She shot up, putting as much space between her and the bed as possible. Face redder than her hair, she stammered, “Y-yes?”
His eyes were still on her, pupils wide as he took in the sight before him. Lance sat up, letting the blankets fall from his torso. It waseverything she could do not to stare at him, mouth agape.
Arthur was a lean man, a man built for speed, not strength. Lancelot was just the opposite. Tight lines defined the muscles in his arms, running down his arms, over his shoulders. His pronounced figure cut sharp edges across his stomach, and Gwen found her eyes traveling those lines — lingering just below where the blankets stopped.
Lance cleared his throat, causing the queen to jump. A voice came from the other side of the door, slicing through the tension in the room. “The baker dropped off some pastries this morning!” It was the innkeeper. “I’ve left them just outside your door.”
“Thank you,” her knight responded, the rasp in his voice sending a rekindled wave of desire through her veins.
Guinevere buried her face in her hands, turning her back to the half dressed man on the bed. She needed…
She didn’t know what she needed, beyond what her body was screaming for.
“Good morning,” she muttered lamely, through clenched teeth.
“Get dressed,” he responded. She heard the bed creak. But she couldn’t force herself to face him, not yet. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”
She plucked her clothes up off of the floor, thankful for the screen that hid the bath. She dressed quickly, not daring to ask for help with the too-long shirt sleeves or breeches this time. If he touched her again, she was certain she would combust.
Unceremoniously, she stuffed her remaining belongings into her pack, planting herself by the door.
“Ready, your grace?” He slid the bag from her shoulder cautiously. He avoided touching her, too.
Either he was just as addled as she was… or he was less than pleased with the events of the morning.
A knot wedged in her throat at the thought of the latter. Could it be that she wasstillimagining things between them?
The once comfortable silence between them ached. She doubted every step she took — wondered how ridiculous she looked at each pass. More than once, she caught herself stumbling over her own feet as they found their way to the stable.
Lance’s tawny horse was waiting for them, saddled and raring to go. Wordlessly, he took the reins in his hand, leading both horse and queen out to the road.
“What’s his name?” Gwen blurted out, suffocating in the silence that had swallowed them up.
“Zeus,” he said with a smile.
“Like the Greek god?”
“The very same.”
“That’s wildly improper, knight.” She couldn’t help but chide him, fighting the smile that threatened her lips. “What would the king think about your paganistic name?”
“I think the king would find issues with some of my more recent decisions, queen.” He laughed, but the sound was tight.
She blushed deep, casting her eyes back down to the ground.
“Up you go.” His hands were on her waist, forgoing all pomp and decorum. He hoisted her up, causing her to awkwardly throw her leg over the saddle.
Once situated, she finally came to terms with what she had been trying to avoid. He would be sitting in this saddle with her.
For an entire day.
“Maybe we should walk?” Gwen suggested, moving to slide off of the horse.
“No,” Lance put his hand on her thigh, firm but kind. “We ride.” He was behind her in the saddle before she had time to think. She shifted forward, trying to put as much space between their bodies as possible.
The knight laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, love.” He grabbed her hips, trying to coax her backwards. “You’ll be stiff in an hour's time, sitting like that.”
She tried to protest, but stood very little chance against the definition of his strength.
