"Gabriel.", he replied shortly, "Pleased to meet you."

"So Gabriel," she continued with a predatory sweep of dark eyes up and down his seated form, "where have you been hiding yourself?"

He blushed when a soft hand began rubbing up and down his arm, stammering that he didn't come into the village often and trying to think of a graceful way to extricate himself from the situation. In desperation he gulped the rest of his drink, anxious to make his escape . . . only to find another pint waiting for him. "I thought we could have a drink together.", she whispered sultrily, "Give me time to find out more about you."

"There's not much to tell.", he mumbled, "It was nice to meet you but I need to get going."

"But why?", she cooed, "Don't you like me? I was so looking forward to getting to know you."

"Some other time.", Gabriel replied shortly, disentangling his arm from her grasp as he rose, "Have a pleasant evening." With that he gratefully made his escape, heaving a sigh of relief when the pub's door swung shut behind him. And that's why I avoid the village, he thought with a shudder, what is it with the women around here?

Melinda glared at the untouched pint on the bar. Gabriel huh, she thought, he's definitely the best looking man I've seen in this dump . . . too bad he isn't interested. "Hey," she said to the man on the other side of her, "do you know who that was who just left?"

"His name's Son.", was the blunt reply, "Blacksmith."

"Thank you very much.", she responded melodiously, "I appreciate it. Here," she continued as she passed Gabriel's untouched pint his way, "have one on me."

"Thanks.", he grunted, only to realize that she was already gone.

Once outside she quickly set out for the outskirts of the village where she knew the forge was located, determined to catch up with Gabriel. He's just shy, her internal monologue continued, I didn't do anything wrong. She hurried along the dark road, hoping to 'accidentally' meet the smith on the way. I'm sure he wouldn't want a lady to walk home alone, she decided with a smirk.

Gabriel meandered lazily towards home, grateful to be out of the smoke and noise, he experienced more than his share of both every day in the forge. He was nearly there when he heard footsteps coming up behind him.

"Gabriel, Gabriel wait.", Melinda called as she hurried to catch up. "Walk a girl home?" she asked with a bat of her eyes as she tucked her arm through his and snuggled up against his side.

"Where would home be?", he reluctantly inquired, knowing full well he wouldn't get rid of her otherwise.

"I work at the manor.", she said with a smile, "It isn't too far."

"I know where it is," the smith grumbled, "and it's not close either."

A pout settled on Melinda's pretty face, "Don't you want to walk me home?"

"It's not that . . . I just . . .alright." Gabriel sighed in resignation before starting towards their destination at a brisk pace, he was tired, vaguely disappointed, and just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. Instead I get to escort this simpering cow, he thought despairingly, aren't I lucky?

Melinda pried, plotted and used all her feminine wiles, hoping to parlay the walk into something more, but to no avail. Every question she posed received a one word answer, and no matter how she tried to get close Gabriel somehow gracefully managed to extricate himself. By the time they reached the gates to the estate she had totally given up. I guess he really doesn't like me, she thought sadly, what a let down.

Thank God, the blacksmith cheered internally when the gates came into view. His eagerness to be gone suddenly dissipated, however, when he read the name on the arching gates. "Gallavan," he suddenly said, startling Melinda out of her internal rant, "do you know Tristan?"

"Oh . . . you're one of Tristan's friends," she declared enigmatically, even as she pulled away, "you should have told me you're not into girls.", she scolded, "It really isn't nice to string me along."

"What?" Gabriel replied stupidly, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Tristan," she responded sharply, "how well do you know him?"

"I only met him today," he explained, confusion evident on his face, "why?"

"Well, it really isn't my place to tell," she began, moving closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "but his father ordered him home because he was seen kissing another man . . . in public."

"Oh.", was all Gabriel managed to choke out, even as his mind bombarded him with images of Tristan passionately embracing another man, so lost in thought he never noticed her departure. When he finally gathered his wits he slowly headed for home, turning the idea over and over until he finally decided it just didn't matter, he had no intention of rebuffing the first gesture of friendship he'd had since settling here.

Who he loves has nothing to do with me, Gabriel told himself, it's none of my business. Feeling better about the whole situation he actually looked at his surroundings, realizing he'd passed the forge and was once again headed toward the village. Get a grip, he told himself fiercely, you're acting like a fool.

Once safely inside his apartment he quickly stripped and slid into bed, falling almost instantly into a restless sleep. He tossed and turned, haunted by dreams of the handsome redhead naked and writhing against a tall, well-built man, waking with a start when dream Tristan pulled back and Gabriel realized he was the one locked in an embrace with his new obsession. It's just a dream, he told himself, of course I'd dream that after what I heard, besides, I like girls. Then why are you trying so hard to avoid them, a part of his mind prodded, you ditched Melinda quickly enough. As hard as he tried to convince himself that he was dodging marriage, not women, he reluctantly had to concede that the female of the species made him uncomfortable.

Of course, the voice in his head argued, that's a far cry from wanting to kiss a man . . . I just haven't met the right girl. But deep in his heart he knew that was an excuse, he needed to be honest with himself, at least, and admit that he really had no desire for female companionship. Nothing wrong with that, he insisted, lots of men never marry, it doesn't mean anything. Finally exhausted by his circular logic he fell back to sleep, and if he dreamed he didn't remember it.

Tristan sat at the breakfast table, lost in thought. Marcus was chattering away brightly, eventually trailing off to shake his older brother. "Tristan . . . earth to Tristan.", he said with a laugh, waving a hand in front of his face. "Care to join us?", he asked, smiling when jade eyes finally focused on him.

"I'm sorry Marcus, I have a lot on my mind . . . what were you saying?" But even as the words left his mouth his mind was already returning to the events of the previous evening.

Tristan had woken well past dusk and headed down to the kitchen for something to eat. As he rounded the corner he came face to face with the elder Gallavan. Just my luck, he'd thought. As usual, the pair had exchanged harsh words, the young man finally escaping out into the garden in search of some peace.

He'd wandered aimlessly, enjoying the cool air and the restful surroundings, finally finding himself near the gate at the bottom of the drive. He was just about to turn around and head back to the house when the sound of voices drifted to his ears. Who would be out here at this time of night, he'd wondered idly, sidling closer to try and get a glimpse.

He was totally shocked to see one of the maids engaged in conversation with the tall blacksmith he'd met that afternoon. His shock turned to dismay, however, when she made a point of first insulting Gabriel's masculinity and then divulging the real reason why his father had ordered him home. Just fantastic, he thought, bloody marvelous . . . one semi-interesting man in the entire town and now he'll be sure to avoid me.

He reluctantly pulled himself out of his funk, agreeing to go riding with Marcus in hopes it would distract him from his troubles. Surprisingly, it seemed to work. Once out in the fresh air, away from the oppressive atmosphere that always surrounded his father, Tristan felt his mood brightening. Soon the brothers were engaged in teasing each other mercilessly, laughing loudly as they nudged their horses next to each other to ride comfortably shoulder to shoulder.

Tristan's good mood evaporated, however, when he realized where they were. In front of him was the clearing next to the forge where he'd first seen Gabriel sprawled on a boulder soaking up the sun. "We should head back.", he said quietly, "this isn't our land . . . besides, I'm sure Father will be looking for you. He certainly doesn't want to give me the opportunity to corrupt you.", he added bitterly.

"You're being too hard on yourself brother," Marcus declared fervently, "Father doesn't want to keep us apart . . . he's just worried that he'll die before you're comfortably settled."

"Comfortably shackled you mean.", Tristan retorted bitterly, "this is his choice, not mine. I meant it when I said he should make you his heir."

"Are we really so bad?", the younger boy muttered.

"No, no . . . it's not you Marcus, it's just . . .", he trailed off uncomfortably, not sure what his brother had heard about the reason for his disgraced return.

Seeing his uncertainty, Marcus tried to reassure him. "Don't worry Tristan, I don't believe the stories. I know you'd never do anything like that."

Tristan ran a hand through his already disheveled locks, desperately trying to figure out how to respond. He didn't want to lie to Marcus, his younger brother was the only member of the household whom he felt any attachment to. On the other hand, he didn't want to disappoint the teen, and he feared the truth would put a wall between them he might not be able to breech. The last thing he wanted was to have his brother look at him in disgust.

"I will not be forced to marry someone I do not love.", he declared after much thought, but he did not elaborate.

"I understand brother," Marcus replied gently, "but perhaps you will find love with one of the women Father wants you to meet."

"I highly doubt that.", Tristan replied laconically, "Father and I have . . . radically different tastes."

With that he turned his horse and began heading back towards the manor, never noticing the figure hidden in the shadows who had been listening, riveted, to their conversation.

"Wait for me brother.", Marcus called as he spurred his horse to catch up.

"Looking for love, huh?" Gabriel muttered as he eased out of the trees into the clearing. "Aren't we all." He heaved a ragged sigh before heading back into the forge, grateful, as always, for the way the hammer in his hand drove all the questions and distractions from his mind.

Hours later he finally banked the fire and dragged himself upstairs, not even bothering to heat the water before hastily scrubbing off the worst of the grime and sliding directly into bed. I'm too tired to chew, he decided as he debated whether or not to eat before sleep, I'll make up for it at breakfast. He dropped off almost instantly, only to be awakened by a loud pounding on the door what seemed like moments later.

Go away, he thought, go away, go away, go away.

"Gabriel . . . are you in there?", an unfamiliar voice called, "Hello, Gabriel . . . come answer your damn door."

Gabriel stumbled out of bed and headed down the stairs, grumbling and muttering death threats under his breath the entire way. When he reached the door he drew himself up to his full height and slammed it open angrily, ready to scream at whoever had pulled him from the bliss that was sleep. "Tristan . . . what are you doing here?", he managed to croak in confusion as he scraped his hair back into an untidy tail, "What time is it?"

"No idea what so ever.", came the noticeably inebriated reply, "But as to why I'm here . . . we were going to have drinks together." At that Tristan dug around in the saddle bag slung over his shoulder, eventually yanking a bottle of wine triumphantly in the air. "Got ya.", he exclaimed happily as he went to work on the cork.

"At least come upstairs," Gabriel urged, "I'm still half asleep." He grabbed the smaller figure by the elbow, steering him across the forge and up the stairs, not stopping until he had deposited him in the sturdier of the two chairs at his table. He swept the pile of sketches up and dropped them unceremoniously on the counter before taking a seat himself.

"Don't you think you've had enough already?" Gabriel tentatively suggested, "Maybe you should have some coffee . . . I'll start a pot."

"No," the redhead insisted, "want to have a drink with my new friend . . . are you my friend Gabriel . . . I need a friend . . .", he trailed off, pillowing his head on his arm and shutting his eyes.

"I need a friend too.", the smith whispered before laying a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder and giving a light shake.

Unfortunately, the only response he received was a slurred, "Stop it Danny, go to sleep.", before light snores filled the room.

Gabriel shifted from foot to foot, wondering just what one was supposed to do in this situation. Can't just leave him there, he finally decided. He scooped the limp man up and carefully carried him to the bed, laying him down gently and removing his shoes before tenderly covering him with a blanket. Now where do I sleep, he groused, oh the hell with it. He pushed down the tiny voice in the back of his mind that was screaming that what he was doing was a VERY BAD IDEA, and slipped into the other side of the bed, snuggling into the blanket and almost instantly dropping back to sleep.