She stood, trembling. “You’d make yourself the villain?”
His eyes burned. “Iamthe villain in his story. From the moment I laid eyes on you that night. And I’d rather be hated and hunted and damned — so long as you’re free.”
She reached for him. He caught her hands in his, pressed them to his lips.
“I won’t let him turn you into a symbol of submission. I’ll give him the story he wants — so we can write our own.”
“You’re mad,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Absolutely mad.”
“I am,” Lancelot said, stepping closer. “For you.”
Guinevere’s breath caught, chest rising with the ache and awe of him. She searched his face, looking for hesitation, for fear —anythingthat might make her stop him.
There was nothing but steel and devotion. Nothing but the wild, impossible promise of freedom. And love.
Staggering, ruinous love.
Her hands rose to his face before she could think. “You’ll be hunted. Hated. You’ll lose everything.”
“I have nothing to lose,” he said softly. “Except for you.”
She kissed him.
Hard.
Desperate.
A kiss like armor. Like a battle cry. Like it might be the last one before the world burned down around them.
He groaned against her mouth, hands fisting in her hair, dragging her against him like he couldn’t stand the inches between them. Their tears mingled — hers for love, his for fury — and still she kissed him, again and again.
“You’re serious.” She pressed her forehead into his collarbone when they finally broke apart. “You’re actually going to kidnap me?”
She couldfeelthe way he grinned, hands caressing the skin on her arms. “Technically, you’re going to let me kidnap you. But yes, very serious. Very treasonous.”
She lifted her chin slowly, one brow arched. The look on his face was too smug, too confident. Guinevere had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. “And how do you plan to get me away from Arthur’s side, dearest? He keeps me close,” venom slipped into her voice. “Like a jewel, or a chained dog.”
He tilted his chin to meet her eyes, his voice low. “Then I unchain you.” His hand left her hair, cradling her face. “I demand my reward from the queen. A kiss, a crown, to kneel.” His thumb brushed against her cheek.
She leaned into his touch. “Public pantomime.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “He plans to kill you.”
“He won’t get the chance.” There was a fervor in his voice that might have shaken someone different. “This time, my queen, you won’t kiss the victor. You’llvanishwith him.”
“And what exactly do I do when you abduct me? Scream? Swoon? Cry for Arthur?”
“You’re never to cry for that bastard,” He snarled, fingers tightening against her skin.
“You’ve been by my side for months, Lance. How do we make itlook real?”
Without preamble, he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back against his chest. One hand covered her mouth, the other palmed a dagger from the table beside them. “You scream, you struggle,” His voice was by her ear, “But not too much.”
“I’ll cover your mouth,” his voice darkened. “Pull you against me like I’ve waited a lifetime to steal you.” The cool metal of his dagger pressed against her throat. She gasped under his touch, embarrassed by the way desire licked up her spine. “Hold a weapon against your pretty neck.” He was panting now, his breath hot against her skin.
Her fingers dug into the skin of his arm, her own heartbeat escalating in her chest. “And then,ma cherie, I sling you over the saddle of my horse, and claim myprize.”
With his hand still clamped over her mouth, he laughed. “They’ll call me a traitor. Villain. Oathbreaker.” His lips found her pulse point. “Let them. Only one oath has ever mattered to me, queen.”
Her throat bobbed as his hand left her mouth, clutching at her waist. “And if they cut you down?” She turned in his grasp, just enough to meet his eyes. Her voice trembled, but it was not from fear.
