“I had no idea,” she said, affronted. “I just could not find sleep.” Then she thought of something. “This is not Mary’s fault! I demanded that she help me find my way back here in a way that would not bring us through the great hall.”
“On my oath, I will assure Mary is rewarded, not punished, for her actions. In truth, she has demonstrated more loyalty to her king than I have witnessed from many others in a very long time.”
He stepped around that magical bench and took Isabel’s hand. “Please join me and tell me why it is that you cannot sleep, Countess Isabel.”
“I am afraid I don’t know.”
“Are the accommodations less than satisfactory? I will have anything done to make you more comfortable.”
More comfortable would mean having him sharing her bed. His warmth, his hard body, his scent. Which, come to think of it, was vastly different than earlier. He had obviously bathed and washed his hair. She couldn’t identify the spicy scent, but it was delicious.
She sat down on the bench, acutely aware that she was wearing only a nightdress and a cloak. How she wished she’d found some jeans and T-shirts stuffed in those trunks.
He stood in front of her, not joining her, just shaking his head. “I told her, Isabel.”
She stared into the troubled green eyes of her dream man, her heart aching. “Guinevere?”
“Yes.”
“And you told her what? Your bowling score? Your credit rating? How to work a Clapper?”
Arthur grinned and sat down. “You have a way of making me smile, Countess, even during a sad time.”
“Well, that’s dandy, but what are you talking about?”
“I told her that I was aware of this thing betwixt and between her and Sir Lancelot.”
“Oh boy. Why?”
“Why? You advised me to talk to her.”
Oh freaking boy. “I meant that as a sort of get-back-together type of thing. Or at least I thought I did.”
Didn’t I, Lady?
Did you, Isabel? ’Twould seem that only time will tell.
Breaking up their marriage was not my intent; I’ll feel like shit if this is why I’ve been sent.
I sent you here to make happy both Arthur and Merlin. To satisfy them both is no such sin.
Once again Arthur began pacing in front of her, something she’d already noticed was a habit he had when he was deep in thought. Or possibly looking deeply into his own soul.
“From the moment I set eyes on Gwen, I have ne’er felt lust for another. Not even after I had learned the truth. Ne’er.”
He stopped pacing and faced her directly. “And then our meeting in the forest. And I found myself suddenly wanting a woman who was not my wife.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He laughed once again. “You apologize for this? You are apologizing for being beautiful? For being . . . you?”
“I have no desire to be part of the crash and burn of a marriage.”
“Crash and burn? Has it not already crashed and burned?”
“You tell me, Arthur.”
He had that come-and-get-me smile on his face. Isabel was certain he didn’t realize that was what he was transmitting, but it was still like a huge Jump Me sign to her. “You opened my eyes tonight, Countess. You are so lovely and blunt, and that mouth of yours spouts fierceness, and yet your actions show compassion.”
Well, that was as clear as quantum physics. “Thank you. I think. And how did this little chat with Guinevere go?”
His hands waved in the air. “She did not deny. She did not beg for mercy for herself, but for Lancelot. She hoped that his punishment would merely be banishment.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Once again his deep grass green eyes lifted to hers. “And your thoughts?”
Therapist, she decided, was not her forte. Especially when she wanted this man. And she was so wanting to jog down that one path that led straight to her own selfish desires.
“Please tell me you are not going to out them.”
“Out them?”
“Gwen and Lancelot. Hurt them. Have them punished?”
“Never. However, much is out of my hands. I can protect both only so far.”
“So then let’s protect them.”
“My pardon, Isabel?”
“You love them both, yes?”
“Most assuredly. Not as afore, but still, they mean much to me.”
“You have decided, in your soul, that you do not want to punish them, correct?”
“I have.”
“Then we need to come up with a plan. A battle plan, as it were.”
His laughter was rich, and once again it reached down into her body. “You are a constant amazement, Countess.”
“Hey, what the hell, let’s get this done. We might all come out of this with what we want.”
“What I want right now is to feel your lips.”
“Keep your eye on the prize, Arthur.”
“You have said this afore on our ride to Camelot. However, the prize, as you call it, has changed.”
“You want to keep Camelot and all of your people safe. That has never changed.”
“I cannot deny that. I can, however, change what this prize I want most desperately might be.”
“THE plan, Arthur. We must work on the plan,” Isabel said, while Arthur was unforgivably debating another plan. Although the servants had doused the garden lanterns for the night, he’d lit them again when he’d come out to ponder the future. It was all a jumble of what he had always envisioned, expected and desired. So much of it all had gone awry. When had he lost control? For some time he had wanted to keep it all together, running smoothly. And then the gods had made a mockery of his dreams and desires.
Or had they?
Isabel sat staring at him intently, her blond hair shimmering from the lantern lights, her eyes so large and inquisitive.
“I love her. I know that I do. But what does it say about me that I am not stopping what I see happening and that I have this attraction to another woman? How is it possible that I felt a desire for you on first sight?”
Wow, this honesty thing that the Lady’s necklace brought about was a lot more powerful than she’d thought.
“Perhaps, just perhaps, that you fell for a beautiful woman who was just a teeny bit too young for you?”
He again shook his head. “Which makes me an old fool?”
“Arthur, you are neither old, nor a fool. Gwen is a lovely young woman. And I do believe she loves you as well. I see it when she looks at you. She respects and admires you, and is proud to be your queen.”
“Do you see love or desire when she gazes upon me?”
“I haven’t been around long enough to discern such a thing.”
That was the biggest bunch of bullshit she’d had to gag out. All she’d noticed was lust and desire when the queen had kept sneaking peeks at Lancelot.
“Bullshit. Apologies for that word and for using it in your presence. I made it up at one point when I felt I was being deceived. You are not giving me truth.”
She stared at him for a second, then broke out laughing. “You, sir, are quite honest.”
“You, madam, are skirting the issue that you’ve promised to help me work out.”
Isabel wished she could have gone back and majored in psychology. But she had nothing but basic logic to go on now. And the Lady, who she hoped would kick her in the chest if she went wrong.
“May I be blunt?”
“Blunt?”
“Truthful to the point that it might cause you pain.”
“Then be blunt, Countess.”
“I think you love Gwen enough to allow her happiness. I think you shield her from gossip because you want her to go about this tryst if it allows her to find her joy. I think you don’t banish Lancelot because you know that the two find joy together. Would you like me to go on and have you banish me?”
“I would fight my own men to keep you here, Countess.”
“Ask yourself, why do you permit this?”