Part 39: link
They sit in the garden, on a fresh blanket spread over a calm spot amid the rosebushes. Arthur has even brought some pillows out this time.
“Okay, let’s try this again. u must be hungry door now,” he says, and she laughs.
Taking care to block the basket from Gwen’s sight with his body, he reaches in. He brings out two plates and places a small oblong box on one of them. He hands this plate to Guinevere.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“A present,” he says.
She looks at him quizzically.
“Just open it.” He is fidgeting, so she gives in. I’ll ask for an explanation later.
She opens the box and inside is a delicate goud chain with a teardrop-shaped goud pendant, slightly curved and open in the center. Nestled at the bottom is a beautiful round stone of an unusual transparent brown color. It sparkles in the sunlight.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, “I’ve never seen a stone like this.” She lifts it into her palm.
“They zei it was called a ‘chocolate diamond.’ It… um, made me think of you,” he says sheepishly, suddenly shy. He peeks up at her. She gives him a slow smile, looking up at him through her lashes.
“I love it, thank you, Arthur,” she leans over and kisses him sweetly. I don’t even care why anymore, she thinks. “I’ll definitely wear it tonight,” she adds.
“You could wear it now,” he suggests quietly, taking the box from her and removing the necklace. He crawls around behind her and clasps the halsketting, ketting closed, kissing her neck as he does so.
“Put that ice pack back on your head, love,” he whispers in her ear. She snorts and does as she is told.
She turns and kisses him, her free hand on his cheek. “I know we put some food in that basket,” she whispers to him, smiling against his lips.
He laughs and nudges her nose with his. “I’m hungry, too. But after lunch u are going to lay down and rest,” he says sternly.
“Yes, sir,” she says, trying not to smile.
“This really isn’t necessary, Arthur,” Gwen tells him as he tucks her into the bed.
“I want u to have a good rest, and lounging on the patio of on a sofa is not sufficient,” he tells her, sitting beside her on the bed, above the covers.
“You sound like an old nanny,” she complains, but she snuggles down into the bed. “Will u stay here for a while with me at least?” she asks, closing her eyes.
“Of course,” he says, scooting closer. She reaches out and places her hand on his stomach. He covers her hand with his, craving the contact with her skin.
“It was a turtle,” she says, eyes still closed.
I thought Roger zei she didn’t have a concussion, Arthur thinks. “What was a turtle?”
“That I was going to look at when I fell. I thought I saw a turtle. It could have been a cleverly disguised rock, though.” She smiles, scooting a little closer to Arthur.
“I fell in there once,” he admits.
Gwen opens one eye and looks up at him. “Really?”
“Of course I was twelve at the time…”
She kicks him ineffectually, the blankets inhibiting her.
“With Merlin?” she asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t hit my head, but I did manage to get myself covered in mud. It had been raining the vorige day. Merlin helped me out, but he was even skinnier then and had no strength at all,” he laughs at the memory, “so he basically dragged me up the bank. He’s lucky he didn’t wind up in the water with me.”
Guinevere chuckles softly, and Arthur can tell she is drifting. He reaches down and strokes a few loose tendrils of hair away from her face. He leans his head back against the headboard and closes his own eyes, his thumb gently stroking her hand beneath his.
“Owww…” Arthur wakes up, head slumped over on his shoulder, resulting in a fantastically stiff neck. He opens his eyes and looks down and finds Gwen has already woken. He continues to straighten up, rubbing the side of his neck, and he hears the douche running. Of course, she never got a douche after falling in the stream.
He stands and wanders in to investigate. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. I imagine u probably have a stiff neck now, though.”
“You have no idea,” he groans. “Did u bring that peppermint stuff with you?”
“Um, no, but I’ll work on it a bit anyway if u like. Once I’m done here, obviously.”
“I could come in…” he suggests.
“Arthur, have u been in here? I’m surprised u fit at all.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” he says, remembering the small stand-up douche is not his over-tub douche back at the flat.
The water turns off. “I’m all done anyway.” She steps out and wraps herself in a towel, then grabs another and towels her hair. “Just let me get my hair into some semblance of order and I’ll see to that neck of yours.”
“As u wish, my lady,” he says, walking back to the bedroom. He pulls his overhemd, shirt out of the suitcase and holds it up. “Iron,” he mutters, and walks down the hall to get the ironing board and iron.
Gwen comes out, looking cozy in a dressing gown, hair drying in loose curls. The sight of Arthur ironing his overhemd, shirt makes her stop in the doorway.
“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she teases him, and he laughs.
“I don’t like wrinkled clothes,” he tells her.
“Well, when you’re done, take off your overhemd, shirt and come over here,” she says, sitting on the bed.
“I like the sound of that,” he says, grinning at her.
He walks to the bed, sitting in front of Gwen. She perches on her knees to get better leverage and starts rubbing his neck, pressing her thumb along the side and sliding it down along the muscle.
“I’m not going to smell like flowers of anything, am I?” he asks, noting the lotion she has squirted into her hand before beginning.
“No, this one doesn’t have a fancy scent,” she laughs, continuing to work the sore muscle.
“You are amazingly strong, my love.”
“Do not be fooled door my size. I am mighty.”
Arthur laughs, then, “Ow! That’s it right there.”
“Indeed.”
Gwen sits back on her heels, done with Arthur’s neck.
“Much better,” he says, rolling his head side to side, trying it out. He turns and leans over to kiss her, but stops when he notices something red peeking out of the opening of her dressing gown.
Arthur pokes a finger in and slides the neck of the japon, jurk to the side to investigate. He sees part of a bra in the same deep soft red as the dress she is wearing tonight.
“Ooo, is this new?” he asks, opening the gewaad, kleed more. She grabs his hand and kisses his fingers.
“Yes. Now behave of we’ll miss our reservation.” Guinevere stands and goes to the wardrobe, pulling out the dress.
Arthur watches as she removes the dressing gown. Please let it be a set, he thinks. Thank you, God, he thinks when the gewaad, kleed hits the floor, tonen him a silk riem, thong in the same red color.
Gwen slides the dress on over her head and walks back over to Arthur. She places her hand under his chin and gently closes his mouth, laughing. “When you’re done ogling, u can zip me, pervert.”
“Yes, but I’m your pervert,” he laughs, sliding his hands inside the dress and around to caress her stomach.
“Arthur, zip the damn dress.” Her own laughter diminishes the severity of the command considerably, but Arthur complies, then stands to get dressed as well.
Gwen goes back into the bathroom to finish her hair, and Arthur strolls in, looking breathtaking in a white overhemd, shirt and the same dark grey trousers he wore on their first date.
“You look unbelievable in a plain white shirt, do u know that?” Gwen asks, looking at him in the mirror.
The restaurant is a dimly lit but cozy place with dark wood and linen tablecloths. Arthur and Gwen are seated at an intimate tafel, tabel at one side of the dining room.
“How is your neck?” Gwen asks, reaching over to touch the side of his neck.
“Much better, thank you, love,” he says, taking her hand and kissing her fingers.
After their order is taken, Gwen says, “So tell me meer about coming here when u were a child.”
“It was mostly boring. For a kid, u know, there’s not a lot to do. And my father wasn’t terribly good at finding ways to entertain me.”
“But u did do some things together. u fished,” she suggests.
“Yes, we did a lot of that. I had a bike here, so I’d ride that around some. I practiced skipping rocks.”
“Which I noticed you’re very good at. Eight, six, and I believe the last one I saw was twelve.”
“Number of skips?”
“Of course.” She grins and takes a drink. “What else did u do?”
“I’d go to the firehouse. I liked the trucks.” He smiles. “But of course, what little boy doesn’t like brand trucks?”
“To visit Roger?”
“Yes, he was there. He let me hang around, help out where I could.”
“So is he part of the reason u became a firefighter?”
“I suppose so. All the lads there were always so nice to me. I’m sure I was a huge pain most of the time,” he laughs again. “But I liked the idea of helping people, doing something heroic, noble. Seemed a better life than pushing other people’s money around.”
He continues. “Lorraine, his wife, used to let me help her in her garden. I used to call her ‘Mrs. Roger.’ She always had a huge vegetable garden. Depending on when I was there, she’d let me help plant things, which was fun because it involved dirt,” Gwen laughs at this, “and then she’d let me pick things when they were ready, too. I always looked for worms while I was there.”
“Bait?”
He nods.
“So u like to garden?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. Mostly I went because of the dirt-digging aspect. That, and she’d let me eat her strawberries right off the plants.”
“Did they have any children?”
“No. Apparently they couldn’t. So Lorraine was always happy to have me over. u know: I had no mom, she had no child, so we kind of filled a void for each other.” He looks thoughtful. “Of course that never occurred to me until I was an adult.”
Gwen smiles at him and takes his hand. “If u want to stop over and see her, we can do that.”
“That would be nice. We can stop in when we drop off the keys on Monday, then. And maybe we can score some of her amazing aardbei jam,” he smiles expectantly, and she laughs.
“I’d like to meet her,” Gwen says.
He leans over and kisses her briefly, then reaches down and lifts the pendant into his hand. “This really suits you,” he says, running his thumb over it.
“I do love it. It’s beautiful and unique,” she says, and he drops it back against her chest.
He looks around the room briefly, then stops and peers. His eyes narrow, then widen.
“What?” Gwen asks.
“Do u see that couple over there? The woman with the brown hair sitting with what would appear to be her granddad?”
“In the light blue dress that is totally the wrong color for her?”
“Yes.”
“What of them?”
“That’s Sophia and what I presume is her husband.”
“Really?” Gwen leans to try and get a better look.
“Don’t be so obvious!” he laughs, and she settles back.
She peeks again. “Wow, he is old.”
“Stop looking!”
“Arthur, she doesn’t know who I am. Oh. I think we’ve been spotted.”
“Great,” he says unenthusiastically. The food arrives, and an impish smirk crosses Gwen’s face.
“What are u thinking, woman?” he asks, suspicious.
“Just that this could be fun,” she says. She sneaks a peek to make sure Sophia is watching, and she lifts her left hand to Arthur’s face, caressing his cheek, pulling his face to hers slowly. If he can menace Lance, I can aggravate Sophia.
He looks at her, eyes smoldering. “You’re being naughty again,” he says softly, nuzzling her nose for a moment, letting her eyes pull him in.
“Just a little bit,” she whispers against his lips. “Besides, u make it easy when u look at me like that.”
He kisses her, tasting her lips like she was an appetizer. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves,” Gwen says, starting to laugh.
“You started it,” he says, they watch each other, amused, for another moment.
“Food’s here anyway,” she says, glancing in Sophia’s direction again. Gwen picks up her fork and says, “She looks a little ill.”
“Does she?” Arthur asks, trying not to look.
“Could just be that awful color on her, though, I’m not sure.”
Arthur guffaws loudly at this, and several heads turn, causing Gwen to giggle.
“I love it when I make u laugh like that,” she says.
He settles down and tries his food. “Mm. This is really good, try some.” He scoops some of his risotto onto his fork and feeds it to her.
“Yes, very. Would u like to try some of my fish?”
“Of course,” he says, leaning vooruit, voorwaarts so she can feed him a bite. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sophia watching, and she smiles to herself.
They stand to leave after finishing and having a wonderful time pushing the limits of public displays of affection. As they walk out the door, a voice stops them.
“Why, Arthur Pendragon, as I live and breathe!” They turn to see Sophia and her elderly husband approaching them.
I guess they were closer to being finished than we thought, Gwen thinks, steeling herself for whatever is to come. I wonder if she rushed the old boy out the door when she saw us leave.
“Sophia, how nice to see you,” Arthur says, smiling.
What?
Sophia walks right up to him and hugs him, kissing him on both cheeks.
Oh, we’re very continental, aren’t we? Gwen thinks, willing her eyes not to roll.
“How are you, Arthur? It’s been years,” she gushes.
Gwen slips her left hand into Arthur’s elbow, making sure her ring is visible as she does so. She squeezes his arm gently, reminding him that she’s there.
“Oh, Sophia, this is my… fiancée, Guinevere Thomas,” he indicates Gwen. “Gwen, this is Sophia, an old friend.”
“That’s a good one, Arthur, I’m sure she knows we used to go out,” she says, and Gwen resists the urge to kick her. And Arthur. “Lovely to meet you, Gwen,” she says, extending her hand, palm-down, to Gwen.
Does she think I’m going to kiss her hand? Gwen brings her hand forward, grasping Sophia’s and turning it sideways, shaking it properly. “Nice to meet u as well, Sophie,” she says.
“It’s Sophia, actually,” she says, smiling the fakest smile Gwen has ever seen.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Gwen says, returning the same smile to her.
Cow.
“This is my husband, Lord Nigel Fenwyck,” Sophia introduces her husband. “Nigel, this is Arthur Pendragon and his fiancée… Gwen, was it?”
“Yes.” Gwen clenches her jaw, keeping her face neutral.
Gold digger.
The older man transfers his cane to his left hand, shakes Arthur’s hand and says, “Pendragon, was it? Are u Uther’s boy?”
“Yes, I am,” Arthur nods.
“So you’ll be taking the helm of Camelot Bank when Uther retires, then?”
“No sir, I did not kom bij the family business, in fact. I’m a firefighter.”
“Oh. How very… original of you,” he says noncommittally, but the judgment is there, just hiding beneath the surface.
Do not roll your eyes, do not roll your eyes, Gwen thinks, noting that Lord Fenwyck is paying her no heed at all. Fine with me.
“Arthur, the two of u simply must come to thee tomorrow,” Sophia invites.
Good God, does she always talk like that? Gwen digs her nails into Arthur’s arm. He gets the hint.
“Well, actually we have plans tomorrow, but thank u very much for the invitation,” he says, looking sideways at Gwen.
“Oh, pity,” she pouts.
“We’ve kept them long enough, dear,” Nigel prompts, placing his hand on her elbow. Sophia is undeterred.
“Oh! But we’re headed for a walk in the gardens, would u care to accompany us?”
“Actually, my head is beginning to throb a bit,” Gwen antwoorden before Arthur accepts. “I took a nasty spill this morning and got a bit of a bump on the head,” she explains, smiling, touching the bump on her head lightly with her hand.
“Oh, yes, of course, love. We should get u home pagina for some rest,” Arthur seems to regain some of his brain. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Nigel, and Sophia leans in for another hug.
Gwen’s eyes meet Nigel’s, and she is pleasantly surprised to see her ire mirrored in his face. He nods to her, almost imperceptibly, but very respectfully. She smiles sadly at him.
Guinevere gently leads the way to the car, eager to steer Arthur away from that… woman.
She’s quiet. Probably her head is bothering her, he thinks. He looks over at her. She’s looking out the window, hands clasped in her lap.
Hands clasped in her lap. She usually has her hand on my leg.
“How’s your head?” he finally asks, reaching over for her hand.
“I’ll live,” she says. She reluctantly lets him take her hand.
Bloody hell. He has no idea. She sighs, and returns her attention to the night scenery, a dark green blur zipping past.
The fifteen-minute drive back to the cottage feels like it takes several hours.
Part 41: link
They sit in the garden, on a fresh blanket spread over a calm spot amid the rosebushes. Arthur has even brought some pillows out this time.
“Okay, let’s try this again. u must be hungry door now,” he says, and she laughs.
Taking care to block the basket from Gwen’s sight with his body, he reaches in. He brings out two plates and places a small oblong box on one of them. He hands this plate to Guinevere.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“A present,” he says.
She looks at him quizzically.
“Just open it.” He is fidgeting, so she gives in. I’ll ask for an explanation later.
She opens the box and inside is a delicate goud chain with a teardrop-shaped goud pendant, slightly curved and open in the center. Nestled at the bottom is a beautiful round stone of an unusual transparent brown color. It sparkles in the sunlight.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, “I’ve never seen a stone like this.” She lifts it into her palm.
“They zei it was called a ‘chocolate diamond.’ It… um, made me think of you,” he says sheepishly, suddenly shy. He peeks up at her. She gives him a slow smile, looking up at him through her lashes.
“I love it, thank you, Arthur,” she leans over and kisses him sweetly. I don’t even care why anymore, she thinks. “I’ll definitely wear it tonight,” she adds.
“You could wear it now,” he suggests quietly, taking the box from her and removing the necklace. He crawls around behind her and clasps the halsketting, ketting closed, kissing her neck as he does so.
“Put that ice pack back on your head, love,” he whispers in her ear. She snorts and does as she is told.
She turns and kisses him, her free hand on his cheek. “I know we put some food in that basket,” she whispers to him, smiling against his lips.
He laughs and nudges her nose with his. “I’m hungry, too. But after lunch u are going to lay down and rest,” he says sternly.
“Yes, sir,” she says, trying not to smile.
“This really isn’t necessary, Arthur,” Gwen tells him as he tucks her into the bed.
“I want u to have a good rest, and lounging on the patio of on a sofa is not sufficient,” he tells her, sitting beside her on the bed, above the covers.
“You sound like an old nanny,” she complains, but she snuggles down into the bed. “Will u stay here for a while with me at least?” she asks, closing her eyes.
“Of course,” he says, scooting closer. She reaches out and places her hand on his stomach. He covers her hand with his, craving the contact with her skin.
“It was a turtle,” she says, eyes still closed.
I thought Roger zei she didn’t have a concussion, Arthur thinks. “What was a turtle?”
“That I was going to look at when I fell. I thought I saw a turtle. It could have been a cleverly disguised rock, though.” She smiles, scooting a little closer to Arthur.
“I fell in there once,” he admits.
Gwen opens one eye and looks up at him. “Really?”
“Of course I was twelve at the time…”
She kicks him ineffectually, the blankets inhibiting her.
“With Merlin?” she asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t hit my head, but I did manage to get myself covered in mud. It had been raining the vorige day. Merlin helped me out, but he was even skinnier then and had no strength at all,” he laughs at the memory, “so he basically dragged me up the bank. He’s lucky he didn’t wind up in the water with me.”
Guinevere chuckles softly, and Arthur can tell she is drifting. He reaches down and strokes a few loose tendrils of hair away from her face. He leans his head back against the headboard and closes his own eyes, his thumb gently stroking her hand beneath his.
“Owww…” Arthur wakes up, head slumped over on his shoulder, resulting in a fantastically stiff neck. He opens his eyes and looks down and finds Gwen has already woken. He continues to straighten up, rubbing the side of his neck, and he hears the douche running. Of course, she never got a douche after falling in the stream.
He stands and wanders in to investigate. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. I imagine u probably have a stiff neck now, though.”
“You have no idea,” he groans. “Did u bring that peppermint stuff with you?”
“Um, no, but I’ll work on it a bit anyway if u like. Once I’m done here, obviously.”
“I could come in…” he suggests.
“Arthur, have u been in here? I’m surprised u fit at all.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” he says, remembering the small stand-up douche is not his over-tub douche back at the flat.
The water turns off. “I’m all done anyway.” She steps out and wraps herself in a towel, then grabs another and towels her hair. “Just let me get my hair into some semblance of order and I’ll see to that neck of yours.”
“As u wish, my lady,” he says, walking back to the bedroom. He pulls his overhemd, shirt out of the suitcase and holds it up. “Iron,” he mutters, and walks down the hall to get the ironing board and iron.
Gwen comes out, looking cozy in a dressing gown, hair drying in loose curls. The sight of Arthur ironing his overhemd, shirt makes her stop in the doorway.
“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she teases him, and he laughs.
“I don’t like wrinkled clothes,” he tells her.
“Well, when you’re done, take off your overhemd, shirt and come over here,” she says, sitting on the bed.
“I like the sound of that,” he says, grinning at her.
He walks to the bed, sitting in front of Gwen. She perches on her knees to get better leverage and starts rubbing his neck, pressing her thumb along the side and sliding it down along the muscle.
“I’m not going to smell like flowers of anything, am I?” he asks, noting the lotion she has squirted into her hand before beginning.
“No, this one doesn’t have a fancy scent,” she laughs, continuing to work the sore muscle.
“You are amazingly strong, my love.”
“Do not be fooled door my size. I am mighty.”
Arthur laughs, then, “Ow! That’s it right there.”
“Indeed.”
Gwen sits back on her heels, done with Arthur’s neck.
“Much better,” he says, rolling his head side to side, trying it out. He turns and leans over to kiss her, but stops when he notices something red peeking out of the opening of her dressing gown.
Arthur pokes a finger in and slides the neck of the japon, jurk to the side to investigate. He sees part of a bra in the same deep soft red as the dress she is wearing tonight.
“Ooo, is this new?” he asks, opening the gewaad, kleed more. She grabs his hand and kisses his fingers.
“Yes. Now behave of we’ll miss our reservation.” Guinevere stands and goes to the wardrobe, pulling out the dress.
Arthur watches as she removes the dressing gown. Please let it be a set, he thinks. Thank you, God, he thinks when the gewaad, kleed hits the floor, tonen him a silk riem, thong in the same red color.
Gwen slides the dress on over her head and walks back over to Arthur. She places her hand under his chin and gently closes his mouth, laughing. “When you’re done ogling, u can zip me, pervert.”
“Yes, but I’m your pervert,” he laughs, sliding his hands inside the dress and around to caress her stomach.
“Arthur, zip the damn dress.” Her own laughter diminishes the severity of the command considerably, but Arthur complies, then stands to get dressed as well.
Gwen goes back into the bathroom to finish her hair, and Arthur strolls in, looking breathtaking in a white overhemd, shirt and the same dark grey trousers he wore on their first date.
“You look unbelievable in a plain white shirt, do u know that?” Gwen asks, looking at him in the mirror.
The restaurant is a dimly lit but cozy place with dark wood and linen tablecloths. Arthur and Gwen are seated at an intimate tafel, tabel at one side of the dining room.
“How is your neck?” Gwen asks, reaching over to touch the side of his neck.
“Much better, thank you, love,” he says, taking her hand and kissing her fingers.
After their order is taken, Gwen says, “So tell me meer about coming here when u were a child.”
“It was mostly boring. For a kid, u know, there’s not a lot to do. And my father wasn’t terribly good at finding ways to entertain me.”
“But u did do some things together. u fished,” she suggests.
“Yes, we did a lot of that. I had a bike here, so I’d ride that around some. I practiced skipping rocks.”
“Which I noticed you’re very good at. Eight, six, and I believe the last one I saw was twelve.”
“Number of skips?”
“Of course.” She grins and takes a drink. “What else did u do?”
“I’d go to the firehouse. I liked the trucks.” He smiles. “But of course, what little boy doesn’t like brand trucks?”
“To visit Roger?”
“Yes, he was there. He let me hang around, help out where I could.”
“So is he part of the reason u became a firefighter?”
“I suppose so. All the lads there were always so nice to me. I’m sure I was a huge pain most of the time,” he laughs again. “But I liked the idea of helping people, doing something heroic, noble. Seemed a better life than pushing other people’s money around.”
He continues. “Lorraine, his wife, used to let me help her in her garden. I used to call her ‘Mrs. Roger.’ She always had a huge vegetable garden. Depending on when I was there, she’d let me help plant things, which was fun because it involved dirt,” Gwen laughs at this, “and then she’d let me pick things when they were ready, too. I always looked for worms while I was there.”
“Bait?”
He nods.
“So u like to garden?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. Mostly I went because of the dirt-digging aspect. That, and she’d let me eat her strawberries right off the plants.”
“Did they have any children?”
“No. Apparently they couldn’t. So Lorraine was always happy to have me over. u know: I had no mom, she had no child, so we kind of filled a void for each other.” He looks thoughtful. “Of course that never occurred to me until I was an adult.”
Gwen smiles at him and takes his hand. “If u want to stop over and see her, we can do that.”
“That would be nice. We can stop in when we drop off the keys on Monday, then. And maybe we can score some of her amazing aardbei jam,” he smiles expectantly, and she laughs.
“I’d like to meet her,” Gwen says.
He leans over and kisses her briefly, then reaches down and lifts the pendant into his hand. “This really suits you,” he says, running his thumb over it.
“I do love it. It’s beautiful and unique,” she says, and he drops it back against her chest.
He looks around the room briefly, then stops and peers. His eyes narrow, then widen.
“What?” Gwen asks.
“Do u see that couple over there? The woman with the brown hair sitting with what would appear to be her granddad?”
“In the light blue dress that is totally the wrong color for her?”
“Yes.”
“What of them?”
“That’s Sophia and what I presume is her husband.”
“Really?” Gwen leans to try and get a better look.
“Don’t be so obvious!” he laughs, and she settles back.
She peeks again. “Wow, he is old.”
“Stop looking!”
“Arthur, she doesn’t know who I am. Oh. I think we’ve been spotted.”
“Great,” he says unenthusiastically. The food arrives, and an impish smirk crosses Gwen’s face.
“What are u thinking, woman?” he asks, suspicious.
“Just that this could be fun,” she says. She sneaks a peek to make sure Sophia is watching, and she lifts her left hand to Arthur’s face, caressing his cheek, pulling his face to hers slowly. If he can menace Lance, I can aggravate Sophia.
He looks at her, eyes smoldering. “You’re being naughty again,” he says softly, nuzzling her nose for a moment, letting her eyes pull him in.
“Just a little bit,” she whispers against his lips. “Besides, u make it easy when u look at me like that.”
He kisses her, tasting her lips like she was an appetizer. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves,” Gwen says, starting to laugh.
“You started it,” he says, they watch each other, amused, for another moment.
“Food’s here anyway,” she says, glancing in Sophia’s direction again. Gwen picks up her fork and says, “She looks a little ill.”
“Does she?” Arthur asks, trying not to look.
“Could just be that awful color on her, though, I’m not sure.”
Arthur guffaws loudly at this, and several heads turn, causing Gwen to giggle.
“I love it when I make u laugh like that,” she says.
He settles down and tries his food. “Mm. This is really good, try some.” He scoops some of his risotto onto his fork and feeds it to her.
“Yes, very. Would u like to try some of my fish?”
“Of course,” he says, leaning vooruit, voorwaarts so she can feed him a bite. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sophia watching, and she smiles to herself.
They stand to leave after finishing and having a wonderful time pushing the limits of public displays of affection. As they walk out the door, a voice stops them.
“Why, Arthur Pendragon, as I live and breathe!” They turn to see Sophia and her elderly husband approaching them.
I guess they were closer to being finished than we thought, Gwen thinks, steeling herself for whatever is to come. I wonder if she rushed the old boy out the door when she saw us leave.
“Sophia, how nice to see you,” Arthur says, smiling.
What?
Sophia walks right up to him and hugs him, kissing him on both cheeks.
Oh, we’re very continental, aren’t we? Gwen thinks, willing her eyes not to roll.
“How are you, Arthur? It’s been years,” she gushes.
Gwen slips her left hand into Arthur’s elbow, making sure her ring is visible as she does so. She squeezes his arm gently, reminding him that she’s there.
“Oh, Sophia, this is my… fiancée, Guinevere Thomas,” he indicates Gwen. “Gwen, this is Sophia, an old friend.”
“That’s a good one, Arthur, I’m sure she knows we used to go out,” she says, and Gwen resists the urge to kick her. And Arthur. “Lovely to meet you, Gwen,” she says, extending her hand, palm-down, to Gwen.
Does she think I’m going to kiss her hand? Gwen brings her hand forward, grasping Sophia’s and turning it sideways, shaking it properly. “Nice to meet u as well, Sophie,” she says.
“It’s Sophia, actually,” she says, smiling the fakest smile Gwen has ever seen.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Gwen says, returning the same smile to her.
Cow.
“This is my husband, Lord Nigel Fenwyck,” Sophia introduces her husband. “Nigel, this is Arthur Pendragon and his fiancée… Gwen, was it?”
“Yes.” Gwen clenches her jaw, keeping her face neutral.
Gold digger.
The older man transfers his cane to his left hand, shakes Arthur’s hand and says, “Pendragon, was it? Are u Uther’s boy?”
“Yes, I am,” Arthur nods.
“So you’ll be taking the helm of Camelot Bank when Uther retires, then?”
“No sir, I did not kom bij the family business, in fact. I’m a firefighter.”
“Oh. How very… original of you,” he says noncommittally, but the judgment is there, just hiding beneath the surface.
Do not roll your eyes, do not roll your eyes, Gwen thinks, noting that Lord Fenwyck is paying her no heed at all. Fine with me.
“Arthur, the two of u simply must come to thee tomorrow,” Sophia invites.
Good God, does she always talk like that? Gwen digs her nails into Arthur’s arm. He gets the hint.
“Well, actually we have plans tomorrow, but thank u very much for the invitation,” he says, looking sideways at Gwen.
“Oh, pity,” she pouts.
“We’ve kept them long enough, dear,” Nigel prompts, placing his hand on her elbow. Sophia is undeterred.
“Oh! But we’re headed for a walk in the gardens, would u care to accompany us?”
“Actually, my head is beginning to throb a bit,” Gwen antwoorden before Arthur accepts. “I took a nasty spill this morning and got a bit of a bump on the head,” she explains, smiling, touching the bump on her head lightly with her hand.
“Oh, yes, of course, love. We should get u home pagina for some rest,” Arthur seems to regain some of his brain. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Nigel, and Sophia leans in for another hug.
Gwen’s eyes meet Nigel’s, and she is pleasantly surprised to see her ire mirrored in his face. He nods to her, almost imperceptibly, but very respectfully. She smiles sadly at him.
Guinevere gently leads the way to the car, eager to steer Arthur away from that… woman.
She’s quiet. Probably her head is bothering her, he thinks. He looks over at her. She’s looking out the window, hands clasped in her lap.
Hands clasped in her lap. She usually has her hand on my leg.
“How’s your head?” he finally asks, reaching over for her hand.
“I’ll live,” she says. She reluctantly lets him take her hand.
Bloody hell. He has no idea. She sighs, and returns her attention to the night scenery, a dark green blur zipping past.
The fifteen-minute drive back to the cottage feels like it takes several hours.
Part 41: link
