-9-

Guinevere closed the door behind her and immediately made her way to the living room. She sat down in Tom's large armchair and took several steadying breaths.

It was only when she had calmed down did she allow herself to think about the man currently in the office with her father. It had become clear that she and the King would meet in every lifetime and that their past and futures would always be intertwined, but even with knowing that, Guinevere was not prepared for the jolt of emotion that raced through her when she looked into his eyes.

She dropped her face into her hands and willed herself to focus. Now was not a time to fall apart. What with Merlin and Morgana's warning about Albion's destruction if she did not ally herself with them, and with Arthur showing up with no memory of who he was, she needed to be stronger than ever. Arthur will remember one day—after all, didn't she live most of her life blissfully unaware of her past?—and she would have to relive her nightmares all over again.

Guinevere lifted her head and took a deep breath.

"It has to stop," she said out loud.

"I'm sorry," a deep male voice said from the doorway. "What has to stop?"

Arthur.

Guinevere turned her head and regarded the man standing there. He looked tired and there was a slight crease between his brows as he watched her. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers and he was looking at her with no amusement on his face. He was studying her.

"Nothing," she shook her head and stood up. "I take it that the negotiations are over?"

"Yes," Arthur said. "And I apologize, Ms. Leodegrance, if you do not approve of my methods..."

"Your methods are none of my business," Guinevere cut in. "It's my father that I am thinking about."

"I didn't shortchange your father," Arthur's voice was rising.

"I never said you did," the steel in Guinevere's voice matched his.

An uneasy silence hung between them. Guinevere started for the doorway, hoping to have a few words with her dad before she left, when Arthur's hand on her arm stopped her from moving.

"Who are you?" He asked as he looked into her eyes.

Guinevere looked at the hand encircling her wrist and then up at the man whose gaze was fixed on her. She saw no aggression and no malice in them, but there were a lot of questions. Had she been weaker, had she not learned from her past, she knew she would have given in. But she wasn't that person anymore.

"I would suggest letting me go, Mr. Pendragon," she said in a calm voice.

Arthur looked down and saw his hand locked around her wrist.

"I'm sorry," he dropped her arm and rubbed his brow. "I apologize, I...I don't know what came over me."

Guinevere nodded, acknowledging his apology, but neither accepting it nor absolving him. She started to walk away again, only to be stopped by Arthur once more.

"Ms. Leodegrance," his tone was more cautious now. "Who are you?"

Guinevere raised an eyebrow as she turned to look at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I have the strangest feeling that I've met you before," Arthur's eyes searched hers. "That, you and I, we mean something to each other."

Guinevere hoped that her sudden intake of breath would be unnoticed by Arthur.

He was beginning to remember.

"I think you'd better leave, Mr. Pendragon," she gestured to the door with a lift of her chin. "You have what you came for."

"I meant no offense...," Arthur began to walk toward her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Pendragon," Guinevere's tone told him that the conversation was over. "Please close the door on your way out."

Arthur stopped in his tracks and looked at her.

"Again, Ms. Leodegrance," he said when he passed her on his way to the front door. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Guinevere said nothing as he walked out of her father's home. Only when she no longer heard the engine of his car did she expel the breath she had been holding.

"It won't be long," she told herself. "He will remember soon and God help..."

She stopped herself from continuing that sentence.

No.

God help Arthur Pendragon. This time, she will stand up for herself.