Courting Guinevere (The Davonshire Series Book 1)

by Olivia Gaines

  Guinevere Lmbo!

  Gawain I work out, am in pretty good physical condition, but I love a good meal whether prepared at home or if we choose to go out.

  Guinevere Understood, making a mental note

  Gawain I want to make sure you do, Milady. If I take you out to my favorite restaurant, I want you to experience why it is a place of joy for me. A bowl of lettuce with some Craisins and blue cheese crumbles you can get at a wholesale club or the grocers and make at home.

  Guinevere But moderation, Sir Knight, or lack thereof, is why we live in a nation of pill poppers who want an instant fix for every wrong. Including every pound and every ounce of cellulite earned by poor food choices.

  Gawain That, Milady, is another topic. Dinner is dinner, lunch is lunch and breaking bread, whether at a five star or one star dive, should be enjoyed.

  Guinevere You seem to be taking that whole meal thing rather seriously and making a point of what exactly….

  Gawain Milady, the point is then, now and shall always remain simple in its solution and reasoning.

  Guinevere (eyebrow arched, eyes rolling upward)……Listening

  Gawain Funny. If I’m not worried about your caloric intake, then who else is. And obviously what you are doing is not for me.

  Guinevere caught her breath and sat back in the seat for a moment to ponder his last words. He was right, it was simplistic and maybe there was more to this man than met the screen. He was educated for certain, liked fine dining, and claimed to work out. He did have a sense of humor. The popcorn thingy was kind of cute.

  She was concerned about the post office box thing and relieved that he was not hard charging at having a webcam, but appeared to want to get to know her instead. Guinevere realized her next answer had to show something more to her personality since the conversation had been geared toward him.

  Live Chat

  Guinevere Checkmate

  Gawain

  Guinevere You are pretty fast with the emoticons.Can we go back for a second to this whole post office thing?

  Gawain I learned how to use them today, but I have to leave you for a moment. I have an incoming call. Wait one?

  Guinevere Okay … with baited breath.

  The phone was vibrating on the table in the kitchen, as he darted in and grabbed the line before his boss was able to leave an irritating voicemail. He answered the call with some reservation, knowing a call on a Saturday afternoon equated to a Monday morning flight. The call was quick, concise and meant a long night of research and work.

  Gawain sighed, knowing that just the right woman, at the right time, would change his life and ending this constant cycle of airplanes and airline peanuts. All of this, he would give up or give away. If his wife wanted to continue her career, he would stay home and raise the children, and yes there would be children, at least four.

  He knew what he must do.

  His quest had officially begun.

  Live Chat

  Gawain I have returned, Milady.

  Guinevere Oddly enough … you were missed. Everything ok?

  Gawain Monster report needs to be compiled, I have to send it out by 8 am Monday

  Guinevere Bummer

  Gawain Yep. I am really starting to rethink how I make my living and plane rides.

  Guinevere Ready to make some changes in your lifestyle?

  Gawain I am working on it.

  Gawain Hmm…. Okay you were asking about the post office thing. I was thinking you will get to maintain your anonymity while I court you.I can mail items to Guinevere or Office Manager at your PO Box, and not need your name.

  Guinevere Court me???

  Gawain Yes, Milady, I am going to bring my romantic A-game.

  Guinevere Oh

  Gawain Now, I must bid you good night. Shall we meet again tomorrow at the same time?

  Guinevere Until then, Sir Knight….

  Gawain Rest well, Milady, tomorrow we shall begin our courtship.

  Guinevere sat at her computer staring at the screen. Lancelot could kiss her Petri dish. Gawain was the new man of the hour. She felt giddy with anticipation about the possibility of his romantic A-Game. She thought back over the transcription and recalled his words “Romance is reciprocal.” Drumming her nails on the desktop, she was faced with a new reality. Her A-game required some finessing as well.

  The post office box thing was clever. She wondered what he would send for the perfect first date but then she began to concern herself over what she would send to him for an opener in reciprocity. Should I wait until I receive his or should I just go out and get something and send it to him? She logged out of the dating site, saved the transcript from their conversation, and began to slowly back sift through the text.

  She made a list of what had she learned.

  He had just learned how to use emoticons.

  He liked fine dining.

  He used to be engaged.

  He could afford a gardener.

  He liked a woman who enjoyed a meal.

  He had a job.

  He worked with data or numbers.

  He hated planes, which meant he traveled.

  He wanted reciprocity.

  Guinevere knew exactly what she would send as an opener to her new romance. Monday she would get her PO Box and some reciprocity would be delivered to a weary knight in San Francisco.

  17

  Sparring in the Courtyard

  The past two weeks had been a bit of a whirlwind. The time on his hands had given Gawain an opportunity to really think about what he wanted in his life. Although he had initiated contact with Guinevere and started the whole courtship thing, he had managed to maintain several conversations with several ladies. His initial attempts at the online dating scenario had turned out pretty much as he expected … empty. Gawain made two attempts, one in San Francisco where he lived, the other in Chicago where he worked.

  Charlotte lived in San Francisco and was a successful single mother who owned her own business. The second lady he contacted lived in Chicago, and she was an investment banker with a really tight face who looked like she had just bit into a whole lime, named Stacie. Gawain knew he was looking for compatibility and the future mother of his children. If he found a woman that was perfectly compatible and had a child, he could work with it and be a stepdad.

  His date with Charlotte had gone pretty much as anticipated. He met her at a local restaurant for dinner and she took the trolley over. Since she did not have an image of him, he opted to tell her that he would be in a lavender striped shirt and black slacks. Charlotte told him, “And I, Sir Knight, will be wearing a red dress with a black shawl.”

  Charlotte walked in and he stood, moving across the room to greet her. Extending his hand, when he introduced himself he could feel that she had stopped breathing. Guiding her by the elbow, Gawain escorted her to the table, seated her, and called the waiter over in one motion. Charlotte, her voice shaking with uncertainty, asked for a glass of wine and he ordered a bottle, along with some appetizers.

  He caught her staring at him, prompting the question, “Is something wrong, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte leaned over and poked his arm with her forefinger, “What’s wrong with you?”

  Arching his brows slightly, “What do you mean?”

  He was confused. She poked him again, which was beginning to annoy him.

  Smiling she said, “You are so handsome that you’re bordering on pretty. Why are you dating online?”

  The wine arrived; he sniffed the cork, inhaled the bouquet, and had the waiter pour each of them a glass.

  Charlotte was bold and forthright and she came out and asked, “You’re gay, aren’t you, or on the down low?”

  He sputtered the wine, catching the drips that hung from his bottom lip with the cloth napkin. “No, I am all heterosexual man. And no…I am not married either.”

  She looked at him with uncensored curiosity as Gawain explained his existence to her. “I travel a great deal, which is diffic
ult on relationships. Also, looking the way I do, women often assumed I was dumb, kept, or leading a double life.” Charlotte sputtered this time.

  Gawain smiled at her, “I want to pick up the phone, dial a beautiful woman, pick her up for dinner, take her to a movie, or a late night drink,” Gawain told her as he sliced a shrimp. He held a piece on a fork to her. She leaned forward and accepted his offering.

  “Moreover, I want to talk to a woman who wants to talk to me about something relevant.” The waiter returned and Gawain made a suggestion for their entrees. Charlotte, still in shock that the pretty man could form complete sentences, agreed with his suggestion for main course and dinner proceeded with ease. Charlotte had consumed half the bottle of wine so he offered to call her a cab. “No, will you drive me home?”

  As they approached her home, Gawain spoke about the beauty of her landscaping while walking her to the front door. He mentioned, with a chuckle at the circular reference that he knew a great gardener. Charlotte’s mind was elsewhere.

  Gawain leaned in to kiss her cheek but instead she responded by launching her entire body at him and wrapped herself around him like a koala baby trying to feed. She covered his face with feverish kisses that screamed of her ravenous need for a man’s touch. Had he not been holding on to the banister when she leaped, they both would have tumbled down the steps.

  Charlotte worked her kisses around to his mouth and pressed softly against his lips, awaiting his response. Gawain returned the kiss. Charlotte pressed closer and deepened her assault on his mouth. Running his hand along the thigh that was wrapped around his waist, he slowly lowered her legs until she was eventually standing on her own two feet. Slowly pulling away, he looked down at her sweet face and she slowly opened her eyes with a look that begged for his acceptance.

  Gawain removed the door keys that she was holding in her hand and unlocked the front door for her to enter. Charlotte turned and looked at him to see if he was coming inside. The breath she had been holding was released in a swoosh of air when he asked the question, “Do you have the place to yourself this evening?”

  For the first time she seemed to be second-guessing herself, but before she could back away, he gave her a sheepish grin. “I am asking because I need to know how noisy we can get.”

  The sheepish grin turned wolfish as he locked the front door and dropped his jacket on the back of a chair. He reached for her and planted a kiss that made her melt into him. Charlotte wasn’t a large woman, but a nice-sized brunette with an ample bottom and full lips. Reaching down, he picked her up into his arms, still planting kisses, and headed for the stairs.

  “Charlotte, where’s your bedroom?”

  She was able to tear her mouth away long enough to tell him it was the last one on the left. With each step he took, he whispered words of adoration. He said with ragged breaths the urgency of his need to have her. By the time he reached the landing, Charlotte was unbuttoning his shirt. Gawain used his foot to kick open the door as he touched, caressed, and told her over and over how he could not wait to be inside of her.

  They landed on the bed in a heap and he used his knee to brace his weight as he unfastened his belt. The hand that slipped under her dress did not bother to slide down her panties, but instead ripped them from her body. Two flicks of his wrist, he unwrapped, rolled, and prepared himself for entry while protecting them both.

  Trained fingers tested her readiness while he whispered in her ear, assuring her of her beauty and she aroused all of his senses. He gazed deep in her eyes as he told her where he needed her hands. “Guide me, Charlotte, please….” When her hands touched him, he inhaled sharply and groaned in sheer pleasure as he felt her guide him and he pushed slightly, embedding himself deep with her.

  He raised her right thigh and lowered his head, burrowing his goatee in between her breasts. He could feel her tightening around him and he increased his pace. Gawain took her with urgency and mastery, allowing her to find her release before him. Three times during the night he took her again, each time initiated with tenderness, finishing with something below animalistic.

  Charlotte was fantastic and he enjoyed the night. However, this night was no different than any of the other blurs who had lain next to him on an adjoining pillow. He never woke up with them. He was a fantasy to them, nothing real. It was never real.

  The same scenario played out with Stacie in Chicago. It almost felt like a self-esteem booster to loosen up the tight face on the banker. He knew he could refuse, but sometimes, he understood that a successful woman needed a man to just be the man. Both women shouldered a lot of responsibility and the men they worked with and around were off limits. For one night of abandon, they could let go. He knew how to help with that.

  Gawain didn’t know what it was about the panty-ripping thing that sent them over the edge, but each time he did it, women’s bodies responded immediately. Luckily, he owned half a lingerie company or replacing panties would put him in the poorhouse.

  His four a.m. walks of shame had become his signature. He always sent a message to his assistant, Rod, who knew to send a $100 gift card to Vanity’s Pleasure along with a bouquet of flowers with a hand scribbled note stating no more than, “Thank you for a wonderful evening I will not soon forget.”

  They knew not to call. He knew not to call. They would not see him again.

  He was at the point in his life where he needed someone who needed him for a lifetime and not a night. He wanted a woman who saw the man in him, not a piece of man candy or a personal escort. Gawain could have stayed throughout the night with each, but experience had taught him that their late night cries and screams of ecstasy were replaced in the morning with embarrassment. It was awkward for him as well, and he was left feeling as if he had done something wrong when he had not, on either occasion, initiated the act.

  Asking the lady to use her hands to guide him became his way of saying “You placed me there.” If there was any resentment in the morning, none of it could be blamed on him. He could have turned both down, but he needed exactly what they needed, a moment of contact with another human and to feel as if he mattered, even if it was only for a night. Even if just to stave off the ever present stalking of his enemy combatant – loneliness.

  He used to visit his sister at her New York apartment, but found that each time he stayed with her she had “friends” over for dinner. He knew his sister was trying to repay the hurt and loss of the damage she had caused with Shontae. Vanity knew the time he had spent with the lady, had made her brother different. He had been warmer. He had been almost happy. But Gawain had locked up the memory of Shontae in a folder in the recesses of his mind. Onward.

  His sister’s friends were all models. Models didn’t eat meals. He enjoyed his meals and loved a good dinner with a bottle of wine. He did not want to eat a chuck of beef while some waif-thin woman grazed a crouton and leaf of lettuce. On more than one occasion he had excused himself from the boring conversations of name dropping, went to shower, and walked out to find his pillow draped with a blond.

  The last time it was an Ethiopian model whose breasts were hard as little pebbles.

  The time before that was a redhead who made way too much noise, which left him embarrassed the next morning. To add to his discomfort, the redheaded hottie was Ukrainian, had no shame, and came down to breakfast the next morning making comments about his prowess.

  “The way you were carrying on Vinka,” his sister drolly added, “I didn’t know if he was killing you or you were cumming!”

  Gawain choked on his coffee. Vinka showed no shame by adding, “I vas cumming darling, over and over again! Your brother like bull, he tore up my china shop!”

  Good Lord, in front of my sister no less! His cheeks were burning from embarrassment. He apologized profusely to his sister, “I’m sorry, Mina. I am so sorry that she would be so common in front of you. I am horribly embarrassed by this, please forgive me.” It was time to go. He decided that for any further trips to New York to visit h
is sister, he would stay at a hotel.

  He placed a light kiss upon Vinka’s cheek, thanked her for a nice evening, and quickly added a playful kiss to his sister’s forehead. “I’m leaving the dishes for you, sis!” he shouted over his shoulder on the way out the door. “I’ll call you later, I heart you!” And with that, he was gone.

  He never bothered to stay with his sister again. He often opted to meet her out for dinner, or she would come home to the condo in San Francisco. Vanity had noticed the subtle changes in him since the family fiasco with Shontae and knew she was losing him.

  Gawain had begun to spend more time explaining the high function details of her business. Several board meetings he had been unable to make and she had to attend in his stead. West coast meetings he insisted that she take part in, and for the first time, she understood how much responsibility her brother actually shouldered for her. He also sent her to San Francisco for a month of training with Joshua, the head of West Coast Operations and Marketing.

  The weekend after the breakup with Shontae, everyone was at Wilfred’s ranch and she had been thrown from her horse. Again. She knew she wore too much perfume and the horse hated it, but it was her signature scent. She was also hoping she could get a new horse, especially since this one loved to throw her, which it had just done. Again.

  Before she was able to even stand, he was at her side. He checked her for bruises, held her closely until she stopped shaking, and dusted the grass from her hair and bottom. While in his arms, Vanity began to cry. He held her until the sobs subside, and used his monogrammed handkerchief and cleaned her face. Each upward stroke of the soft cotton, he spoke gently to her, “I don’t think I told you today how much I love you, Mina.” She only cried harder because it was then she realized the past fifteen years of his life he had been doing the exact same thing for her and her twin brother, cleaning their faces and dusting them off as he protected them from the ugliness of the world.