Goddess of Legend (27 page)

Then she felt a hand cover her breast and she shot straight up.

“Get your hands off me and away from me before I neuter you, you—”

“’Tis me, Isabel,” she heard. “And trust that I would have to fight off that neutering thing.”

She shoved her hair out of her eyes. “Arthur?”

“Yes, Countess.”

The dim light from the smoldering embers in the fireplace gave her too little illumination. It sounded like Arthur, but to be certain, she asked, “What kind of kingly thing are you performing now?”

“Saying, ‘Hey, you, do this. Lie back down with me without any neutering.’ ”

She tried to shake off the fog. “Why are you being kingly at this hour, Arthur?”

“I needed to catch you in between your countessing.”

She laughed, then slipped back down into the bed. “Seriously, what are you doing back here?”

He scooped her body, his arm draped over her waist. “I had a desperate need to be with you.”

“Arthur, I cannot even imagine more lovemaking. I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow.”

“No lovemaking. I swear. I will be lucky if I can hold up a sword. Just loving. I needed the feel of you.”

She heard the catch in his voice and wiggled her way around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

He pushed her hair from her face, then kissed her brow. “Who is to say that something is wrong? Can a man not just want to be with the woman he loves?”

She frowned, although she doubted he’d be able to see it. “Remember that conversation we had earlier about honesty? Truth?”

She felt his chest heave slightly. “Yea, I do. You would have to invoke that at this time.”

“I invoke it, King Arthur, every single time.”

“And should I, perhaps, invoke an ‘I care not to talk about it right now’?”

“It would be so unkingly.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “How so, Countess?”

“Because kings face troubles head-on. They do not avoid them by slipping in bed with countesses, who are busy not doing countess things.”

“What were you busy doing?”

“Dreaming about kingly things.”

“Good dreams?”

“You are avoiding the question, and that is so very unkingly.”

“You are not naked enough, and that is so uncountessy.”

She pulled away from his embrace and sat up. “Arthur. What is it?”

He sat up as well, brushing his hands through his hair. Al least she thought so. The lighting was a little iffy.

“When I returned to my bedchamber, Gwen was waiting for me.”

“Oh, good! She’s feeling better.”

“I suppose that depends on your perspective.”

“Oh, bad. That sounds bad,” Isabel said, reaching over to the cup of mint by her bed and grabbing a fingerful.

“She believes I am having an affair.”

Isabel sighed. “Yo, Arthur, you are in my bed.”

“She wants us to reunite.”

Isabel didn’t know how a truly broken heart felt until that very moment. “Oh, I see.” She tried to gather her senses, which had scattered to the winds. “Well, then, I guess that’s that. I wish you well. Now get the hell out of my bed.”

Arthur leaned over and scratched something over something and suddenly the candle beside her bed came to life.

It wasn’t University of Oklahoma stadium-light illumination, but they were able to see each other.

“Please, Arthur, go back to your wife.”

“Do you honestly believe I would be here if that had been my choice?”

“I’m guessing that you came to tell me the news.”

“I climbed into your bed to say good-bye?”

“Well, that was kind of weird, but I can believe it. You have a sweet heart.”

“Oh, Isabel, do you truly think that of me?”

“Arthur, I no longer know what to think of anything. You have been in love with Gwen for so long.”

He stood up. “I came to tell you, nay,
show
you how I feel. You did not even give me the chance to finish. You wrote the ending to this story afore I could fully explain.”

“Arthur.”

He shook his head as he moved to the door. “No, Isabel. I came here for help and guidance and comfort. Instead you handed me judgment. I am so sick of this.” He turned and looked at her. “I was here because you were my choice. There was no question or doubt. Minutes ago I would have given my life for you. I am such a fool. Not very kingly, is it?”

“Arthur.”

“Sleep well, Countess.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“WE must do something,” Mary whispered to James. “There is something terribly wrong with my lady. She is teaching us this CPR thing and demanding we be allowed to have what she calls recess each day, but she is very much not herself.”

“And my lord,” James said. “He is working us harder than e’er, and his temper is short. We are mostly afraid to utter a word, when afore he asked us to speak up at all times. I have ne’er seen him slice through anything set before him as he does now.”

“We must formulate a plan,” Mary said.

“Yes. Yet I cannot think of one.”

“Leave it to me, James. But I will need your assistance to put it in play.”

James smiled at his bride-to-be. “I love you so much, Mary. I cannot wait to make you my bride.”

She grinned back at him. “And I cannot wait to call you husband. But if our vows are to be perfect, we must needs fix this rift between the king and the countess. They are standing up for us.”

“Yes.”

Mary suddenly jumped up and James caught her. “What?”

“Our vows! Our vows! The king is an honorable man and the countess is such a priceless lady. Our vows!”

“I am sorry if I am not quite following your logic, Mary.”

“No need. I will let you know what needs be done when I have it all in place.”

“I trust that you will.” He held her close, but not too hard. He had once hugged her so tightly that she had cried out. ’Twould never, ever happen again. “We will be happy together. This I do vow.”

She laid her head into his neck. “We have a very long lifetime for you to continue to prove it true.”

“I very much look forward to it.”

 

 

As the days passed, there was progress, although, it seemed, not with Gwen. She laid abed and had continuous complaints.

But her seamstresses had finished many breeches, and Isabel had coaxed the women into taking possession and actually wearing them. At least for that hour when they were set free to play.

This morning Isabel had decided to teach them how to play a primitive form of putt-putt golf. The women were happily whacking away when Mary came running to her, tears streaming down her face.

“What is it, Mary?” she asked.

“I am afraid my vows with James are off.”

“What? Why?”

Mary looked around. “May we go elsewhere? Some privacy?”

Jenny, Gwen’s chambermaid, walked over and asked, “May I help?”

As diplomatically as she could, Isabel said, “Yes, please. If you would oversee the rest of recess?”

Mary sniffled. “I need Countess Isabel.”

Jenny nodded. “Of course. I will be happy to take over for the rest of the hour, Countess.”

“Teach them to get the freakin’ stones in the holes. That’s the goal. Stones in the holes.”

“Yes, Countess.”

She turned and focused on Mary. “Now tell me, please, what happened.”

Mary swiped away the tears. “May we please go to your chambers to talk?”

“Of course.”

Isabel tried questioning Mary as they ascended the stairs, but Mary kept shaking her head. Isabel figured Mary wanted complete privacy, which she understood, knowing that Mary had been shunned by many of her peers, lately.

Mary pulled her into her own room, almost shoved her farther, and then kicked the door closed.

“What happened, Mary? Let me help. Maybe you and James can talk this through. You love him. You have told me as much. He treats you like gold. What went wrong?”

Mary’s tears dried up as if she were facing the sun in the Mojave. “If James and I are to exchange vows happily, Isabel, then we need those standing witness to be happy as well.”

“I’m sorry? Mary, I don’t understand.”

Mary stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. She smiled at Isabel and said, “Tom taught me that when he was doing my teeth-cleaning.”

Isabel was considering how she was going to punish her friend when her door flew open and James entered, dragging a blindfolded Arthur in his wake.

“James, this has become not my favorite prank,” Arthur said. “I went along, but now this might have gone a bit far.”

Isabel glanced at Mary. “Traitor,” she whispered.

Mary shrugged.

James pulled the blindfold from around Arthur’s head. Arthur blinked and looked around. As soon as he spotted Isabel and Mary, he glared at James. “Traitor.”

James shrugged.

James and Mary, looking so immensely pleased with themselves, banded together.

“You two are standing up for us during our vows in just days,” James said. “And you will, and I mean will, be happy at our ceremony.”

“James,” Arthur began.

James held up his beefy hand. “You know, King Arthur, that I am loyal to you. I will run with you into battle, and I will protect you until my dying breath.”

“And you, Countess Isabel,” Mary said. “You have become a friend such as I may never know again. I would stand afore you in any situation where someone would do you harm.”

“But we are tired,” James said, taking up the apparent narrative, “of your surliness of late. As you have been avoiding one another as the plague the past days, we can only surmise that there are . . . are ...”

“Issues,” Mary finished. “Those which need be aired and addressed. You will,” she said, pointing back and forth between the two, “fix these problems afore our marriage vows.”

“Whate’er happened betwixt the two of you,” James said.

“Get over it!”
they yelled in unison.

With that, the two huffed their way out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them with a decided bang.

Isabel and Arthur stared at each other for several moments, and then broke out in laughter.

“I believe we have both just been spanked by our parents,” Isabel gasped.

“I’m feeling decidedly unkingly,” Arthur said. “Just when did I lose control?”

“No,” she said, still laughing. “It shows just what a great king you are.”

“Surely, you jest,” he said. “My first man just berated me.”

Oh, how Isabel wanted to say, “Don’t call me Shirley.” But somehow she was fairly certain the joke would not translate.

“Don’t you realize how excellent this is?” she asked.

“Perhaps I do not recognize the underlying meaning behind two servants giving their king a dressing down, as it were.”

“The underlying meaning, your Highness, is that they love you enough, they trust you enough to take such extreme measures. They know that you will not punish them, because they trust that you care.”

“Ah, mayhap the difference between my people and you. James and Mary, at least, trust that I care.”

Isabel stared at him while she mentally pulled the dagger out of her chest. “I never realized you had a cruel side, Arthur. It’s good to know. It helps me so much in getting over you.”

He strode over to her. “Isabel, I did not mean—”

“You touch me and I will take out both your knees.”

“Then take them,” he said, grabbing hold of her shoulders. “Go. Do it. But I am going to hold on to you until you listen to me if I have need to I will take you down with me when my legs become useless.”

It was totally disgusting that his hands on her already had her body responding as if he were moving them all over her, not just holding on to her upper arms.

“I believe I have heard enough.”

“No, you heard just enough to form conclusions. Incorrect conclusions, as it turns out. For a smart, compassionate woman, Isabel, I cannot understand how you would hear only part of my story and instantly believe the worst of me. Ye gods, woman, we had spent the evening together in the most intimate of ways. And yet not an hour later you shut me out. You closed your hearing and your mind. Were you already regretting what we shared?”

“No, but you said Gwen wanted . . .”

“I know what I said, Isabel. I also know what you refused to allow me to finish. Are you willing to allow me the opportunity now?”

“I’m listening. I’m not ruling out the knee-kicking thing, but I’m listening.”

“That is a start,” he said, letting her go. He turned and walked two steps, then spun around and stepped right back to her. “What you ne’er allowed me to finish the other night was that I turned Gwen down. I do not want her any longer. I have not for some time. When she asked if we could try to go back, I said no, Isabel. I told her that now she was betraying not just me, but now Lance, as well. I recovered from the pain. Truth be told, I fell for another. You. But I fear Lance would not. You saw him at the cottage. He was near to mindless with grief and anger and worry.

“I returned to you, because with
you
was where I wanted to be. And I wanted to talk it out with
you
. Do you honestly believe I would climb back into your bed furs to say to you that I had decided that we had fun, but alas, I had decided to start over with Gwen? Just how cruel do you believe me to be?”

Isabel stood, stunned. “Oh. My. God. You tried. And I didn’t let you. I was so afraid that it was a farewell gesture that—”

“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips. “I understand your upset and confusion, Isabel. Please remember how quickly I grew angry at the thought of you with other men. Add to that that I am still married to Gwen, it is understandable why you would leap to that conclusion. Were the situation in the reverse, I fear I may have done the same.”