Microsoft Word - LadyPendragon (13 page)

Reaching for a woven blanket she wrapped it around her shoulders. Gritting her teeth together, she planted her feet firmly on the stepping stool and then reached out for the side of the bed. She nearly lost her balance when her bare feet connected with the floor. Thankfully, fur rugs covered the floor surrounding her bed, and for that she was very appreciative, or else she would have been served quite a shock had she immediately stepped onto the cold floor with her toasty warm feet. Blackness coalesced in her mind’s eye. No! She didn’t have the bloody time to waste on a blackout. Blinking her eyes furiously, she waited until the rushing in her ears subsided. Then the blackness turned to sparkling white streaks, then finally to stars. Within a few seconds her vision cleared completely.

A fire crackled in the hearth and it gave calming warmth to her large bedchamber. Her door was firmly shut, and she realized that it would take a lot of convincing to get Sir Galahad and Sir Gawain to move out of her way.

“Why do I always have to be put through all of this fuss and bother?” she murmured aloud, letting out a prolonged sigh. She looked toward the heavens. “I ask you; can’t you ever make my life simple? Huh? Just once. Just one bloody time I’d like to have a peaceful, uneventful day!” Glancing down at her wrist, she grunted when she noticed her watch missing.

Grumbling, she shuffled toward the door. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Kicking ass, aye, but being thrust back in time just wasn’t her cup of tea. Having to face her father’s knights wasn’t on her list of favorite things to do.

They were loyal knights to the bitter end and they would not fail her father for the world.

Anwyn hung in her rightful place on the wall and her shield, Brina, hung next to Anwyn. She fought against another wave of nauseating dizziness as she reached out a flailing arm for one of her bedposts. She leaned her forehead against it for a moment and tried to draw what was left of her strength inside of her. She could kick herself for moving so sluggishly against the black rider. How could she have been so bloody stupid? Her failure to react quickly enough had put her in this fix and now she would just have to grin and bear it.

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She had never recalled suffering such an injury in her life, and she vowed that she would never let her guard down again. Mustering up her nerve, she pulled the blanket tighter around her chest and began to laboriously make her way to the door. Now she knew what it felt like to be old. Every muscle in her body screamed out in agony, and every other step she heard something crack.

Of course, she wasn’t dressed to meet her aunt and uncle, but then those little things had never concerned Molly all that much. She wanted to make it clear to one and all that she would jump off a cliff before she agreed to marry that smarmy, wretchedly hateful excuse for a man that her cousin was. He was a devious sort and his heart was blackened beyond repair. She had never been married, so she was fairly certain that such a thing would never come to pass. But then again, Merlin had told her that another timeline had formed…one where she could not count on anything. She might as well just view this, as she would have the first time around. In the process, she had to watch every single step she took. If she took one wrong step, she just might set off a landmine that could blow the future she knew straight to hell.

And yet, she felt compelled to make sure that it didn’t come to pass. For all she knew, her Uncle, King Lot, might have concocted a way to force her father’s hand. Perhaps, he would point out that Mordred and Gawain were her father’s only legitimate male heirs, and therefore worthy of the Pendragon throne. Dryness prickled in her throat. Did she have enough magic at her fingertips to conjure up a cold lozenge? Shrugging her shoulders, she scrunched her nose up and snapped her fingers. A wrapped round cold lozenge appeared in the palm of her hand.

“Wicked,” she muttered, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. Clamping her mouth shut, she moved closer to the door.

If Morgause intended for their kingdoms to unite through marriage then Molly was royally screwed. Gawain wouldn’t make a bad husband, but…he was already spoken for.

Gawain’s heart belonged to another, and his betrothal had already been publicly declared, so her father’s hope of having Molly marry his favorite nephew was pretty much blown away.

“Shit,” she muttered, when she hit a slippery patch on the floor. She went skidding toward the door and stopped just a hairsbreadth away from it. “Phew, that was too close. “

Glancing down at her bare feet, she pursed her lips. If she lengthened her nightgown then she could slip on a pair of leather suede moccasins and no one would be the wiser. Wiggling her toes, she arched her eyebrow. In a flash of the eye, brown moccasins appeared on her feet. “Ah, that’s much better,” she purred, curling her toes up to feel the soft supple leather.

She gripped the door, and watched as her knuckles turned white. “Here goes nothing,”

she muttered. With a great heave she managed to open the heavy door. She smiled joyfully, and then her smile dimmed when she stared into Galahad’s serious visage. Without realizing what she was doing she stumbled a few steps back. In an instant, Gawain had thrust out a steadying arm. “Thanks. “ She fluttered her eyelashes, hoping that her demure gaze would affect them both. Then, she shot her chances to hell, when she sneezed right in their faces. “Oh, sorry. “ She sniffled and prayed that her nose wouldn’t start running away with her.

“Bless you,” Galahad muttered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Oh, he was a sharp one.

Why couldn’t he just be as dumb as shit? Or even better, why couldn’t he be as randy as his father? If he were more like Lancelot he’d be wooing a lady right now, instead of guarding her door.

“I thank you,” she muttered. Their gazes locked, and she gave into her impish desire to stick her tongue out at him. His eyes widened, but his stern visage didn’t change in the slightest.

He definitely was a party pooper.

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“My princess, are you in need of something?” Gawain asked courteously.

“What?” Wrenching her eyes away from Galahad’s freakishly mesmerizing eyes she turned to lock gazes with Gawain. For some reason she had to stare deeply into his kind eyes to break the spell that Galahad had been weaving over her. Damn. Maybe he was more like his father than she had originally given him credit for. She’d had numerous encounters with Sir Galahad before, and unfortunately for her, he was well aware of her slight dislike of his father.

Even worse, he got along quite well with his father, so that essentially put them at odds with each other. But even though they sometimes didn’t see things in the same light, she’d take Galahad as her husband over Mordred any day.

Collin. Where was he when she really needed him? He wasn’t exactly the type of man that her father probably wanted for her, but still, he had potential. Better yet, he had a heart beating in his chest. And even better, he had red-hot passion burning through him. She knew he did, because she saw it sizzling in his eyes whenever he’d looked at her. Granted, she’d known him for a mere heartbeat, whereas she’d known Mordred much longer, but she knew deep in her heart that Collin was more of a man than Mordred could ever hope to be.

Come for me, and save me, Collin. For once in my life, God help me, but I think I need a knight in shining armor.

She didn’t hate Lancelot per say, but she did loathe the way he treated the ladies at court.

All of them literally bent over backwards to catch his attention and favor, and yet he dallied with them for less than a fortnight and then quickly relieved himself of their burden. The super-galling thing was the fact that the ladies in question didn’t even seem to mind. They took Lancelot’s disinterest with a grain of salt, and then got on with their lives, as he moved onto another lady’s bed. It was downright disgusting and it turned her stomach, especially when it was glaringly apparent that Morganna was so besotted with Lancelot. He ignored Morganna at every opportunity, and though it still stirred Molly’s rancor, even when she knew that Morganna would eventually win him, Molly knew that it shouldn’t have taken so much hard work on her aunt’s part. Sometimes it seemed to Molly that Morganna loved Lancelot more than he loved her in return. If Molly could get away with it she’d knock Lancelot over the head hoping that it would knock some bloody sense into him!

Ehangwen was still grimly silent, and Molly knew that she had to do something before a battle erupted in the great hall. If the tension kept growing in the hall it would slide its slinky fingers around her neck and strangle the life out of her.

“I wish to speak to my father,” she whispered. She let out a shocked gasp when her voice croaked out like that of a frog. Wincing, she swallowed, and hoped that the next time she opened her mouth her voice wouldn’t sound so dreadful.

“His Grace is busy at the moment. And you, Princess, you should be resting,” Gawain’s voice was light and breezy. He smiled at her, and the dimple in his one cheek became quite noticeable. Galahad on the other hand could sense that something was up. He was giving off suspicious vibes and the way he scrutinized her made her want to run back into her chamber and jump into bed. He looked at her as if she were committing an unthinkable sin! Well, she’d have to teach him a thing or two about thinking so little of her!

“You are too weak to go beyond your chambers, my lady,” Galahad decided, reaching an arm out for her. She pulled away from him, and groaned as she fell against the cold stone wall of the open door.

“Do not be telling me how I feel, Sir Galahad,” she rasped. “Oh, holy crap!” Her face pinched up with pain. Both Gawain and Galahad let out sharp outraged gasps at the same time.

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She blushed. Being seriously injured was a nuisance that she couldn’t afford right at the moment. “If I do not make haste to be by my father’s side, something terrible might happen. “

She didn’t really care for how she sounded. She was coming off as the greatest Drama Queen in history, but she had to pull out all of the stops to keep Arthur from doing something he’d later regret. Clamping her mouth shut she tried to control her tongue before she became even more unladylike than she already was. If she weren’t careful, Galahad and Gawain would think she’d lost her mind and gone as mad as the mad hatter.

“King Arthur shall handle the situation magnificently,” Galahad decided. Molly let out a loud highly undignified snort. Okay, so she really wasn’t that concerned about keeping up her ladylike appearance. The men in the castle knew she had a warrior’s blood coursing through her body. Why keep up some form of pretense? She could fight just as well, or better than Galahad or Gawain, and she was sick of pretending to be something she wasn’t. A chill raced up her spine, almost as if someone had walked across her grave. She pulled the blanket tight around her body and sighed.

She had lived with modern conveniences for so long, that she had almost forgotten how drafty a castle as large as Tintagel could be. It didn’t help matters that she was standing out in the cool hallway, with the nearest fireplace quite a jaunt away.

Her thick hair had been loosened from its plait, and it spilled liberally down her back and across her chest, which was beginning to annoy her to no end. She almost felt as if she had a heavy helmet on her head. She had forgotten too much about this time, including the length of her hair. She would have to take extra care when she went to sit down, as her hair nearly reached her bottom. She knew that the knights were forbidden to touch her in an angry or rash manner, so if she could just will her legs to carry her to the steps they would be forced to assist her down, because if she fell and cracked open her head, her father would be livid, and then he’d crack their heads. A whisper of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

The only way for her plan to succeed was if she tried to play up to Sir Gawain’s sympathetic nature. He had always carried a soft spot for her. In his eyes she could do no wrong. She did have one advantage to coming back to her past and living it the second time around. The knowledge she’d gained the first time around would serve her well the second time around. Gawain’s heart would always be loyal to her. He viewed her in the same light that he viewed her father. Winning him over would be as simple as one, two, three. Besides that, Gawain and she had a personal relationship of sorts. They were cousins, and she had known him since Arthur had publicly claimed her as his daughter. Sometimes the bonds you forged in childhood were strong enough to carry you through your entire adulthood. Gawain and she had formed one of those long lasting bonds. She had been at his deathbed the first time around, after he’d been fatally wounded in a battle. She choked back a cry. Her raging emotions were really getting to her. If she didn’t gain control over her mind and body, something awful would happen and she’d be the cause. Her eyes widened when she noticed the bobbing multi-colored swirls and orbs that were dancing around Galahad’s and Gawain’s head.

“Oh, that’s so not good,” she mumbled. She swallowed thickly and froze when Gawain looked to the side. His cheeks flushed, and then he glanced toward her. She gave him a sheepish smile. He’d been exposed to enough magic through his lifetime to know what she had done.

Accidentally done, yes, but still…get a hold of yourself, Molly. Thankfully, he remained quiet.

Alerting Galahad to her little slip of control really wouldn’t do any good whatsoever. She could no more control her magic doing funny things when she was recuperating, than she could control the effect of faerie dust.

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