Goddess of Legend gs-7 Read online

  Arthur sat down with a thump, seeming deep in thought. “You give me much to ponder.”

  Isabel took his hand. “Ponder this. A happy castle staff makes for a happy Camelot. You and Gwen and your highest men enjoy the fruits of the servants’ labors. How about allowing the servants to enjoy some of those fruits for themselves? Why are you, Gwen and I allowed to follow our hearts, and those who work for us not permitted to follow theirs?”

  He puffed up like a blowfish. “I do not disallow my staff from pursuing their own desires! Have you not seen the many children about?”

  Isabel wanted to laugh but controlled herself. “Lovemaking and childmaking is going to happen no matter what else is happening. I’m talking about other pleasures.”

  “What other pleasures are there?”

  “Oh, please. Lovemaking is certainly a big one. But there are others. Gwen loves to garden. My chambermaid loves to dress hair. I love to run. I love to draw. The possibilities are endless. We could conduct a poll and find what really makes them happy. And then allow them the opportunity to pursue those dreams.”

  “A poll?”

  “A chance for them to speak up about what they enjoy. And possibly allow them to voice what they don’t.”

  The beard scrubbing was gone. He’d moved on to standing and rubbing his temples. This was a natural progression in Isabel’s life, so she wasn’t exactly surprised. Next he’d be begging for a drink. She’d bet money on it.

  “You are an unusual woman, Isabel,” he finally said. Then he stepped to his left and knocked on a bell. Within seconds Tim appeared. “Wine, please, Timothy. And two goblets.”

  She needed more wine like she needed more eel. But what the hell? “I promise that you are not the first to tell me this. About being unusual, I mean.”

  “But I swear ’tis in a very intriguing way.”

  “Right, one that drives men to drink.”

  “One that drives men to ponder as they enjoy an evening libation.”

  Isabel tried hard to resist, for Viviane’s sake. “Should you not be sharing this with the queen?”

  “Gwen enjoys evenings to . . . pursue those”—he waved his hands vaguely—“things women like to do.”

  I’ll bet. Isabel rather liked mornings for those types of pursuits but decided not to mention that.

  “She’s very sweet,” she said instead, fingering her necklace. “You must love her very much.”

  His hesitation was palpable as his eyes seemed fixated on her chest. “As I’m bound to do. She is my wife.”

  He sat down, then immediately stood again and started pacing. Then he suddenly stopped and turned to Isabel, his green eyes searching. “Have you loved, Countess?”

  “You’re asking why?”

  “You have never married.”

  “I haven’t? I mean, of course I haven’t. But Arthur, you seem to know much about me.” A whole helluva lot more than she knew about her countess self, as a matter of fact. Until just now, she’d had no idea whether she’d ever been married or not.

  Apparently not.

  Good God, Viviane, I am no freaking virgin.

  ’Tis true, Isabel, do you not consider that win-win?

  He thinks I am at this stage.

  Then consider yourself a hussy, and stop worrying about age.

  “How is it that you’ve come by all of this information about me?”

  He looked adorably confused. “I’m not certain. It must have been details my men gathered whilst they were checking upon Dumont.”

  “Why would you have private investigators checking on me?”

  Chagrin looked cute on him, too. “My apologies, Countess. But I would be amiss should I not have knowledge prior to your arrival.”

  They were temporarily interrupted by Tim, who arrived with a tray loaded with two goblets. He offered the tray first to her and then Arthur, bowed as they thanked him and silently took his leave, his face betraying no sign of suspicion at what had to be an unusual situation. Isabel wasn’t a connoisseur, but she was pretty sure the liquid in her goblet was either brandy or cognac or the medieval equivalent. It certainly didn’t look or smell like wine.

  Arthur swirled his drink before taking a sip. “How could a man not take control of your heart?”

  “I haven’t said that my heart has never been engaged, sir.” In fact it felt quite a little too engaged at the moment, and she’d known this man for less than twenty-four hours. “I’ve just not met one who has made me want to be taking those vows,” she said, smiling. “I take them too seriously to say them without meaning them.”

  As soon as the words were out, she wanted to kick herself. The pained expression on his face nearly sliced up her heart. “But,” she added quickly, “I feel certain I’ll know him and that elusive thing called love when I see him.”

  He looked down. “That makes sense to me. You are, what do they say? Particular?”

  “You could say that. Why, Arthur, are you asking me these questions?”

  He looked down at her necklace then up, and those gorgeous eyes drilled into her. “Because, madam, I have wanted to kiss you from the moment we met. And I know this is so wrong. My wife’s lips should be the only ones that touch mine. And yet, yours beckon me.”

  He turned his back to her. “That was so inappropriate. Please, forget I even uttered such nonsense. I do not understand why I cannot seem to control my tongue around you.”

  She had a good feeling she knew why. There was a price to pay for the power of the necklace. And apparently she was not the only one who might have to pay it.

  Oh, great, Lady, I want it, too. What do I do?

  Well, crap. This is not going as I’d foreseen.

  I will do what I can to resist.

  The Lady seemed to ponder for a while, but it was probably less than a nanosecond because Arthur hadn’t moved, as if the Goddess had frozen him in time as she thought things through.

  It seems, Isabel, there’s a fork in this road, one that carries a heavy load. This way or that, which will it be? When Merlin’s happiness is what matters to me.

  But—

  Wait a moment, I’m not done, Isabel, as your happiness and Arthur’s matter as well. I fear in my selfishness I’ve not thought this through. I now believe you do what you must do; that fork in the road I spoke of afore, I feel you must choose the one that matters more. ’Tis Arthur’s happiness that is paramount to my man; choose your path, Isabel, and do what you can.

  Well, that cleared things up. Not. So the goddess was leaving it up to her? What if she screwed it up and everyone lost? She’d feel just horrible. Or maybe if she really screwed it up, she wouldn’t feel anything because she’d be dead at the bottom of Grand Lake.

  Isabel had never shied from responsibility before. But this was kind of a heavy load for which she wasn’t certain she was prepared.

  She squared her shoulders and walked up behind Arthur, touching his shoulder. Finally he stirred and turned back to her, the regret in his eyes clear.

  She smiled gently. “Please, don’t apologize, Arthur. I would be lying if I didn’t find your admission both flattering and exciting. I felt exactly the same when you materialized from behind that tree.”

  “You are being kind.”

  Isabel laughed. “That’s a word that doesn’t often show up in a sentence about me. But no, sir, kindness has nothing to do with it. You were truthful to me, and I owe you at least the same.”

  “Then may I? Just this once?” he asked.

  “But your love of your wife, Arthur? Is this not a betrayal to her?”

  He snorted. “Betrayal. That is a word I have come to know well.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I may seem the fool, Isabel, but I assure you, I am not. I am not blind to what is going on around me. Perhaps I am all well too aware.”

  Since she’d just arrived, there would be no way for her to actually know about Gwen and Lancelot, unless she’d been listening to the servants’ gossip. And she w
asn’t about to get that darling Mary in trouble for something Mary didn’t do. So she feigned ignorance. “I know naught of what’s troubling you, Arthur, so I have no words to comfort you.”

  His chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “I have said more to a woman who is a virtual stranger to me than I’ve e’er said to my most trusted men.”

  Isabel stepped back to the bench and sat, then patted the place beside her. “Please, join me. I might have a theory on the matter.” She took a healthy glug of her drink, and surprisingly it was rather good.

  “By all means,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “Please, let me hear this theory of yours.”

  Isabel toyed with her necklace, making certain his attention was drawn there for a moment or two, hoping the power of the teardrop would work here. “I believe, sir, that it is sometimes much easier to unburden one’s troubles to the ear of someone who isn’t so intimately involved in the situation. A nonpartisan view, as it were.”

  “Nonpartisan?”

  “One who has little if any stake in the matter. One who has not chosen sides.” Which was a bit of a lie, because if Isabel was going to choose which fork in that road to take, she had a lot at stake in this matter. Not to mention, as nice as Gwen was, Isabel was firmly in Arthur’s court, so to speak.

  The early summer night was warm and mixed with the fragrance of lilacs and oil from the two tall lamps set on either side of the mossy path that led into the gardens. The moon was lovely in the clear night sky but not much help as it was only at about its quarter stage. Night critters filled the air with chirps and chitters that sounded comforting somehow.

  Arthur didn’t seem to be taking in the atmosphere as he was still staring from her face to her necklace and back again. “And you would be this . . . nonpartisan person?”

  “Should you want me to be.” Oh, great, she’d just signed up to be his sounding board. His psychologist. Freud would be spinning right about now. However, maybe what he spilled would revolt her so much that she’d stop obsessing over his big, swarthy hands. His lips. His eyes.

  “How do I go about this?” he asked, looking lost.

  “However you would like. Wherever and whenever.”

  He stood again and paced. Oh, man, nice butt, thighs and shoulders. His men obviously weren’t the only ones who worked out hard while he sat on his throne.

  Finally he stopped and faced her. “I had this idea. I thought it was one that would benefit all; those in Camelot and those in all of the surrounding lands. To bring all of the knights of all of the realms together to meet, to discuss how we might find a way to create treaties that would benefit us all and allow us to live prosperously, peacefully and happily.”

  “Sounds like a great plan to me.” Impossible, probably, but hey, maybe someday.

  He threw his free arm wide. “And to me as well. I was hoping—perhaps in my arrogance—that this might define my legacy as king.”

  “There is nothing arrogant about wanting to leave a mark on the world, sir. Is it not what we all hope to accomplish during our time on this earth? To leave it better because of our actions?”

  His hand went to his hip. “I most certainly want to kiss you, Countess.”

  Oh, me, too. Come on, come on, spill something that will disgust me.

  She smiled. “Your tale is in its beginnings. Please, go on. We’ll discuss that other part once you’ve unburdened what brings that sadness to your eyes.”

  He returned to the bench and sat down, taking a long sip from his cup before setting it down. Then he took her hand, running his thumb over her palm.

  Isabel should have objected, should have pulled away, but it felt really gentle and she had the willpower of a moth to one of those lanterns.

  He kind of shook his head. “The responses from the knights were positive. We are to meet here in the next sennight. I asked you to arrive early because our lands border one another, and I wanted us to have discussions over farming before all arrived. And,” he added, looking her in the eyes, “because perhaps the knights would not ...”

  “Accept a woman at the negotiating table?”

  He nodded. “I am so sorry.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll deal with that later. So what’s so sad about this great response to your offer of negotiations? I don’t get it.”

  “This is where Lancelot comes in.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ISABEL finished off her cognac and also set the glass down before saying, “Lancelot? He sat at our table tonight. Correct? He seemed like a nice enough child.”

  “Ha!” Arthur barked. “Yes, indeed, he’s a nice enough child. He is also the most skilled fighter I have e’er known. All he needed was guidance. I believed. In my dealings with him, I felt like he was the son I had always wanted, the son I never . . . was able to mold. I asked him to come to Camelot to be part of the men who would secure us.”

  “He has obviously accepted.”

  “He has.” Arthur shut his eyes, then opened then again. Looking clearly and deeply into hers. “He has also secured the love of my wife. He has assured to help defend and secure Camelot. He swore his fealty. However, it has become painfully obvious that his loyalties have . . . shifted.”

  “Has he, then, betrayed you? Is he now a threat to Camelot?” This feigning ignorance was getting tough. “And if so, why do you still invite him to your table?”

  “A threat to Camelot, no. I have no doubt that he would be the first into battle, should it, heaven forbid, ever come to that. And I am certain he never meant to betray me.”

  “But he has.”

  Arthur looked down at the ground, almost as if he couldn’t face her as he whispered, “I feel, to my soul, that he wishes to be true to me. But I am certain, in my heart, that he . . . has fallen in love with Gwen.”

  “Uh-oh. And Gwen?”

  “I believe she returns his love.”

  “Has she said as much?”

  “No, no, of course not.”

  “Have you asked?”

  “I have not been able to bring myself to confront her. If the truth is spoken, the consequences are grave. A queen’s unfaithfulness to her husband and king is considered treason, and is punishable by death.”

  “Wow. Does she happen to be aware of that little bylaw?”

  Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but then a rustling in the garden behind them stopped him short. He put a finger to his lips, then mouthed, “Stay here.” He then stood and silently treaded farther down the garden path.

  Isabel watched him go, her heart drumming as he disappeared into the shadows. If there was someone spying on them and they had overheard, the consequences would be huge. Too huge for Isabel to want to contemplate. She grasped her teardrop necklace, wondering if this was one of those times where she should put the powers it held into play.

  But she thought of Viviane’s warning. There were repercussions for its use, and she didn’t even want to think of just what those might be. If she banished the intruder, what would she, or they, face as punishment?

  Fear not, Isabel, this one’s on me. Arthur must needs to bare his sorrow to thee.

  Oh, thank you, thank you, Viviane! You are a peach!

  She heard a soft chuckle in her head. Then a thought occurred to her.

  Hey, wait a minute. Are you watching and listening like, all the time? I mean, I haven’t decided my path, but should it take me . . . a little or a lot closer to Arthur . . .

  Isabel, I am a Goddess. I have seen and heard it all, but I give my word not to witness, should the clothing start to fall.

  “That’s a relief,” Isabel murmured.

  “What is, m’lady?” Arthur asked.

  Isabel nearly jumped a foot. He’d returned as silently as he’d left. “Oh!”

  He smiled down at her. “My apologies. I ne’er meant to startle you.”

  “I . . . I was just worried for your safety. You are unarmed.”

  “’Twas just but a rabbit. No need for concern.”

&nbs
p; Isabel had to wonder what it had been before Viviane intervened.

  Arthur sat again, but then looked at her and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. She barely stifled a moan of pleasure.

  “I am sorry to have unburdened my private troubles upon you, Isabel.”

  “Believe me, your concerns and heartache are safe with me. I feel honored you felt you could trust them to me. Although I must admit that I am so sorry that such an honorable man is having to deal with all of this.”

  “Not dealing well, I fear.”

  “Talk to her, Arthur. Tell her how you feel. Allow her at least to give an explanation. Perhaps there is nothing to your suspicions. Or perhaps this will jolt her into realizing the seriousness of her actions, and promise to stop this thing before anything horrible happens to any of you.”

  He nodded. “You are very wise, Countess Isabel. And I thank you for your ear and your thoughts.”

  “You are very welcome, Arthur. I do hope that things work out for all of us . . . I mean, you.”

  “You have had a long, tiring day, and I have kept you far too late into the night. Perhaps you would like to retire to your chamber?”

  “I’m far from tired, Arthur, but if you would like to hit the hay, I understand.”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “Betimes I feel that we speak different languages. I assure you that the beds in the upper chambers are made of down and very comfortable. At least I hope you find yourself comfortable.”

  Images of them testing the comfort of the bed together bloomed bright in her mind. And by the glitter in his eyes, she had the feeling they were pretty much on the same page, fantasy-wise.

  Isabel cleared her throat. “And are you ready to retire, sir king?”

  “I feel as if I could talk to you the entire night, Isabel. Why is that, do you think?”