“Of course,” he winked again. “Where might I find these ladies?”
“They’re probably laundering clothes, if I had to guess.”
“Makes perfect sense,” Lancelot nodded. “And, your grace, where might I find the washroom?”
“Oh, good heavens,” Guinevere dragged her hand down her face with a quiet groan. “Down the hall-”
“I’m teasing your majesty.” He interrupted her. “Arthur’s oldest friend, remember?”
The image burned into her soul, the man she kissed on her midnight escape standing next to the man she married. Clasping hands and exchanging laughter.
“I’ll be back, your grace.”
He disappeared from her sight as she closed the door, leaning her forehead against the cool wood.
Add this to the list of reasons she wasn’t fit for queen.
Maybe Arthur spoke the truth.
She shook her head, trying to banish the notion from her mind, when a gentle knock came at the door.
How long had she allowed herself to wallow?
Lancelot stood on the other side, alone. “I’m sorry, my queen,” he bowed with a flourish. “I could not locate your maidens.” He lingered, eyes scanning her face like he was searching for something. “Would you like my assistance?”
A laugh escaped from her lips, unbeknownst to her. “Absolutely not, knight. That’s not appropriate in any manner.”
“I just wanted to offer. I have a very specific…skill set.” Guinevere could hear the lilt in his voice. He wasstillteasing her.
“All the more reason to keep you on that side of the door.” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.
“Guinevere,” Her name sounded devastating on his lips, in his accent. “Joking aside, may I help you?”
“No,” but her statement wasn’t half as convincing as she had wanted it.
“How long before your maids return?”
“After supper,” she mumbled under her breath. “Fine.”
He paused, just before the threshold, hands raised slightly — not to touch, but to show he wouldn’t unless invited. “May I?” He asked, nodding towards the open door.
She pushed the door open fully. He stepped inside, taking the door in his hand. “I’m going to close this, to retain your modesty, queen.” His words were quiet, careful.
Gwen nodded, her mouth feeling suddenly dry at the overwhelming shows of chivalry.
The door clicked softly behind him.
Her eyes locked onto his, frozen beneath his gentle reverence of her. The way his gaze was so soft, she felt like she might melt within it.
He twirled a finger, signaling for her to turn around. There was no smirk on his lips this morning, there was no gleam of mischief in his eyes.
And that scared her more than anything she had witnessed in the last day.
She turned, holding the bodice of her top. She felt, rather than heard, him walk towards her. The heat of his body was so close to her own. Gwen reached up to move the hair from her neck.
“No,” his voice was thick, caught in his throat, “Let me.”
Her heart skipped.
