by P. C. Cast
Arthur stomped some more before waving James forward to Isabel’s room.
He knocked.
“Come on in, Arthur. James.”
“How did you know ’twas us?” Arthur asked, feigning innocence.
“Wild guess,” she said.
He found four women sitting on the rushes as if they had just been in a solemn discussion of the merits of pickled eel.
“My apologies for the interruption, ladies. I hope that James and I did not disrupt more battle plans.”
“No, of course not. We were just discussing the merits of—”
“Picked eel?”
“Not quite, but you’re close. More like pickles and nuts.”
And Arthur stared as the three other women bent into laughter.
Isabel waved. “They are giddy with the happiness over winning the battle. Right, ladies?”
“Correct, Countess,” they all managed to choke out.
“I am so in trouble,” Mary said.
“No, you are not, Mary. Is she, James?”
“Should she be?” he asked.
“Depending on how long you two were standing there listening, I would say that you are the one who may be in trouble. But knowing Mary, she is much too sweet to exact revenge.”
She turned on Arthur, which was what he was so hoping to avoid. “You, on the other hand, do you really believe that fake stomping was going to fool anyone?”
“I had hopes,” he said.
“Arthur, I have seen you in action. You could come upon the most acute of cats without making a sound. And yet you stomp your way here?”
“Okay, that was probably dumb.”
“Probably? Please. Just say what you came here to tell us.”
“We wanted to hold a celebration this eve, for the successful events yesterday.”
“We wanted your help in making it as festive as possible,” James added, “as we were somewhat at a loss. We have the kitchens working, but the other details?”
“A party? Jeez, why didn’t you say so?” She looked around. “Ladies, I believe we have work to do.” She looked back. “Please tell me we will not be subjected to more Hester the Jester jokes.”
“’Twill break his heart, Isabel.”
“Okay, Hester’s in. But pickled eel ...”
“Oh, the king already took care of that, lady. He banned it from the night’s menu. I knew not why until this very—oof !” James rubbed his stomach. “He preferred not to offer such.”
Isabel glanced at Arthur, and his heart thrummed. Gods, he wanted her. Maybe this night. Perhaps, because battle had been averted, all nights of his life.
She smiled at him, and he knew she knew his thoughts. “I have one very special request, King Arthur.”
Oh, yes. She could ask for any star in the sky and he would find a way to snatch it for her. “Name it, Countess.”
She looked back at the women. “Gwen, I trust you are going to make the hall beautiful once again.”
Gwen rose, pulling Jenny with her. “Jenny and I will go pick the flowers right now and begin to decorate the hall.”
As they went to leave, Arthur stopped Gwen. “I am proud of you, Guinevere. As is Lance. He is a lucky and happy man. And afore you begin to decorate, perhaps visit him. He is at the cottage, cleaning up after helping to put out the fires.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I am growing up, Arthur. With any hope, growing wiser. Thank the woman you love for that transformation.”
“I thank her for so many things. But learning wisdom comes from within. That is all you, Gwen. Take the credit for that. Now go see Lance. I am certain that Jenny can begin cutting flowers without you.”
WAS Isabel the only sane person in the room? She wasn’t certain, so she asked, “Am I the only sane person in this room?”
“Trust me, love, you are most likely the least sane person in this room,” Arthur said. He glanced at both James and Mary. “Anyone who considers Isabel the most crazed here, please raise your hands.”
James and Mary both rose their hands.
“Mary!”
“I love you, Countess, but you are a bit . . . wild.”
“Do you think I did wrong?”
“No way in Hades!” Mary said. “You were so earnest in your desire to save the king and Camelot. ’Twas something to behold. I aspire to that passion.”
“But it was crazy?”
“Only because the king said it was so.”
She glared at Arthur. “You, sir, are stacking the cards.”
He smiled. “I have no idea what that means, but I suppose you would say so.”
Isabel folded her arms over her ribs. “James?
“With all pardons, Countess, must I choose betwixt you and my king, I must land on the side of my king. And my wife. But you and the king are so in love, it seems that siding with one is also siding with another. Am I right, wife?”
“You are so right, husband.”
“Good gods, it’s the pickle factor,” Isabel murmured.
“I heard that, Isabel,” Mary said. “And, no, it is not. It is that we care very deeply about those we treasure most. James and I truly believe you two are meant to be with one another. So stop being dumb about it, and just trust your feelings. Come, James. I believe we have some time afore we need return to work. I will be back in . . . an hour?” she said, looking up at James. “Okay, possibly two.”
Isabel and Arthur stared at one another before laughing.
If nothing else, she decided, Camelot was full of laughter.
“What is this favor, Izzy? I have high hopes that you wish to continue to practice the undressing thing.”
“Oh, I’ve already mastered that one. No, the favor is to allow Ashton to ask for Jenny’s hand tonight.”
“In front of all?”
“Yes. How romantic is that?”
“Would that it could be me asking for yours. Because you have promised you would agree, yes?”
“I would absolutely say yes.”
“Then I so wish it would be me tonight.”
“Someday, Arthur, Someday.”
Arthur shook his head, chuckling. “I have. I have lost total control over this entire realm, Isabel. And I find myself not worrying overmuch.”
“You haven’t. Why would you even think such a thing?”
“We have servants berating us, we have women taking up the charge. For crying out loud, Isabel, it was ideas of yours that stayed the enemy.”
“Oh, please, all I did was try to think of any plan that did not involve the shedding of blood. Especially yours. That is all. It would be a mess to clean up.”
“Ah, I see. Less work was your intent.”
“Exactly. I’m lazy that way.”
He kicked the door shut. “Mary and James say two hours?”
“I believe that was their time, yes,” she said, backing away.
“Not nearly enough time, but I will take what I can get.”
“Who says you get any?” Isabel asked.
“Your beautiful blue eyes, Isabel. Your eyes tell me you desire me as I desire you.”
“Damn my non-lying eyes.”
“Oh, no, praise those beautiful, honest eyes. Now tell me from those lips.”
“I desperately desire you, Arthur,” she said.
“See, we agree on so many things, Isabel,” he said, then held out his arms. “A master at undressing me you say? I wish proof.”
OH, yes, they were both sweaty and spent. Isabel had no idea how long they’d spent making love, but she was fairly certain their two hours were close to up.
“We should probably get dressed,” she said.
“I agree,” he said, “however, that does not equal with whether I want to leave your bed.”
“You’re good with math, are you?”
“Math?”
“Working with numbers so that, for example, you know what equals what.”
“Oh, yes, you call it math?”
“Wh
at do you call it?”
“Numbers.”
Isabel rolled to her back, laughing. “I love you so much.”
Arthur turned on his side, grinning. “I have an example.”
She turned on her side as well. “Oh, please, I can’t wait.”
“What would you call over one hundred men attempting to take on one much smarter woman?”
She went still. “I don’t know. What?”
“Outnumbered.”
She laughed. “Arthur, your men would have made toast of them.”
“There we go with the toast thing again. And, yes, I agree we would have vanquished the invaders. Yet truth be told, Isabel, if not for your quick wits, Camelot blood would be staining the grounds this day. Because of your whacky plots, all of our people are alive and safe once again.”
“Whacky?”
“Did I say whacky? I meant witty.”
“You meant whacky.”
He grimaced. “Yea, but I meant whacky in the wittiest sense of the word ‘whacky.’”
Isabel smiled and traced the contours of his face until they smoothed back into contentment. “It was merely a whacky way of turning back the enemy.”
“’Twas not your battle to fight.”
“It was the moment it involved you. I love you. And all of the people of Camelot. This might make no sense to you, Arthur, but I have come to care for the people here in this short time. They are good and they are kind, and most importantly, they love their king. If you didn’t recognize the evidence of that yesterday when the women were willing to actually stand up against you to fight for you, then you are woefully underestimating the love and loyalty your people have for you. They love you, Arthur. They are willing to do anything to protect and honor their king.”
“I am to protect them, Isabel. Is that not my ultimate duty as king?”
“If you think so. Your second ultimate duty is to take care of them, make certain they want to protect you as their king. And so far, I think that’s working.”
“I sometimes doubt, and I recognize how weak I sound even admitting such a thing.”
“The weak leader is the one who refuses to admit to doubts about how he runs things. The strong leader is the one who constantly questions how he can perform his duties to the betterment of all in his—or her—lands. You are the strongest, most honest and loving lord of his lands I have ever known. You do not deceive the people of Camelot, and you do not abuse them. If I were a numbering person, I would be adding those into the plus column.”
He turned her on her back and looked into her eyes. “You are the best thing that has e’er happened to me, Isabel. I cannot even begin to say how much.”
She smiled. “I hope that you always think so.”
“I cannot imagine that ever changing.”
There was a knock on her door. “Time is up, Countess,” Mary called. “Do you want a bath, or no?”
Isabel scrambled out from under Arthur’s arms. “Oh, yes, Mary, but please, a few minutes before you have the men bring in the water.”
“Jeesh, you two,” Mary said. “James and I have been married but two days, and it did not take this long.”
“I will be happy to give James more tips, should you need,” Arthur called, as he pulled on his leggings.
Mary giggled. “I will keep that in mind, should I need, King Arthur.”
“And that,” Isabel said, pulling on her robe, “is why you are a great king.”
“The lovemaking tips?” he asked.
“No, the fact that Mary will probably have no problem asking you . . . should she need.”
Arthur pulled his tunic over his head, then glanced around to make certain he had left nothing behind. Then he strode over to Isabel. “I love you. I wish for the day I do not have to leave your bed.”
“I love you, too. I also wish for that day.”
“You saved many Camelot lives yesterday, Isabel. Tonight we celebrate your success.”
“No! The party tonight is for all! It was our success.”
“One would think, wouldn’t she? One who, perhaps, questions how to make lives better for all rather than one who presumes she already knows all.”
“Arthur!”
“Tell her to get over it, Mary,” he said as he left the room.
“Oh, right, good luck to me with that,” Mary muttered as she entered.
“Mary!”
“Get over it. The king ordered so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE great hall, once again, looked amazing. The fire in the immense fireplace burned bright, the flowers were abundant and awesome, and the aroma in the air was truly delicious, not a single pig or chicken scent in the air.
“Is Ashton ready?” Isabel whispered to Gwen.
“As ready as any man, scared skinny at the thought,” Gwen replied.
“And Jenny?”
“She knows nothing. But we had a long talk this day. She is aware that she will never lose her position, no matter the circumstances.”
“Does she love him?”
“Do you love Arthur?”
Isabel stared at her.
“All right, that was not fair. I will ask an easier question. Do I love Lance?”
“I truly hope that you do. Because, Gwen, he is so in love with you.”
“I do. I do not have a waking moment when I do not think of him. Nor many sleeping moments, for that matter.”
“Good. He is a wonderful man. You two were meant to be together.”
“Good. Now back to you and Arthur.”
“You sound very much like Hester the Jester.”
Gwen laughed, then sipped her wine. “That ‘take my wife, please,’ truly is getting old, do you not think?”
“You have no idea. I mean it, really. You have no idea.”
“Now back to you and Arthur.”
“How about we not go back to Arthur and me?”
“Isabel, you asked for honesty from me. I am merely asking that you are also as honest. I care for Arthur deeply. I know that I have already wounded him. I would truly hope that no other woman would scar him in that way again.”
Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. “My honest answer is that I cannot predict the future, Gwen.”
“He loves you, Isabel. Deeply. He has admitted as much to me.”
“Fine,” Isabel said, turning to face Gwen. “I love him. I love him more than I ever thought was possible. I would walk through fire for that man. Okay? Honest enough for you?”
It was a scene out of a really bad B movie. The music had stopped, the conversation had stopped. Everything in the freaking room had stopped. Except, apparently, Isabel’s overly loud tirade.
She looked around, and the one face that stood out was Arthur’s. And he was grinning.
“And that,” she said to the entire room, “is the final line in that last play we put on in Dumont.”
Nobody moved. “Okay, okay, so the play had a cheesy ending. But I didn’t write it, so give me a break. Musicians? Please? Or for God’s sake, where is Hester?”
“THANKS for stepping in there, homey,” Isabel muttered when Arthur brought her a fresh goblet of wine.
“’Twas in a bit of shock. I did not realize that you put on plays in Dumont.”
“Well, we do.”
“And ’twas not a cheesy, as you say, ending to me. Sounded much more of a love story.”
“Could be.”
“One about a woman professing her love for a man.”
“Could be.”
“A woman who would walk through fire for her man.”
“So you got the gist. Your point?”
“I would also walk through fire for my woman.”
“And who would she be?”
“Take a wild guess. I give you two chances, and the first better not be Pix.”
Her irritation sort of disappeared. Fast. “I am so sorry, Arthur,” she said, finally looking up and facing him. “I never meant those word
s for anyone’s ears but Gwen’s.”
“I know this. Do you know how proud and happy I am that the entire hall happened to overhear?”
“How is that possible? I could have just put both you and Gwen in jeopardy.”
He shook his head. “No. We are soon to be free.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I would hope those would be walnuts. I would kiss you mindlessy right now, but I made a promise to you earlier and must needs fulfill it.”
And he did. He loped to the large table and jumped up on it, without using a single bench or chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Camelot, please have a listen.”
The entire hall went eerily quiet.
“We have so many reasons to celebrate this night. We will begin with an important one. Ashton? Where be you?”
“I am here, my king,” a voice came out of the crowd.
“Then get your bloody ass over here.”
Arthur looked around. “Jenny, where are you?”
It just so happened Jenny was very near to Isabel. Isabel inched over. “Go with it, Jenny.”
“May I have a sip of your wine, Countess?
“You mean Isabel. My name is Isabel.”
“May I, Isabel, have a—”
Isabel thrust it at her. “Slug down all you want. Just remember that the word you need to pronounce correctly is ‘yes.’”
Jenny did a great job of glugging. In fact, she completely drained Isabel’s glass. Then she stood up tall, looking back once. “The word is?”
“Yes,” Isabel said, nearly laughing.
“What is the question going to be?”
“Let it be a surprise,” Isabel said, as she pushed the girl farther toward the table. “Just answer yes.”
Jenny held up a thumb, “Got it, Isabel.”
“WILL you exchange vows with me, Jenny? Will you agree to be my wife?”
Jenny looked back to that corner of the room to see both the countess and her queen nodding fervently.
“Yes,” she said. “I want, very much, to be your wife.”
Ashton stood from his bended knee. He pulled her to him and said, “Good gods, woman. What took you so long?”
“I wanted to be certain you meant it,” she said.
Arthur bowed his head and chuckled, then glanced over at Isabel and Gwen, and smiled. They smiled back at him. Good gods, the women in his life. He did not know whether to feel blessed or afraid. Possibly he should feel a bit of both.
