Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)

ONCE again, Gwen found herself outside of a door, ready to knock. It simply baffled her, the sense of humility she had learned to possess, just since the morning. This day had been trying, fun, enlightening, heartbreaking, and it was not even half over.

She heard laughter behind the door and hesitated.

"He did not!" she heard a young female voice say. "You jest."

"I kid you not. And then he attempted a kiss."

That voice she easily marked as Isabel's.

"After tossing a toad down your bodice?"

Gwen seriously doubted the two were discussing Arthur. Though he loved a good jest, a toad in a woman's bosom did not sound like his sense of fun.

"It was his way of showing affection, I suppose," Isabel said. "After all, we were eight at most."

"It sounds to me, lady, that his attempt at courting was somewhat misguided."

"You think? I thought it such a loving gesture."

The two women again broke into laughter. Gwen almost hated to ruin the mood. But more, she had hopes she would be included in the enjoyment.

She knocked.

As she feared, the laughter ceased instantly.

"Come in," Isabel called.

Gwen opened the door and stepped through. The two were seated on the floor and Isabel was doing a staining thing on Mary's toes. Half were painted a rose color.

"I am sorry to interrupt," she said.

Mary scrambled to her feet and curtsied. "Your Highness!"

"Please sit, Mary," Gwen said, "do not let me interrupt . . . whatever that is you are doing."

Isabel smiled at her. "We are experimenting with ways to make Mary the prettiest she can be on the night of her vows ceremony."

"May I join you? And please, Mary, resume what you were doing. I am quite curious of this fun."

Isabel smiled at her. "Of course you may. The more the merrier, right, Mary?"

Mary glanced nervously between them. Gwen nodded. "Sit, Mary. As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would be here. We have a wedding to plan. And I am very interested in watching and learning this practice."

Mary said, "I will sit when you do, Your Highness."

"Would you like to wager upon which of us manages to sit our backsides down first?"

Mary giggled, and Isabel laughed, which for some reason did Gwen's heart good. She had taken time to ponder all that had occurred this day, all that she had needed to face about herself, about all that she had to do to make things right.

Finally she thumped down onto the floor and waved Mary down.

"Please, sit."

"May I get you anything, Your Highness?"

Gwen looked to Isabel. "Is it just me or does this 'Your Highness, ' 'your Countess,' 'your whatever' tend to get old?"

Isabel looked at her, and the smile that lit her face made Gwen's heart proud. "It gets pretty tedious, indeed," Isabel agreed.

"Just Gwen, okay? At least amongst us girls. I understand the reluctance while others are around, but here, now, it is just Gwen."

Mary appeared horrified. "Oh, I could never."

Isabel rolled her eyes at Gwen. "It took me days and plenty of threats. She will give in eventually."

Gwen smiled. She was not angry at Isabel. How could she be? Arthur had been right. Her anger at his infidelity was hypocrisy at its most severe. And she loved her husband enough that after the hurt and anger came the realization that he was such a good man and deserved a woman worthy of him.

Her question to herself had been, would she take back all that had happened . . . that she had made happen . . . to save the life she lived? The answer was no. She could no more take back her love and attraction to Lance as she could reach out and bring down the moon.

"I would love some wine, Mary," she said.

"There is some right here," Mary said.

"No!" Gwen said, rising again. "I shall pour for the two of you. And for me, of course."

As she rose, Gwen witnessed the astonished glances exchanged between the two women, and smiled to herself. She was enjoying this immensely. "Please, explain to me this toe-staining thing."

"It is simply a fun thing," Isabel said. "It makes a woman's toes prettier."

"Where did this come from? Did you bring it from Dumont?"

"Actually, no, we had to experiment until we had the formula right. We colored water with flowers, then we added corn starch to make it sticky enough to adhere."

"Adhere?"

"Stick," Mary said. "So that it will dry and remain upon the nails."

Gwen returned and handed Isabel a goblet, and then held out the other to Mary.

Mary looked to Isabel who nodded. "Just this once and just a little. Just because this seems like we are having a girls' day this afternoon."

Mary smiled and accepted the goblet. "I thank you so much, Your - "

"Gwen. And as I am your queen, you must needs listen to what I ask. I ask that you call me by my given name. As you do Countess Isabel."

Isabel stared at Gwen, who smiled back at her.

Oh boy. She didn't know how Gwen had learned, but in her gut she was absolutely certain Gwen had learned.

"You know," she whispered.

Gwen sat down, a goblet in her own hand. "I do."

"But how?"

Mary's eyes darted back and forth between them, filled with worry. "I do not know of what you speak," she said, "but I swear, Isabel, that I have ne'er repeated a word of the talks between us to anyone. Save . . . oh, no! James?"

"Settle, Mary. 'Twas Arthur himself who told me," Gwen said. "He was, as always, honest to a fault."

Isabel nearly keeled over. Arthur admitted . . . she did not know what. Perhaps that they were merely lovers? That he -

"That he is in love with you, Isabel."

Mary just stared, mute. Then she said, "Mayhap I should go check on . . . something."

"Sit," Isabel and Gwen said in unison.

Gwen laughed. "Betimes honesty is overrated, do you not think so? Today it was not. 'Twas what I needed to be told. He understood that, as he seems always able to do."

"I am so, so very sorry, Gwen," Isabel managed to squeak out. "I never meant . . . it was never meant ..."

"Sorry? For following your heart? For making a very wonderful man happy again, for the first time in many days? Do you think I fault you? Would I be here, sharing time with you if I had ill intentions or thoughts?"

It occurred to Isabel that Gwen had just recently insisted on pouring the wine. She looked down into her goblet.

Gwen watched with a smile on her face. Then she reached over and traded goblets, downing a good bit of liquid before trading back. "No, Isabel, I am not intent on poisoning you. Arthur made it clear that if he sees even a scratch upon your skin, he will make people pay. And by people, he means me. And by pay, he means with my life. As I have no desire to incur his wrath, please trust that I will ne'er, e'er harm you."

"You will not," Mary said hotly. "I will not allow it."

That was a bold move for a servant at Camelot. Alarming in fact. "Calm down, Mary. Gwen is here to discuss your wedding, is that not right, Gwen?"

"That is right. However, I would very much love to get involved with this toe-painting thing afore we get to the specifics of the menu. I have a . . . meeting this night and would very much enjoy surprising him."

Mary and Isabel exchanged glances. Finally Mary said, "Then, Your Highness, I suggest you remove your slippers."

"If you are to paint my toes, Mary, I insist you call me Gwen."

"As I have also insisted to Isabel, m'lady, only amongst us. Never, ever among others. Please do not insist so when the three of us are not alone."

Gwen shot a questioning glance at Isabel.

"Her friends, if you can actually call them that, have been shunning her out of jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

"They believe she is marrying above herself, as James is such a high-ranking soldier in Arthur's army. And though Mary has never lorded it over them, they are still envious."

Mary took a sip of wine. "Some also envy that I was assigned to look after the countess."

"Like that's been a real plumb job, eh, Mary?" Isabel teased.

"That is horrid!" Gwen said. "Oh, Mary, is there naught that I can do?"

"I believe we can shove that envy down their throats by throwing Mary and James a beautiful and unforgettable exchanging of vows."

"And that we will do. Allow them to choke on their jealousy."

Isabel raised her brows at Gwen.

"Hey!" Gwen said, holding her goblet in the air. "Have I poisoned you as yet?"

"Good point," Isabel said, toasting and taking another sip of her wine.

BY the time the three of them had finished polishing their toenails, they had had interruptions from Jenny, James, Tom and Hester the Jester. Why Hester felt the need to interrupt, Isabel had no idea. They were all giggling, lying on their backs, flailing their legs in the air, trying to dry this homemade concoction.

When there was yet another knock, Isabel had just about had it. "What?" she yelled. "Good gods, it's like Grand Central Station around here."

"May I enter?"

The three looked at one another, obviously recognizing the voice. They all sat up and rearranged their skirts.

"Isabel, I need to see you, to talk to you," Arthur said. "Please allow me entrance."

"Come on in, Arthur," she said. "It is unlocked."

He opened the door and then nearly gaped as he took in at the sight of them all on the floor.

"I am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to interrupt . . . whate'er this might be. I believe I do not even want to know what this might be."

"Girly stuff," Isabel said. "We have been planning Mary's wedding."

He looked as uncomfortable as a perfectly fat and healthy chicken inside a KFC.

Gwen stood up, a little wobbly, perhaps. "Mary and I were about to take a walk to finish drying our toes, were we not, Mary?"

She held out her arm, and Mary gladly, it appeared, grabbed hold. "I believe we were, Your Highness."

Mary performed a quick curtsy as she passed by Arthur. "My king."

"Oh, please, cut it out, Mary," he said. "We are friends. Stop the groveling."

She nodded. "I apologize, King Arthur."

Arthur actually growled, but he held open the door as both Mary and Gwen ducked under his arm and, from the sound of it, ran down the hall. And then he nearly slammed it shut.

"What is happening, Isabel?"

"Mary and I were having a girlie moment, and Gwen asked to join. Why do you look so upset? Nothing wrong happened here. We were having fun."

"Gwen knows of us."

"And guess what, I know of that. She told me."

"She did?"

"Indeed. In fact, she was very accepting of the situation. So why are you upset?"

"I feared . . . well, was concerned ..."

"Hey, I'm still here, Arthur. Gwen is not the murdering kind. You must know that. You would not have married a woman whose heart you believed to be cruel. You never would."

"I would hope not. But with you I cannot begin to take the chance."

"I love you, Arthur."

"And I, you, Isabel."

"Leg up?" Isabel asked, holding out her arm.

"What?"

"Just a saying. Meaning please help me to my feet."

He took her arm, and as he brought her up to him, he wrapped an arm around her and lifted her.

Still inches from the ground, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Oh, Isabel," he said moments later. "To my dying breath, I will ne'er stop desiring your touch and your kisses." He lowered her slowly, which was his intent, as she slid down the front of his body in the most sensual way.

"Why did you, Arthur?"

"Why did I what?"

"Why did you tell Gwen?"

He brushed hair from her cheek. "She deserved the truth."

"You could have said nothing."

"That might have been an option. But what does that say about me, Isabel? Would you have me hide my love for you?"

She butted his chest with her head. "If this gets out, she and Lance could be in trouble, as all of the truth will get out. Don't you think that James would spill the truth because of his loyalty to you? There is no way he would allow you to take the blame."

"He will if I command so."

"And will you? Will you, for lack of a better term, fall on the sword?"

"No. If it comes to that, no."

"How do you know?"

"That is an easy one."

"Which is?"

"Take that one for a thousand, Isabel."

She laughed. "I will take that for a thousand, Arthur."

"The woman who Arthur, King of Camelot, has come to love so much that he will do anything to protect her from harm."

Melt. Melt. Melt. Why couldn't love come easily?

"That is a simple one," she said when she relearned the fine art of breathing. "It would be, 'Who is Arthur's beloved and besotted beagle, Pix, who follows him everywhere.'"

"Wrong, my lady, although I admit Pix would be a close second. I give you another chance."

"Pix would be a close second?"

"Lady, you would jump in front of an arrow to save Burny."

"Oh, but he is a dog like no other. Truthfully. He is a dog like no other. And I mean that in the most, 'what in hell is he, exactly,' way."

Arthur laughed and hugged her even closer. "No one knows. We do not question, we just constantly look forward to whate'er pups come about."

"He is so sweet."

"And he follows you around as if you were indeed his mother."

"I did not realize you had noticed."

"I thought I noticed every single piece of what happens around you, Isabel. Though I must admit I did not see today coming. I failed this day."

"What? In what way?"

"I ignored the obvious, while you saw it and took action."

"You mean with Gwen?"

"Yes."

"You did what any good husband would do. I just happened to talk to Tom, and then talked to Gwen."

"Which should have been my responsibility."

"You didn't fail, Arthur. How many burdens are you supposed to take on? Not that Gwen is a burden. We have been enjoying the afternoon. She has been delightful, Arthur. I don't know what exchange there was between you, but she holds no bitterness at all that I noticed. In fact, she seems more at peace than I have seen her since meeting her."

"She truly is a good woman," Arthur said. "Just so very young. I do not know what I was thinking." He kissed her again. "But no matter. I just had need to see you and make certain all was well."

"Are you relieved or saddened by your talk with Gwen?"

"Much of the former, a little of the latter."

"Understandable, Arthur."

"And then I had this burning desire to check on your welfare. Not that I believe . . . well, that is a very lame excuse. I just wanted to see you."

"Oh, Arthur," she said, brushing his hair away from his temple. Wow, it had grown so much in just days. "You have many, many issues to deal with at the moment. I should be the least of your worries."

"Worry was the pretense. Seeing you was the need."

"We will see each other later. You need to get back to what you most treasure."

He stared down at her. "Isabel, if I have not made this clear, you are what I treasure above all else."

"Camelot - "

"Is but a place. Yes, I love Camelot. But am I able to hold Camelot at night? Am I able to lie with it and share what has happened on any given day? I will, without even a moment's thought, give it up for the rest of my days if every moment of those days be spent with you."

"Oh, Arthur, I would never ask."

"Of course you would not. Another reason why I love you, Isabel. But do not ever doubt my priorities." He kissed her, and then let go. "You have not correctly questioned my answer," he said.

Isabel stood totally dazed, confused and with a heart filled with so much emotion, she didn't know what to deal with first.

"I forget the answer," she finally said.

"I will repeat. 'The woman who Arthur, King of Camelot, has come to love so much that he will do anything to protect her from harm.'" He grinned. "The first response was slightly insulting, as it was a slobbering dog. I will, however, forgive that one and allow another choice."

"Who is Countess Isabel?" she whispered.

"Oh, so correct, Isabel."

"I have one for you."

He smiled. "As you say many a time, hit me."

"The woman who refuses to allow you to give up your lands, your dream, your love just for her. The woman who is so ready to follow you into battle to keep the dream of Camelot alive."

He took her face in his hands. "The question would be, Who is the one I would hold captive afore I e'er allowed her to run into harm's way on my behalf? It will not happen, Isabel. I cannot even believe of such."

"Has it ever occurred to you that women could actually help behind the lines? Allow us to take part."

"No. I will not have women harmed. And you . . . I could not live if you were harmed. I just could not."

"And yet you expect me, or any of us, to stand by and watch you be injured, or worse?"

"I do. It is what I must do. Please, Isabel, do not make me worry about you, should it come to this. I could not do my job."

"Is it coming to this?"

He hesitated, but finally nodded. "It appears a possibility. Those not invited to the table have banded together, according to reports. We must prepare."

"Then we will."

"Isabel, no."

"I will not allow anyone to harm you without a fight. Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

"'Tis not the same."

"It is exactly the same. If you think women are incapable of doing what they must to protect their king, their castle, their life, then you are underestimating us all."

"I do not underestimate. I have need to protect. You, most of all."

"How much time do we have?" she asked.

"Isabel - "

"How much time, Arthur?"

"My best estimate with my men's information is three weeks. We believe they plan to attack when all of the knights invited to the table have gathered."

"That sounds like a pretty stupid plan to me."

"Not should there be traitors sitting amongst us."

"Do you know which?"

"I have a fair idea."

Isabel growled. "The women will not only aid, we are going to kick ass."

"Isabel."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"You excite me and drive fear into me at one and the same time."

"I hope you bring the excitement with you this evening. The fear, allow me to take care of that."

"Isabel, I am to protect you."

She thumped his arm. "Just for once, Arthur, get used to the idea that women can be very useful in taking care of their men. Just once."

"I will not allow you to go into battle, should this attack occur. Isabel, please, I cannot even stomach the possibility. I love you. Do you not ken?"

"Oh, yes, I ken. How about if I promise that none of us, not a single woman, actually enters any type of battlefield?"

He peered at her. "You have a sneaky plan, Isabel."

She offered him the falsest innocent face imaginable. "I swear, I truly swear, that we will not enter the field of battle."

"You have another plan."

"I swear, I swear we will not enter the field of battle."

"I do not know whether to laugh or shake with worry."

"I choose Laugh for one thousand, Alex."

"Isabel, I could not bear if anything happened to you. The love I have for you is . . . just so . . . I cannot even describe the feelings. I only know that should I lose you after I have just found you, I . . . I cannot imagine going on."

She chuckled as she looked up into his hard, warm, worried face. "I am not the one readying herself for battle, Arthur. How do you think I feel, knowing you are?"

"'Tis what I do."

"Oh, yes, 'tis what you do. And I am supposed to smile, pack you a lunch, send you off and say, 'Hope you're still alive by supper, Arthur. It would be such a shame to waste your favorite meal. However, Pix might enjoy it.'"

He glared at her for a moment, and then just laughed. He pulled her close. "This has been the strangest conversation I have e'er had. I love you so much."

"As you should," she said, still feeling grumpy and afraid. She'd had no idea that danger might be close at hand. He had managed to keep that little piece of information close to the vest. Or tunic. Or chain stuff. "We will not sit by, Arthur. We have ways."

"Should it come to this, I will not allow women to rush in. And most definitely not my woman."

"Women will not join in the stupid wars you men fight."

"Meaning what?"

"We are much more resourceful than you think."

"Betimes you worry me, Countess."

"I should worry you at all times."

"This is what concerns me."

"As well it should."

"May I see you tonight?" he asked.

"What is, 'The woman who wants to be with Arthur tonight more than any other on this earth.' For a thousand, Alex."

He grinned down at her. "I have yet to figure a thousand what. However, I just won them."

"For a thousand. I really, truly want to hear it from your lips."

"Who is the woman Arthur loves and desires beyond all others?"

"Oh, that is so correct. Double bonus for you."

"Tonight, then, Isabel?"

"Oh, yes, please."

As he left the room, she heard him say, "I do hope your toes have dried by now, Mary. And yours as well, Gwen."

"WE must move up the date of your wedding, Mary," Isabel said, even as she was getting over total embarrassment. Good gods, they had been right outside of the door. Both, however returned as if they had heard nothing. And then the three of them looked at each other, and once again could not contain their humor. They laughed, but then sobered when she said, "The women of Camelot . . . and guests such as myself," she added, nodding to Gwen, "need to prepare to protect the men. I have a plan. Or a partial one. We need to scheme, and we need to involve all of the servants to pull it off."

She held up her hand. "Are we in?"

"I am," Mary said, joining hands.

"As am I," said Gwen, clasping both of her hands around theirs.

"Good, because, Gwen, to pull this off, I need you to put on that crown and use it for all it's worth."

"Consider it donned."

"Good. Mary, how would you like to marry James day after tomorrow?"

Mary's eyes widened. "Are you jesting?"

"No. Your dress is ready, is it not?"

"It is."

"I can take care of the feast," Isabel said. "Gwen, you have such a touch with flowers and decoration. You can make the hall lovely, I trust."

"Oh, yes."

"Excellent. Tomorrow, I fear, game time is going to be spent airing out those rushes and scrubbing the great hall. When Mary and James exchange vows, it is going to smell like spring, not like a sty."

They both nodded. "Mary, I fear you are going to have to work tomorrow. James needs a haircut, and so does Arthur."

"And Lance," Gwen said.

"And Lance. Although I must say he looks kind of cute shaggy," Isabel said.

Gwen smiled while still admiring her toes. "Yes, he does. Yet a trim could not hurt."