“We cannot,” Mary hiccupped, “thank you enough.”
“You may try,” Arthur said, grinning. “I will not be offended.”
Isabel shot him a disgusted look, but then he pulled the big move on her. He winked. And once again she was a goner.
DEAD on her feet did not even begin to describe how Isabel was feeling.
Without Mary there to help her out of this gawdawful gown, she was in trouble.
She contemplated just dropping down in bed, gown or not, when there was a knock on her door. “Thank you, Jenny, I need so badly help out of these clothes. Come in.”
And in walked Arthur. “I am not Jenny, but I will gladly help you undress.”
She smiled, but it was pretty weak. “Arthur, I am so exhausted, but I will gladly accept your help out of this contraption.”
“My pleasure, madam.”
She turned her back to him so he could work the back laces. “This could be a problem. Jenny might show up here at any moment.”
“I gave Jenny the night off.”
“Jenny is Gwen’s girl.”
“She is. Gwen gave Jenny the night off an hour ago. Just afore Gwen and Lance disappeared.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“For what reason are you sorry?”
“That Gwen . . . that Lance . . . that you . . . oh, hell, I’m just sorry.”
He flipped her back to face him. “Why are you sorry, Isabel? Tell me.”
“I guess, just that it still has to hurt at some level.”
“Do you know what hurt tonight? That I was unable to introduce you as my love and my wife. And that this pretense is killing me. That you are not my queen.”
“I do not give a flying fig about being a queen, Arthur.”
“Do you give a flying fig about being my wife?”
She gaped at him. “News flash. You are already married.”
“Let us just pretend for a moment. If I were not already married and I asked for your hand, would you say yea or nay?”
“Are you asking me to pretend whether I’d marry you?”
“Of a sort,” he said, although his expression was a wee bit wary. “If I were able to ask, would you accept, Isabel?”
“That depends.”
“Upon?”
“Whether you would really want to marry a woman who is not a virgin.”
He seemed to ponder. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“I suppose on how much I crave that woman.”
“Craving and loving are two different issues.”
“Not necessarily,” he said, holding up a finger. “If the craving is born from the feelings, the loving, then they are intertwined.”
She hated when men made sense. They were supposed to be idiots.
“Okay,” she admitted. “That is one logic point for you.”
He looked mighty pleased with himself. He kissed her senseless, which was also a foul in her book. Senseless was not a good place to be when scrambled brains did not work in her favor.
Catching her breath, she said, “Arthur, this is a moot point.”
“It is not. It is a simple enough question, Isabel. Will you marry me?”
She stared at him. “Are you serious? Or are we still pretending?”
“I am serious.”
“Since you’re already—”
“No! Today, now, we are both free to marry.” He stopped. “Okay, that’s a little bit of pretend since it would not exactly be today. But it can be soon. Would you agree to be my wife? Will you marry me, Isabel?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “In a heartbeat.”
He smiled, picked her up and twirled her around until she almost fainted. “See, was that such a hardship?”
She was still seeing stars. “Parts of it, yes.”
He set her back on her feet. Isabel had to hold on to his arms for balance.
He kissed her again, then held her face. “Do you mean it, Isabel? Truly?”
She took his hands and pulled them from her head. “Arthur, please tell me what this is all about. You are not free to marry me. Not even free to ask, actually.”
He grinned. “I might be. Very soon.”
“How so?”
“I poured over the legal papers pertaining to this matter. I may not divorce her without cause. That cause being infidelity, which, as you know, would have serious consequences.”
“Yes, I believe death would qualify as fairly serious.”
“But,” he said, “she may divorce me.”
“On what grounds?”
“Neglect, physical abuse, infidelity and a few other horrid crimes I forget at the moment.”
“You aren’t guilty of any of those!” Isabel said. “Okay, maybe one, but she started it!”
“What does it matter? We can agree on whate’er she wants to claim.” He stopped. “With the exception of infidelity, because I will not allow you to be involved.”
“Arthur, do you hear what you’re saying? You are going to allow her to accuse you of crimes you have not committed?”
He waved. “I care not what accusation she decides upon. The people who know me will realize ’tis not true. The point is that Gwen is free to dissolve our marriage with no harm to her or Lance, and I will be free to make you my wife, which, Isabel, is what I desire most in the world at the moment.” He smiled. “I want to proclaim to the world that you are mine, that we are one. I no longer want the pretense of what we had to endure this eve.”
“You would rather endure being labeled a wife beater?”
“I do not care! People may call me anything they want. I will be free to marry you.”
Isabel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Arthur, I love you so much.”
He looked down at her and his smile disappeared. “I’ll take Do Not Care to Hear a ‘But’ After That Sentence for a thousand, Alex.”
Well, damn, but was exactly the next word on her tongue. So she rearranged the sentence.
“I don’t want you taking the blame for something you didn’t do, Arthur.”
“If it wins me freedom to marry you, it matters not.”
“It matters to me.”
He shoved his hand through his hair. “Dammit, Isabel, what do we do? I do not want to hide my feelings for you. I do not want to pretend to be happy in a marriage that is a sham.”
“Change the law,” Isabel said softly. “You are the king, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
He rubbed his neck. “Harder than you think, Isabel. I cannot take out my sword and whisk it around and say, ‘I have changed the laws of the land because it suits my purposes and desires.’”
“Too bad, huh?” Isabel said. “Being king is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could do it, but ’tis not fair to the rest of the people of Camelot. What does that make me, Isabel, if I change laws to suit my own needs?”
“That would be called a dictator.”
“A what?”
“An evil ruler who changes laws for his own gain.”
“I do not ever care to become one of those.”
“Arthur, if you were, there is no way I could possibly love you. It is the man you are that I love. We’ll figure this out. We will.”
If you want, Isabel, to be with your desire, find a way to make him more than your lover.
And how, Lady, do you make this true? Should I break the necklace and ask for this, too?
No, Isabel, the necklace is not for that. The tears inside will not bring what you want.
You are making no sense, Viv, and I’ve decided I’ve earned the right to call you that. So don’t give me any grief. Just tell me what the hell I’m dealing with here.
Follow your heart, as I have followed mine. All things will reconcile in time.
That made plenty of sense. She banged her head to get herself back into reality. Or at least this reality.
“Tell me this, Arthur. What brought this on?” Isabel asked him
He sat down on her bed. “As I witnessed the vows betwixt James and Mary, I was envious, wishing that it was you and me in their place. Do not mistake me, I am very, very happy for those two. But I could not help but feel that it should have been us.”