by P. C. Cast
“Perhaps from the heart?” she whispered.
“But those were not words you were prepared to hear.”
“It doesn’t make them any less special. In fact, more so, as they were not planned. You spoke what you were thinking.”
He shook his head. “I had no right. And I know ’tis a sentiment you perhaps are not prepared to return.”
“Then again,” she said, running a finger from his temple to chin, “perhaps it is.”
“If ’tis, may I hear the words from your lovely lips?”
“I am falling in love with you, Arthur. It seems an untenable situation, but the heart wants what it wants, right?”
“It does.”
She offered him an impish grin. “Last nonvirgin to the castle has to be served all of the eel.”
He watched for a moment as she lifted her skirts and then took off running.
Grinning, bursting with happiness and gratitude to the gods or to fate, he took off after her. Not very fast, however, for he was well aware of her aversion to eel.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE evening meal began as a somber affair. Apparently all were worried about the health of their queen. But Arthur stood tall and announced she was quite on the way to recovery, and the mood lightened. Even Lancelot had arrived, which sort of stunned Isabel. She thought for certain the poor little puppy would be attempting to sneak into Gwen’s heavily guarded quarters or be off plotting revenge against mushrooms worldwide.
As her platter was placed before her, she realized that she’d been served a ton of vegetables and duck and not one ounce of eel.
She looked over at Arthur, and his plate was piled high with the vile stuff. He grinned and winked at her, then whispered to a server. That platter of eel was replaced with a bowl of what looked to be some kind of stew.
She ducked her head and smiled, digging in to her veggies. Oh, yes, like it or not, she had fallen fast and hard. She was so in love with Arthur it almost hurt.
Arthur spoke into James’s ear, who then spoke into Tom’s ear, who then spoke into Isabel’s ear. “He says that the bet did not include actually having to eat the eel. Does this make sense?”
She nearly had wine flying out of her nose and mouth. She caught herself and tried to pull it all together. Then she whispered into Tom’s ear, “Relay to King Arthur that this is a thing called a loophole. And he is lucky to be given reprieve this time.”
Tom relayed the message to James, who said, loudly, “A goose pole?”
“A loophole,” Tom said to James. “A loophole! You know, when a person attempts to get away with something. By using sneaky tactics! Jeesh. And the countess has decided to give the king reprieve on this one.”
Again, Isabel and Arthur’s eyes met, and neither were able to contain it. They both fell into gales of laughter. Isabel covered her face with her napkin, hoping when she lowered it, everyone would have magically disappeared. No such luck.
But, instead, Arthur stood. “Sirs, the Countess Isabel and I must needs discuss possible goose poles in our potential treaties at the meeting. Please stay and enjoy the sweets.”
He came around to her chair. “My apologies, Countess, I did not discuss whether you would prefer to stay for the sweets.”
“Oh, no, King Arthur,” she said, standing. “I am quite anxious to explore the possible repercussions of these goose poles.”
ALL decorum they attempted to maintain dropped the moment they entered the solarium, two rooms away. And then Arthur took her hand and led her back out to the gardens, both finally allowing their laughter to let loose.
Isabel had to hold her tummy. “Oh, Arthur, we were so bad.”
He grinned, the light from the lanterns making his eyes gleam. “Yes, but it felt so wonderful.”
“We should return to the table, having resolved our disagreement over goose poles.”
He laughed again. “We shall announce our mutual understanding when we break fast in the morn.”
“Are we for it or against it?” she asked.
“I assume we must define what ‘it’ is.”
Isabel almost lost it. “I guess we must.”
Arthur stopped grinning, then pulled her close. “I am so happy when I am with you, Isabel. You make me feel like I can soar. From the moment we parted this afternoon, I felt lacking, your presence so missing from me.”
Isabel sucked in a breath because she couldn’t have said it better. It was a busy afternoon, yet empty. Without Arthur there, it just wasn’t the same.
She nodded. “Yes, Arthur, I miss you when you aren’t there as well.”
“You fill a need inside me. I cannot describe it. I know not what our solution is that will make us all happy, I only know this: I do not believe happiness is available to me without you in my life.”
“We will figure it all out, Arthur. Somehow, someway, I believe that Gwen and Lance, and you and I will end up happy. Let us trust fate again on this one.”
There was a knock from inside the solarium, and they quickly stepped apart. James stood there, his eyes lowered, shuffling his humongous feet.
Arthur picked up a pebble from the rock garden and tossed it at the door. When James looked up, startled, Arthur motioned him out.
“What is it, James?”
“I have a message for the countess,” he said, with a small bow in her direction.
“What is it, James?” Isabel asked.
“Mary, miss Mary, the one who—”
Isabel smiled. “I know who she is, James. She is my trusted friend.”
“She, well, she asked me to tell you that she has come down with a bit of a headache, and that she will be unavailable for the rest of the evening. She sends her sincere apologies and hopes that you”—he coughed—“are able to turn down your own bed furs this night. She is most sorry, Countess.”
Right. Isabel would bet that Mary had never taken a sick day or night in her life. But it was so sweet that she almost cried. “Please, James, convey my sincere hope that her head feels better in the morning.”
He looked up and nodded. “Oh, yes, she will be . . . I mean, she hopes to be better by morning light.”
“If there’s anything I can do? Shall I visit her?”
“No, no, I believe she is already abed.”
“Well, then, James, I suggest that if she is still awake that she sips a bit of tea, with a dollop of honey and perhaps just a drop or two of sweet mead.”
“I will most certainly offer such.” He went almost as red as Mary’s hair. “I mean, I will have her mate bring it to her, should she wish.”
“Thank you. Please give her my best.”
“I will.”
“And James?”
“Yes, mum?”
“Tell her thank you.”
“I will. And I believe she will already know you would say such, Countess.”
“Of course she will. She and I are pinky-finger friends.”
James’s chuckles followed him back into the castle. “Pinky-finger friends,” he said. “I have had a good laugh over that one.”
Arthur looked at her, his puzzlement all over his face.
“Want an interpretation?” Isabel asked.
“If that means that you will explain what just occurred, then indeed, I most definitely need an interpretation.”
“Quick or detailed version?”
“The one that I will understand.”
“Okay, here’s my take. James left the dinner table and went to see Mary. Mary assessed the situation and created an excuse she could give me, wanting me to know that she would not be breezing into my chamber this evening to assist me in preparing for bed.”
“Because?”
“To give me complete privacy.”
“To what purpose? Did she expect a man to visit you, Isabel? Are you expecting a visitor? Who is he?”
Okay, Viviane, I’m really stunned. Are all these men quite so dumb?
He’s a man newly smitten, and he is so taken his
recent history has left him shaken.
His denseness, Viviane, is leaving me mute.
Oh, come on, Isabel, it really is cute.
Viviane was right. Isabel knew that all of the emotional scars could not possibly have completely healed by now. Maybe that was part of her role. To help heal him.
She looked up at him and raised her hands to attempt to smooth the distress. The muscles in his jaw were clenching, his eyes begging for answers.
“Arthur—”
“Tell me true, Isabel.”
“Listen to me. Mary has become my trusted friend. She knows me better than anyone here.”
“Yes?”
“Who do you think she was clearing the way for? Who do you think she felt I would want to spend time with privately?”
“Every man here would want to be with you. I could not even begin to count—”
“Arthur. Who do you believe Mary would be convinced I would wish to be alone with?”
She watched as the lightbulb finally switched on in the big dumb man’s head. It was a hilarious sight to behold, but she knew laughing at this point would not be a good idea.
“Me?” he said.
“The man wins the duh prize.”
“She was attempting to give you and me time alone?”
She shook her head. “As was James, dummy. They conspired to allow us to spend time together without being interrupted.”
“There is no other?” he asked.
Her heart broke. She placed a hand over his. “I know you’ve been hurt, Arthur. But we will go nowhere while you keep suspecting that I might be the next to hurt you.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, then placed it right back against his beating heart. “I am so sorry, Isabel. I know not how to properly ask for your forgiveness.”
She could think of several ways. But first things first.
“You told me today that you confided in me because you felt you could trust me.”
“’Tis true.”
“And yet tonight, that trust was gone.”
He frowned. Really frowned. “Not true. It was a totally different matter, Isabel. I trusted you with private matters.”
“Have I broken that trust?”
“No, of course not. Still, ’tis not the same.”
“Tell me, what is so different?”
“You have so many men friends. You have all of my men wanting to do anything to make you happy. You even made my son learn what loyalty means. Something I have ne’er been able to do.”
“Your point?”
He looked down and then finally up. “So many men want you, Isabel. It eats at me.”
I so want to kick his ass, Viviane.
I agree, Isabel, but form a better plan.
Isabel sat down. “Just what happened today in the woods, Arthur?”
“I admitted my feelings for you,” he said.
“And?”
“And you also said what you felt for me.”
“Was I lying?”
“It would hurt beyond imagination should that be a lie.”
“Yet you still harbor doubts.” Isabel stood up. “Mary was trying to give us time alone. It would have been perfect. You could have shown me how to undress you. We could have made love. But you are so sure I’m just as other women, that trust you said you felt was not entirely true, was it?”
“Please do not let us end the evening this way, Isabel. I have made so many mistakes, and I am sorry for them all. But you told me you loved me this very day, and I am not allowing you to take that back because I am a . . . dolt? Then I am a dolt. But that does not mean I do not love you as much as I do.
“I answer to my mistakes, Isabel, but my feelings for you I refuse to say are wrong. You tell me, how, if you indeed return my feelings, as you said this day, that you can turn your back on me now?”
Isabel didn’t think she’d ever love another man like Arthur. Stupid as she might be, she turned to look at him.
“There are no other men, Arthur. Tom, Dick and Harry are friends. As for others here in the castle, I believe you are a bit overly concerned on that front. Not a single one of your men has made an inappropriate move or said an inappropriate word to me. Well, maybe Mordred, but we took care of that. The others in your realm? They have been nothing but complete gentlemen.”
“I see the way they look at you. I hear what they say during skills practice. I nearly knocked Edward down with my sword just yesterday. Too many dream of getting close to you. I can barely hold back my anger at the thought that any might try.”
“And I see castle maids nearly swoon every time you swagger into a room. I hear them giggle and comment on the fact that they work for the most handsome king in all the world. Do I accuse you of being inappropriate with any of them?”
“I would ne’er!”
“Well, I would ne’er, either!” she said.
They stood at a standoff, practically glaring at each other. She felt like she was in the medieval OK Corral.
Isabel took a deep, calming breath. “There is no other, Arthur. Not here, and not back in Ok—in Dumont. If you wish, you may interrogate Tom, Dick or Harry. They will tell you the same thing. In fact, they would all probably laugh at the notion.”
He cocked his head. “Why is that? You are so beautiful and smart and funny. I would think you would have suitors lining up for a chance to court you. To ask for your hand.”
Isabel laughed. “You would be wrong. I am so busy on various assignments, I have no time.”
“Assignments?”
She waved. “You know, countessing things.”
Finally, finally, his lips curved in a smile. “Countessing things.”
“Yes, you know. ‘Hey, you! You do this.’ And, ‘Hey, you! You do that.’”
“Ah, yes, countessing things.”
“Right. Just as you are busy doing kingly things.”
“Right. Where I say, ‘Hey, you. You do this.’ And, ‘Hey, you. You do that.’”
“Exactly.”
His smile bloomed into his full-blown, heart-melting grin. “I understand.”
Sure he did. Even she didn’t understand the babble she’d just blurted out.
He looked down. “Then why me? Why now?”
Men. Ego stroking apparently had not begun during her generation. It was an age-old tradition.
She touched his arm. “The why you is easy. Because I felt the same as you did the moment I laid eyes on you. Quite before I had any idea who you were.”
“I was there, Isabel. I saw your face. You feared me.”
“Because you startled me. You have a way of silently approaching that is awesome. But the moment you smiled at me, Arthur, I was toast.”
“Toast.”
“Smitten. Taken with you. Attracted to you.”
“Oh. Appears I like this toast thing. Then I, too, was toast.”
She nodded, hiding a smile. “As for why now, who knows, Arthur? As you said, fate perhaps. Would I have chosen to fall for a very married king? I don’t think so. Especially one who was still grieving over . . . well, things.
“I did not choose the time, the place, the man. In fact, the last thing I was supposed to do was fall for King Arthur.” Boy, that sure was true. “But I cannot help or decide what happens or why.”
“Except for when you are performing the ‘hey, you do this’ countessing tasks.”
She socked him on the arm. “Now you are making fun of me.”
He rubbed his arm as if that were a fierce blow. “Teasing you, pretty lady. You are one of very few people I have e’er met who can take as well as she gives. ’Tis a quality of yours I greatly admire, and one which gives me much pleasure.”
That single word hung in the air between them. Finally Isabel gave a short cough into her fist and then said, “Have I allayed your fears, King Arthur? Have I answered your questions to your satisfaction?”
“You have. And I am deeply sorry for expressing my doubts.”
&nb
sp; “Big bad kings don’t have doubts. They strut around doing kingly things.”
“Oh, yes, how is it possible I misremembered? Hey, you, Countess, do this.”
He kissed her, pulling her flush against his hard, really hard, body.
His lips moved over her face, to kiss her temple, and then suckled the lobe of her ear. “You smell so good,” he whispered. “You always smell good.”
If not for his arms firmly around her, Isabel had the feeling she’d fall to the floor like a rag doll.
But finally she’d had enough of this foreplay, because need was a powerful thing.
She straightened and pulled away. “There is this game I like to play.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. It’s called, last one to my bedroom has to get naked first.” And then she picked up her skirts, ran into the castle and up the back staircase.
* * *
ARTHUR caught her right before she hit the door to her quarters. As he had followed her, laughing the entire way, he debated which he wanted more, but it seemed to him to be a win-win, so decided a tie was in order.
He picked her up, swallowing her squeals of protest with his mouth. He carried her into the room, only to stop short. There were candles alight everywhere, and a tray with a cask of wine and two goblets sitting side by side.
“Mary,” Isabel said.
“Remind me to reward Mary,” he said, and laid Isabel on the bed.
He looked down upon her, the glow of the candles making pretty Isabel almost breathtaking.
“I want you,” he said. “Do you feel the same?”
“Who ran up here faster?”
He decided reminding her that he could have overtaken her at any moment would not be a great idea. He dragged air into his lungs. “I am at your mercy. But please, help me to settle down.”
She laughed. “No, sir. I want a lesson in how to undress a king.”
“You are very much not helping, madam.”
She looked into his eyes, and Arthur was lost. He feared he would lose all ability to satisfy her afore either of them were unclothed.
She rolled off the bed and rose blithely to her feet.
“Your tunic appears easy enough, sir, as I can simply pull it over your head,” she said quietly. “However, you need to allow me to remove it.”