Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(27)

Isabel felt the fire starting to stir in her belly. Pretty soon it was going to be steaming out of either her nose or mouth. Or both. "And why does this make you try to stop me from going in and kicking the little shit in his - "

"What the lady means," said Harry, slapping a hand over her mouth, "is that we do not understand why we are appeasing this young man."

The big man shook his shaggy head. "Mayhap because the king loves the boy, no matter what agony the child brings him, no matter what pleasure Mordred takes in making my king suffer for young sins."

Isabel grabbed Harry's hand from her lips and glanced over at him. "Do you see why I never wanted to procreate now?"

"I'm beginning to understand the concept," Harry said out of the side of his mouth. "But I still think you'd have made a great mother."

"You are asking me to act with due diligence?" she asked of James.

"That I am, Countess. Please allow the king to handle this situation. Perhaps 'tis time for you to retire to your chamber for the evening?"

Isabel nodded. "Perhaps. But not a chance in hell, as we say in Dumont. I insist that my man Harry and you, James, escort me to the stables."

"I fear trouble brewing," James said to Harry.

"You have no idea," Harry said, before oomphing at Isabel's elbow to his belly. "But let us go."

"Then so we shall."

Isabel, still reeling from the knowledge that Arthur had a son, and that his son was a total jerk, felt a little impatient. She lifted her skirts and yelled, "Catch me if you can!" and made a run for it.

They both ran after her; however, neither was as fast.

James and Harry did not catch the countess until she was facing Mordred in the stables. And she was already speaking her piece. She held out her arms to hold them from stepping forward.

"What brings you here, sir?" she asked Mordred. "What business do you have in Camelot?"

"Who are you to even presume to ask my intentions?"

Isabel studied him. There was no doubt he was Arthur's son. They looked alike in so many ways, including the deep green eyes. The difference being Arthur's eyes were so filled with kindness and laughter, whereas Mordred's emanated venom. "I am Isabel, Countess of Dumont. And a friend of the king. Apparently, you are not. So I ask again, what brings you here?"

Mordred made a mockery of a bow. "How do you do? However, Countess, my business here is none of yours. Has my father stooped so low as to have need of a mere woman to come riding to his defense?"

"A mere woman? Listen, you little shit - "

"No, you listen, Countess," he spat out. "I am heir to this kingdom, and have every reason and right to travel to Camelot to oversee my future holdings."

"The king is quite healthy. I believe he will remain so for many years to come. So don't count your cows before they . . . breed."

Wow, that was lame, but the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

Mordred's eyes went wide for a moment, and then he broke out in nasty laughter. "If you have not been fully informed, mistress, my father already has a wife. One quite younger than you. I see his interest, as you are fetching; however, you will never take her place as queen. Unless you plot to murder her."

James and Harry each grabbed one of her arms, apparently hoping to ward off her jumping forward and scratching the bastard's eyes out. There was no need. She had no intention of launching herself at the boy.

She knew her br**sts were heaving with fury, especially when Mordred's eyes leveled on them and couldn't seem to let go. Then she realized his gaze was fixed on her necklace.

She took a calming breath. "Please tell me again why you have come to Camelot."

"I have learned there will be a very important knights-of-the-realm gathering here shortly. I need to be sitting at that table." Mordred blinked several times, obviously a little confused about why he'd given up that piece of information.

"Were you invited to this meeting?" Isabel asked. "Are you a knight?"

"Of course I was not," Mordred said, finally breaking his gaze from her necklace. "My father didn't deem me high enough in the order to invite me. He is a pig."

This time James and Harry had to hold her back. She most definitely wanted to scratch his face, no matter what it did to her nails.

"How dare you? Your father loves you. Why is it that you find pleasure in bringing him pain?"

Mordred stepped closer and closer to Isabel, swapping his crop on his thigh. "You know nothing, lady. Including how a proper woman dresses. Are you his tart this evening? Are you going to give birth to his next bastard child?"

"What are you going to do, Mordred?" Isabel asked. "Whip an unarmed woman?"

James tried to step between them. "She is a countess, Mordred. Back away."

Mordred sneered. "She is a slut, as is my father's wife."

"Back off, James," Isabel said.

"I cannot, Countess. The king has asked me to protect you."

"Back off. This little snot has just smeared the queen's name."

"M'lady!"

"Back off. I demand it."

James backed away, although Isabel guessed he was worrying about his future. Not a problem; she'd make certain he was rewarded for his actions.