Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(26)

"Mordred loves me not," Arthur said. "He feels I've wronged him."

"Have you?"

"He has not!" James boomed. "He has done everything for that ungrateful little - "

"James!"

"My pardon, sir."

"Finish your thought please, James," Isabel said.

"Do not," said Arthur.

James pressed his lips together. Obviously king trumped countess. Since he was Arthur's man, she would have expected nothing less.

What am I missing here, Goddess?

The blood between Arthur and Mordred is shared, but Mordred's intentions should have everyone scared. He's a child born of young love and lust, yet his mother understood Arthur must do what he must. The child, however, never forgave; his hatred has driven him to make Arthur his slave.

Isabel tasted blood. Little f**king bastard.

Bastard indeed, but here is the thing: Mordred will not rest until he is king.

Isabel digested this for a moment, not able to even meet Arthur's eyes. "Fine," she finally said to Arthur and James. "How about I go wake Harry so he may care for Mordred's horse?"

"No!" they both yelled at once. Arthur tried to grab her, but she was already slipping away back into the castle. He should have held tight to her hand.

"What now, sir?"

"She will confront Mordred. 'Tis in her nature, James. She is the type to want to know everything. She is, what one would call . . ." A word would not come to him.

Nosy? Protective? Caring?

Arthur knew not where these thoughts were coming from, but they all seemed to be accurate. Although he had no idea what the word nosy meant.

Arthur, if you do not protect Isabel, Merlin cannot live.

Merlin? What know you of Merlin? And who are you, speaking in my head?

Figure it out. Just go protect Isabel. If you haven't noticed, she is able to raise hell.

"Do I not know that," Arthur muttered.

"My pardon?" James said.

Arthur shook his head. He was either addled or . . . no, there was no other choice. He was addled.

"Confronting him will put her in danger," James said.

"It will, we must put a stop to this. She knows the back staircase, James," Arthur said. "I shall try to stop her there, you go and guard the stables."

James actually smiled. "We will catch her, my lord. But I must say, I enjoy the thought of the countess taking on the lad."

"Oh, I do not. She knows not who she faces."

"Methinks the lady has mettle."

"Perhaps too much for her own welfare. Mordred's dislike of women is well documented."

"She cares about you, m'lord, which is more than I am able to say - "

"Do not finish that thought, James. Please just help me find her."

"Yes, m'lord."

"You to the stables, I will try to find her at the back of the castle afore she makes a run."

Arthur ran, even knowing he had witnessed another smile upon his man's face. What flummoxed him was that he felt a grin forming on his own, even as he attempted to head off disaster. Isabel against Mordred. He could not even conceive of which of the two might win such a battle. Well, yes, he might. Were it a battle of words and wit, his coins would be placed on Isabel. However, Mordred relied on neither, instead preferring to use much nastier weapons.

The thought of Mordred harming Isabel had him taking the steps two at a time. No! If Mordred even attempted to lay a hand to Isabel, he would take down the lad himself, blood or not.

JAMES caught Isabel and Harry as they were halfway to the stables. He held out his arms and prided himself on being able to step side to side to effectively block their paths.

Harry adjusted the green and white nightcap on his head and growled, "I have a patient that needs attending."

"I understand," James said, then caught the countess around the waist when she tried to slip around to his right side. He held her sideways and had a rather fun and easy time deflecting her attempted blows to his body. Although he had to admit that he could understand the master's attraction to her passion.

"Let Isabel go," Harry demanded as she squirmed in James's arms. "She is a countess!"

"I apologize, Countess," James said, knowing he could be in deep trouble for even touching her. But he had one loyalty, and that was to his king. "Please allow me to explain a thing or two afore you head in there with heads blazing."

The countess stopped wiggling in his arms, even though he kept a gentle hold.

"I promise not to try to run ahead of you, James, should what you tell me be important and relevant."

James had a deep desire to twirl her once afore setting her on her feet but decided the king would not take kindly to that playfulness. He set her upright upon her feet, and then bowed. "My apologies. But truly, there are things you must needs be made aware of afore you rush in there, m'lady."

Isabel kind of wished James had twirled her around once or twice before setting her down. Could have been kind of a Six Flags ride in Camelot. But she needed to understand. So she got over it. "Tell me, James."

Harry harrumphed and she amended it to, "Tell us, James."

"This . . . how do you call it? This thing 'twixt Mordred and the king has been a long time brewing. For reasons I may not speak of, they have bad blood betwixt them. It is a constant source of misery for my king."