medieval tuxedo. All decked out for the ceremony this evening. Good lord he’d looked so freaking handsome.
He climbed into the bed and held her, his body heat and delicious male scent pure heaven.
“I could get so used to this,” she whispered. “I could become addicted to this.”
“Isabel?”
“Yes?”
“I say it now and I will utter it with my dying breaths, I do thee vow.”
Her drooping eyes shot open.
No answer. Nothing. Nada.
“I do thee vow,” she whispered. But his deep breathing told her he was already sound asleep.
WHEN Isabel woke in the morning, Arthur was gone. It was a lonely, achy feeling to turn over and have the other side of her bed empty. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. The man was up before dawn, worked until the breaking of fast, then straight to work out with his soldiers. Still pissed her off. Yet at the knock at her door, she was reminded she also had a to-do list a mile long today.
“Please enter.”
Jenny peeked her head in the door. “’Tis me, mistress.”
“Thank goodness. Tea, Jenny?”
Jenny grinned and entered, her tray full of all kinds of delicious-smelling goodies, as well as tea.
“What is this, breakfast in bed?”
“The master said you had such an exhausting evening that you might prefer to just laze a bit, mum.”
“Oh, the master is wonderful.”
“He truly is, mum,” Jenny said.
“I am so sorry you have to pull double duty, Jenny.”
“Oh, I do not mind at all. Mary has taken over my duties many times when I was . . . ill.”
“Ill. Right.”
Isabel drank the heavenly tea, almost moaned at the pastries and dug into delicious scrambled eggs. “This is so good,” she said after a long sip of tea.
“I am so glad, Countess.”
“My name is Isabel.”
“Oh, I could not!”
Déjà vu.
“Would you enjoy a morning bath, Countess?”
“You know, I think I would prefer an afternoon bath today, Mistress Jenny. But thank you for asking.”
Jenny giggled. She was tall and thin with really long brownish black hair. She could be a Paris runway model with a little makeup . . . and a better wardrobe.
“If I may say, Countess, Mary has had nothing but wonderful praises upon you.”
“Thank you, Jenny! That is so sweet. I adore her.”
“She says that you have a way of making toenails look pretty.”
“It’s a girl secret, but if you want me to paint your toenails, I will be happy to.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Especially if you call me Isabel.”
“Oh, I could not!”
Good lord, even one at a time was tiring. She wondered if she could talk Arthur into passing a law that all servants were allowed to call people by their damn freaking names.
She smiled at runway-model Jenny. “Please go wash your feet. Scrub them and then dry them. Then come back and I will paint them for you.”
Jenny’s grayish eyes shined. “Thank you so much, m’lady! I will. And, oh, I forgot, Queen Guinevere would appreciate a word.”
“She is welcome anytime.”
And just like that, a knock on the door.
“Come on in, Gwen,” Isabel called.
Except it was Mary who sailed in, her eyes glowing.
Isabel nearly jumped out of bed until she realized she was naked. So she just grabbed the top fur and wrapped it around her. “Oh, Mary, you look wonderful! I assume—”
“Isabel?” Gwen said. “May I come in?”
“Perfect timing,” Isabel said.
“No! I am going to miss all of the good stuff!” Jenny said.
“Hurry,” Isabel said. “We will engage in idle chitchat until you return. In fact, I’ll put clothes on before you return.”
Jenny raced from the room.
“Plop down on the floor, ladies, while I don a nightgown.”
“I’VE promised Jenny to do her toes,” Isabel said. “And she very much wants to be here for girl chat. Do either of you have a problem with that?”
Mary and Gwen both shook their heads.
“Jenny is one of the few who has never, ever turned on me,” Mary said. “I trust her almost as I trust you.”
“And I trust her with all things,” Gwen added.
But Isabel couldn’t help it. She kept looking into Mary’s sparkling sapphire eyes and she fell on her side, laughing. “That good, Mary?”
“Oh, Isabel, I had no . . . It was . . . Did you guys know they have these big picklelike things?”
Gwen and Isabel looked at each other, then both fell over—Isabel again—laughing.
Jenny came running back in the room. “Oh, no! What did I miss?”
“We were discussing pickles,” Gwen choked out.
“What is so funny about that?”
“I did not say pickle!” Mary said. “I said picklelike. It sort of sticks out like this, and it’s kind of wrinkly and —”
“Stop!” Isabel said. “I’m going to split my spleen.”
It took a while, but Gwen and Isabel finally stopped laughing, although they had to avoid looking at each other to accomplish that feat.
When Isabel finally got it together, she looked at Mary. “So?”
“I have a new found appreciation for pickles. The big ones.”
They all busted up all over again, even Mary and Jenny. They were all on the floor laughing. Isabel managed to hug Mary and say, “I am so happy for you. Even though I’ll never get that image out of my mind.”
Mary looked at her. “Isabel, neither will I, as I will be facing it every night.”
Isabel had to hold her tummy to keep it from exploding.
“Countess!”
Isabel was too busy laughing to hear.
“Countess!”
Jenny shook her shoulder. “I believe the king is speaking to you, mum.”
Isabel sat up. “Your Highness?” she said, all laughter gone at the look on his face. “What may—”
“A word?”
“You may speak freely here, King Arthur.”
“A private word.”
She wasn’t even dressed yet. But she rolled to her feet and followed him out to the hallway.
He pulled her, and not even gently, away from her door.
