Page 64 of Once Upon A Bear

Guinevere lifted her head, her hands pausing their task of removing her shoes, staring up at the entrance of her cottage.

Who had followed her home?

It wasn’t Beatrice or Alexander. They were still at the ball, and she had told them she was leaving.

It shouldn’t be Gideon. Surely he hadn’t noticed her leaving that quickly.

But no matter how much she told herself it couldn’t be, her heart was crying out that it could be Gideon standing on the other side of her door, waiting to tell her that she shouldn’t have left, and that he loved her.

Or perhaps it wasn’t, and it was simply someone with a broken leg, which was far more likely.

She cast her romantic dreams aside and sighed as she slipped her feet back into her shoes and reached for her satchel.

She had left it at home tonight—the first time she’d done that in a very, very long time.

Perhaps it was foolish for her to expect that she could go a full night without someone needing her help. She should have known better.

Settling the strap over her shoulder, she reached for the latch and opened the door.

“How can I help—” she began.

She was swept up into the strong arms of the man she loved as he picked her up, pulled her inside the doorway, and closed the door behind them.

Before she could say anything, he leaned down and kissed her soundly.

Guinevere sighed in relief as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tightly to him.

He had come for her.

He was here.

He kissed her slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, running his fingers through her hair and holding her close like he would never let go.

Guinevere had never been happier.

But then she pulled away and looked at him in dismay.

Why had he bothered to come when he hadn’t spent more than a few moments with her at the ball? Did he think she would be so easily swayed by the gesture and immediately fall into his arms?

Even though she already had, she pulled herself back and brought her attention to his ankle.

She couldn’t let herself fall apart because he’d chased after her, and the best way to get herself back together was to do her job.

“Since you’re here, let’s remove your stitches,” she said with a sweet smile that did not at all hold any mischief. “We ought to have done that yesterday.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed, but he made his way to the table when she gestured to it and sat down, taking off his boot and sock.

Guinevere looked down at her handiwork and nodded in satisfaction. They were good stitches, but they would have to come out now. Taking out stitches wasn’t painful, but it would give her a bit of distance and a moment to think before she threw herself into his arms again, and it would remind him of what she was.

A healer.

Because she shouldn’t be throwing herself into his arms. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to, and the fact that he’d followed her shouldn’t change that, no matter how desperately she wanted it to.

“Let me get my scissors, and we’ll get this taken care of,” she said as she made her way to the shelves across the room.

“Guinevere—” he began, his tone wary, but she didn’t let him continue.

“It’s a good thing you came, because I’d forgotten to take them out yesterday,” she said, babbling to keep herself from thinking too much. “We wouldn’t want your skin to heal around the stitches. Taking them out is much more painful if that happens.”