Goddess of Legend
Chapter Seventeen

TURNED out that the royal chamber was not all that far from her own, relatively speaking. Mary informed her that the proximity was deemed to be an honor. The more important the guest, the closer their quarters to the king and queen's.
The royal bedchamber was exactly that: royal. Tapestries covered much of the walls, the coat of arms of Camelot, she suspected, being the one hanging above the head of the bed.
The bed itself was canopy style, with hunter green silks covering it and draping down the sides. Right now the silks were pulled back and held with gold sashes so that Gwen was visible in the massive bed, appearing pale and frail.
Tom sat dozing in an oversize chair near the crackling fireplace, lending a warm, rosy glow to the room. Seeing no one else in the room to give her leave to enter, Isabel stepped quietly across the huge space and gently shook Tom.
He awoke with a start and a snort, then sat up and blinked. "Oh, Isabel. Good, it's you."
He stood up then pulled and tugged at his leggings, grimacing. "My kingdom for a nice pair of chinos and a polo," he said.
She hugged him, laughing softly. "You do look kind of ridiculous." Then she stepped back and searched his face. "Are they treating you well? I have rarely seen you except at meals."
"If this were a medieval Hilton, I'd give it five stars. Yes, they've been very accommodating to all three of us. But thank goodness the Lady was kind enough to allow us to bring a few luxuries from home."
"Really? Such as?"
"Harry found a deck of cards in his trunk. After we send the servants to bed for the night, we get together for a few rounds of poker."
"Hey, next time invite me."
He grinned. "We've been avoiding it. I think you put yourself through college stealing our money."
"Oh, bull . . . oney."
Still, they grinned at each other. She and Tom had dated a couple of times in college, until they'd decided they made much better friends. Then it became their sworn duty to find each other's soul mates, forcing each other on more blind dates than either cared to remember. Isabel won when she'd fixed Tom up with Brenda Newesome, a sweet girl she'd met when they'd both been waiting tables to help pay tuition.
It was love at first sight, and Tom and Brenda had been together ever since, with three kids - twin boys and an adorable little girl.
"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry. Brenda and the kids. I hope they aren't going crazy with worry."
"Hey, I'm a doppelganger, remember? The Lady assured us all that life is going on as usual back home. You are the only one here for real."
Isabel wondered if anyone missed her back in Oklahoma. Were people looking for her? Had they found her body?
No, Isabel, you have not been found. Your penchant to disappear on assignment is renowned. As events in Camelot come to unfold, your story at home will to all be told.
Thank you, Viviane.
Thank you, Isabel, for the pride I feel for choosing a woman who is Arthur's ideal.
Isabel truly wanted to get away from accolades. She was happy to have helped another human in distress, but this was feeling like something she'd continue to need to live up to. She knew her own life, her own faults. Perfection wasn't even in the Isabel dictionary. In the "How Many Times Can You Possibly Fuck Up Your Life?" category in Guinness, her name could be prominently displayed. In bold.
She mentally shook herself. "How's your patient?" she asked.
"Ah, yes." They both moved to her bedside. Gwen had been changed into nightclothes at some point. Isabel found herself irrationally hoping that Tom, with the help of Gwen's maid servant or lady in waiting or whatever they were called, were the two to have disrobed and redressed her, and not Arthur.
It was a ridiculous thought since the king had obviously seen his wife naked plenty of times.
"I had the distinct pleasure of attempting to discern the contents of the queen's stomach, once she'd expelled them. What became abundantly clear was that she had recently ingested some form of wild mushroom. I learned from the cook who prepared her morning repast that the queen had recently discovered them and requested that they be served in her eggs this morning."
"Poisonous mushrooms?"
"Would be my best guess, yes."
"It would account for her hallucinations? Her irrational behavior? Her . . . heart attack?"
"As far as I can tell, considering the appalling lack of equipment, it wasn't a heart attack per se, just pure and unadulterated poisoning. You saved her life giving her CPR and keeping her alive long enough to let me help, Izzy."
Isabel smiled. "CPR. Which you taught me a long time ago."
"Who knew you were such a good student? I thought you were just amusing me when you agreed to be my test dummy."
"How did you get her to vomit?"
Tom grimaced. "The old-fashioned way. The super-model special."
"Two fingers down her throat?"
"Exactly. She wasn't exactly happy about it. Almost bit my fingers off. But if not for you, Izzy, she would not be here."
ARTHUR could not believe the jealousy that had turned his stomach over as he stood in the doorway and witnessed Isabel's familiarity with the tooth doctor. He should be worrying about his wife. He should be considering the idea of a possible murderer wishing harm to Gwen or any at Camelot. But his mind only saw the touching between Isabel and another man. He strode into the room, attempting to keep his need to rid the tooth doctor of all of his own teeth under control.
"And I bore witness to it all," he said.
They both turned.
"Arthur!" Isabel said.
"King Arthur," toothful Tom said, offering something of a clumsy bow. There must not be much formality in Dumont, because all seemed out of practice.
"I bore witness to many things today," he added. "And I know no way of repayment that will be good enough to express my gratitude."
Tom and Isabel glanced at each other, grinned, then said at the same time, "Hey, it's what we do."
They both chuckled as Arthur frowned in confusion.
Isabel smiled, then took Tom's arm in hers and bumped against him playfully. "We have been friends for many, many years, since we were both in school back in Ok - "
"Dumont," Tom interrupted.
"Yes, Dumont."
Arthur stared at their hooked arms, and Isabel detached and stepped slightly aside.
The king looked down at Gwen. "Will she recover?"
"Fully. She needs bed rest, plenty of water in small amounts. If she feels an insatiable need to keep drinking, she needs to be stopped. Small quantities in everything. She needs to be reintroduced to food gradually. Chicken or beef broth at first, maybe rice or bread pudding. Nothing greasy or heavy for quite some time. But give her a few days and she should be good as new."
"I must needs relay all of this information to her servant, Jenny."
"Already done," Tom said. "I gave her the drill. I then sent her to rest because she herself was quite shaken. But she will be here to relieve me shortly."
"So the mushrooms were the poisonous substance, as you suspected?" Arthur asked.
"I am nearly positive that must have been it. Nothing else in her routine had changed, according to Jenny."
"And Gwen brought these mushrooms to the cook herself?"
"She did. There was nothing nefarious here, King Arthur. It was just a horrible accident."
"I wonder where she came upon these mushrooms? I have seen nothing like this on the property or in the gardens. Then again, I suppose I do not monitor such details as I should."
"She found them at the farthest cottage at the southeast end of the grounds," Tom said. "At least, that's what she told me in between . . . expelling some."
Arthur's eyes first rounded, then narrowed. "I know the cottage of which you speak."
"Then I suggest you get your gardeners out there to pull and dispose of them as soon as possible. Before someone else sees them as potential delicacies and not the deadly poisons they might be."
Arthur nodded, then glanced down again at his wife. He should have felt a need to stroke her pale face, to pull a chair to her bedside and sit vigilance.
"If you would like us to leave the two of you alone, Arthur," Isabel said, "we will be happy to give you privacy."
"No need," Arthur said, as he stared at his wife. "She appears to be in much better care than I am capable of providing." He took Tom's hand and shook it. "My eternal gratitude."
Isabel was a bit shocked. She had not witnessed handshakes in the normal form since she'd been here. She'd assumed such a practice had not been invented yet. Just ring kissing and groveling and manly grunts of approval between the men.
"I cannot begin to repay you. Either of you. For saving her, I mean."
"No need, sir," Tom said. "It's - "
" - what you do," Arthur finished, a slight smile tipping up his lips. "I am very grateful that you are here to have done it."
"You're welcome."
"May I escort you out, Countess?" Arthur asked.
"You may," Tom said before Isabel could reply. "And don't forget, Izzy, we still have that bet."
"I know this is an unseemly request," Arthur said as they walked the never-ending steps down to the great hall, "but would you agree to walk with me to the cottage where I believe Gwen found her mushrooms?"
"The scene of the crime?" Isabel teased. Then seeing Arthur's confusion, she sighed. "Yes, I will be happy to help you find the poisons."
They strolled down winding mulch paths, the vegetation becoming much more dense the farther they walked. The quick flash of the earlier thunderstorm had passed, and the sun was shining once again.
Both were silent for a while before Arthur finally said, "I assume you consider me a bastard for not sitting by Gwen's side."
"It's not my place to judge, Arthur."
"Yet you have opinions on all things, Isabel, you must have one on this."
She stopped and faced him. "You truly want my opinion? No matter what?"
He actually grinned. "Yes, Countess, I really do."
"Great, then gird it up, tough man. Here's what comes to mind, just off the top of my head."
"I am girded."
"I believe we are heading to the cottage where Lance and Gwen meet. I think after their last meeting she found the mushrooms. I believe you are not sitting by her side right now because you refuse to be a hypocrite. You have made certain that she is in no danger of dying, and you have those around her making certain she is well taken care of."
"So far, you are correct."
"Don't stop me, I'm on a roll."
He continued to grin, and damn, she loved that grin. But he kept silent.
"You asked me here to not just help you, but because you wanted us to be alone in a beautiful, isolated spot. You wanted to tell me things you could not say inside the castle. In short, Arthur, you wanted to get me alone."
"May I speak now?" he asked, his eyes still glittering with humor.
"You may."
"You are correct, but you missed one important point."
"Which is?"
"Because I believe this is Gwen and Lance's trysting spot, I did not want to come here alone. I feared I might do something rash, and I wanted a voice of reason beside me to keep me from acting on impulse."
"I see." Isabel stopped him. "Arthur, you have a good six inches on me and probably at least half again my weight. What makes you think I could possibly stop you from doing anything you set your mind to?"
"Well, for one thing, I witnessed how you handled Mordred."
"Arthur, you were holding on to him at the time. Not the same thing."
"And second, your words are more powerful than any weapon. I can face a sword, but I have very little defense against your words, your thoughts."
That admission truly stunned Isabel. Would that she had that much power over any human. "You give me way too much credit, Arthur."
"We shall see when my desire to burn that cottage to the ground overwhelms me."
"Well, I have a good argument against that drastic measure right away. If you cannot contain the fire, you are in danger of destroying much more than just that structure."
"Now see, that is the cool-headed thinking that needs to be drummed into my simple and short-sighted thinking."
"Taking it out on a perfectly innocent cottage is not going to change what happened there, Arthur. The cottage did not cause the events."
He took her elbow and they continued walking. "Do you believe in fate, Isabel?"
"Yes, I do. Although I truly admit that sometimes fate takes some funny turns at times."
"How so?"
"Well, for example, I believed my purpose in coming to Camelot was one thing, but I believe fate conspired to make it something totally different."
"I still see the mutual benefit of our adjoining lands as a priority for Camelot and Dumont."
She hadn't even been thinking of that, but she didn't correct him. "I agree. And I still see it as wholly attainable."
"But now you believe fate had something more in mind?"
"I do."
"What would that be?"
"This is going to sound very conceited."
"I am listening."
"I believe I'm here to, I don't know, do whatever is in my power to help you save Camelot from those who wish to bring you down."
"That is not boastful. In truth, it touches me greatly. But my theory is slightly different."
"Okay, let's hear yours."
"I believe you were sent here to save me."
Oh boy, he kind of hit that nail on the head. Well, not exactly. The ultimate purpose as far as the Lady was concerned was to save Merlin. But that truly meant saving Arthur first. "You?" she asked carefully, though her heart began drumming.
"Yes, do you not see it? Even as I was building this dream of bringing knights to the table, my marriage was in deep trouble, and I was too exuberant about the future of Camelot, of all of Briton, to see it.
"But just as the awful stench of betrayal began to be near to unbearable, you showed up. Fate stepped in and gave you to me."
Isabel laughed. More like Viviane. "I am not a gift, Arthur."
"You are to me."
She had no answer to that. "How far to the cottage?" she asked instead.
"Why, Countess Isabel, I believe I have achieved what heretofore I believed to be the impossible. I have left you speechless."
She desperately searched for something to say, something witty, wise, dumb, it didn't matter. But Arthur was right. She was speechless.
A gift? No one had ever considered her a gift before. A curse, maybe.
Arthur chuckled. "Come, Isabel. 'Tis just around the bend."
They were nearing the curve in the path when Arthur raised his arm as a barrier, then put a finger to his lips. For a moment Isabel was confused, probably still dazed by Arthur's sweet admission.
But then she heard it, too. A rustling up ahead. In one swift move Arthur pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, then raised his bow and armed it. "Stay here," he said softly.
Like a lethal panther he began silently moving forward toward whatever prey he might encounter.
Isabel's heart just about pounded out of her chest. Fear for Arthur had her nearly hyperventilating. She clasped the teardrop necklace in her hand, wondering if now would be the time to invoke its power.
No, Isabel, the time is not now. Save its power for when its power . . . packs a pow.
Wow, Viv, was really dipping low into the rhyming pool. Arthur is a warrior second to none; allow him to protect your smartass buns.
Arthur took cover behind a large pin oak, then slowly peered around it, his bow still raised in the direction of the noise.
His body was taut, tense, and Isabel caught a small sampling of what it must be like to watch this man head straight into a battle, ready to take on whatever enemy he would encounter beyond.
But then, just as suddenly, his shoulders relaxed, and he lowered his bow, removing the arrow and shoving it back into the quiver.
"Lance," he called, "'tis I, Arthur."
"My lord," Lance responded, "I did not hear you approach."
Arthur looked back and waved Isabel forward. "Actually, 'tis both the Countess Isabel and I, Lance, come to search for ..." His voice trailed off. Isabel joined him and understood why. In the clearing in front of a charming wooden cottage was Lancelot on his knees, savagely pulling mushrooms from the ground and adding them to a very large pile beside him.
The cottage itself showed signs of Gwen's touch. Flower boxes hung in places along the outer walls, filled with colorful marigolds and pansies, miniature snapdragons and petunias. Wildflowers flourished on either side of the structure. A slight flowery scent managed to hit her nose, but it was quite overwhelmed by the dank scent of vegetation from the forest and, right now, overturned earth. The clearing looked almost like a mine field.
At the sight of Isabel, Lance scrambled to his feet and bowed, but not before she caught a glimpse of his tear-stained face. "Countess," he said, then attempted to swipe at his cheeks.
Arthur again took Isabel's elbow and they moved farther into the clearing. "I am going to assume, Lance, that you have been made aware of the dangers those mushrooms present."
"They almost killed her," Lance said, his voice choky.
"But they did not, thanks to the quick wits of - "
"My healer, Tom," Isabel interrupted.
Lance glanced at the mushroom still in his hand and crushed it savagely before adding it to the pile.
"Your healer, Countess, relates a slightly different tale. I cannot express my . . . I mean we, on behalf of the king, owe you much gratitude."
"No, no you don't."
"We were scouting for the culprits ourselves, Lance," Arthur said, "but I had planned to then direct one of my gardeners to come and destroy them. It appears you have saved us that trouble."
"It is . . . it is my pleasure to do so, sir. I feared that perhaps another who stumbled upon them might make the same mistake as . . . as the queen, and heaven forbid it be one or more of the children."
"Heaven forbid, indeed. What plans do you have for that pile, once you have finished pulling all you find?"
"I plan to burn them, sir."
"Good thinking. Just be sure to keep the fire contained, Lance. We would not want it to get out of control and burn down the cottage."
Isabel hid a grin, as it was nearly the same warning she had given Arthur during their stroll here.
"I would, with your permission, Lance, take one of those back to the castle with me, to show to the cooks as warning. Preferably one still relatively intact, as the ones you have mangled look not like much of anything except crushed grayish vegetation."
Lance quickly bent and pulled another savagely from the pungent earth. Then he stepped forward and, with a quick bow, said, "Will this do for your purposes, my king?"
"It will indeed, Lance," Arthur said, taking it and placing it into the pouch at his hip. "Well, then, carry on. And I thank you for your concern for the safety of the people of Camelot."
"At your service, sir. Always."
That was, when he wasn't busy servicing Gwen, Isabel thought, then mentally kicked herself for the nasty nature of that observation. As she, herself, was lusting after a married man, she had very little wiggle room to judge.
And Lance's passionate proclamation that he would always be at Arthur's service held a wealth of meaning, well beyond just being a good little soldier. It was obvious to Isabel that behind his boyish sincerity lay a boatload of guilt.
Isabel was dying to explore the inside of that cottage but knew that would be too cruel to Arthur, so she suppressed the request.
"Shall we return to the castle then?" she suggested. "I have need to check on Samara before the evening feast."
"Certainly." They turned to go, but then Arthur swung back. "And Lance?"
"Sir?"
"Please do not allow your anger and grief to cloud your judgment. If I managed to approach without you being aware, another might be able to do the same."
"Yes, my lord."
"You have the keenest senses I e'er have witnessed. Use them. I would not want to lose one of my very best."
"Yes, my lord."
"And do be careful about that fire."
"Yes, my lord."
He swiveled back around and held out his arm. "Shall we?"
"Let's do it," Isabel said, gladly laying a hand on his bicep.
THEY had walked for several moments afore Isabel whispered. "You are an amazing man, Arthur."
He glanced at her in surprise. "I am very happy you think so. But what provoked that observation?"
"Any other would want to throttle that boy senseless."
"Other than a short-lived sense of satisfaction and some sore knuckles, what would that accomplish?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe teach him the error of his ways?"
"That moat has been crossed, Isabel. There is no taking back what has already occurred, and it most certainly would not change his feelings for Gwen. I cannot beat the love for her out of him."
"That is true."
"I believe at one time, when I first began to suspect, that I had hopes that this thing betwixt the two would fizzle, as a fire doused with water. I no longer believe or hold hopes for any such thing. Truth be told, were I able to voice my feelings to Lance, I believe I would wish him well and ask him to forever treat Gwen as she deserves."
"You have an amazing capacity for forgiveness, Arthur."
He pondered that. "Perhaps not so much that as a newfound understanding of how they are feeling. It must be a heavy burden to love that deeply and not be able to express it and proclaim it to the world."
"Why can you not privately allow Lance to know how you feel? It might well lift some of that burden."
"The moment I voice or acknowledge, Isabel, no matter how kindly or understanding that discussion might be, the moment I lay voice to it, I am accusing him of treason."
"You've voiced it to Gwen. So in effect, haven't you accused her?"
"I have let her know that I'm very aware of her infidelity. She understands the implications. She also understands that at any moment I could proclaim it to all who will listen, and she will pay that steepest of prices. She will pay with her life."
"Well, that would be a ton of fun to have hanging over your head."
"She also knows that I would ne'er do such a thing to her."
"She trusts that you love her that much."
"Yea, I guess she does. She does not overestimate how much I care for her welfare. What she perhaps overestimates is that love and caring are not necessarily the same thing. No longer."
"May I ask you something?"
Arthur chuckled. "Since when have you ever asked permission?"
"Now. Because your honest answer is important to me."
The castle came into view as they rounded a bend. The scents of sweat and work animals nearly overwhelmed her. She almost wished to run back to the scent of the forest, even though it also held odors she would just as soon avoid.
"I do not believe I have ever been less than honest with you, Isabel," he said, just a little offended that she had to qualify the question. "But you have my word that my response will be an honest one."
"Why did you confide in me? Who is to say that I would not turn around and blab this to someone who would use it against you or Gwen or Lancelot?"
"I believe we have been over this."
"We have?"
"Yes, but perhaps I was too circumspect. Allow me to elaborate, with all of the candor at my disposal." He stopped her and turned her to face him, so that she might see the truth in his eyes. "From the moment I laid eyes upon you, I was taken with you. As we traveled to the castle, you were the most enjoyable companion I had e'er spoken with.
"I knew before we had reached the bailey that you . . . moved something inside me that I had ne'er before felt, not even while courting Gwen."
"Okay, we have been over this before," she said, blushing a bit. Her blue eyes shied from his own. She attempted to free herself of his grip. "Never mind."
"No, please allow me to finish." He released her and held up his hands. "I hold you not against your wishes."
She looked up at him. "You do not have to worry. In that I trust you completely."
"Yes, I must worry." He shrugged. "I wanted you. But I just felt that if you believed that I was simply some randy bastard who had no morals, who had no problems with betraying my vows, you would lose all respect for me and would reject me. I could not allow you to believe such a thing. Call it self-serving, but I not only wanted you, I wanted you to believe in me. Perhaps so that any relationship we had would be true. To each other. To accomplish that, I had to be honest about what was happening around me. So that you would not dismiss me out of hand as a cad and adulterer. I did not want you to believe it was pure lust that drove my attraction."
"You took a huge risk, Arthur."
"Perhaps. But you . . . I cannot explain it . . . You were that important. And I saw in your beautiful blue eyes that you felt at least a portion of what I was feeling. Perhaps misplaced, but I had to trust in that and take the chance. Or risk the possibility that I would ne'er have a chance at all. And I firmly believe in wanting to look back at my life at the end of my days with no regrets. Not forging ahead with my feelings for you would have been a regret I would have lived with all of my days."
Her eyes went moist, but she blinked back any tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "I am so glad for your honesty. And your hopes and desires are not just one-way, Arthur. You are so right. Had I not known about the troubles in your life, I would never have allowed my feelings for you to grow, or for you to kiss me, much less make love."
"Point of order. We have not made love."
"Not for my lack of trying."
He smiled but then had to stop himself. "I cannot in good conscience take something that you should be saving for the man who will win your heart someday."
"Oh, Arthur, you dolt. Do you not realize you have already won my heart?"
He could not help it. He cupped her face and kissed her. It was almost savage at first, but he attempted to cool his desires. Softening the kiss he coaxed her mouth open. He marveled at how their lips seemed so in line. They were meant to intertwine.
Her tongue tasted of mint and his knees nearly buckled when it traced his lips before returning to tangle with his own. 'Twas a devastating thought that this might be as close to the act of lovemaking that they would e'er get. And after the amazing sight of her naked body, 'twas near to unbearable.
She broke the kiss afore he was ready, but he accepted it as her right. Her kiss-swollen lips and dazed eyes just continued to make his body betray him all the more with desire. Yet he stepped back, bending over with hands on his thighs, attempting to retain his control. His breaths heaved in and out of his chest. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut once, then stood. "I must needs walk this off afore we leave the forest."
"Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"I think I have something to say that might cool your ardor."
"A dunking in Lake Camelot naked in the middle of winter would not manage to cool my ardor, Countess."
"This admission may just do that."
"How is that possible?"
"Because I was not completely honest with you."
That worked. Arthur had been subjected to more lies and betrayals in the past months to last any man's lifetime. He crossed his arms over his hurting, burning, squeezing chest. "I am listening."
She obviously saw something in his face that worried her, as she began biting at her lower lip. "It's not any lie I told you, it was not dishonesty. It was more that you took me by surprise with your reaction to something and I was startled and embarrassed and - "
"Please, to the point, Isabel. I am ready for whate'er this is." He was not, not by any means. But to know what you were facing was a much better tactical battle strategy than not knowing what or who would be betraying you next.
"Please don't be angry."
"I cannot predict my emotions or reactions until I understand what I am facing."
"When we . . . When you and I . . . When we . . ."
"Please, Isabel, do not torture me any longer."
She took a deep breath. "When I could not figure out how to help you take off your clothes . . . do you remember?"
"That memory is seared in my mind, Isabel. I have thought of almost nothing else since this morn. What about it?"
"It was true that I didn't even know where to begin to help you out of your garments."
"I remember."
"It wasn't because I knew nothing of a man's clothing."
"It seemed quite apparent to me."
She waved. "Yes, yes, I was confused by how all of your clothes came together. Or came apart, as it were. But it wasn't because I had never been with a man."
"My pardon?"
"I am not a virgin, Arthur. But you made that assumption, and I was confused and embarrassed and - "
He felt his own jaw drop. "Are you saying back there," he asked, hiking his thumb over his shoulder toward the castle, "and here, in this forest, we could have been making love, but that you knew not how to undress me?"
"Something like that."
His astonishment and relief was so overwhelming that the disappointment over lost opportunities fell by the wayside. He started laughing. "This is your horrible secret?"
"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, standing tall and looking all huffy and haughty.
"No, Isabel, I am laughing at myself. How many times this day I indulged in fantasy and justification for seducing you without regard to your future. The many times I considered how to gently introduce you without harming you and to forget the guilt that might accompany me after the pleasure."
"So you are not angry?"
He could not stop himself from laughing. "I am furious."
She eyed him skeptically. "You have a funny way of showing it."
"You have no idea how many possible betrayals passed through my mind. I was, as I have heard you say, scared shitless of what you might tell me. This, Isabel, did not make my list."
"So that furious part? Is it directed at me?"
"No, it is directed at me, for not giving you a chance to explain. One rule that I teach all of my soldiers is to listen. I was not listening."
"I was not talking. I pretty much lied by omission."
He stroked his chin, the relief coursing through him almost making him weak. "Is that the extent of your exorbitant perfidy, Countess?"
She took a moment, wagging her forefingers to and fro. "Yep, I believe that's about it."
"And are you contrite?" he asked, unable to keep the smile from his face.
"I cannot tell you how much. You are not the only one who has thought of little else."
"Then this king has decided to absolve you. It shall never occur again, am I right?"
She curtsied. "My most dire wish, sir, is that it actually begins to occur."
"You will allow me to teach you how to undress me?"
"I have always been a big proponent of higher education."
He grinned, picked her up and twirled her around. "I am so in love with you, Isabel."
He set her down, dumbfounded that those words had escaped his lips. The shock on her face told him they were very premature. "I am sorry. I know not from where that came. Perhaps an abundance of exuberance."
"Perhaps from the heart?" she whispered.
"But those were not words you were prepared to hear."
"It doesn't make them any less special. In fact, more so, as they were not planned. You spoke what you were thinking."
He shook his head. "I had no right. And I know 'tis a sentiment you perhaps are not prepared to return."
"Then again," she said, running a finger from his temple to chin, "perhaps it is."
"If 'tis, may I hear the words from your lovely lips?"
"I am falling in love with you, Arthur. It seems an untenable situation, but the heart wants what it wants, right?"
"It does."
She offered him an impish grin. "Last nonvirgin to the castle has to be served all of the eel."
He watched for a moment as she lifted her skirts and then took off running.
Grinning, bursting with happiness and gratitude to the gods or to fate, he took off after her. Not very fast, however, for he was well aware of her aversion to eel.