afore, but ’twas only because I . . .”
“Wanted to hurt him, as you had believed all of your life that he had hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“And you now realize that isn’t at all true.”
“Yes. I am so sorry, Father.”
“Please believe in me, Son.”
“I do, father.”
“I believe him. Okay, please round up about ten men who know those trails better than any other. Then go to the baking kitchen and gather the food and drink, and meet me back here in the great hall. There is one other part to this plan the men will probably not like so much. But it could well give you more protection, should you encounter any of these marauders.”
“Yes.” He turned toward the doors.
“Mordred.”
He turned back. “Yes?”
“You are your father’s son. No wonder he loves you as much as he does.”
Mordred blinked. “I consider that the highest praise I have e’er heard. After all I have said and done—”
“You make up for it in this one great and important deed.”
“Thank you, Countess. Father.”
“And, Mordred. Do not, and I mean it, do
“Yes.” He turned and broke into a run.
Arthur stared at her for a moment. “Would that I had the time to make love to you this very moment.”
“Time for that after.”
“I hope with all my heart that is true. There is no way I am going to change your mind about leaving, is there?”
“What is, Not a single chance in hell, Alex.”
“What happened to your hair, Isabel?”
“It happily sacrificed itself for the cause.”
He laid his forehead against hers. “I ne’er knew it was possible to love this desperately.”
“And if you don’t get back out there and continue planning, you won’t know it for long.”
“Yes, you are right,” he said. He kissed her fiercely, right there in the great hall, for any or all to see. And she was still barefoot in her nightgown.
“Isabel?”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“With all that I am and all that I have, to thee I vow.”
“Premature, but so very wonderful to hear. Now go. I have work to do.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You love me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And that is the knowledge and fortification I need to fight the battle of my life.”
“No more scars, Arthur. Not a single scratch.”
“I will do my best to honor that wish.”
“It was not a wish. It was a demand.”
“Yes, Countess,” he said, grinning. “And I cannot wait to be forever at your demand.”
She laughed. “Go, smartass.”
“One more demand I will honor.”
He kissed her one more time, then turned and strode out the door. Oh, how she wished he wasn’t already wearing his armor, so she could get one more chance to ogle that incredible butt.
“I love you,” he called over his shoulder.
One of his men who had just entered stopped short.
“Not you, Ashton. Her,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.
The boy gaped at her.
“Ashton! Come.”
Isabel laughed as she picked up her nightgown and ran up the front stairway, two steps at a time.
AMAZINGLY, by the time she returned to her chamber, Mary, Gwen and Jenny were already waiting for her.
“What now, Isabel?” Gwen asked.
It amazed her that Gwen had so quickly handed over the decision making to her. But then again, Gwen was so young and probably had never encountered war in her life. Unfortunately, Isabel had.
“Gwen, I need you and Jenny to gather the women and tell them all to don their breeches. Skirts are of no help. And then tell them to arm themselves. I don’t care with what. Anything hard and capable of being thrown —”
“As in Camelot baseball?”
“Exactly, but they will need larger rocks than the small stones we used. Or hard tree limbs, swords if they happen to have access to any, anything that could be used as a weapon. Those with strong arms we will station in places where they can knock a man off his horse. Others with weapons such as swords or tree limbs we will place where they can whack the hell out of anyone who comes in reach.”
“Women do not engage in battle, Isabel,” Gwen said.
Isabel plopped her hands on her hips. “What, you wait for your men to die in battle, and then allow the enemy to do with you what they will? In my land, women fight. We might do it differently than men, but we do not stand by and await the outcome. Do you want to help thwart the enemy, Gwen, or do you want to cower in your chambers and hope for the best?”
“We fight,” Jenny said, with a ferocity that was endearing.
“Good. Then go gather the women and tell them to dress and arm themselves appropriately. We will meet in the round-table hall and plan our strategy in, say, a half an hour or so.”
She looked at Gwen. “Buck up, Queen Guinevere. Camelot is your land as well. Do you fight for this castle, or not?”
Gwen nodded. “Let us go do as she asks, Jenny.”
Jenny left at a run. Gwen, not so quickly.
“The queen is a . . . a . . . What is the proper word, Isabel?” Mary asked, as her hands worked feverishly braiding hair.
“I think the word you’re looking for is a wimp.”
“Oh, that is a perfect word. Yes, a wimp.”
“But we must give her a break. This is all unfamiliar and scary.”
Mary looked up from her task. “It is not familiar to you, either, I am guessing. And yet you acted.”
Isabel shrugged as she pulled off her nightgown and started to dress. “I cannot stand by and do nothing.”
“The king wanted you to leave. Why did you not?”
“How did you know that?”
“Oh, I have excellent hearing. People may whisper two or more rooms away and I will hear every word. ’Tis a gift and a curse, in some cases.”
“You are a wonder, Mary. What is not a wonder to me is why James loves you so much. And you, him.”
“And why the king loves you,” Mary said.
“You . . . overheard something?”
“Oh, please, Isabel. James and I were aware from the moment you arrived. It did not take overhearing to figure that much out. It was apparent by the way your . . . bodies interacted.”
Isabel laughed as she pulled on her breeches. “In my land, Mary, we call that body language. I didn’t know we were that apparent.”
