TheKingsLady (6 page)

“Enchantment surely, for I know of the reincarnations of you and your knights. And how you keep the memories of the lives you lived.”

He studied Lancelot’s rigid stance, a black scowl forming a crease in the middle of his brows. His dark hair pulled back from a face unchanged in all the centuries he had…what, been hanging in limbo?

It still came as a surprise when he saw Lancelot. Living in Avalon preserved his youth, but all those centuries existing with the repercussions of what he had a hand in must have been living hell for him. And now Gwen returned and with it, old wounds which never quite healed. With their own friendship barely mended he wondered if Gwen’s sudden reappearance in their lives would break the tenuous threads.

A dark whisper rose up from the back of his mind. Would Lancelot pursue Gwen? The idea sent a spike of rage through him. Something hidden deep in him rose up.

Mine.

Cursing his stupidity, he viciously locked the rage and possessiveness down, forcing it into a dank, dark vault, locking it up tight and throwing away the key for good measure.

Taking a long cleansing breath, he rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension out of the muscles bracketing his neck. “Enchantment or not, my dealings in regard to Miss McAllister will not change. I wish to be rid of her as quickly as possible.”

Lancelot’s gaze bored into him a minute before shifting his attention to the window and the sea beyond, his voice pensive as he spoke, “There was a time when I thought naught else but to have the Lady for mine own. Now, I am unsure how I feel. You must think me callous, a knave and worse. Yet, I will be truthful in this as with all else.”

“As will I, my friend, as will I.”

“What is to be done with her?”

“For now, we watch, wait and keep her safe until we defeat Mordred.”

Arthur’s skin prickled with the sudden wash of magic in the air and swiveled his seat to the door in time to see Viviane shimmer into view. Her long locks pulled into pigtails fell to her shoulders, the shimmering waves of white blonde and pink matching the bows on her tight fitting ruffled shirt. Her barely there leather skirt rode high up shapely legs encased in black hose and matching ankle boots. Arthur shook his head in wonder at the fashion sense of the goddess.

“Who are we watching?” Viviane questioned as she gracefully moved to Lancelot’s side.

He hid a smile at the shell-shocked look on Lancelot’s face as he stared wide-eyed at the woman who barely stood to his shoulders. He schooled his features and cleared his throat before addressing the Goth goddess. “Do you remember the debriefing we held after we rescued Colin and Juliet from Vance’s underground lab?” At her slow nod, he continued, “And about the woman who saved Colin’s life from Mordred’s magic?” Another nod from the goddess, this time with an air of impatience. “That, Viviane, was the aunt of a woman named Gwen McAllister.”

“All right I’ll bite. And who pray tell is this Gwen McAllister?”

“Guinevere,” Arthur bit it out as if just saying the woman’s name left a bad taste in his mouth.

“No freaking way! You wouldn’t put that…that woman under the same roof as the both of you would you?” She looked from one man to the other, her eyes narrowing into angry slits of blue fire. “Well, would you?” The demand charged the air with a crackle of energy, all goddess with attitude.

“The kicker is the woman has no recollection of her past lives,” Lancelot interjected in a futile attempt to head off what had every indication of being a major explosion.

“How can she
not
remember who she is?”

“Gwen is a witch and so was her aunt. Perhaps the woman placed a spell on Gwen to forget,” Arthur waved a hand in the air in frustration. “For whatever reason, right now the reality is, she has no recollection of any of us. And from my brief meeting with her this morning, probably thinks I’m delusional. Not that I can blame her really. Learning that the Arthurian legends we all grew up with are true could be a bit hard to swallow.”

Viviane squared her shoulders. “I’m going to see for myself. She could be faking, and I wouldn’t put it past the deceitful little twit.”

Arthur rose suddenly from his chair at the same time as Lancelot grabbed her arm to detain her. “Oh, no, you will meet her in about twenty minutes when she comes for dinner.”

Inhuman sparks crackled in the goddess’s pale blue eyes, the guise of the young Goth dropped away in her fury as she rounded on the two men. Her voice reverberated in the room as her magic built. “You do not have the right to interfere if I choose to see the female.”

What happened to the even natured, rational goddess he knew and relied on go? What stood before him radiating outrage certainly couldn’t be the same entity. And why such strong enmity toward Guinevere? For some reason, the urge to protect Gwen surged through him in an overpowering tide of need, nearly dropping him to his knees from the strength of it.

By all the gods what was wrong with him? He didn’t care what became of the witch, he couldn’t. He needed to remember her betrayal, his need to prepare for Mordred’s next attack.

Yet his thoughts still strayed. Her image rose up in his mind as he had left her in her room. Lips pink and swollen from his kiss, large blue eyes staring up at him slightly glazed with her desire, her hair tousled, the bright strands catching the light in a blaze of burnished fire tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. His fingers ached to touch those silky strands.

Her nipples were hard as they strained against her tight tee shirt her body a voluptuous feast for the taking. He hardened at the memory and silently cursed his raging lust.

He forgot the last time he got laid and clearly, that problem needed to be rectified and quickly. Perhaps he would go with Simon and Darius to one of their hangouts tonight, ease this irrational desire. Then come back and deal with Gwen with a logical, clear head.

Yeah, and pigs fly.

Viviane’s voice yanked him from his thoughts, and he looked down at her expectant face. “What was that?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation, fists resting on her hips, “I
said
who is fetching our guest? I hardly think anyone here would be thrilled to see her let alone show her around.”

“Andrea volunteered. It seems she feels sorry for the girl, same with Juliet.”

“Well, they like any stray that crosses their path. They don’t know how much of a viper she really is.”

“Now, Viviane, that’s not true, and you know it,” Lancelot admonished her gently. “I have, not once seen you act this way. In all my centuries of knowing you, you’ve never shown malice toward anyone.”

She seemed to deflate in front of Arthur’s eyes. Her cheeks flushed as she lowered her gaze to the floor. “I know, but she caused so much turmoil…I’m afraid history will repeat itself. You both just repaired your friendship and right now the extra strain could be too much.”

“You are assuming I still have feelings for Guinevere,” Lancelot’s tone held a harsh note of accusation. “I assure you I do not. I am not the same man who once walked the halls of Camelot. I know what I want in a woman now.” He paused until the goddess raised her gaze to his. “And what I do not.”

The meaning was not lost on Arthur and from the look on Viviane’s face, she got it. Well, well, Lancelot and Viviane? Who would have guessed and now the goddess’s animosity toward Gwen made perfect sense. She was jealous. Whether his old friend knew it or not, his single days would soon be over.

The poor bastard.

The thought of another man of his falling into the seductive web of a woman brought a hollowness to his chest. He recognized the loneliness within him and accepted it. After all, he made the choice never to fall in love, and he would keep true to that choice.

Even as he embraced that knowledge, he couldn’t stop a pair of haunting blue eyes from forming in his mind.

* * * *

Gwen paced the small confines of her room, her emotions swinging from fury, expectation to fear. Arthur kissed her, and she
responded
! How could her body betray her like that? But, oh, wow, in his arms his mouth fused to hers felt so…right, good in all the right places. Common sense left with her brain cells, leaving only sensation as she fell under the spell of his wicked talented tongue. Building a fire he left unquenched.

Stupid, male jerk.

Way to go, Gwen, he probably thinks I’m a slut now. It didn’t help that I practically tore his clothes off and jumped him then and there.
Her cheeks burned with the memory and her body thrummed with renewed desire. Great, she was a panting horn dog now all because of one stupid kiss.

She needed to get away, back where she belonged and take her chances with Vance. She possessed powerful magic, could hold her own against him, right? At the moment, tangling with him seemed the lesser of two evils. But where would she go? There was no way she could go home, and she needed to be far away from Arthur and his merry band of men…and one magic wielding psycho called Merci. She needed to leave the state, of that she was sure. And it needed to be a city where she could get lost easily.

She didn’t get any further in her plans as the door made a clicking sound followed by the sound a small
swoosh
as it opened. She expected to find Arthur standing at the open door. To her surprise, a woman around her early twenties stood with a soft welcoming smile on her full pouty lips. Her dark hair clung to her perfect face in a fashionable bob cut and she wore a pair of form fitting grey slacks and mauve silk shirt.

Self-consciously, she rubbed her palms against the heavy cotton of her jeans, feeling huge and awkward and oh, so dressed down that she wanted nothing more than to disappear. Perhaps she could spell a sizable hole to open underneath her? Something in her face must have shown since the woman gave her a small smile, her eyes full of understanding.

“I’m Andrea Calder. I’m here to escort you to dinner. This place is easy to get lost in, are you ready?”

And oh, great, could she feel anymore self-conscious?

Squaring her shoulders, she met the woman’s compassionate, knowing gaze. Fan-freaking-tastic, beautiful
and
nice and
no
,
she wasn’t ready to go anywhere but home.

Andrea moved into the room, closing the door behind her and eyed Gwen with a critical eye. “You have the most beautiful hair.”

Her hands flew to her unruly mass of curls. “Thanks, it’s a real mess right now. I don’t have a brush and well…” Her words trailed off as she realized how she must sound. Goddess above, when did she become so
whiney
?

Andrea held her hand up as she moved with determined strides into the bathroom. The sound of doors opening came through the doorway for a moment, returning quickly, a hairbrush in hand. “Sit on the bed, back toward me.”

Gwen didn’t even think of objecting as she did as ordered. Soon she found herself under the woman’s practiced care, her hands sure and competent as they brought her curls to some semblance of order.

“You know, the guys aren’t a bad bunch and if you give them a chance you may find they grow on you.”

Gwen couldn’t keep the derision out of her voice. “Great, sounds like you’re describing a fungus.”

“In a way I guess they are.” Andrea laughed as she stepped away and studied her handiwork. “Perfect. Now, let’s see what we have in here to wear, shall we?”

Andrea went through the drawers and closet, a whirlwind of energy, pulling Gwen right along with her. In less than ten minutes, Gwen found herself staring in the mirror, surprised at the woman who stared back at her clad in a pair of skinny jeans and a sinfully soft cashmere sweater of deep forest green. The material clung to her curves and wow, she never knew she could look this good.

“Did someone go shopping while I slept? How did you get clothes to fit me?”

Andrea chuckled. “All the guest rooms are equipped with extra clothes in sizes four to fourteen. Arthur insists on having everything on hand just in case.”

“Of course, couldn’t have his abductee’s run around in dirty clothes now, can he?” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

Andrea cleared her throat, discomfort filling the space like a frigid blast of artic air between them. “Uh, huh, well wow, it’s time to go. Don’t want to be late for dinner.”

Gwen fought off the sudden surge of panic threatening to cut off her air. The sour taste of fear clung to the back of her throat. She didn’t think she had the courage to face Arthur again, not after that kiss and certainly
not
after the way he looked at her just before he left. The look of disgust was clear, but what in hell did she do to have him hate her so?

“I really don’t think being in the same room with Arthur is a good idea. It would be best if I just left.” At the moment, she would rather face Vance than Arthur.

“It’s going to be fine. I promise, Gwen.”

She needed to stop being such a wuss and get a backbone.

Straightening her spine, she mentally steeled her nerves and stuffed her fear in a dark corner. With a slight nod, she followed Andrea out of the room and into the long hallway. Noticing the wood paneling gleaming softly in the low ceiling lights, a beautiful crimson and tan runner muffled their footsteps as they made their way past closed doors on either side of the hall.