One Knight (Knights of Caerleon Book 2)

by Ines Johnson

  The few kisses she’d shared with Merlin paled in bleak comparison. Lance’s single kiss was a firework display worthy of a celebration of national independence. He tasted spicy. The taste of him was still on the tip of her tongue. Everything in her throbbed. She ached for relief.

  It had been magic. It had been divine. It had been her dream come true. It was her new truth.

  Lance had kissed her like he’d been drowning and she was his first taste of air. But now she was alone again, and she couldn’t understand why.

  Had she done something wrong? Had her inexperience turned him off? Had her lack of skill turned him away?

  Before he’d left, his gaze had shuttered, closing her out. He’d never done that with her. He’d always let her see into the heart of him. What didn’t he want her to see now?

  Perhaps there was someone else?

  Of course, there was someone else. Gwin had chosen to marry another. She never expected Lance to spend his nights alone. She didn't expect it, and she didn't like to think of it.

  Lance had always kept any evidence of a lover hidden from her view. She had heard stories. But she never believed most of them. Lance would never tarry with a widow of the town or dally with a married witch. It was so far beneath his character that it was laughable.

  Gwin balled her hands into fists to know that anyone could even think such behaviors of him. As she clenched her fist, the ring on her finger burned her palm as her indignation flared.

  Gwin looked down at it. Then over at her sleeping husband. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her lips burned with a different heat as she ran the events of a few moments ago back through her mind. She, a married woman, had thrown herself on him, the most devout knight of his time.

  But this was different. They were different.

  Surely Lance couldn’t think that of her. Could he? He knew how she felt about him. Didn’t he? He of all people had to know who her heart truly beat for. Hadn’t he?

  “Oh, Gwin, I am so sorry.”

  Gwin pulled herself out of her reverie to find Morgan had returned to the infirmary. Her sister was beaming at her, bouncing on her toes as she walked toward her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Morgan repeated. “I did not mean to interrupt and scare him away.”

  Gwin turned her sister’s words over in her head. Lance had held her close until Morgan interrupted them. In fact, it had been Gwin who’d pulled away from him.

  They both knew that if they had been caught in an embrace it would be the end of their reputations, and their reputations mattered a great deal to both of them. He had to know Morgan wouldn’t tell anybody, not until they were ready.

  Gwin was done hiding her desires, done putting others before her. She’d make sure Lance knew that. As soon as she found him.

  “Are you okay?” Morgan asked.

  “I am.”

  She was. And now that her mind had worked out the logical answer to the problem, all of the feelings rushed back in. A flood of emotion rose to her cheeks and spread across her shoulders. Her lips tingled from the memory of being pressed against him.

  “I just kissed Lance.”

  "Yeah, you did." Morgan's grin was wide and proud of her older sister's carnal activity.

  Gwin’s face flushed, but it was a flush of joy. Happiness hit her so hard she had to reach out for the wall to steady herself.

  A rustle had her turning her head. Merlin shifted in the bed. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing became raspy and labored. Gwin’s smile faltered.

  “No. Uhn-uhn,” Morgan said. “Do not go there.”

  To further emphasize her point, Morgan rounded on Gwin so that she blocked her view of Merlin.

  “He never loved you,” Morgan continued. She lifted her hand ticking off Merlin’s transgressions against Gwin one by one. “He used you. He left you. He tried to kill you. He tried to kill your cousin. He nearly killed me. I, for one, am done tiptoeing around the issue. If he doesn’t hurry up and die soon, you’re getting a divorce.”

  It was interesting. Not too long ago, the D word would’ve sent Gwin into an apoplectic fit. Now, the D word didn’t scare her so much. In fact, the thought of that word sent a sense of relief through her.

  “You deserve to be happy,” said Morgan.

  “Yeah. I do,” Gwin said. “I love him.”

  “I have to assume we’re talking about Lance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, duh. The whole town knows the two of you love each other.”

  Had they been so obvious all this time? And no one scolded them? Then no one would be shocked when they announced they were together.

  “What are you waiting for?” Morgan grasped Gwin’s forearms and squeezed. “Go find that man and jump his bones.”

  Gwin’s blush deepened. She’d just had her first real kiss. Sex? With Lance? Was she ready for that? She was just getting used to the idea that she could kiss him. Maybe hold his hand in public. Announce their feelings to the world instead of trying, unsuccessfully, to hide them.

  But she could have sex now. She could do anything now. First, she needed to find Lance.

  9

  Lance walked in a daze down the hall. His head did not mind where his feet led him. Before he knew it, he was in the residential area of the castle.

  He’d climbed three flights without noticing. What he did notice was whose door he stood before. In the century that he’d had occasion to live in this castle, never had he once dared to come down this path.

  Even though he'd run from her, his body still led him back to her. He'd followed her scent like a hound in heat. Picking at the tendrils in the air, he'd come to stand at Gwin's bedroom door.

  His heart pounded, pushing against his rib cage, which pushed against the fabric of his shirt. His ears rang with the phantom sounds of her voice, her laugh. The way she’d sighed into his mouth.

  For years, he’d taken in the scent of her through his nose. Now he knew what she tasted like. A nectar so sweet bees would cease their honey production in favor of her breath.

  Lance leaned his head against Gwin’s doorframe. He pressed his hands into the hard, cold wood that kept him out. Everything in him urged him to bust the barrier down, even though he knew she wasn’t in there. But he couldn’t go back to where she was. If he did, he would definitely kiss her again.

  Oh, God. He had kissed Gwin. His mind couldn’t work out how it had happened?

  She'd been sad, so sad. Near tears and weary. Of course, he'd been her strength when she was weakened. What kind of champion wouldn't have?

  But then she’d looked up at him. The next thing he knew she was all around him, a part of him. Until she pulled away from him, shame and guilt replacing the sweet connection they’d shared.

  Lance pushed away from her bedroom door. His steps unsteady as he puzzled out where to go. He couldn’t go back to the infirmary. If he did, he’d have her in his arms again. And that would be a mistake.

  Wouldn’t it?

  Yes. The answer was yes. That was why she’d pulled away from him when someone came into the door and seen them together. A kiss, an embrace, anything more, none of it could ever happen again. No matter how much his entire being craved it.

  Lance slumped into a dark corner down a deserted hallway. For the first time in his life, he understood how a man could break his vows. Cheating was no longer a heinous idea. It was a logical possibility.

  Hang his honor. Hang it right on her lower lip. He stood and began toward the infirmary again.

  He couldn’t remember why honor was so important to him. He would do anything to touch her again, everything be damned. She was within his grasp. Hell, he’d been in her grasp.

  She’d been warm, soft curves. She’d been a sugar rush straight to the head. An ice cream that froze his brain. And like all things addictive, he wanted more. He couldn't just have one taste.

  His steps stopped again before they hit the last rung on the stair that would bring him to the same level as the infir
mary. What was he doing? He couldn’t have another taste of Gwin. She was a married woman. That kiss couldn’t have been her thinking. It had to have been his fault.

  Somehow, some way, he had driven her to it. She was a noble lady. She would've never dreamed of lunging at him or pressing her lips to his.

  But what of her words?

  Gwin’s words, so like Lady Minerva’s, echoed at the back of Lance’s mind.

  I ruined my life when I chose him …

  If only you had come along earlier …

  I don’t want to wait …

  Those words had Lance back-stepping down the stairs that would lead him out of the castle. He had not imagined that exchange. He had not made up the guilt and shame on Gwin’s face when she thought they were caught. It all mirrored what he’d experienced earlier with Lady Minerva, with every woman who had propositioned him over the years thinking he’d break his vows for them.

  Lance’s world was crumbling around him, and so he did what he always did when the reality got too much for him. He ran into battle to prove his worth.

  The door to the castle was in sight. He could cross the moat, grab a horse, and ride to run the energy out of him.

  Before he could reach the door, a lady came into his view. Lady Constance pulled the doors to the Throne Room closed. She smiled when she saw Lance coming down the stairs.

  “Good day, Sir Lance. I trust you’re feeling better after Lady Gwin’s attentions.”

  Lance’s throat constricted. Instead of an answer, he gave Lady Constance a quick bow. “My lady, I need you to open a ley line for me.”

  “Oh?” she said peering at the healed wound on his arm.

  “My wound is healed. I have urgent business to tend to.”

  “Well, certainly I can open a line for you." Lady Constance reached for the door handle of the Throne Room, but she paused before opening it. "I'm only surprised Lady Gwin isn't here to do it for you.”

  “She’s tending to her husband.” Those words dumped cold water down on his head. It was the sensation he needed to cool any more of his wayward thoughts about Gwin.

  “Where are you going?” Lady Constance asked.

  “Champagne, France. To the de Payens House.”

  “I thought that manse was deserted?”

  “It is. But I need to check out a lead there.”

  And while checking on the lead regarding Malegant, Lance could put some distance between himself and Gwin. He needed the time and the space to come to grips with what had happened between them and to ensure that it never happened again.

  10

  Gwin searched the entire castle, from the dungeons to the Weapons Room, to the training fields, to the stables. She couldn't find Lance. She'd never sought him out purposefully, but still, she'd always managed to bump into him.

  The two had been like magnets the entire time they’d been in each other’s lives. She would always look up and see him not too far. The few times in her life that she had been in danger, he'd stepped in front of her. Now, when she ached to be in his arms, he was nowhere to be found.

  She knew he hadn’t gone shopping with Morgan and Arthur. Mainly because she knew Arthur was preoccupied—dragging his fiancée bodily on the errand. But also because she’d texted Morgan who had already left and said Lance wasn’t with them.

  He wasn’t out with Tristan and Percy. Gwin had checked the town’s group chat and there was no mention or tagging of Lance in the posts. He wasn’t with the remaining squires in their little gaming hole. Gwin had ventured in there under the guise of needing to replace a broken controller, and there had been no sign of Lance.

  In a moment of desperation, she’d even been so bold as to go to his rooms and knock on the door. A place she’d never been to in the century he’d lived in the castle. But when she knocked on his door, there was no response.

  Where could he have gone?

  He’d been there every time she’d needed him. Was he avoiding her now? Had he not wanted to kiss her? What if he did have someone else?

  It had been a century since she’d turned from the feelings they shared. He’d moved on, of course, he had. She’d never seen any evidence of it. Lance was too much a gentleman to ever flaunt it in her face.

  Still, she knew there were others. How could there not be? Lance was young and virile … and available. Unlike her.

  Gwin was still shackled to the mistake she’d made a century ago. Now that she was turning the key and freeing herself from that lock, it was too late.

  What had she expected? That he’d kept himself pure for her, for decades. It was a ridiculous notion. Especially when, by all accounts, she hadn’t waited for him.

  What would he think when he found out the truth about her? That she still carried her V-card, as Loren would call it. What if the thought turned him off?

  She was ancient by human standards of counting, but she was in her prime as a witch. All women her age had experience. Lance would likely not want a fumbling, untried virgin. Would he?

  She didn’t know? The world looked different to her now that she’d tasted Lance’s lips. Now that she’d been held in his embrace. Now that she’d made the decision that they would be together.

  Because they would. Be together. No matter if he was seeing someone else.

  Gwin knew in her heart that they were meant to be together. Hell, everyone knew it. And whoever this chit was that was in her way would step aside or get blasted by magic.

  Gwin put her hand to her head. She was fevered. That was the only explanation for those unkind, possessive thoughts. Though her thoughts had been unsavory, they hadn’t been untrue.

  She was certain Lance’s feelings for her went beyond the chivalric. She knew his sense of duty didn’t stop at protecting her. He had responded to that kiss. She knew he had. She knew he felt something. Didn’t he?

  “There you are.”

  Gwin looked up at the sound of her mother’s voice. She thought her mother had gone with Morgan and Arthur. She thought she’d have a few hours’ reprieve from her mother’s way of coddling her daughters.

  “I’m going to need your help with this wedding since your sister could give a care,” said Gwynfhar. “She hasn’t commissioned a new carriage to be built to cart them from the ceremony to the reception. She hasn’t ordered gold ink for the invitations. And she hasn’t even begun talking to any of the top designers in France or Italy for her gown.”

  “Because she doesn’t want those things for her wedding.”

  Gwynfhar pressed her perfectly manicured fingers to her lace bodice. Her face was horror-stricken. “Of course she does. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Morgan and Arthur just want to be together.”

  “You’re making my case. Morgan didn’t think she wanted to marry Arthur when she was a girl. But look at her now.”

  True, Morgan hadn’t wanted to marry Arthur when she was younger, even though her mother pushed her to it. Morgan had pushed back and enjoyed her life instead. And then, in the end, she and Arthur had found one another on their own terms.

  Pride replaced the pinched look of horror on her mother’s face. She had two girls who’d nabbed the royal blood of Camelot. The only difference was that Morgan was in love with her betrothed and he loved her in return.

  Gwin wondered what her life would’ve been like if she hadn’t succumbed to outside interference in her affairs of the heart. She would’ve married Lance. She’d probably have a gaggle of children tugging at her skirts. She’d have a man who would kiss her senseless. A man who would not hide when she went looking for him. Because that was the only explanation, he was hiding from her.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Gwin’s attention snapped back to her mother.

  “We need to save that girl from herself. She doesn’t know what she wants. Mother knows best.”

  Gwin knew her mother meant well. But Gwynfhar had it all wrong. Her mother never had a clue as to what was best for her daughters. Only what
was best for her idea of Gwin’s and Morgan’s lives.

  “Mother, I’m getting a divorce.”

  Gwynfhar’s eyes grew as large and wide as an owl’s. Her eyes narrowed to slits like a snake’s. Then her head whipped around and away from Gwin’s. She stormed down the hall, looking in doors and down dark corridors.

  “Where is he?” Gwynfhar hissed.

  “He? Who?” Gwin trailed after her. She’d seen her mother disapproving. She’d seen her mother upset. But this was something different.

  “Where is that bastard?”

  Gwin’s teeth ground so hard she had to spit out a chipped piece of her molars before she could answer. “He is not a bastard. He is the most decent man I’ve ever known.”

  “Oh?” Her mother wheeled around, bringing Gwin up short. “What decent man would dally with a married woman?”

  “He didn’t … I did. I kissed him.”

  Her mother drew back as though Gwin had slapped her.

  “Mother, I’ve been so unhappy all these years with Merlin.”

  Gwin was hoping for compassion in her mother’s gaze, but Gwynfhar only glared. Gwin didn’t expect her mother to open her arms to her and welcome her into a hug. But she did want her mother to understand. Just as she was having trouble finding Lance, it looked like she wouldn’t find what she was looking for in her mother either.

  “You fool girl,” said Gwynfhar. “Do you have any idea what this will do to your reputation?”

  "I don't care." And she didn't. Just a year ago, Gwin would've been horrified at her words, at her behavior. But now, she wanted to shout from the rooftops that she loved Lance and wanted to be with him. "I want to be happy. Don't you want me to be happy?

  When her mother didn’t answer, Gwin decided to give up this fight and return to her original mission; the mission she should’ve embarked on over a century ago.

  “Where are you going?” her mother called behind her.

  “To find Lancelot.”

  The heels of Gwin’s shoes impacted each stair in the Great Hall as she stepped down from on high. Her eyes blurred with her mother’s silent rejection. That’s why she didn’t see the person coming toward her.