Goddess of Legend gs-7 Read online

  Now how did she answer that? Because we wanted to jump each other from the moment our eyes met? She opted for a more demure response. “I believe, sir, that we have much in common. Many would envy our stations in life, but truly, it is often lonely at the top.” Oh, Lord, did she just say that? “What I mean is, we understand one another.”

  “You are a good woman, Countess.”

  “Besides,” she said, trying to bring back a little levity, “on the ride to Camelot you laughed at all of my knock-knock jokes.”

  He had the most heart-thumping grin. “I ne’er heard such things afore. I must say that I would most enjoy to travel to Dumont some day. It must be a happy place.”

  How the hell would she know? “Laughter is the best medicine,” she said, then nearly groaned. Platitudes were pouring out of her mouth at an alarming rate. Some shrink she’d make. “You and the queen are welcome at my castle anytime.”

  His eyes clouded, which reminded her of what they’d just been discussing.

  She grabbed his hand. “My apologies, Arthur. You and your men are also welcome anytime. You can do the bachelor thing.”

  “The ba—”

  “Never mind. What I mean to say is that my doors are always open to you.” Did she have doors to open?

  She swallowed another groan. Shoot me now before I choke on my own slippered foot.

  “I thank you for the offer of hospitality. And shall most definitely take you up on your kind invitation one day.”

  They stared at each other for several heartbeats. During those silent seconds, Isabel knew exactly which road she was going to travel. Heaven help her.

  She let go of his hand—albeit reluctantly. “Now before we retire, you have yet to answer my question, Arthur.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “MY apologies, “MIsabel. I have forgotten the question.”

  So had she.

  And I quote. “Wow. Does she happen to be aware of that little bylaw?” Thanks, Viviane!

  “I believe I asked if Gwen is guilty of this indiscretion, is she aware of the consequences of her actions?”

  “What saddens me is that she is. And she is willing to risk this. As is Lancelot.”

  “Doesn’t seem like true love to me if Lancelot is willing to put Gwen in that kind of danger.”

  “I believe they cannot help how they feel. I am understanding it more and more with every moment I am in your company. There is a phrase my mother told to me as a kidling. ‘The heart wants what it wants.’ I can no more direct the wants of Gwen’s heart as I can explain how I managed to remove Excalibur. As I cannot explain this . . . feeling for you.”

  Isabel wasn’t just flattered, she was on fire. Or, at least, her hormones were. But even as she knew the path she’d chosen, she had to play devil’s advocate. Because adultery went against her fast-and-loose moral code. “Arthur, is it possible that this is a retaliation of sorts? Are you playing tit for tat? To hurt her as she’s hurt you?”

  “I know not of the tit-for-tat thing, but I understand retaliation. Should that have been the case, I would have chosen to take up with any number of women long afore now. ’Tis not in my nature to even events this way.”

  Isabel knew this. She didn’t know how, but she did. Arthur wouldn’t jump into the sheets, or in this case bed furs, with another just to get back at his cheating wife. He could even have gone further, were he a vengeful jerk. He could have exposed Gwen at any moment, have her judged, found guilty and killed. Instead, he continued to protect her, no matter how much it hurt him, day in and out.

  “You still love her very much,” Isabel said softly.

  “That I do. But not as afore. Not in the same way. ’Tis not easy to look at your wife, play the dutiful and loving husband, when you know that she yearns for another.”

  Isabel suddenly realized that she was totally sober, even after the delicious cognac. Her earlier overindulgence was gone, her mind clear. Which should have made her earlier clouded judgment return to practical reality. And yet she still wanted that one kiss, and she wasn’t drunkenly falling in temporary love.

  Permanent lust was already a given.

  She was falling, hard, but with a completely clear understanding of what this all meant. Well, shit. She had to fall back in time centuries to find the one? Fate wasn’t necessarily cruel, but it had a really warped sense of humor.

  “Is there no such thing as divorce in Camelot?”

  “Divorce?”

  “Dissolution of marriage? Annulment? Bye-bye?”

  “Between a king and his queen?”

  “Sure! I mean, certainly. In Dumont we allow for bad marriages to be annulled. So that the partners are free to remarry.”

  “Without cause? Does not one partner have to admit to wrongdoing?”

  She wasn’t certain how to word it, but then just went for the big one. “It’s called irreconcilable differences. No one is to blame, it just . . . is. The marriage is no longer palatable to either partner.”

  He seemed to ponder that for quite a while. “I have not heard of this. When there are grievances within the bonds, I am of course faced with the task of assigning blame. The aggrieved man will then—”

  “Hold it. Don’t tell me it’s always the man who has been aggrieved.”

  “Should the woman lie with another, there is cause—”

  “What if it’s the man who’s been cheating?”

  His laughter almost echoed off the walls of the castle. “Isabel, I know not the laws in Dumont, but in all other lands of Briton, men are—”

  “Held to a different standard. Of course.”

  He frowned at her. “I am confounded by your sudden aggravation.”

  “I’m sorry, Arthur. I just find the double standard upsetting. But I should not be surprised. And I should not be taking my irritation out on you. It is what it is.”

  “Nonetheless, I apologize for upsetting you at all.”

  Isabel, stop. Make his day. You are one who may teach him another way.

  “No, you have been nothing but gracious. It’s my fault for feeling so strongly about something that you cannot understand.”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “But I wish to take up this topic again at a later date. You intrigue me, Isabel. I look forward to many more conversations with you.”

  “And I, you.” She didn’t know what drove her to say it, but she added, “Arthur, before we do something that we both might regret, it’s time to talk to Gwen. Tell her your feelings.”

  “She knows naught of my awareness.”

  Isabel shrugged. “So tell her you know. Ask her to choose. After all, the heart wants what it wants.”

  “At this moment, I do not know which answer I would prefer, Isabel.”

  She curtsied, a little better than before. “I look forward to those future conversations, Arthur.” And, man, she looked forward to a kiss. And more. But not tonight. His attraction to her was heady, but she wasn’t about to kiss a married man if he was only kissing her, or more, to show his wife that he, too, was capable of cheating in the marriage.

  Arthur bowed, then straightened and looked her in the eyes. “I wanted you tonight. But I understand your reluctance. And accept your decision.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. My honest advice? Talk to Gwen.”

  “I admit to not wanting to hear her answers.”

  “Man up, King Arthur.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ARTHUR entered his bedchamber, and Gwen was already there, waiting for him.

  Her dressing gown was open, her auburn hair falling down over her shoulders.

  There was a time when the sight of her would have him hard and ready to pick her up and take her straight to the bed furs. The truth was, even with what he had known, he most likely would still have taken her. So it surprised him that for once the sight of her beautiful young body did not make his member hard as a bed post. In fact, his member couldn’t have lifted a flea from a dog at the moment.

  When had he st
opped wanting his wife? When had he stopped desperately loving her? It was not before his suspicions had been confirmed. He had tried to bring her back to him with lovemaking and romantic gestures.

  But her response to his love gestures were obvious. She no longer desired him as afore. What was shocking to him was that at this moment, he no longer desired her. The blue eyes and blond hair of a woman with a smart mouth and smart ideas kept running through his mind. He could not get Isabel out of his head.

  Gwen headed to him. She smelled of sex already, and he wanted to back away and beg her to bathe. “Where have you been, Arthur?” she asked.

  “I was debating with the countess,” he said, figuring that was no lie. “We had so much to discuss about our lands.”

  ‘Twas true in a sense. He was so very intrigued with her thoughts on matters of laws and realms. He was eager to travel to Dumont at his earliest opportunity to see in practice many of the ways she had mentioned of how she ran her realm.

  The lie was that he had wanted to be with the countess, in so many ways. In all of the ways he used to want his wife after a long day. Was not voicing this thought a lie of sorts? ’Twas another question he was eager to bring up to the countess the next time they had the chance to discuss such intriguing matters. He could not wait to delve further into her thoughts. And truth be told, delve into her in other ways, as well.

  Arthur began to undress, and Gwen came up behind him. “Shall we call for bath water?” she asked.

  Her touch used to bring him so much pleasure. At this moment he would have loved to throw her hand from his body. He thought of Isabel’s words and his decision came to him in one blinding flash of clarity. This charade was over. “Gwen, I know.”

  “I do not ken. What do you know?”

  He turned to face her. “About you and Lance.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Arthur, please, of what do you speak?”

  He stared down at the woman he had once loved with all of his being. “Denying it is sad and futile. His sex scent is on you even now. You would actually invite me to bathe with you? Where is your allegiance, Gwen? Where is your love? Please, if you have even a glimmer of feelings for me left in you, do not lie to me, wife.”

  Her silver blue eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Arthur, I am so very sorry.”

  “Sorry that I learned of it?”

  “I swear that I never meant for this to happen.”

  In his mind and heart he truly believed her. Gwen was one of the most caring, loving women he had ever met. She would not, ever, hurt a person, a flower, an animal on purpose. He loved her. He just no longer was in love with her. That passion had slowly withered as first his suspicions and then his absolute knowledge had taken root to choke it. It was the saddest part to this debacle.

  “I will end this all. This I promise.”

  He shook his head. “The heart cannot stop what it wants. You can no more end this than you can trample on your adored peonies.”

  “I do love you, Arthur,” she said, wringing her nightgown.

  “And I love you, Gwen. But please do not pretend to want me when you want another. I will protect you with my life. But I will not pretend in our bed. And I cannot abide that you keep up the pretense. ’Tis not fair to me, nor to Lance.” He sighed. “I do, indeed, want a bath. But not one we share. Before I arrived here, I made preparations. My bath is being filled across the hall. Where I shall also be sleeping.”

  “Arthur!”

  “You, my darling wife, have made the bed you will now lie in. My only request, nay, demand, is absolute discretion. I cannot protect you if you do not protect yourself.”

  “And . . . and, what of Lancelot?”

  Even his trusted knight’s name from her lips was a dagger to his heart. Gwen’s infidelity had been nigh to unbearable. But learning with whom she was sharing a bed had nearly killed him. “I brought Lance here, Gwen. I took him under my wing, made him one of my most treasured soldiers. He was as a son to me. His betrayal is as hard to bear.”

  “You will be banishing him, then?” There was nary a hint of pleading in her eyes, just a sad awareness that this would be the obvious solution, the obvious conclusion.

  “Nay.”

  Her head jerked back in surprise. “I am sorry? Do I hear you correctly?”

  “You have heard correctly. I have need of him, for the continued prosperity and safety of Camelot. I cannot yet bring myself to forgive, but I do understand. Do not forget that I was also once where he is. I would have done anything for you.”

  “It cuts deeply that you speak in the past tense, although I realize that it is my own wrongdoing that has brought this on.”

  “I make this demand of him as well as you, Guinevere. Complete discretion, for both your sakes. For if you are caught, I can no longer protect either of you. Is this clear?”

  She laid a hand on his chest. “This promise I make you, in full faith. We will stop this . . . thing between us. Lancelot loves you as much as I. We, neither of us, would ever want to bring shame or dishonor upon you.”

  His bark of laughter startled her. “I am afraid, sweet Gwen, that the bailey’s gate is wide open and the steeds have long past left the castle.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Too late.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ISABEL couldn’t sleep. The bed was more than comfortable, although she had a feeling PETA would not approve of the fur blanketing it. She’d flopped from one side to the other, from her back to her tummy, but no position seemed to allow her mind to stop whirling and fall into slumber, peaceful or not. Oh, for some sleep meds right about now.

  Her door opened silently, only the light from the hallway lanterns slicing across the room alerting her. She sat up, alarmed, but then recognized Mary, the young girl’s arms filled with a couple of new logs for the fire.

  “Oh, you startled me!”

  Mary froze. “Countess, my apologies,” she said with a small curtsy. “I thought you would be deeply asleep by this hour.”

  “The question is, why aren’t you?” Isabel asked. “You are way too young to be working such long hours.”

  As Mary carefully laid the logs on the dying embers and waved to flame the fire, she said, “’Tis my pleasure to serve you, Countess.” She stood and turned, an impish smile on her face. “And truth be told, when you have no need of me, I slip in a nap or two during the day. I receive plenty of sleep.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, but answer me this, Mary. What do you really do for pleasure?”

  “M’lady? I’m not sure I understand your question.”

  “You and your friends. What do you do? Do you play games? Play sports?”

  “There’s not much time for such things.”

  “So many chores, so little time, eh?”

  “Something like that, yes, mum.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Isabel murmured.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing, nothing, Mary.” Isabel threw her covers aside and stood. “Listen, I just cannot sleep. Maybe a short walk would do me good. Is there a way to the south gardens without going down and through the great hall?”

  “Yes, there be, Countess, but the back staircase is for servants, not for the likes of royalty.”

  “Tonight, I am a servant, then. Please help me find my long cloak, and show me the way.”

  MARY led Isabel to the gardens she had shared with Arthur several hours earlier. Luckily, they encountered no one along the way. The castle seemed to be sound asleep.

  Isabel thanked Mary profusely and tried to tip her with one of the hundreds of coins she’d discovered in a pouch in one of her trunks. Mary stared at it in horror and backed away. “No, Countess, I cannot. If this be found, I may be accused of theft.”

  “How, when I will readily tell one and all that it was a gift from me for your excellent service?”

  “I am not permitted to accept such gifts.”

  Wow, tell that to the service personnel on cruise ships. They wh
istled in the air while holding their palms out at every opportunity. Isabel vowed to herself that she’d find a way to repay Mary for her help and kindness in ways that would not get the girl in trouble.

  “Apparently another faux pas on my part. I apologize if I’ve offended you, Mary.”

  “Fo paw?”

  “Never mind, another word apparently exclusive to my land. Please, go to bed, and thank you for helping me.”

  Mary curtsied, which was beginning to get on Isabel’s nerves. But she bit her tongue and wished Mary a good night. “I will find my way back, Mary. I have no need for help until the morning bath.”

  “Thank you, mum. And I do so hope you find the peace you are searching for.”

  Isabel wished for the same thing but was afraid peace eluded her at the moment.

  “I see that neither of us are finding that peace tonight.”

  Isabel practically jumped to the turrets. She twisted around to find the source of her torment leaning against an apricot tree. “Arthur, good gods, you just scared the living . . . daylights out of me.”

  He bowed slightly. “My apologies, Isabel. ’Twas not my intention.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you following me?”

  He pushed off from the tree with his shoulder then stepped forward, that catlike silence of his movements almost eerie. “I believe you have followed me, as I have been wandering the gardens for some time.”

  “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.”