Page 75 of Propriety
She stepped to the side, letting the knight in. Lance beckoned her over to him, where he instantly placed himself between her and the knight.
“What do you want, brother?” His voice was tight, his grip on Gwen tighter.
“He won’t tell him.” Percival held his arms out in a surrender, making himself small. “Gawain won’t condone what you are doing. You know he won’t turn on Arthur. But-” His voice trailed off, like he was searching for the right words. “He might have seen some truth to your statements regarding our king.”
“And you, Percival?” She could feel his rapid heartbeat, the way his entire body was tense — ready to strike.
“I have never heard of a man that loves as fully as you seem to love our queen, du Lac.” He smiled softly. “She is kind, has always been gentle and cordial with us vagrant knights.” He laughed. “If she deems you worthy, who am I to question it?”
“Sir Percival,” Guinevere called, stepping from around her guard dog. “I am glad you returned safely. I never would have forgiven myself if my recklessness got you killed.”
“You’re too good for him, your grace.” The knight laughed quietly. “But, god, does he love you.”
Lancelot’s ears tinged red.
“I tell you, ma’am, I have been on many a quest, with men from all different walks of life.” He turned on his heels, ready to leave. “But I have never met a man that turned away from the women that threw themselves at a knight’s feet. Turned down warm bodies because what waited back home was far greater.”
With another bow, he opened the door. “You don’t have much time, du Lac. Gawain went straight to the king’s chambers. We will meet with him before noontime, I am certain.”
Without another word, Percival vanished from sight.
Lancelot locked the door back behind him, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the wood. “I wanted more time with you. More stolen time in secret.”
“We’ll have more time,” she whispered.
“Not like this. Not without stakes.” He tightened his hand into a fist at his side.
Moving to him, she laid a hand on his bare shoulder, “There have always been stakes, heart.” The room felt void of air. “We were able to pretend they weren’t there.”
Gently curling her fingers around her arm, she turned him. “Come, we must get ready. We will be there when Gawain and Percival meet with Arthur.”
“And what do you plan to do about this?” He untied the sash at her waist, pushing the robe back from her shoulders.
The shoulders that carried the proof of him.
The skin that boldly claimed who she belonged to.
“Don’t worry about that, Lancelot.” The corner of her lip tugged upwards.
His lips found her neck, kissing her gently. “Should I add more?For good luck?”
“Later,” she breathed, pulling his lips up to meet hers.
They dressed in silence. The hush between them was not strained — it was sacred.
Lancelot’s armor lay untouched by the hearth. Guinevere couldn’t help but watch as he pulled on black breeches and a black linen tunic.
He looked like vengeance.
Gwen tightened the sleeves on her crimson gown. The lace neckline swept high across her throat, cutting a striking silhouette against her pale skin.
The color of conquest.
Of blood.
Ofrage.
She wore no jewels. No crown.
