Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(23)

"Apparently another faux pas on my part. I apologize if I've offended you, Mary."

"Fo paw?"

"Never mind, another word apparently exclusive to my land. Please, go to bed, and thank you for helping me."

Mary curtsied, which was beginning to get on Isabel's nerves. But she bit her tongue and wished Mary a good night. "I will find my way back, Mary. I have no need for help until the morning bath."

"Thank you, mum. And I do so hope you find the peace you are searching for."

Isabel wished for the same thing but was afraid peace eluded her at the moment.

"I see that neither of us are finding that peace tonight."

Isabel practically jumped to the turrets. She twisted around to find the source of her torment leaning against an apricot tree. "Arthur, good gods, you just scared the living . . . daylights out of me."

He bowed slightly. "My apologies, Isabel. 'Twas not my intention."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you following me?"

He pushed off from the tree with his shoulder then stepped forward, that catlike silence of his movements almost eerie. "I believe you have followed me, as I have been wandering the gardens for some time."

"I had no idea," she said, affronted. "I just could not find sleep." Then she thought of something. "This is not Mary's fault! I demanded that she help me find my way back here in a way that would not bring us through the great hall."

"On my oath, I will assure Mary is rewarded, not punished, for her actions. In truth, she has demonstrated more loyalty to her king than I have witnessed from many others in a very long time."

He stepped around that magical bench and took Isabel's hand. "Please join me and tell me why it is that you cannot sleep, Countess Isabel."

"I am afraid I don't know."

"Are the accommodations less than satisfactory? I will have anything done to make you more comfortable."

More comfortable would mean having him sharing her bed. His warmth, his hard body, his scent. Which, come to think of it, was vastly different than earlier. He had obviously bathed and washed his hair. She couldn't identify the spicy scent, but it was delicious.

She sat down on the bench, acutely aware that she was wearing only a nightdress and a cloak. How she wished she'd found some jeans and T-shirts stuffed in those trunks.

He stood in front of her, not joining her, just shaking his head. "I told her, Isabel."

She stared into the troubled green eyes of her dream man, her heart aching. "Guinevere?"

"Yes."

"And you told her what? Your bowling score? Your credit rating? How to work a Clapper?"

Arthur grinned and sat down. "You have a way of making me smile, Countess, even during a sad time."

"Well, that's dandy, but what are you talking about?"

"I told her that I was aware of this thing betwixt and between her and Sir Lancelot."

"Oh boy. Why?"

"Why? You advised me to talk to her."

Oh freaking boy. "I meant that as a sort of get-back-together type of thing. Or at least I thought I did."

Didn't I, Lady?

Did you, Isabel? 'Twould seem that only time will tell.

Breaking up their marriage was not my intent; I'll feel like shit if this is why I've been sent.

I sent you here to make happy both Arthur and Merlin. To satisfy them both is no such sin.

Once again Arthur began pacing in front of her, something she'd already noticed was a habit he had when he was deep in thought. Or possibly looking deeply into his own soul.

"From the moment I set eyes on Gwen, I have ne'er felt lust for another. Not even after I had learned the truth. Ne'er."

He stopped pacing and faced her directly. "And then our meeting in the forest. And I found myself suddenly wanting a woman who was not my wife."

"I'm so sorry."

He laughed once again. "You apologize for this? You are apologizing for being beautiful? For being . . . you?"

"I have no desire to be part of the crash and burn of a marriage."

"Crash and burn? Has it not already crashed and burned?"

"You tell me, Arthur."

He had that come-and-get-me smile on his face. Isabel was certain he didn't realize that was what he was transmitting, but it was still like a huge Jump Me sign to her. "You opened my eyes tonight, Countess. You are so lovely and blunt, and that mouth of yours spouts fierceness, and yet your actions show compassion."

Well, that was as clear as quantum physics. "Thank you. I think. And how did this little chat with Guinevere go?"

His hands waved in the air. "She did not deny. She did not beg for mercy for herself, but for Lancelot. She hoped that his punishment would merely be banishment."

"I'm so sorry."

Once again his deep grass green eyes lifted to hers. "And your thoughts?"

Therapist, she decided, was not her forte. Especially when she wanted this man. And she was so wanting to jog down that one path that led straight to her own selfish desires.

"Please tell me you are not going to out them."

"Out them?"

"Gwen and Lancelot. Hurt them. Have them punished?"

"Never. However, much is out of my hands. I can protect both only so far."