home, that jolted her from sleep. Alarmed, she hastily wrapped her old shawl around herself and hurried to the door.

But the sight that greeted her upon opening the door left her utterly shocked.

There, in the middle of the cold of winter, stood Sir Gayle, shirtless, vigorously chopping wood.

"My goodness, young man! What are you doing? You'll catch your death out here!" Teressa exclaimed in genuine concern, rushing back inside to rouse Isabel from her sleep.

"Isabel! Wake up, dear!"

Isabel's eyes fluttered open slowly while her mother's form was still blurry before her.

"Yes, mother?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Your... husband— I mean... that young man! The physician is outside chopping firewood in the snow!" Teressa relayed, her worry evident in her tone.

"Mother, let him be. He's accustomed to such tasks," Isabel replied groggily, the reality of her situation still sinking in.

Just as Teressa was about to chide Isabel, she sat up abruptly, startling her mother.

"Sir Gayle?!" she gasped, then leaped out of bed, heedless of her slippers and still clad in her sleepwear.

"Wait— Isabel!" her mother called after her, but she was already gone.

Isabel flung the door open as the biting cold wind sent shivers down her spine.

"Sir—" she began, then hesitated, recalling Gayle's request from the night before.

"Um... ah... My... my love!" she called out, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment rather than from the cold.

But Gayle seemed oblivious to her presence still focused on his task. Determined, Isabel stomped toward him, wincing with each step on the fresh snow.

"You— what are you doing?!" she demanded, smacking Gayle's shoulder to get his attention.

Startled, Gayle turned to her as his eyes widened in shock at the sight of Isabel standing outside in the thin clothing.

"What are you— haa... my love... What are you doing out here?" he asked softly, sweeping her up effortlessly into his arms, his strong physique making the gesture seem effortless.

Although it was not surprising, given Gayle's obvious strength as a young man and a knight.

Isabel's cheeks flush with embarrassment when Gayle lifts her up, but she quickly remembers they're only pretending to be a couple in love.

"I couldn't bear to see you out here in the cold," Gayle murmurs, still in character, his tone soft with concern as he holds her close and walks towards the warmth of the house.

Isabel tries to maintain the facade while her heart raced at the unexpected closeness.

"But you shouldn't be out here either," she replies, keeping her voice steady, though her fingers cling to shoulder.

Gayle continues with the act, his gaze tender as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. "I'll be fine, my love. It's you I'm worried about," he says, his touch sending a wave of warmth through her.

"And do not call me by my last name anymore. My true name is Tristan Gayle," he whispered secretly, his breath warm against her ear.

Slowly and carefully, Tristan set Isabel down the moment they stepped inside the house.

"Tristan," she repeated softly to herself.

"Yes, my love?" Tristan teased, causing Isabel to blush as Teressa rolled her eyes, a playful smile gracing her lips. It wasn’t that she was against her daughter marrying, but she worried about Isabel possibly marrying a difficult man. Yet seeing them in front of her, so in love and playful, brought her a sense of relief and comfort.

"Teressa! Teressa!"

The three were suddenly silenced by a voice calling out from outside.

Tristan, ever watchful towards Isabel, peeked through the window. His eyebrows twitched as he saw a familiar woman running towards the door. He immediately placed a protective arm around Isabel as the door opened.

"Teressa! Goodness, it is so cold today. I brought you milk! I—"

But Mrs. Hawthorne almost dropped the bottle of milk the moment her eyes landed on Isabel. She was shocked, thinking Isabel was still at the palace.

"Isabel? You have come home, my dear? Did something happen?!" Mrs. Hawthorne asked, her voice filled with worry as she noticed how much weight Isabel had lost.

Isabel offered a reassuring smile, stepping forward slightly from Tristan’s protective embrace. "Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m alright. It’s just... I needed some time away from the palace."

Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes darted between Isabel and Tristan, her concern evident. "But you look so thin, dear. Are you sure everything is alright?"

Tristan tightened his arm around Isabel, giving her a subtle nod of encouragement. "Isabel has been through a lot, but she’s in good hands now," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s gaze softened as she looked at Tristan, then back at Isabel. "Well, it’s a relief to see you here, Isabel. But who is this young man with you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

Isabel took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Mrs. Hawthorne, this is Tristan Gayle. He's a physician and... my fiancé," she said as the words felt both strange and comforting.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Your fiancé? My goodness, Isabel, I had no idea! When did this happen?"

"It’s a recent development," Isabel admitted, glancing at Tristan, who nodded in affirmation. "But we have decided it is for the best."

Mrs. Hawthorne looked between the two of them like she was contemplating something, until she spoke. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," she said finally, a tentative smile forming on her lips. "It’s good to see you have someone looking out for you."

Just then, Teressa stepped forward, taking the bottle of milk from Mrs. Hawthorne’s hands. "Come in, sit down for a moment. You must be freezing out there."

Mrs. Hawthorne hesitated but then nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She settled herself near the fire. The warmth seeping into her cold bones while her eyes stayed on Isabel.

"When did Isabel get home, Teressa?" She asked curiously while hugging herself.

Teressa places a cup of tea on the table and slides it towards Mrs. Hawthorne before answering. "Last night. In the middle of the night, actually."