He roamed the nave in the dark, without purpose, without anything. Earlier that day he had gone to the village, it couldn't be helped. The promised assistant from Kyiv had been delayed and he had needed supplies.
As he had feared, he saw her. She was standing in front of the smithy, her hair neatly contained within the babushka on her head, her skirts neat and clean, her figure lithe and tall and strong.
And she had been speaking to Avel.
The smith's son was taller even than Gavril, and twice as broad. Thick black hair waved back from his face, held in place with a leather thong, and his face could be considered handsome, with the piercing blue eyes and symmetrical features.
She had been smiling up at the boy, for he was merely a boy, and he had reached out and plucked a leaf from her scarf.
It was during her thanks that her eyes met Gavril's.
She had frozen, fear and pain crashing in those blue eyes like the crazed waves of a tempestuous sea, before once again being sealed over with a thick glazing of cold ice. The smile and the greeting she had given him had been the height of etiquette, and Avel had reached out a possessive arm and slid it around her shoulders.
She did not move away or protest. She only bowed her head.
Gavril had all but sprinted the way back to the chapel. He had been pacing the nave ever since.
Those blackened, calloused hands had dared touch her so intimately. Gavril had not been in a physical confrontation since he had taken orders, but it had been all he could do not to fly across the road and beat the boy senseless for his audacity. Despite what the starosta had said, Gavril would never accept that anyone from that backwater village in the middle of nowhere would ever hope to be good enough. Not for her.
And her! It had only been ten days since he had left her in that rotten little village, and she was accepting the pawing of that brutish child as if it were nothing. What wanton behavior, how little had he realized what a little coquette had resided within the seemingly innocent form!
It was as if—it was as if—
It was as if she didn't realize just how wondrous she truly was. How beautiful her heart shone to all those around her. How refreshing her glance, and invigorating her touch. Each smile was a gift, and each blush a treasure to be stored away and coveted.
And why should she? He had carelessly tossed her aside like a broken toy, even knowing her feelings for him. The harshness he had shown at the starosta's house…it had not been necessary to be that.
It had been more than harsh, it had been cruel.
Yes, the path she was on now was better than any she could ever walk with Gavril, but she hadn't needed to be thrust upon it so meanly. She was an intelligent woman, if he had just trusted her enough to speak with her about it…
No, it wasn't her that he hadn't trusted. It was himself . When he looked into those oh-so-blue eyes he lost the ability to reason, ensnared by their warmth and their grace, his rationale melted away to his…
Discussing it with her in that manner was absolutely out of the question.
He didn't have the strength. That was why he had acted in such a furtive manner, sneaking around behind her back, making secret plans with the starosta. It was dishonorable, and it was cowardly, and he fully felt the shame of it.
But had she had to accept his decision so meekly? That confidence she had been showing, that he had been so proud of, had evaporated like a spring frost.
Of course she'd had to accept it. She was used to obeying him in all things, silly squabbles aside, and she had been so blindsided by the announcement that she hadn't had the chance to find her footing to even attempt to fight.
Just as he had arranged.
With a growl, he strode to the vestibule doors and ripped them open, storming out into the night.