Goddess of Legend (26 page)

“Yes?”

“Yes. It’s called, last one to my bedroom has to get naked first.” And then she picked up her skirts, ran into the castle and up the back staircase.

ARTHUR caught her right before she hit the door to her quarters. As he had followed her, laughing the entire way, he debated which he wanted more, but it seemed to him to be a win-win, so decided a tie was in order.

He picked her up, swallowing her squeals of protest with his mouth. He carried her into the room, only to stop short. There were candles alight everywhere, and a tray with a cask of wine and two goblets sitting side by side.

“Mary,” Isabel said.

“Remind me to reward Mary,” he said, and laid Isabel on the bed.

He looked down upon her, the glow of the candles making pretty Isabel almost breathtaking.

“I want you,” he said. “Do you feel the same?”

“Who ran up here faster?”

He decided reminding her that he could have overtaken her at any moment would not be a great idea. He dragged air into his lungs. “I am at your mercy. But please, help me to settle down.”

She laughed. “No, sir. I want a lesson in how to undress a king.”

“You are very much not helping, madam.”

She looked into his eyes, and Arthur was lost. He feared he would lose all ability to satisfy her afore either of them were unclothed.

She rolled off the bed and rose blithely to her feet.

“Your tunic appears easy enough, sir, as I can simply pull it over your head,” she said quietly. “However, you need to allow me to remove it.”

He held his arms up, and she pulled it over his head and off, tossing it aside.

“And next would be what I can only consider a turtleneck, but I am certain you have another name for it.”

“I am certain I do, however, for the life of me, Isabel, I could not name it if you placed a dagger to my throat.”

“No chance of that.”

She removed his undergarment, leaving him naked from the waist up.

“Oh, Arthur,” she breathed, tracing the scars across his body.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

“No! Do not apologize. The beauty of these is that you fought and won.”

“Or merely survived,” he breathed.

Her lips moved over his body, and he knew not how to stop her. He did not want to stop her. Yet he was dying to get his turn on hers. “You are killing me, Isabel,” he said.

“So I am actually killing a king? There must be a terrible punishment for that.”

“I cannot begin to tell you how severe if you do not let me touch you,” Arthur managed to say.

“I am quaking in my knickers,” she said. “Now, please tell me how to make you naked from the waist down.”

“If I admit the secret, may I please, please touch you?”

“Yes.”

“There is something called a belt. It is a manly way of saying laces of sorts.”

Isabel giggled. “Found your belt, King Arthur.”

“’Tis way beyond time you did, Countess.”

He felt the belt give way, and his leggings loosen around his hips. Isabel slipped lower, as did the material around his legs.

She forced one leg up and his clothing off. Then drove him near to mad as she kissed her way up his naked ankle to his calf to his thigh. Her soft hand followed, but inside his thigh. She stopped afore his privates. Unfortunately.

“Take off the other half, please, Arthur.”

“I am taking off everything, yet you are not allowing me to help you do the same.”

“I have learned the tricks of your clothing. Once again, I wager it will take you more than mere moments to figure the workings of mine.”

Arthur kicked aside his clothing and had no trouble making Isabel naked in seconds. She did not look displeased at losing the wager as he once again picked her up and set her on the bed.

“I have needed this, needed you, from our first moment, Isabel. Had I my druthers, I would have attempted to seduce you that first moment in the woods.”

“Please just allow me to explore you.”

Arthur laughed, even as he pulled her up and into his arms. “How much more exploration do you want?”

“Years.”

“That sounds wonderful. However, ’tis my turn.”

His fingers trailed up and down, from the side of her breast to her hip and up again. “You are so soft. I wish my hands were not so rough.”

“I love your hands, Arthur.”

He leaned over and took her breast in his mouth, suckling and licking her oh-so-sensitive nipple. Isabel cried out, arching upward. The sensation radiated all the way down and nearly exploded between her legs.

His tongue ran slowly one more time over her breast, and then his mouth returned to hers, kissing her as his hand traveled down over her belly, and then lower. Those rough fingers explored her, spreading her lower lips apart, and gently caressing her.

“Oh, dear gods,” she said as an orgasm shook through her. Her entire body shuddered. He held her close, still stroking her until he’d managed to wring every ounce of shattering ecstasy out of her.

He raised his head and smiled down at her, his green eyes heavy but sparkling. “Oh, lady, the gods created you for loving. You are so sweet and wet and beautiful in your . . . your ...”

“Happiness,” she finished for him.

She grabbed his arm, pulled him over and down onto his back. “I very much want to give you happiness,” she said.

“I am already . . . oh, gods, Isabel,” he said as she slipped lower and took him into her mouth. “Please, I do not want to be anywhere but inside you, part of you, when I find this . . . oh . . . this happiness. Please.”

Isabel lifted her head but continued to stroke his penis. “I want your happiness any way you want it.”

He choked with laughter. “Hey, you, please do this,” he said, then rolled her to her back.

“Do what, my lord?” she asked.

“Spread yourself for me. Allow me entrance.”

“You had but to ask.”

He kneeled between her legs, again stroking her into a near frenzy. “I will not hurt you?” he asked.

“You will if you stop.”

He laid overtop her and kissed her. Then slowly, way too slowly, he entered her.

She took his face in her hands. “Arthur, it feels so good. Please, it does not hurt. Do not hesitate.”

His eyes squeezed shut, then he began to move inside her. Still slowly, but so steady, and Isabel realized in her fog of frenzy he was trying to prolong the exquisite agony.

But she was going to come again, and soon. She grabbed his hips, pushing against his body, needing to feel it all over again, although in a totally different way. “Please, Arthur. I need this.”

The floodgates opened. He pushed into her harder and faster. She felt his body tense beneath her fingers before he looked at her and said, “I am so in love with you, Isabel.” His orgasm hit the inside of her like an internal bomb. As she felt his semen hit the innermost parts of her, she, too, came.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

’TWAS almost dawn afore Arthur reluctantly left Isabel. He did so only after she had demanded he had need to go do “you, do this, and, you, do that,” kingly stuff.

He was still smiling as he entered the outer quarters of the royal chambers where he had laid his head for days now.

He stopped short when he saw Gwen, perched upon his furs.

“Late night, Arthur?”

“It appears that you are feeling much better, Gwen. I am very glad.”

“Where have you been?”

“Why in the world would it matter to you?”

“You are my husband. I am entitled to know where my husband has been.”

He stepped farther into the room, finding himself angry that she would ruin his exhilaration over the night he’d just had. He had so hoped to climb into bed and relive the memories over and over until slumber overtook him.

“I believe that you have lost the right to even inquire, Gwen. But since you ask, I fell asleep elsewhere.”

’Twas the truth. In between lovemaking, both he and Isabel had dozed, only to have one or the other awake to have the other kissing and fondling, until they would make love again.

“You were with another,” Gwen said.

“Gwen, your hypocrisy astounds me.”

“I am still your wife, Arthur. And still the queen.”

“By my grace only, if you need that reminder.”

She stood, and Arthur looked at her, trying to remember the last time he had wanted her. It was a sad fact that he could not. She was a beautiful woman to be sure, small of stature with a slight frame. She had a flirtatious smile that he one time found enchanting.

Yet right now she appeared pale, and her eyes so accusing, almost mean.

“It is your precious countess, is it not?”

“First of all, she is not mine, unfortunately, but precious works. And second, you lost all rights to ask questions of me many moons ago. Go back to your own bed, Gwen. This is mine, and I desperately want an hour of sleep afore I wake to start the day.”

She stepped forward. “Arthur, I am so sorry. I made a grave error. But now I am ready and willing for the two of us to renew what we had.”

“You will toss Lance aside so easily?”

“You, my husband, are my first priority.”

Arthur could not believe the disgust that had him almost heaving.

“Do you not understand,” he asked her, “how much Lance loves you? We found him at your trysting cabin, tearing and shredding those mushrooms that made you ill. He was torn apart. Has he been just a toy to you? Do you not care at all?”

She looked defeated. “Yea, Arthur, I care very much.”

“Then why this pretense? I have already promised you I will not expose your love for him. I still care enough for you to protect you.”

She shook her head. “I trusted, Arthur, that you would also stay true to me, no matter. I was always certain of your fidelity.”

Arthur nearly gaped at her. “Do you hear yourself? Do you even listen to yourself? I am protecting your infidelity, even allowing it for your happiness and Lance’s, and yet you accuse me of wrongdoing should I happen to . . . consider another?”

“You are my husband!” she said.

He honestly could not believe this conversation. He wished, so much, to puzzle through it with Isabel. She would have a wise answer. Or maybe, as he had come to learn, a smart-ass one. It did not matter. He just already ached for Isabel’s advice, her laughter and, heaven help him, her lovemaking. Even as she had already depleted whate’er he had in him, he felt it already filling again.

“Gwen, you are making little sense. Perhaps you would be better off in your own bed.”

“Come with me.”

The thought of that repulsed him. “You would lie with me not long after your time with Lance?”

“I ask only that you hold me, Arthur.”

“Perhaps, my wife, we have a failure of communication.” He stopped, wondering where he had heard that afore. He shook his head. “Should you need holding, I will have a man bring Lance to your bed. I have no desire to do so. However, I am very happy that you are looking and feeling better.”

“Your countess hurt me!” she said, as he was heading out the door.

That stopped him. “Once again, she is not my countess. How, pray tell, did she hurt you?”

“My chest and midsection hurt. I am told that she was pounding on me. I believe she should at least be punished for assaulting me.”

Arthur stared, wondering who the hell this woman was. “Thank the gods Isabel pounded on you, Gwen. She did that saving your life. Were it not for her ‘pounding’ as you call it, we would be holding services as we dropped you into the ground.”

“I am your wife,” she said as she stalked from the room.

“So you have said,” he retorted. “Over and over and over again. It means nothing any longer.”

ISABEL was having the most glorious dream. One where Arthur slipped into bed beside her and snuggled up against her.