Page 88 of Propriety
Would he do the same with this maiden?
The smile on the woman was radiant as they twirled together on the floor. Her eyes revealed how enamored she was with her knight.
Gwen dug her nails into the palms of her hand, trying to keep herself from gritting her teeth.
Arthur had since left his spot at the table, mingling with esteemed guests and local lords. She stayed planted, seething, angry, overlooked.
Not even her husband spared her a glance.
Try as hard as she could to avoid it, her eyes were drawn to Lancelot on the floor again, holding his dance partner close as the music crescendoed around them.
He moved his lips to her ear, and her face flushed, swatting at the knight’s chest.
Guinevere stood, smoothing her skirts and stepping around the table. Arthur caught her eye and shook his head at her, demanding that she stay seated.
Stay seen.
Ogled.
With an impolite huff, she stormed towards the door. Tired of being ignored, tired of watching her knight flirt with someone else, and plainexhaustedby the standards that she could never meet.
She was just about to pass the threshold of the door when someone grabbed her wrist, tugging her backwards. “Let me go, Arthur, or I will make a scene.” She snapped as she turned around.
Instead of her husband’s cool grey stare, she encountered a gentle smile, black curls, and captivating eyes.
“May I steal a dance, your grace?” The rich timbre of his voice curled low in her stomach. It was almost enough for her to forget she was feeling agitated. “Before you retire?”
“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes as his lips tugged further upwards. “Don’t you have another partner that awaits your sly words, knight?”
“Mon amour,” He laughed, breathing the name. “Do you mean Eleanor? Sir Bors’ sister?” He gently pulled on her hand, back into the Great Hall. “I assure you, she has very little interest in me, my queen.”
“Her brightly flushed cheeks and amorous giggles tell me otherwise, knight.”
“Herbright flushed cheeksandamorous giggleswere for you, you daft woman.” They were closer to the dance floor, music surrounding them. “I’m not the only one that’s taken with you, your grace.”
“W-what?” She stammered, her own cheeks flushing.
He pulled her close, one hand placed modestly on her hip, the other holding her hand. “Are two like-minded individuals not allowed to talk about the object of our desire?” His grin was so wide it looked as though his face might split.
He tugged her closer, so she was flush against him, turning in time with the music. “It’s so rare that you’re speechless, your grace.” His head moved slightly, as if he meant to move closer. “Please know, I take great pride in your muteness, my dear.”
He continued to lead the two of them in dance, Guinevere finding the fickle wall she had built over the course of the evening was melting away slowly beneath his gentle touches.
One sound softened into another, but his hands did not relent, did not pass her off, even though few had tried to cut in. He held her like hewould die before surrendering her hand. “People will talk,” she whispered to him eventually, fighting the urge to lay her head on his chest as the music played.
“Let them,” He answered with a secure smile. “Am I not the Champion of the Queen? Have I not earned time with my top benefactress?”
As the lyre strung out the final note, a new touch found her arm. “Time to go, Queen.” Arthur wrapped his hand around her forearm, tugging her away from Lancelot. His fingers dug hard enough to hurt. “Time to retire.”
Guinevere swallowed, pressing her lips into a thin line.
“My K-King,” she stammered, voice breaking in her throat as she tried to pull herself away from his tightening grip. “I’m tired, your grace. I don’t-”
“You will not refuse your husband any longer, Guinevere.” Her heart skipped in her chest. She hadn’t lain with him since well before Lancelot had returned home.
Truth be told, she still carried marks from the time she and her knight had spent together over the last week.
Arthur couldn’t see them.
