He plucked a long blade of grass. “’Tis difficult to separate the man from the king.”
“But you’ve known them all your life.”
“I have. My father has been friend and companion to Arthur since before my birth, at his side in battle and in peace.” He chewed on the grass absently. “Arthur is a good man. ’Tis not always an easy thing, to be a good man and a wise ruler. I have seen him struggle within himself over decisions that would not be good for the few yet ultimately best for the many. Even if he were not my liege lord, he would have my respect and my love.”
“Love?”
“He has treated me like a son and I love him as one does a father.”
She pulled her brows together. “Doesn’t he have a son?”
“Mordred.” Galahad spit the name out as if it were obscene.
“I gather you don’t think much of him,” she said with caution. “Not a good guy, huh?”
“In our youth, we were as brothers. But the years saw us choose different paths.” Disgust underlaid his words. “Mordred is a weakling and a fool. Greed pervades his very soul. Should he live long enough to inherit, he will no doubt rip the country apart.”
“You don’t think he’ll make it that long?”
Galahad snorted. “Mordred’s days are spent in reckless games and hunts for the sport of killing alone. His nights are filled with drink and women. Arthur can’t help but look upon him with disdain. When Mordred is king, all of England will rebel.” His jaw tightened. “’Twould be different if Guinevere had borne the king a child. Even a girl would be better than Mordred.”
“Don’t mince words, tell me what you really think.” In the legend, Mordred was the son of Arthur and his half-sister Morgan Le Fay. In this allegedly real-life version everything was different. Better to ask questions than jump to conclusions. “So, Mordred isn’t Guinevere’s son?”
Galahad threw her a startled look. “No. The king was wed while still a lad to the Lady Morgan, believed to have fairy blood in her. ’Twas a marriage long arranged and there was no love lost between them. She died, drowned in the lake, when Mordred was but five years of age. He blamed his father although Arthur was away at the time.”
“No wonder they don’t get along.”
“Mordred hates Arthur. Arthur looks at Mordred with sorrow and disgust in his eye.” He shook his head. “It does not bode well for England.”
“What about Guinevere?” she said slowly.
“Ah.” Galahad’s face brightened. “Guinevere has a good heart and her laughter brings joy to her people. She has a streak of stubbornness and determination ill suited to an ordinary woman but serving well a queen.” The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “I see such a streak in you.”
“Oh yeah? Thanks.” She smiled with pleasure.
“’Tis indeed a compliment to compare you to the queen. She has taken the place of a mother to me.”
“Who was your mother? What happened to her?” Tessa wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. In the legends, Galahad’s mother tricked Lancelot into thinking she was Guinevere then made love to him and conceived Galahad.
“Elaine, daughter of a noble family. She and my father had little time together.” He held out his left hand. The ruby ring she’d noticed in the chapel winked blood red in the sunlight. “’Twas my mother’s. She gave it to my father and he to me.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “She died the day I was born.”
“Jeez.” Tessa shook her head. “Childbirth is a real bitch here. Women are dropping like flies.”
Galahad stared in confusion.
“Forget it. Just remind me never to get pregnant in the Middle Ages.” She thought for a moment. “The king and queen both treat you like a son. What about your father? What’s he like?”
“He is…Lancelot.” Galahad laughed and flicked away the piece of grass. “Minstrels sing of his courage and his exploits. He is a knight by which all else are measured and is more my companion than my father. He has both my respect and my affection yet I did not truly know him until I was grown. Still, I believe he cares for me with a father’s love. He too is a good man.
“His position at court is the envy of all. He is both advisor and brother to the king and friend and confidant to the queen. ’Twill never be three people closer in mind and heart than these.”
“Interesting,” she murmured. So, did this mean Guinevere and Lancelot hadn’t started the affair that would spell the end of Camelot? Or did Galahad’s fierce loyalty to all three make it impossible for him to see what was right in front of him? Was this another part of the myth that didn’t mesh with real life?
“Now, fair Tessa.” He stretched out on the turf, rolled on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “’Tis my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“My turn for questions.”
She studied him warily. “For example?”
“I know you are far from home. I have told you of my father. What of your family?”
“My family? Well, my mom’s wonderful even though she still treats me like I was twelve. And my dad…” Her throat tightened and she couldn’t get out the words. Would she ever see her parents again? Or would she live and die long before they were born?
He reached out and took her hand in his. “You miss them.”
She nodded and blinked back tears.
“And are there others you miss?” He paused. “Your husband perhaps?”
“My husband?”
“A widow then.” He squeezed her hand in sympathy. “I suspected as much.”
She started to deny his assumption but bit back the words. Why not let him think she was a widow? It would be far easier to pretend to have a dead husband then explain the dating and mating habits of women in the twenty-first century, especially to people who thought sixteen-year-olds were past their prime. She shook her head.
“No woman as comely as you could reach such an advanced age and remain unwed.”
“Thanks.” Between comely and advanced age she wasn’t quite sure if that was a compliment or simply a comment. “I think.”
“Now then, tell me of your land.” Curiosity shone in his blue eyes. “This place where the earth is a ball and there are no wizards.”
She shifted uncomfortably. What could she tell him about the future? Apparently he no longer thought she was nuts. But if she launched into an explanation of airplanes and television and outer space he’d change his mind. Or he’d think she was a blatant liar. “Maybe someday but not now. I have a feeling we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”
“Very well.” Her fingers were lost in the size of his grip and her stomach fluttered.
“What?” She laughed uneasily. “No argument?”
“As you say, ’twill be time enough. Tell me instead,” he pulled her hand to his lips and brushed her fingertips against his mouth, “of the quest Merlin has planned for us.”
“I already told you.” Why were his lips so warm against her fingers? “I can’t. You’ll have to talk to Merlin.”
“But you do know, do you not?” His gaze bored into hers.
Why was it so hard to breathe? “Um…I guess so.”
His words puffed against her fingers. “But you will not say?”
“Say?” How could she say anything that made sense with those deep, stormy eyes paralyzing her and the touch of his lips turning her insides to mush?
“Will you tell me this then?” He trailed his lips to the center of her palm and kissed it softly. Chills shivered through her. “Why did Merlin say you are here for me?”
“Did he say that?” she said weakly.
“He did.” He tugged gently on her hand and pulled her into his arms. She should resist. She wanted to resist. She couldn’t. “You said you were not here to wed me.” He bent his head to hers. “What did Merlin mean?” His lips whispered across her mouth and she gasped. Desire, strong and relentless, surged through her. “How are you here for me?”
She moaned
. “This is such a bad idea.”
“Is it, fair Tessa?” He pulled her tighter against him, so close she could feel the taut planes of his solid body through her clothes and his. “I think ’tis an excellent idea.”
His lips pressed against hers, gentle yet insistent, firm yet yielding. She sighed with surrender and a rush of unexpected longing. Her mouth opened to his and without warning urgency sparked from his lips to hers, as if his life’s breath triggered her own. He held her tighter against him, his mouth plundered hers and she met his onslaught with a need of her own that sprang from somewhere deep inside. Her fingers gripped his tunic. His hands splayed across her back. She’d been kissed before, she’d even had great sex before but nothing in her life had swept away her senses like the touch of this man. This knight. He was a myth she didn’t buy. A legend she didn’t believe in. How could he do this to her? How could he be so real? How could she be so lost?
He rolled over on his back, carrying her with him to lie on top of his long body. He smelled of leather and musk and heat and in her world it would have stopped her short. But here his scent called to some primeval instinct inherent in man and woman. His hands moved lower to cup her rear end, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress. She wrenched her lips from his and her mouth found the pulse beat at the base of his throat. He groaned beneath her, grasping at her dress, sliding it upward until he touched the bare flesh of her legs and she shuddered. His arousal was rigid between her thighs and she shifted to feel him press between her legs.
A voice in the back of her head screamed for control. This would never work. This was wrong. This could destroy them both. She ignored it, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the flame of his desire that met and meshed and burned hotter with her own. She wanted him with a relentless ache that blazed from her very core and the consequences for her or him or the future be damned.
“Tessa.” He breathed her name with a tone so intense she jerked her head up and gazed into his eyes. Eyes that smoldered with a dark yearning and more. Confusion and something else. She stared. His gaze locked with hers. What else? Fear? Did he somehow know what disaster this could bring? Did he sense, as she did now, at this moment, this was not simply the joining of their bodies but a merging of their souls? That nothing would ever be the same again? Or was it guilt? Did the power of the pull between them bring back the thought of the woman he had loved? His one love. His true love. Her breath caught and she knew that one thing alone did matter. A lot.
“No.” She rolled off him and staggered to her feet, gasping for air.
“Tessa.” He scrambled after her.
“No.” She thrust her hand out and backed up. “Stay away from me.”
“Tessa.” He struggled to catch his breath. She turned away and wrapped her arms tight around herself, fighting to pull herself together.
“I did not mean…I do not know…” There was an anguished note in his voice.
Laugh it off, Tessa. Make a joke out of it. She willed herself to stop shaking and forced a lighthearted tone. “Don’t worry about it.” She turned and faced him. “A little afternoon delight that got out of control.” She grinned with a bravado she didn’t feel. “Hey, you’re a man. I’m a woman. It’s spring. Hormones are probably running rampant. Forget about it.”
“Forget?” His brow furrowed with puzzled anger. “I do not wish to forget. ’Twas not a mere—”
“Stop it right there.” Her voice carried a slight tremble and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I’m serious. This was no big deal. It was a mistake. That’s all. And it’s not going to happen again. I’m not here to relieve the lust of some medieval hunk.”
“Lust?” His hands clenched at his sides. He was a towering figure of outrage. “’Twas not mere lust when I held you in my arms.”
“What was it then?”
“I do not know.” He ran his hand through his tousled hair. “I—” He shook his head.
“Look, you’ll find out what Merlin has in store for us as soon as he tells you and not before.” Good. Her shaking had stopped. “And it won’t do you any good to try to get it out of—” She stopped and glared. “Was that what this was all about? You thought you could seduce the information out of me?”
A look of distinct discomfort crossed his face. “Perhaps, at first, I may well have considered—”
“You—you—” she sputtered with anger. “You fraud! The noble Galahad. What a crock. What happened to chivalry and honor and all that stuff?”
He drew himself up and glared. “’Tis not a question of my honor.”
She raised a brow. “Oh?”
“’Tis a question of strategy. Women are well known to reveal much in the throes of passion. You have knowledge that I suspect I should know.” He stepped toward her. “And I will learn it.”
“Well, you’re not going to kiss it out of me. I can’t believe I almost fell for it.” She whirled and took a step.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “’Twas the thought in my mind at the beginning but not at the end.”
“Let go of me!” She clasped her hands together and twisted, her elbow stopped short of his stomach by a steel grip. “Ouch!”
Sparks shot from his eyes. “Sister Abigail may not have taught you well enough. A knight will be caught unawares but once.”
She wrenched out of his grasp and stepped back. “I’ll keep that in mind. And we need to get a couple of things cleared up right now.”
“Very well.”
“You and I are going to be partners in this little adventure of Merlin’s. Strictly a professional relationship. That’s it. Period. Get it?”
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
“It’s exactly what I wish.” She turned and stalked off in the general direction of the castle. For just a moment she’d thought he had the same feelings she did. A passion so deep it scared her. Emotions she’d never even suspected existed. When she got back to that crummy, primitive castle she was trapped in, she’d have to have a long cry about this.
Could it possibly be love? Her step faltered at the thought. No, of course not. This happened way too fast for love. But even basic lust had never been this strong. No man had ever turned her on this way. Not just her body but her mind, maybe her soul. All she knew was whatever she felt for him was powerful and terrifying. Under other circumstances, sex with him would be okay. All right, it would be great. Fantastic. Fireworks and the Fourth of July and whatever in the hell passed for a good time in the Middle Ages. But there was no way that could happen now without involving her heart. Damned man. It was obvious he was still in love with his dead wife. And not even here, before her world was ever dreamed of, would she allow herself to love a man who couldn’t love her back.
His horse pulled up beside her.
“What?” she snapped without looking.
“’Tis a long walk back, my lady.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m not your lady.” She ground her teeth together. “And I’m up for a long walk.”
“I think not.” He reached down and grabbed her.
“Hey!”
Galahad scooped her up onto his horse and settled her in front of him without the slightest effort.
“You are so annoying.”
“As are you.” He paused and she knew if she looked back at him he’d be grinning. “My lady.”
They rode on in silence for a good five minutes until Tessa gave up trying to sit straight and tall and as far away from him as possible. She relaxed against him. Why did he have to feel so good?
“The king is expected back today,” he said in a casual manner.
“So I heard.”
“’Twill be a great feast tonight.” She refused to answer. Finally he sighed. “’Tis then I will ask him a blessing for my quest.”
“For the Grail?” She held her breath.
“For the Grail.” His voice was even and carried a strength and determination she couldn
’t help but admire.
“This is it then.” Was it excitement that fluttered in her stomach? Or fear? “The start of the adventure.”
“I have had adventures aplenty. This…this shall be different.”
“No duh, pal,” she said more to herself than to him. How was she going to go with him and keep her distance at the same time?
“I am sorry we shall not endeavor to perform whatever minor task Merlin has planned but ’twill be no time. I shall leave Camelot as soon as possible.” He paused for her answer but she hadn’t the faintest idea what to say now. She hated to lie to him but she definitely wasn’t about to spill her guts with the truth.
“I shall miss you, Tessa,” he said softly and she steeled herself against the way her heart twisted at his words.
“It won’t work this time.” She shook her head. “Like you said, a knight will be caught unawares but once. There was more to Sister Abigail’s classes than physical self-defense.”
He chuckled and they rode on in silence. She might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Galahad would go ballistic when he found out he’d get exactly what he wanted but there would be strings attached. And they’d be tied firmly to her. She meant what she said. From now on it was strictly business. Then she’d go home. The Big Guy would be relegated to an occasional class she’d be forced to teach. Exactly where he belonged and she’d be…what? On her way to Greece? Funny, even Greek gods paled a bit beside her legendary knight. Of course, he wasn’t her knight and he never would be. Not even if she wanted him to be. Which she didn’t.
She shifted in an effort to achieve some minimal degree of comfort and he tightened his grip. It was impossible not to let the warmth of his body seep into her own. This was the last time she’d ask him for a ride. This sort of thing couldn’t happen in a nice, comfortable car where everybody had their own seat. Damn, she hated the Middle Ages.
She was pretty sure, by the time they got back to the castle, her butt would ache nearly as much as her heart.
Chapter Eight
Believe Page 10
