Page 65 of Propriety
Once seated, she knelt down before him, trembling fingers unlacing his boots.
“You don’t have to do that, my queen.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, trying to tilt her gaze up to meet his eyes.
“Let me,” she breathed. “Let me take care of you this time.”
The knight let out a small huff, but did not protest any longer. She rose, standing between his legs. Carefully, she cradled his face between her hands.
Guinevere leaned forward, lips hovering over his.
A question hanging in the air.
Lancelot rolled his eyes with a sigh, but closed the gap between them. He kissed her quickly, a chaste and precious thing.
Shrugging out of his tunic, he shifted up on the bed.
Gwen quickly joined him, sliding underneath the blankets. His hands were on her almost instantly, pulling her against him, burying his face in her neck. “Do you know how long I have dreamt of feeling yourweight against me?” He whispered against the skin of her neck. “Of one more night where you’re mine?”
“All of them,” she replied, lacing her hand through his tangled hair. “I’m yours in all of them.”
26
When she slipped from sleep, her heart clenched in her throat. It took her so much longer to recover from the nights where he held her in her dreams. She could still feel his gentle weight around her middle, his breath on her neck.
Guinevere blinked, praying the tears away.
It would be easier to force the visions away now, to start her day instead of living in the delusions.
She gave a sigh, steeling herself for the wave of grief that was sure to hit as loneliness crept back in.
She shifted, bracing for the cold stretch of empty sheets.
An unhappy groan came from beside her.
Gwen turned, coming face-to-face with a frowning, messy-haired knight.
“You’re here.” She breathed, tracing the pronounced line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the shell of his ear.
In the light of the day, he looked like he had been through hell. Dark bruises highlighted his eyes. His face was thinner, almost hollow. His hair was matted with dirt and blood. His skin littered with fresh scars, recent injuries.
“What happened?” She whispered, drawing her fingers across a scar on his shoulder. “What happened to you, Lancelot?”
He didn’t answer her, choosing instead to pepper her face with light kisses until she was breathless and giggling beneath him. “Of course I’m here.” His smile was wide as he hovered over her.
For a man who looked half-starved and stitched together by sheer will, he kissed her like he had never felt more alive.
Startled by the affection — true,genuine, affection, Gwen swatted at his arm playfully. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you’re real.” He murmured, kissing her jaw this time.
“And ticklish?” She huffed, but the giggle she tried to smother betrayed her.
He paused. Froze. His expression changed like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. “Are you?” His voice dropped, conspiratorial.
“Lancelot, no-” But she was already grinning.
“Oh,yes.”
She let out a quiet shriek as he rolled with her, pinning her beneath him and skimming his fingers down her ribs like he’d just discovered gold.
