her,” Andrea chimed in.
“I’ll take over the next shift,” Juliet added, giving her husband a challenging glare.
Colin raised his hands in surrender and a soft smile curved her lips.
Merci chimed in reluctantly, “Shit, I guess I’ll also sit with her, but I know she won’t be happy to see me if she wakes to find me there.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “What the hell, perhaps it’s time we all bury the hatchet.”
Drake bent and brushed his lips softly over hers. “That’s why I love you so, my little spitfire. You don’t carry a grudge.”
“Not too long at least.” She chuckled, her voice husky as she gazed at Drake tenderly the deeper meaning of her words for only him to understand.
Arthur’s strident tone cracked in the room like a whip. “I will be the one to take care of her.” He knew he sounded possessive, and at the moment he really couldn’t care less.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Drake ventured.
Arthur pinned him with a fierce glare. “I promised she would be safe here, that has been compromised. We need to keep her out of Vance’s hands.”
“I’m the one who did this to her, so I should be the one to help her through the memories when she awakes.” Viviane stepped forward. “The least amount of contact between the two of you the better.”
He shook his head, his jaw tensing with irritation. “Too late for that, Viviane.” The accusation hit with the force of a screaming banshee. “It’s my problem. She’s my responsibility, no one else’s.”
He turned away from Viviane’s stunned, hurt expression and strode through the door with Gwen curled up in his arms and never looked back.
Chapter Seven
Memories crashed over her with brutal force, threatening to crush her with the pressure of too much too soon. No gentle easing came as they tore through her, forcing her to relieve what was best forgotten.
“You are to marry.”
The words filled her with both unease and excitement. “And who is this man I am to become a wife to, my lord?” Relieved to note the steadiness in her words, Guinevere held still, praying for only one name to fall from her father’s, Leodengrace’s, lips.
“Arthur wishes for your hand, and I have given it,” her father announced with a wave of his hand. “Start preparations at once for you ride to Camelot in a fortnight.”
Fog swirled obscuring everything in a shimmering grey void. Gwen wondered if this was death. Had Viviane struck her down for some indecipherable reason? Lost within the grey mass, she hesitated. Should she go forward, back, left or right? Which way did she go to escape, or was there any escape to be had? Suddenly, a bright beam of light punched through the mist, and she fell into it.
The sharp scent of tallow clung in the chilled air. Rocks roughly hewn formed walls adorned with bright, colorful tapestries. Eyes as blue as a summer sky stared at her. Arthur Pendragon took her hand and raised it to his full sensuous lips.
“Welcome to Camelot, Lady Guinevere.”
“My father sends his greetings along with a thousand men and a most peculiar table. He ruled wisely for many years seated around it and trusts you will do the same.”
“The King of Camerlerd already has given me the most precious of possessions.” One golden eyebrow rose as he gave her a pointed look.
Heat flushed her face even as she held his gaze. She had loved him from the first time she saw him riding with his knights. His long golden hair flying behind him, Excalibur held high, ready to aid her father against his enemies who sought to take his kingdom.
“You seek to beguile one who is already under your spell.” Her breathless response brought a smile to Arthur, softening his features and giving him a boyish charm.
“Ah, you are mistaken in that, my lady, for you had my heart the first time I spied you on the battlements with sword in hand ready for battle.”
He brought her closer to him, his heat and his scent of leather and
“I’ll take over the next shift,” Juliet added, giving her husband a challenging glare.
Colin raised his hands in surrender and a soft smile curved her lips.
Merci chimed in reluctantly, “Shit, I guess I’ll also sit with her, but I know she won’t be happy to see me if she wakes to find me there.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “What the hell, perhaps it’s time we all bury the hatchet.”
Drake bent and brushed his lips softly over hers. “That’s why I love you so, my little spitfire. You don’t carry a grudge.”
“Not too long at least.” She chuckled, her voice husky as she gazed at Drake tenderly the deeper meaning of her words for only him to understand.
Arthur’s strident tone cracked in the room like a whip. “I will be the one to take care of her.” He knew he sounded possessive, and at the moment he really couldn’t care less.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Drake ventured.
Arthur pinned him with a fierce glare. “I promised she would be safe here, that has been compromised. We need to keep her out of Vance’s hands.”
“I’m the one who did this to her, so I should be the one to help her through the memories when she awakes.” Viviane stepped forward. “The least amount of contact between the two of you the better.”
He shook his head, his jaw tensing with irritation. “Too late for that, Viviane.” The accusation hit with the force of a screaming banshee. “It’s my problem. She’s my responsibility, no one else’s.”
He turned away from Viviane’s stunned, hurt expression and strode through the door with Gwen curled up in his arms and never looked back.
Chapter Seven
Memories crashed over her with brutal force, threatening to crush her with the pressure of too much too soon. No gentle easing came as they tore through her, forcing her to relieve what was best forgotten.
“You are to marry.”
The words filled her with both unease and excitement. “And who is this man I am to become a wife to, my lord?” Relieved to note the steadiness in her words, Guinevere held still, praying for only one name to fall from her father’s, Leodengrace’s, lips.
“Arthur wishes for your hand, and I have given it,” her father announced with a wave of his hand. “Start preparations at once for you ride to Camelot in a fortnight.”
Fog swirled obscuring everything in a shimmering grey void. Gwen wondered if this was death. Had Viviane struck her down for some indecipherable reason? Lost within the grey mass, she hesitated. Should she go forward, back, left or right? Which way did she go to escape, or was there any escape to be had? Suddenly, a bright beam of light punched through the mist, and she fell into it.
The sharp scent of tallow clung in the chilled air. Rocks roughly hewn formed walls adorned with bright, colorful tapestries. Eyes as blue as a summer sky stared at her. Arthur Pendragon took her hand and raised it to his full sensuous lips.
“Welcome to Camelot, Lady Guinevere.”
“My father sends his greetings along with a thousand men and a most peculiar table. He ruled wisely for many years seated around it and trusts you will do the same.”
“The King of Camerlerd already has given me the most precious of possessions.” One golden eyebrow rose as he gave her a pointed look.
Heat flushed her face even as she held his gaze. She had loved him from the first time she saw him riding with his knights. His long golden hair flying behind him, Excalibur held high, ready to aid her father against his enemies who sought to take his kingdom.
“You seek to beguile one who is already under your spell.” Her breathless response brought a smile to Arthur, softening his features and giving him a boyish charm.
“Ah, you are mistaken in that, my lady, for you had my heart the first time I spied you on the battlements with sword in hand ready for battle.”
He brought her closer to him, his heat and his scent of leather and
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