Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(25)

By the time he was done with her mouth, the rest of her body was churning.

Arthur broke the kiss and cupped her face, which left the rest of her body in peril of dropping straight to the ground. Her knees certainly weren't helping to hold her up. She began to sink, but he quickly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back up. "That bad?" he asked.

She knew her eyes and brain were both glazed. Her vocal chords were also in peril.

Isabel cleared her throat. "Sir, where I come from," she whispered, "we grade our students from A to F, A being awesome, F meaning failure. B, C, and D fall in between."

"And where do I fall, Isabel?" he asked, still grilling her with those mossy green eyes.

"Not only would you make the dean's list, you'd probably make valedictorian."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry? Betimes our languages do not match."

"My apologies, sir. What I'm saying is you get an A-plus."

He smiled. "And this is good?"

"Valedictorian material, Arthur."

"What is higher than this valedictorian? I would very much like to achieve it."

"I'd very much like for you to try."

"You are very beautiful, Isabel. Your hair is as soft as is your skin, and you smell so sweet."

"You're talking way too much, Arthur, when in truth, I'd prefer you just shut up and kiss me again."

But instead of covering her lips with his, his head raised and he almost slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shhh, lady. Something is amiss," he whispered.

Not the rabbit again. Or maybe it would be better if it were another rabbit.

Before she knew what was happening, Arthur had shoved her behind his back as he faced the darkness of the shrubbery down the garden path.

"Present yourself!" he demanded. "Are you friend or foe?"

A voice beyond the light of the lanterns replied, "'Tis only, I, my king. 'Tis James."

James, Isabel remembered, was the huge burly guy who was the king's first man. She didn't know whether to run and hide, or pretend to be a fence post. Arthur didn't give her a choice. He held on to her so tightly that she couldn't have moved if she wanted to.

"Come, James. Tell me why you are up and about. And why you have come looking for me."

James came rumbling in, and yet strangely he walked as softly as a ballerina. He, too, had learned how to walk softly but carry big - really big - bulk. He reminded Isabel of Shrek, and yet when she peeked out beside Arthur's side, his expression turned from worried to kind.

"M'lady Countess," he said, bowing.

"How's it going, James?" she said, for some reason liking him, once again thinking Arthur had surrounded himself with kick-ass people.

"I am afraid I must needs have a word with the king, Countess Isabel. A private word."

"What you have to say to me you may say in front of the countess, James. I trust her with news. As I trust you with my life."

Well, that was really sweet. But out of the blue. She couldn't be certain she'd trust Arthur with all of her news after such a little time, and a lot of lust. She finally disengaged from Arthur and moved to his side. "I am certain what James has to say is no business of mine. Please, let me leave you two to privacy."

Arthur grabbed her hand, holding tight, but not to the point of pain. "No, madam, whate'er the news, I know it be safe with you."

James had huge brown eyes and hair that appeared not to have been combed since he'd been a child. To anyone who didn't know him well, which she didn't, he appeared menacing. But as he glanced back and forth between them, Isabel could tell he was not mean. Just very fierce looking. Which probably was what had earned him this gig.

"I'm leaving," Isabel said, and once again tried to disengage.

"Please do not," Arthur said, holding tight to her hand. "What news, James?"

James hesitated, but then shrugged his huge shoulders. "Mordred has arrived, sir."

ARTHUR was not certain whether to celebrate or worry over the news. "In the middle of the night?"

"'Tis, as you are well aware, his usual practice."

"Mordred?" Isabel asked.

Arthur hung on to her hand even tighter, just hoping he was not hurting her. But his need of her burned more now than ever afore. "Have you given him accommodations?" he asked James.

"I knew not where to put him. I knew not whether he was welcome."

"You know that I cannot turn him away. But of course make him welcome."

"He is demanding help for his horse, who he assures me has come up lame from the travel through the forest."

"Wake up Harry," Isabel said. "He will tend to the horse. But for goodness sake, someone tell me who Mordred is."

James went instantly mute and looked away.

For a reason Arthur could not fathom, he could not lie to this woman. "He is my son."

Isabel stared at him, then back to James, whose head was low but who nodded in agreement.

"I so should have paid more attention in Mythology."

"My pardon, madam?" James said.

"Since this news seem happy for neither of you, I'm assuming Mordred's arrival is not a cause for celebration? The truth, Arthur."