“May I enter?”
The three looked at one another, obviously recognizing the voice. They all sat up and rearranged their skirts.
“Isabel, I need to see you, to talk to you,” Arthur said. “Please allow me entrance.”
“Come on in, Arthur,” she said. “It is unlocked.”
He opened the door and then nearly gaped as he took in at the sight of them all on the floor.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to interrupt . . . whate’er this might be. I believe I do not even want to know what this might be.”
“Girly stuff,” Isabel said. “We have been planning Mary’s wedding.”
He looked as uncomfortable as a perfectly fat and healthy chicken inside a KFC.
Gwen stood up, a little wobbly, perhaps. “Mary and I were about to take a walk to finish drying our toes, were we not, Mary?”
She held out her arm, and Mary gladly, it appeared, grabbed hold. “I believe we were, Your Highness.”
Mary performed a quick curtsy as she passed by Arthur. “My king.”
“Oh, please, cut it out, Mary,” he said. “We are friends. Stop the groveling.”
She nodded. “I apologize, King Arthur.”
Arthur actually growled, but he held open the door as both Mary and Gwen ducked under his arm and, from the sound of it, ran down the hall. And then he nearly slammed it shut.
“What is happening, Isabel?”
“Mary and I were having a girlie moment, and Gwen asked to join. Why do you look so upset? Nothing wrong happened here. We were having fun.”
“Gwen knows of us.”
“And guess what, I know of that. She told me.”
“She did?”
“Indeed. In fact, she was very accepting of the situation. So why are you upset?”
“I feared . . . well, was concerned ...”
“Hey, I’m still here, Arthur. Gwen is not the murdering kind. You must know that. You would not have married a woman whose heart you believed to be cruel. You never would.”
“I would hope not. But with you I cannot begin to take the chance.”
“I love you, Arthur.”
“And I, you, Isabel.”
“Leg up?” Isabel asked, holding out her arm.
“What?”
“Just a saying. Meaning please help me to my feet.”
He took her arm, and as he brought her up to him, he wrapped an arm around her and lifted her.
Still inches from the ground, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Oh, Isabel,” he said moments later. “To my dying breath, I will ne’er stop desiring your touch and your kisses.” He lowered her slowly, which was his intent, as she slid down the front of his body in the most sensual way.
“Why did you, Arthur?”
“Why did I what?”
“Why did you tell Gwen?”
He brushed hair from her cheek. “She deserved the truth.”
“You could have said nothing.”
“That might have been an option. But what does that say about me, Isabel? Would you have me hide my love for you?”
She butted his chest with her head. “If this gets out, she and Lance could be in trouble, as all of the truth will get out. Don’t you think that James would spill the truth because of his loyalty to you? There is no way he would allow you to take the blame.”
“He will if I command so.”
“And will you? Will you, for lack of a better term, fall on the sword?”
“No. If it comes to that, no.”
“How do you know?”
“That is an easy one.”
“Which is?”
“Take that one for a thousand, Isabel.”
She laughed. “I will take that for a thousand, Arthur.”
“The woman who Arthur, King of Camelot, has come to love so much that he will do anything to protect her from harm.”
Melt. Melt. Melt. Why couldn’t love come easily?
“That is a simple one,” she said when she relearned the fine art of breathing. “It would be, ‘Who is Arthur’s beloved and besotted beagle, Pix, who follows him everywhere.’”
“Wrong, my lady, although I admit Pix would be a close second. I give you another chance.”
“Pix would be a close second?”
“Lady, you would jump in front of an arrow to save Burny.”
“Oh, but he is a dog like no other. Truthfully. He is a dog like no other. And I mean that in the most, ‘what in hell is he, exactly,’ way.”
Arthur laughed and hugged her even closer. “No one knows. We do not question, we just constantly look forward to whate’er pups come about.”
“He is so sweet.”
“And he follows you around as if you were indeed his mother.”
“I did not realize you had noticed.”
“I thought I noticed every single piece of what happens around you, Isabel. Though I must admit I did not see today coming. I failed this day.”
“What? In what way?”
“I ignored the obvious, while you saw it and took action.”
“You mean with Gwen?”
“Yes.”
“You did what any good husband would do. I just happened to talk to Tom, and then talked to Gwen.”
“Which should have been my responsibility.”
“You didn’t fail, Arthur. How many burdens are you supposed to take on? Not that Gwen is a burden. We have been enjoying the afternoon. She has been delightful, Arthur. I don’t know what exchange there was between you, but she holds no bitterness at all that I noticed. In fact, she seems more at peace than I have seen her since meeting her.”
“She truly is a good woman,” Arthur said. “Just so very young. I do not know what I was thinking.” He kissed her again. “But no matter. I just had need to see you and make certain all was well.”
“Are you relieved or saddened by your talk with Gwen?”
“Much of the former, a little of the latter.”
“Understandable, Arthur.”
“And then I had this burning desire to check on your welfare. Not that I believe . . . well, that is a very lame excuse. I just wanted to see you.”
“Oh, Arthur,” she said, brushing his hair away from his temple. Wow, it had grown so much in just days. “You have many, many issues to deal with at the moment. I should be the least of your worries.”
“Worry was the pretense. Seeing you was the need.”
“We will see each other later. You need to get back to what you most treasure.”
He stared down at her. “Isabel, if I have not made this clear, you are what I treasure above all else.”
“Camelot—”
“Is but a place. Yes, I love Camelot. But am I able to hold Camelot at night? Am I able to lie with it and share what has happened on any given day? I will, without even a moment’s thought, give it up for the rest of my days if every moment of those days be spent with you.”
“Oh, Arthur, I would never ask.”
“Of course you would not. Another reason why I love you, Isabel. But do not ever doubt my priorities.” He kissed her, and then let go. “You have not correctly questioned my answer,” he said.
Isabel stood totally dazed, confused and with a heart filled with so much emotion, she didn’t know what to deal with first.
“I forget the answer,” she finally said.
“I will repeat. ‘The woman who Arthur, King of Camelot, has come to love so much that he will do anything to protect her from harm.’” He grinned. “The first response was slightly insulting, as it was a slobbering dog. I will, however, forgive that one and allow another choice.”
“Who is Countess Isabel?” she whispered.
“Oh, so correct, Isabel.”
“I have one for you.”
He smiled. “As you say many a time, hit me.”
“The woman who refuses to allow you to give up your lands, your dream, your love just for her. The woman who is so ready to follow you into battle to keep the dream of Camelot alive.”
He took her face in his hands. “The question would be, Who is the one I would hold captive afore I e’er allowed her to run into harm’s way on my behalf? It will not happen, Isabel. I cannot even believe of such.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that women could actually help behind the lines? Allow us to take part.”