Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(57)

A gift? No one had ever considered her a gift before. A curse, maybe.

Arthur chuckled. "Come, Isabel. 'Tis just around the bend."

They were nearing the curve in the path when Arthur raised his arm as a barrier, then put a finger to his lips. For a moment Isabel was confused, probably still dazed by Arthur's sweet admission.

But then she heard it, too. A rustling up ahead. In one swift move Arthur pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, then raised his bow and armed it. "Stay here," he said softly.

Like a lethal panther he began silently moving forward toward whatever prey he might encounter.

Isabel's heart just about pounded out of her chest. Fear for Arthur had her nearly hyperventilating. She clasped the teardrop necklace in her hand, wondering if now would be the time to invoke its power.

No, Isabel, the time is not now. Save its power for when its power . . . packs a pow.

Wow, Viv, was really dipping low into the rhyming pool. Arthur is a warrior second to none; allow him to protect your smartass buns.

Arthur took cover behind a large pin oak, then slowly peered around it, his bow still raised in the direction of the noise.

His body was taut, tense, and Isabel caught a small sampling of what it must be like to watch this man head straight into a battle, ready to take on whatever enemy he would encounter beyond.

But then, just as suddenly, his shoulders relaxed, and he lowered his bow, removing the arrow and shoving it back into the quiver.

"Lance," he called, "'tis I, Arthur."

"My lord," Lance responded, "I did not hear you approach."

Arthur looked back and waved Isabel forward. "Actually, 'tis both the Countess Isabel and I, Lance, come to search for ..." His voice trailed off. Isabel joined him and understood why. In the clearing in front of a charming wooden cottage was Lancelot on his knees, savagely pulling mushrooms from the ground and adding them to a very large pile beside him.

The cottage itself showed signs of Gwen's touch. Flower boxes hung in places along the outer walls, filled with colorful marigolds and pansies, miniature snapdragons and petunias. Wildflowers flourished on either side of the structure. A slight flowery scent managed to hit her nose, but it was quite overwhelmed by the dank scent of vegetation from the forest and, right now, overturned earth. The clearing looked almost like a mine field.

At the sight of Isabel, Lance scrambled to his feet and bowed, but not before she caught a glimpse of his tear-stained face. "Countess," he said, then attempted to swipe at his cheeks.

Arthur again took Isabel's elbow and they moved farther into the clearing. "I am going to assume, Lance, that you have been made aware of the dangers those mushrooms present."

"They almost killed her," Lance said, his voice choky.

"But they did not, thanks to the quick wits of - "

"My healer, Tom," Isabel interrupted.

Lance glanced at the mushroom still in his hand and crushed it savagely before adding it to the pile.

"Your healer, Countess, relates a slightly different tale. I cannot express my . . . I mean we, on behalf of the king, owe you much gratitude."

"No, no you don't."

"We were scouting for the culprits ourselves, Lance," Arthur said, "but I had planned to then direct one of my gardeners to come and destroy them. It appears you have saved us that trouble."

"It is . . . it is my pleasure to do so, sir. I feared that perhaps another who stumbled upon them might make the same mistake as . . . as the queen, and heaven forbid it be one or more of the children."

"Heaven forbid, indeed. What plans do you have for that pile, once you have finished pulling all you find?"

"I plan to burn them, sir."

"Good thinking. Just be sure to keep the fire contained, Lance. We would not want it to get out of control and burn down the cottage."

Isabel hid a grin, as it was nearly the same warning she had given Arthur during their stroll here.

"I would, with your permission, Lance, take one of those back to the castle with me, to show to the cooks as warning. Preferably one still relatively intact, as the ones you have mangled look not like much of anything except crushed grayish vegetation."

Lance quickly bent and pulled another savagely from the pungent earth. Then he stepped forward and, with a quick bow, said, "Will this do for your purposes, my king?"

"It will indeed, Lance," Arthur said, taking it and placing it into the pouch at his hip. "Well, then, carry on. And I thank you for your concern for the safety of the people of Camelot."

"At your service, sir. Always."

That was, when he wasn't busy servicing Gwen, Isabel thought, then mentally kicked herself for the nasty nature of that observation. As she, herself, was lusting after a married man, she had very little wiggle room to judge.

And Lance's passionate proclamation that he would always be at Arthur's service held a wealth of meaning, well beyond just being a good little soldier. It was obvious to Isabel that behind his boyish sincerity lay a boatload of guilt.

Isabel was dying to explore the inside of that cottage but knew that would be too cruel to Arthur, so she suppressed the request.

"Shall we return to the castle then?" she suggested. "I have need to check on Samara before the evening feast."

"Certainly." They turned to go, but then Arthur swung back. "And Lance?"