Читать книгу Royal Enchantment - Sharon Ashwood - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Once, Guinevere hadn’t been bold enough to hold Arthur’s gaze, but she did so now. He could see her irises were not the perfect blue that minstrels described. Rays of green and gold gave them an iridescent depth. In a similar way, Guinevere was never just one thing. Arthur’s life would have been so much more predictable if she were.

He took a step back, taking in her tall, slim form. By all the saints, she was lovely. Her golden beauty cut him to the quick, reminding him why he had tried so hard to wipe it from his thoughts.

“Why, Arthur? Why bring me here?” Guinevere asked again, her voice shaking.

Why had he brought her here? He’d done no such thing, but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Not until he knew more. “Why are you rifling through my private space?” he countered.

“Your private space? Is there something here the Queen of Camelot cannot see?” Her color was rising to an angry pink.

“There are confidential matters that I would keep to myself.” Such as the many places he believed stone knights might be languishing. If his research fell into enemy hands, their lives might not be safe.

Gwen clenched her fists. “You’re not content unless I’m locked in a tower, deaf and blind to the dangers at our door!”

“You meddle,” he growled. “You have from the first day you set foot in my realm.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Their disagreements had grown with time. At first, he’d been conquering a realm and far too busy for his young wife. After the first few years, they’d begun to get along. But then she’d been ill, and then trouble had started: the scandal with Lancelot. She’d always claimed he was just a friend, and Arthur believed her now. But that hadn’t always been the case, especially after the incident with the Mercian prince. Then there had been their endless fights. In the end, he’d ridden off to war as often as he could. They couldn’t make each other unhappy if they were miles apart.

Her eyes flashed. “The realm is not just your business, husband. I am the queen. These are my people, as well.”

The air between them sang with frustration. Within seconds, they’d picked up the threads of their old argument. Arthur cleared his throat, cursing his anger. Her stubborn will ignited his temper at every turn.

“It’s dangerous in this time,” he said softly. “Even worse than before. This world is deceptive in its illusion of order and safety.”

“And you would protect me through ignorance? I’m not a child.”

His chest burned. “Remember the prince of Mercia.”

The man had been rotten through and through—young, handsome, a good dancer and witty conversationalist. He’d flattered Gwen when she’d first come to court, and later that flirtation had grown more serious. In the end he’d coaxed information out of her that broke a treaty and all but started a war. Gwen hadn’t even suspected trickery until it was too late. By then, both Gwen and Arthur looked like fools. It was plain he had no control over his wife—and any weakness in a king made their enemies bold.

“I know better now,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ve said a thousand times how I learned my lesson.”

Anger made his voice cold. “Self-knowledge is good. Trusting you to stay out of the kingdom’s affairs is another matter.”

“When will you trust me?”

“I would take that chance if I was an ordinary husband with an ordinary life. I’m not that man.”

She visibly flinched. “And what would you have me do?”

“I would have you at my side.” He reached out, cupping her cheek and hoping to take some of the sting from his words. “As you say, you are the queen. A queen has a household to run and official duties to discharge. You make guests welcome, smile at our subjects and grace my arm at official functions.”

She lifted her chin, the movement breaking contact with his hand. “In other words, you want me to sit quietly like a good little mouse.”

It was a harsh statement but true. He didn’t want her involved in matters of state. Guinevere’s intentions were good, but she had always underestimated schemers. And now? Nothing had changed. Enemy fae were skulking around every corner. Many foes would try to attack him through his curious, trusting wife, and that meant neither of them were safe with her here. But here she was, his greatest vulnerability wrapped in an exquisite female form.

Arthur released the breath he’d been holding. She hadn’t moved—her arms still folded as if to protect her vital organs. Sadness took him then, an ache for the gulf that forever yawned between them. He reached out, taking one of her hands and unwinding that closed posture.

“Come sit down,” he said, with all the gentleness he could muster. “We need to talk.”

She frowned. “Why does no one say that for a happy reason?”

Despite himself, Arthur gave a rueful chuckle. “I don’t know, but you’re right.” He led her from the office and closed the door firmly behind them. He hadn’t been in the apartment long enough to invest in a lock for his office, but clearly it was time.

Arthur led Guinevere to the black leather couch and guided her to a seat beside him. The familiar swish of her long skirts stirred memories. At every step, a fresh storm of emotion ran through him—regret, desire and a strong conviction that she would bring nothing but trouble.

And yet...

This was Guinevere, the queen who made hardened warriors stand gaping like witless boys. Her beauty wasn’t just flesh and features, but a lively kindness that burned like a lantern through a winter night. It was her forthright ease with strangers, her wit in conversation and the charm that had turned his warrior’s castle into a shining court. In a small, secret corner of his heart, he was in awe of her. She made people love her with a smile. He’d needed an army before anyone would spare him a glance.

They sat and regarded each other for a long moment, as if neither knew how to begin. What was there to say? They’d faced the same problems so many times before: her independence and his need to rule, her curiosity and his protectiveness. There would be a fight, and usually he’d end it by leaving.

But what about reconciliation after the storm? That was the one consolation of their relationship, and he would rather begin again with sweetness than fury. Perhaps if he tried harder this time, maybe, just maybe he could make her accept his rule.

Arthur picked up her hand from where it lay on the black leather and kissed it. He lingered over the act, feeling her soft warmth. Her fingers were long and delicate, the palms slender and graceful. They smelled of scented oils and, beneath that, the richness of her skin.

When Arthur finally looked up, there was a flush high on her cheekbones. He felt a surge of pride that he had the power to stir her blood. But instead of smiling, the corners of her lush mouth turned down. “It has been a long while since you did that, my lord.”

“Too long.” He tasted her warmth on his lips, and it awakened old hungers. “An unforgivable oversight.”

“You left for battle and never came home again.”

He looked away, back into a battlefield strewn with carnage. “The fae swore to destroy Camelot, and then all the mortal realms. We just never knew when or how. We had to come up with a plan.”

“Merlin told me,” she replied. “You went into the stone sleep and woke up here. The fae have returned to carry out their threat.”

He nodded. “Morgan LaFaye is their queen now, but she is in a magical prison. It should hold her long enough for Camelot to strengthen its forces.”

Guinevere’s eyes were intent. “How will you accomplish that?”

This was information she’d find out anyhow. There was no harm in answering. “The knights were scattered during the stone sleep, and I’ve had to locate them one by one. I’ve only found a handful of my warriors so far, but I will keep searching.”

“Where did they go?” Guinevere’s brows furrowed.

“The tombs have turned up in museums and private collections.” Arthur was still holding her hand, but his grip had tightened. He released Guinevere, afraid of crushing her bones. Suddenly weary, he released a sigh. “I had to buy Percival at auction.”

A smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “I hope you didn’t overpay. That would surely go to his head.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, they laughed together. Merriment was scant in his life. Female company was even rarer. For all their difficulties, he’d been faithful to his wife, and having her near stirred heated memories. Arthur’s heart gave an odd skip at the thought of Guinevere’s sleepy face in the pale light of early morning. They’d had their moments.

He snapped himself back to the present. “I shouldn’t be troubling you with unpleasant tidings.”

“Trouble me,” she said. “How did you come out of the stone sleep?”

“Not easily. Gawain found my tomb in the Forest Sauvage.”

“And then?”

“There was a battle. It’s a long story.”

“I want to hear it.”

“Why?”

“First, you are my husband.” She said it with a bittersweet smile that speared his heart. “And I’m part of Camelot, too.”

She was more than that. Guinevere was royalty, but noble birth meant little in these modern times. A difficult truth struck him. With no skills, no occupation, how would she survive? Whatever he’d done in the past to protect her—and he would lay down his life in an instant—he had to keep her close now. Without him, Guinevere was alone. The thought filled him with an odd mix of dread and desire.

Her expression was expectant, waiting for him to say more. He smiled, feeling the bruises on his cheek and jaw. “I promise I’ll regale you with the entire story, every last dull detail of it. But right now I’d rather tell you what this modern age has to offer.”

Her eyes widened with interest. “All right. Please do.”

“This is a strange world, filled with extremes. Most obvious is the wealth of information and experience. Books are readily available, and travel is breathtakingly fast.”

“Really? And who are the books for?”

It was a reasonable question. They’d been born in a time when relatively few learned to read. “Schools are available to everyone, rich or poor.”

“Do women go to school, as well?”

“Yes, they are regarded as equals here.”

Guinevere said nothing, but her breath had quickened, a sure sign of emotion. An uneasy feeling crept down Arthur’s spine—had he just opened Pandora’s box?—but then she put a gentle hand on his knee. The unexpected touch sent a flood of heat up his thigh. Without quite knowing what he did, he leaned forward, needing to be closer.

“Then perhaps things can be different,” she said. “We can live as the modern people do.”

Her words did not quite sink in—other sensations were elbowing their way to the fore. Enchanted, he reached over, touching the slight cleft of her chin. The skin there was like satin, beckoning him to explore further. She stilled, growing watchful again. Only the muscles of her long, graceful throat moved as she swallowed.

Arthur was mesmerized. Her scent enveloped him, the space between them growing warm. All his earlier reservations melted, and he didn’t care that he was dropping his guard. Right then all that mattered was Guinevere. His Gwen. She should be at his side, where he could touch her silken skin whenever he liked.

“Things will be different,” he said, believing it for a heady moment. “Things will finally be right.” He would rule Camelot, and she would be at his side, bonded together in this strange new time. The challenge of finding their way in the modern world would give them the common ground they’d always lacked. An image formed in his mind’s eye of them seated before the assembled knights, hand in hand and finally united. They looked deliriously happy.

“Right?” she asked softly.

“As they always should have been. As I always meant them to be.”

His daydream faded when she rose with a sigh, crossing to the balcony door to look outside. Rain splattered the glass, blurring the lights outside. At some point, dusk had fallen.

“How do I know we want the same thing?” The question was hesitant.

A familiar knot of confusion made Arthur frown. He never understood exactly how her mind worked. It was as if tiny demons lived inside her skull, coming up with ways to torment him. “How could it be otherwise? You’re my queen.”

She turned from the window, her expression defiant. “You didn’t ask me to follow you into the future.”

Arthur got to his feet, wary of her mood now. “The fae had sworn vengeance on me. I was the one they wanted, so it was safer for you to remain in Camelot. With danger gone, I believed you’d find happiness.”

“Happiness?” She gave a mirthless laugh that fired his skin with shame. “You left me alone.”

His anger rose in self-defense, but he held it in check as she lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Never mind the past,” she said. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Arthur took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. A moment ago, he’d been certain everything would be fine. He wanted to recapture that mood. “You’re wondering if there’s a role for you here, in this world?”

“Precisely.” She looked ghostly in the soft light, twilight deepening behind her silhouette.

He covered the distance between them in a single stride. The energy of their argument prickled beneath his skin, and it made his hands rough as he grasped her slender waist. She went rigid at his touch, resisting until he ran a hand down her spine. Yes, she needed comfort. Another long stroke and she arched into him, her body remembering his. The skirts of her dress floated around her as he pulled her close.

Relief made him ache as he realized there was still a welcome for him in her arms. Arthur bent his head, murmuring into her ear. “Let me reassure you that there is no one else I would consider as my queen.”

Lashes veiled her eyes, with a hint of mischief lurking beneath her sadness. “And why is that?”

“I wanted you the moment I saw you dancing in your father’s garden. You were everything I was not.”

Her lips quirked. “A girl, you mean?”

He buried his nose in the cloud of her hair, her scent filling his soul. “You knew nothing of the ills of the world. You were innocent.”

She pulled back to search his face. “No one stays that pure. That ignorant.”

“Not when you become a wife,” he said, letting desire sharpen his smile. Then he kissed her.

He was forced to bend while she rose on tiptoe. They flowed into the embrace naturally, her arms winding around his neck. His hands inched down her ribs and over her hips, reclaiming her curves. Desire, already invading his thoughts, pushed its way to the fore.

He kissed her hard, reminding her that he was the master, and yet leaving coaxing nips behind. When they were together like this, there had never been a question about the spark between them. Her mouth opened, welcoming his exploration, letting their tongues twist and mingle. The gentle swell of her breasts pressed into his chest, demanding to be stroked and when he obeyed—even a sovereign sometimes obeyed—a sound of pleasure escaped her throat. Heat tore through his body, making him drive her back against the cool glass door. He held her head, gentle and yet not, as he plundered her mouth. Her fingers twined with his, her body arching up, straining to meet him.

How long the kiss lasted was impossible to know, but the sky was fully dark when they were done. The lights of the city shone behind his Gwen as if this new age had fashioned a celestial crown for his queen. Arthur ached with desire, eager to put his seal on this conquest. It was a healing, yes, and a reunion, but he also wanted her to know beyond doubt that she was his.

He took her hand, pulling her with him until he paused at the door of his bedroom. He touched a switch and a soft light bloomed from the bedside lamp. Praise all the saints that the room was acceptably tidy. He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

Guinevere’s eyes were soft and dazed. “That was quite the kiss, my lord.”

Satisfaction sprawled within him. “There is no need for it to end.”

Her posture shifted. It was a slight thing, but it seemed to put her worlds away. “I think there is.”

Arthur blinked. His need for her was a runaway stallion. Hauling it back took effort. “There is?”

“You want me as your queen. I understand that.”

“And?” Arthur was confused. What more was there to add?

“Is that what I want now, in this new world? Did you ever think to ask?”

She waited, but he had no answer to give. That said enough, and they both knew it. He felt his temper begin to fray beneath the sting of awkwardness. Why should he ask? He was king and she had made her vows when she was little more than a girl.

Then again, was it fair to ask her to keep them when so much had changed?

“You left me behind—not just once, but over and over again.” Guinevere shut her eyes a moment, then met his gaze without retreat. “I know you believed you were doing the right thing. You saw my desire to participate fully in your reign as naive and dangerous because of the fae and magic and the kings who hated the fact you’d conquered them.”

She was completely right. “And?” he asked.

“And nothing, not even an apology, makes up for being considered invisible—dispensable—for so long. I don’t want to be that woman anymore.”

None of what she’d just said made sense to him. He’d never thought of her that way—not in the fashion she meant. “So what is it that you do want?”

“I’ve been in this world for only hours, but what you’ve said intrigues me. You say women have access to education? That they have equality? I’d like to find out what that means.”

“How does that matter? You’re the Queen of Camelot. What more could you desire?”

Gwen caught her breath, as if he’d slapped her. “There is a whole new world in which to answer that question.”

She stepped into the bedroom and closed the door. “Good night.” The words were muffled and very final.

“Gwen!” Chagrined, he pressed his palm against the hard barrier. He’d said the wrong thing. He’d known it the moment the words left his lips. Stupid.

And now the door was firmly closed. Arthur could easily break it down, but that was no answer. Reason demanded that they both cool off before the argument escalated to a fight, but his temper didn’t want to listen. Self-discipline alone made him back away from the blank, infuriating blockade.

Right then, the dragon problem looked simple.