CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE great hall, once again, looked amazing. The fire in the immense fireplace burned bright, the flowers were abundant and awesome, and the aroma in the air was truly delicious, not a single pig or chicken scent in the air.
“Is Ashton ready?” Isabel whispered to Gwen.
“As ready as any man, scared skinny at the thought,” Gwen replied.
“And Jenny?”
“She knows nothing. But we had a long talk this day. She is aware that she will never lose her position, no matter the circumstances.”
“Does she love him?”
“Do you love Arthur?”
Isabel stared at her.
“All right, that was not fair. I will ask an easier question. Do I love Lance?”
“I truly hope that you do. Because, Gwen, he is so in love with you.”
“I do. I do not have a waking moment when I do not think of him. Nor many sleeping moments, for that matter.”
“Good. He is a wonderful man. You two were meant to be together.”
“Good. Now back to you and Arthur.”
“You sound very much like Hester the Jester.”
Gwen laughed, then sipped her wine. “That ‘take my wife, please,’ truly is getting old, do you not think?”
“You have no idea. I mean it, really. You have no idea.”
“Now back to you and Arthur.”
“How about we not go back to Arthur and me?”
“Isabel, you asked for honesty from me. I am merely asking that you are also as honest. I care for Arthur deeply. I know that I have already wounded him. I would truly hope that no other woman would scar him in that way again.”
Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. “My honest answer is that I cannot predict the future, Gwen.”
“He loves you, Isabel. Deeply. He has admitted as much to me.”
“Fine,” Isabel said, turning to face Gwen. “I love him. I love him more than I ever thought was possible. I would walk through fire for that man. Okay? Honest enough for you?”
It was a scene out of a really bad B movie. The music had stopped, the conversation had stopped. Everything in the freaking room had stopped. Except, apparently, Isabel’s overly loud tirade.
She looked around, and the one face that stood out was Arthur’s. And he was grinning.
“And
Nobody moved. “Okay, okay, so the play had a cheesy ending. But I didn’t write it, so give me a break. Musicians? Please? Or for God’s sake, where is Hester?”
“THANKS for stepping in there, homey,” Isabel muttered when Arthur brought her a fresh goblet of wine.
“’Twas in a bit of shock. I did not realize that you put on plays in Dumont.”
“Well, we do.”
“And ’twas not a cheesy, as you say, ending to me. Sounded much more of a love story.”
“Could be.”
“One about a woman professing her love for a man.”
“Could be.”
“A woman who would walk through fire for her man.”
“So you got the gist. Your point?”
“I would also walk through fire for my woman.”
“And who would she be?”
“Take a wild guess. I give you two chances, and the first better not be Pix.”
Her irritation sort of disappeared. Fast. “I am so sorry, Arthur,” she said, finally looking up and facing him. “I never meant those words for anyone’s ears but Gwen’s.”
“I know this. Do you know how proud and happy I am that the entire hall happened to overhear?”
“How is that possible? I could have just put both you and Gwen in jeopardy.”
He shook his head. “No. We are soon to be free.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I would hope those would be walnuts. I would kiss you mindlessy right now, but I made a promise to you earlier and must needs fulfill it.”
And he did. He loped to the large table and jumped up on it, without using a single bench or chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Camelot, please have a listen.”
The entire hall went eerily quiet.
“We have so many reasons to celebrate this night. We will begin with an important one. Ashton? Where be you?”
“I am here, my king,” a voice came out of the crowd.
“Then get your bloody ass over here.”
Arthur looked around. “Jenny, where are you?”
It just so happened Jenny was very near to Isabel. Isabel inched over. “Go with it, Jenny.”
“May I have a sip of your wine, Countess?
“You mean Isabel. My name is Isabel.”
“May I, Isabel, have a—”
Isabel thrust it at her. “Slug down all you want. Just remember that the word you need to pronounce correctly is ‘yes.’”
Jenny did a great job of glugging. In fact, she completely drained Isabel’s glass. Then she stood up tall, looking back once. “The word is?”
“Yes,” Isabel said, nearly laughing.
“What is the question going to be?”
“Let it be a surprise,” Isabel said, as she pushed the girl farther toward the table. “Just answer yes.”
Jenny held up a thumb, “Got it, Isabel.”
“WILL you exchange vows with me, Jenny? Will you agree to be my wife?”
Jenny looked back to that corner of the room to see both the countess and her queen nodding fervently.
“Yes,” she said. “I want, very much, to be your wife.”
Ashton stood from his bended knee. He pulled her to him and said, “Good gods, woman. What took you so long?”
“I wanted to be certain you meant it,” she said.
Arthur bowed his head and chuckled, then glanced over at Isabel and Gwen, and smiled. They smiled back at him. Good gods, the women in his life. He did not know whether to feel blessed or afraid. Possibly he should feel a bit of both.
AFTER the celebration for Ashton and Jenny settled, Arthur again stood up upon the table.
“We have more to be thankful for this evening. We have peace without any Camelot blood shed.” A roar
