Page 85 of Propriety
“And you?” she asked after a moment, tilting her head back to look up at him again, her voice gentle. “Why did you leave Camelot?”
He hesitated. His gaze dropped to their joined hands, to the faint scars across his knuckles. "I was good with a sword," he said at last, a wry twist to his mouth. "Not so good at... obedience."
Gwen suppressed a laugh as his eyes sparkled lightly. “At seventeen, Uther tried to convince me to take up the oath and be a knight of Camelot.” His eyes glassed over, like he was reliving the moment. “It was never going to work for me. I’m ornery, hot headed, and… passionate.”
“You?” She gasped, feigning shock.
He returned with a mock scowl, shaking his head at her. “One week as a squire and I had enough bruises, scars, and beatings to last a lifetime.”
“They hit you?”
“Not standard practice… I think. But they quickly tired of the foul-mouthed orphan that the king had a soft spot for.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” Guinevere whispered softly, laying her hand softly on his cheek.
“Ahh,” He laughed, softly. “I might have. I was a little shit.” He dropped his lips to hers gently, briefly.
She yawned, squeezing her eyes shut gently. “I guess some things never change.”
“Sleep, darling.” He whispered, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.“You’re delusional.”
“One more question,” she said, nestling in closer to his warmth with a smile. “Did you know who I was… the night of the masquerade?”
“No.” His arms tightened tenderly around her. “Just that your eyes alone melted a part of me I had thought locked away.” His hand moved gently across her skin, lulling her deeper into him. “And the moment I heard your voice? When you whimpered beneath me? Lost. Forever.”
Her eyes were heavy, and she was slipping back into sleep. “I went to Arthur the next day, trying to find a way to earn a little coin… stick around for a while to find the dove that stole my heart.” His gentle laugh jostled her. “Imagine my surprise when she was the queen… and my oldest friend thought her wild and wicked.”
She didn’t hear how his version of the story ended. Her body succumbed to his warmth, his touch, to the sound of his voice.
33
The following afternoon, a quiet knock came from her door. Lancelot assumed his position in the adjoining room as she pulled the door open.
“Good morning, your grace,” The servant bowed deeply, avoiding her eyes. “The King requests your presence at tonight’s Grail celebration.”
“G-Grail celebration?” She stuttered, fingers clenching around the door. “I was not made aware of a celebration.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The man nodded, hands clasped behind him. “Lady Morgana saw to arranging everything, at the King’s discretion.”
“Yes, of course.” She gritted, “Thank you.” She closed the door harsher than intended.
Her heart skipped a beat, however, when she heard the servant knocking on Lancelot’s chamber door.
The chamber was empty.
Wrenching the door back open, she plastered on a smile. “Sir Lancelot went to run drills with Sir Percival an hour ago, I think. I can deliver the message.”
The servant nodded and left.
“Running drills? Is that right?” His voice came from behind her, laced with mischief.
“I panicked!” She threw her hands up. “I’ve never been in a duplicitous affair! Sorry if I don’t get it perfect.” She was frowning, but it wasn’t heartfelt.
“Duplicitous?” He quirked an eyebrow, closing the distance between them. He cradled her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Is that all I am to you?”
“Yes.” She huffed, “Treacherous.” Her fingers found the nape of his neck. “Dishonorable.” Pulled his face closer to hers. “Devious” Guinevere lifted, pressing her lips to his.
He leaned into her, returning her kiss softly, slowly.
