He nodded as he took her elbow and helped her to sit. “And here is where we will most assuredly find some common ground.”
I need guidance here, Viviane. I am asking for a way to explain how I can care for two people, both and neither to blame.
What is it, Isabel, that you fear? That you have met two people who you now feel near?
I fear irreparably damaging a marriage that might be fixed, so my feelings are so terribly mixed.
The damage had been done long afore your arrival; as I see it all now, you could well be Arthur’s survival.
Isabel wasn’t so sure, but she took a little comfort in the reminder that the marriage had been in trouble before she showed up. Although she didn’t have a single clue how she could be Arthur’s savior in any way.
Just one last question, Goddess, and for this I won’t rhyme: How is Merlin doing, and how are you at this time?
Good gods, she couldn’t even help herself.
She heard the soft lilting sound of Viviane’s laughter in her ear.
Truth be told, Isabel, he smiles when you and the king come together. I must believe that your match makes him feel so much better.
Isabel wasn’t certain she could count it as a match at the moment. It was only a certain . . . attraction between them so far.
It is the only positive sign I have had from Merlin in the last days. Please, Isabel, he has need of your help.
Wow, not even close to rhyming. Viviane was not herself.
You have no idea.
There was a knock on Isabel’s door and then it opened and Mary came bustling in, a tray filled with cheeses and bread on it, along with a stein of what was most likely mead. “Hello, mum,” she said cheerfully. “’Tis a lovely day, is it not?”
Isabel smiled. “It is indeed. And you too are looking full in bloom. What brings such lovely radiance to your face?”
Mary laid down the tray then clapped and nearly jumped in the air. “James has agreed, Countess!”
“Agreed?” Isabel asked, reaching for a piece of goat cheese. “I thought that was already taken care of. You will be wed shortly after you strike the ripe old age of fourteen.”
“No, no! He has agreed to allow me to cut his hair.”
Isabel dropped the cheese and jumped up, grabbing Mary’s hands. “That is wonderful, Mary! Truly, truly wonderful! Oh, he will look so handsome at your ceremony.”
“And that is not all. It seems that the king has suggested that all of his men follow suit, so that they all appear—what was the word?—receptacle as well!
Isabel nearly choked. Hell, most of them already looked like receptacles. “I think you mean respectable.”
“Yes, that.”
“Oh, Mary, that is such good news!” She raised the stein in toast, even if Mary had nothing to toast with. “Here’s to a beautiful wedding.” She took a sip, but a small one. She wasn’t used to the strong brew and wasn’t certain she’d ever get used to it.
Either it was the mead or her feeling of pride that Arthur had listened and requested that his men clean up their acts that was warming her insides. Most likely the latter. She held up the stein to Mary. “Are you permitted to drink this swi—er, mead, Mary? If so, please join me.”
Mary’s freckled nose wrinkled. “’Tis permitted, mum, but I care not for the taste.”
“Then share some bread and cheese?”
Mary shook her head. “Thank you again, but no. I do not want to add any bulk to my body afore my wedding day.”
Isabel chuckled. Every bride’s nightmare. At least that was something that hadn’t changed over time. She racked her brain, wanting to do something for Mary to celebrate.
Then it hit her. “Mary, do you already have the gown you are to wear on your special day?”
“No, mum, but I hope to engage the help of our seamstresses in the next couple of days. The queen has demanded that the men who I shear offer a small payment for my services. With what I save, I am hoping to be able to afford to purchase a very special dress for the occasion.”
Isabel walked over to the wardrobe. “Take your pick,” she said, pointing at her gowns. “Any one you want, it is yours.”
“Oh, I could never!”
“Oh, but you can! I insist. It is my marriage gift to you. And you cannot refuse a marriage gift, now can you? That would just be plain rude.”
Mary glanced longingly at the dresses, then turned back. “But, mum, you are so much taller than I. And so much more . . . bountiful up here,” she said, cupping her own breasts.
“What are seamstresses for if not to do a little nip and tuck work to adjust gowns to fit the bride? And you can save what you earn from going into the haircutting business to help you and James save up for your own private cottage on the estate. Win-win.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears, and she tried to blink them away. “Really, mum, I just don’t know.”
“I do. Choose. And tomorrow we’ll go down or up to the sewing department, or whatever you call it, and we’ll start on the alterations.”
“What if I choose one you especially love?”
“Then I’ll especially love seeing it on you during the best day of your life.”
Mary stood mute for a moment, then flung herself into Isabel’s arms. “Oh, mum, this is the nicest thing anyone has e’er done for me.”
Isabel hugged her back, feeling tears attempting to spill from her own eyes. “I am so happy to do this small thing, Mary. And now let’s pick out a dress.”
She looked up and went still when she found Arthur lounging in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at her intently. She wondered if she was in big trouble for stepping over some kind of line until his lips lifted in a slow smile. He nodded.
She returned a shaky smile, then gave him the “shoo-shoo” gesture so he wouldn’t freak Mary out. He nodded and retreated, but not before mouthing, “I shall return shortly.” Whether to chew her out or kiss her, she had no idea. She didn’t care. Just having him back was good enough for her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TRUE to his word, Arthur returned less than an hour later. “May I enter, Countess?”
She finished brushing—or twigging—her teeth, stuffed a bunch of mint in her mouth and turned. “Yes, sir, you may.”
“Has the vow-day dress been decided upon?”
“After a little argument over color, it has indeed.”
“Color?” he asked, as he walked in, a flask of wine and two goblets in his hands.
“She had her heart set on the red, but I talked her into the green. The red kind of clashed with her hair. The green complimented her coloring much better.”
He set the goblets down and filled them. “I believe you have a better eye for such things than most.” He handed her one of the goblets.
“How long were you standing there?” Isabel asked, accepting the wine.
“Long enough to recognize why I have these feelings for you, Izzy.”
She lowered her head hiding her grin. “You do know I only afford those closest to me to call me Izzy.”
“I do.”
“So you are assuming I have allowed you into my circle of closest friends?”
“I have high hopes, and so I am taking the chance. Have ne’er waited in my life to be invited. I have this tendency to barge in. ’Tis a terrible fault of mine.”
“Yes, you brute!”
“My belief, beautiful lady, is that you can handle the brute.”
The look in his eyes told her his intentions were so very not honorable. Which was as sexy as sexy could be.
She backed up. “Mary could return at any moment.”
“She could,” he said as he backed up and kicked the door closed and then turned the lock. “But she would have a very terrible time entering.”
“I don’t suppose you put the Do Not Disturb sign out there?”
“No one will disturb us. At the risk of being beheaded.”