Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(43)

Her laughter shook. It would take at least a year or more of total sloth for Arthur to gain a pound or lose an ounce of muscle. His body was finely toned from shoulders to toenails. At least it felt that way. How she wished she could have explored for herself. "Perhaps. We'll see."

"I will see you at the evening repast, then?"

"You will. I never miss a meal if I can help it."

He chuckled. And then before she knew it, he cupped her head and ravished her mouth. Her hormones, which had finally started to go back into dormant mode, sprang back to life as if zapped with electricity.

Arthur kissed like no other man she knew. His lips were firm and sure, intent on molding hers to their bidding. His tongue made only an occasional appearance, to taste her mouth and touch her own tongue. He didn't try to shove it down her throat as too many men had done, didn't use it as an oral f**k, just playing and teasing and basically driving her crazy.

Long moments later he broke the kiss, but then laid his forehead against hers. "Oh, Isabel. Your taste and your scent and your feel are almost too much to bear," he whispered.

"Oh, right back atcha," she said.

"Until this evening?"

"Yes."

He stood back, albeit appearing totally reluctant to do so. His eyes swept over her, from face to feet. "Trust me, Isabel, you have no need of shyness. You are so beautiful."

He went to move past her, but she touched his arm and he turned back. "Yes?"

"So are you."

He grinned. "You are presuming. You may take back those words some day. I have many a battle scar on this body, Isabel."

Although the thought of him being hurt nearly made her shudder, she understood this was the way of this world. And then she thought of Curtis and Afghanistan, and realized brutality hadn't changed, only the nature of it. Still, she couldn't wait to explore every single one of those scars. If she ever got the chance.

She walked with him to the door, but before he opened it she stopped him again. "Arthur? The next time we have the chance to speak, I promise the truth. Because you're right. In the end it is all we have."

He smiled. "I look forward to it. You have an endlessly fascinating life, Isabel."

If he only knew.

"Until this evening, then," he said with a slight bow.

"Yes. Be careful out there. Sword play isn't for sissies."

He laughed. "I know naught what a sissy is, but I can well imagine."

They were both smiling as he swung the latch and opened the door.

Their smiles fizzled instantly.

"Mordred," Arthur said.

The smug little bastard shoved off from the wall across from Isabel's door. "Father. Countess. I feared that you would not emerge the entire day."

ARTHUR knew that Isabel's first desire was to lunge at his son and claw his eyes out. So he quickly blocked her path to thwart disaster. "Did you have issues to discuss, Mordred?" he asked. "You had but to knock."

"Oh, issues aplenty," he said. "And another to add to my list."

"Then let us do so, at some other - "

"You smug little stalking, animal-abusing, ungrateful creep," Isabel hissed, attempting to break through Arthur's barrier. With no luck, thank the gods.

"Please, Isabel," Arthur said, "allow me to handle this situation."

Her breaths were coming fast. "How do you think he knew where you were if he didn't follow you?"

Mordred's grin widened. "The countess is very astute. And lovely. You have chosen a lover well. Should you care to share her services with your son, I would not object."

Arthur felt a rage like no other. He leapt forward and grabbed Mordred's tunic with both hands, shoving him back against the wall. "You will apologize to the lady. This very moment, Mordred."

Mordred's smile had gone missing, yet the malice in his eyes still gleamed bright. 'Twas such a sad sight for Arthur. He shook his son. "Apologize. Afore I have you escorted from Camelot and ban your presence for all time."

"If what I have said is untrue - "

"'Tis untrue. Isabel and I are not lovers. I say again, Mordred. Apologize to the lady."

"Forget it," Isabel said, coming up beside them. "This kid is incapable of an honest apology."

And then she performed an act that was remarkable and shocking all at once. She twirled once and then with one leg raised, rammed it into Mordred's knee.

Mordred yelped in pain and might have collapsed, were it not for Arthur's hold on him.

"And that is for Samara. How does it feel? Should you ever come near my horse again, you will receive worse. Understand, you little shit?"

Arthur then witnessed something in his son's eyes directed at Isabel that had never been directed at his own father. A spark of respect.

Mordred winced as he tried to regain his footing on his own. "My apologies, Countess, if I spoke out of turn."

"I don't give a good damn about your meaningless words, Mordred," she said. "Your actions are what define you. Just shows that nurture won out over nature in this little genetic pool battle, you creep."

Even though Arthur had Mordred at least five inches above the ground, Mordred managed to ground out, "You are allowing a mere whore to berate your only son and the heir to your crown?"