Tom turned green at all of the toothless smiles that suddenly swung his way. “Always at your service, Your Highness,” he said, reaching his leg around to kick Dick.
Tom had been Isabel’s dentist forever and friend for at least half of that. He gave her a “what have you gotten me into?” look, and she gave him a shrug. After all, she hadn’t mentioned it.
Just then Harry came limping in from the great hall, his hair still wet from having to make himself presentable and his gait still showing he was hurting from the kick to his gonads. It obviously hurt, badly.
“And this is Harry,” Isabel announced, “my other man. He is the one incredibly good with animals. He’s been my ve—”
“Ouch!”
Everyone stared at her.
“My animal master and devoted . . . friend, for many moons. As have Tom and Dick. In Dumont, we are all friends, working together.”
There was a silence while Harry attempted to bow to Arthur and Gwen, which looked painful to everyone. To a male, every single one of them in the dining room winced.
But then they followed their king’s lead, holding up their steins.
“I am assuming you took one for the Gipper, master Harry,” Arthur said. “He has always been a bit overly accurate with his legs.”
“Oh, wait a minute,” Isabel said, “you have a horse named Gipper?”
Gwen spoke up first. “I’m afraid Gipper is mine. And my apologies, sir, for his . . . exuberance. Sir Ronald of Reagan gifted him to me at our matrimonial ceremony. He is a beautiful stud but can be much of a handful. But not as taxing as most.”
Harry bowed again, then headed straight to Isabel. “He’s not going to be studding anytime soon. The sonofabitch nearly blew off my balls,” he whispered.
“Please don’t tell me ...”
“No little Gippers showing up soon. Actually ever. And it felt good.”
At the supper table, Arthur spent a few minutes introducing his men as well.
James was his first man, whatever that was. But he was bigger than any professional wrestler, so Isabel was guessing he was also a bodyguard of sorts.
Tristan, his second man, who was only slightly smaller than James and who she recognized from the woods, bowed his head. Isabel waved at him, hoping he hadn’t seen her bare butt while she’d stopped to pee. Unfortunately, Tristan grinned at her, which gave her the feeling that at least he had.
And on and on with other men who meant something to Arthur or Gwen. It was a big freaking table.
And then, finally, she was introduced to Lancelot. He stood and bowed more deeply than all of the other men. He was her target, apparently, but not a single one of her hormones charged to life.
Lancelot, a darling blusher, was as shy as shy could be. To be certain, he was a striking young man, having light brown hair with sun-streaked golden threads that Isabel would love to challenge her hairdresser, Pelo, to try to duplicate. When he finally managed to meet her gaze, she figured he had hazel eyes, which were looking more green than brown at the moment because of the forest green tunic he was wearing. He stumbled his way through the greeting, which was rather sweet. But not the least bit sexy, unlike the hearty laughter with which King Arthur had greeted her. Damn, damn and triple damn, not a single sex gene in Isabel’s body fired up.
The rest of the King’s men were a little grumpy during supper, and she was figuring that it was because she’d asked for her men to be invited.
Isabel was in a bit of a pickle. Her attraction to Lancelot amounted to less than zero. Less than the pickled eel placed in front of her at supper. Less than Hester the court jester’s jokes, which were sadly lame.
As was he, in an endearing way. He had to be seventy if he was a day, and the blue and purple silklike robes didn’t do much for his pasty skin. But Hester tried so hard to entertain the crowd that Isabel decided he was a cool enough fellow, anyway.
Arthur winked at her, and then so did Hester before he bowed and took his leave. “What fun, yes?” Isabel said. Pretty much no one agreed with her. Except for Arthur, who couldn’t stop grinning.
A ton of food was delivered to the table. Almost all of it meat. Even though she was not a vegetarian—not completely, but for the most part—she was totally grossed out. Especially with the meat. Boar, rabbit, squirrel and, oh man, more pickled eel. The best she found were cabbage and beets. Not her favorite veggies.
Isabel had never been a liquor person, but tonight she was drinking like a sailor, hoping alcohol would help in her mission. Both to eat the eel without throwing up and to try to seduce the child knight who was just as inedible.
So far, just not working. He was cute enough, if you liked boys. Which she had, when she’d been a girl. But as handsome as he was, he was young. Way too young.
The sad thing was, he had no interest in Isabel, either. He had eyes for only Gwen. Which was apparent to everyone in the room except for King Arthur, who was so busy talking about this important meeting with other knights of the realm that he seemed oblivious to the looks exchanged between Gwen and the cute boy.
Seemed that everyone at the table watched and scowled, but felt nothing could be done to stop it as long as the king said nothing. Either the king had forbidden all to even
She felt so bad about it all, but then again she had other things to mourn over.
Like the eel.
Like her total disinterest in Lancelot.
Like Lancelot’s total disinterest in her.
Like Guinevere’s total interest in Lancelot.
She was in magical hell.
Isabel could not fix all things at once, but there were a couple over which she had some control. She politely requested that a servant remove the eel, the boar, the rabbit and the squirrel, and then politely excused herself to go fashion a barf bag.
CHAPTER SIX
OKAY, so she was a little tipsy. But not so much that she didn’t notice that Gwen and Lancelot had excused themselves almost at the same time. They didn’t even try to pretend. It broke Isabel’s heart for Arthur. He had to know. And yet he didn’t seem to know. Or care.
“Would you enjoy a tour of the castle, Countess?” Arthur asked her, as the evening meal had thankfully concluded.
Thank God for Mary, who had met her in the garderobe, carrying a bowl of mint. Otherwise she’d be afraid that her breath would topple trees.
“I would love it, sir.” What she wanted was a tour of his body, but the castle would have to do for now.
“The gardens,” he said. “They mean much to Gwen. For a reason I cannot fathom, she tends to them almost daily, even though we have many, many gardeners to do such things.”
“We all have our favorite hobbies.”
“And what would be yours, Countess?”
Photography immediately came to mind, but she doubted she could explain that one. Sex was also high on her list, or it had been back in the day. Or forward in the day. She’d love to experiment here, but unfortunately not with Lance, but with the king. “I very much enjoy exercise. Sporting, as it were.”
The surprise on his face was so adorable, she wanted to kiss those raised eyebrows. “Sporting? Such as exercising the horses?”
“Well, yes, but much more than that. For example, I love jogging.”
“Jogging? What is this jogging?”
