Page 98 of Propriety
His curls fell into his eyes, framed his face.
He was a god, chiseled from smoke and stone and laying here next to her.
“I love you,” she whispered, her own grin tugging at her cheeks. “No matter what.”
“No matter what.” He ducked his head, kissing her softly. “Propriety be damned.”
38
A hammering at the door dragged them both from sleep the following morning. Guinevere shut her eyes tight, praying that the intrusion to their morning would go away.
“Guinevere,” a shout from the hall. “If you don’t open this door at once, I will fetch the guards andremoveit.”
She lunged out of bed, wrapping her robe securely around herself.
“Dove?” Lancelot called from the bed, voice still thick with sleep.
“Get up,” she hissed. “Arthur’s at the door.” His eyes shot open as he scrambled from the bed, grabbing his breeches as he ducked into the other room.
Gwen pulled the door open slightly, but the king had other plans. Shoving past her, she couldfeelthe anger that rolled off of him.
“Where is he?” He turned on her, snarling. With the door still blown wide open, he crept closer to her.
“Who?” she tried, but her voice shook. Her fingers trembled by her side as she reached behind her for the door.
“Don’t play the fool, Guinevere.” He took a step closer. Another. “You think I can’t smell him in here?”
“You’re mistaken.”
“Am I?” He stalked forward until her back was pressed against the wall. His hand shot out, grabbing her around the throat. “Filthy whore,” he spat, fingers tightening against her windpipe.
A single tear slipped from her eye as she gasped. Her hand curled around his wrist as she struggled against him. “Please,” she managed, fighting to stay conscious as her throat constricted.
“Unhand her.” When his voice rang out, it wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It cut through the room like a sword through silk. Lancelot stepped from the shadows, half-dressed, barefoot, hair tousled. He looked like sin. Like a knight.
Likehers.
“Drop your hand, or I will remove it for you.”
Silence fell upon the room, crackling. Even the birds had stopped singing.
Arthur didn’t move, not right away. But then a joyless smile curled across his lips. “So it’s true,” he said softly. “The Queen’s Champion.”
He released her, almost delicately. Brushing out the sleeve of his tunic. Gwen’s hands immediately went to her neck, drawing in deep, languishing breaths.
“Do you think I care who warms her bed?” Arthur laughed, turning fully to the knight. “The barren bitch couldn’t birth a bastard if she tried. But you-” He pointed a trembling finger toward Lancelot. “You disappoint me.”
The knight didn’t react, stood still as stone, posture signaling that he was ready to forsake his control at a moment’s notice. “I offered youa place at my table. I offered you honor. A title. Land. I told you that you could haveanywoman in this kingdom… and this is how you repay me? By fucking my wife?”
“You gave me an order.” His voice was low, dangerous. “You assigned me to her as apunishment. Locked her in a cage and handed me the key.”
“And you used it,” Arthur snapped back. “Don’t pretend this is noble.” He stood a step closer, jamming his finger into Lancelot’s bare chest. “Do you know what they’ll say when this gets out? Camelot’s finest champion, the one the Grail chose, couldn’t keep his cock in his trousers. The queen from the prophecies of old is nothing but aslag?”
“And when they find out your sister’s babe is yours, brother?” Lancelot’s voice was the epitome of calm. He did not stoop to the king’s level. “What will they say, then? How will Her Grace and I have twisted that?”
“More treason from the champion,” Arthur sneered. “I could have you hanged. Quartered. Burned at the stake.”
“Be my guest, brother.” He crossed his arms lazily across his chest. “But know that my dying breath will be used to poison your kingdom, your reign, and your rule. The breath before that? To loudly claimmy queenas the one whom my soul loves.”
