Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
There was no denying it. Despite a week's worth of duchess training, Gwen remained a farm girl at heart, as once again, she woke before first light.
The duke lay tangled with her, snoring softly, his blonde head heavy on her breast.
She wished she could let him sleep all morning. After his efforts last night, he'd certainly earned his rest.
But all too soon it was dawn. She could hear servants stirring on the lower level of the house.
"Arthur," she whispered. She teased her fingers through the silky strands of his tousled hair. "Arthur, I have to go. It's nearly morning."
He clutched her tight around the middle.
"It can't be morning. I won't let it be morning."
She smiled.
"I don't think even the Duke of Bradford, can make time stand still."
"He can try."
At that, he pulled her down and yanked the bed sheet over them both, making a sort of tent for two.
The early morning light shone through the linen, painting their naked bodies with a warm, honey-gold glow.
And just like that, Gwen ceased worrying about what would happen later that day, and for the rest of her life. She was here now. In his arms.
His touch could make her forget everything.
Except, the muffled crash and scrape of a grate being cleaned downstairs. That was hard to ignore.
"Is the door locked?" she asked.
He made a nod of confirmation, as he nibbled on her breast.
"It's locked."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
His hand delved between her thighs, but she put a hand to his chest, holding him back.
"Please go check. I'll feel safer."
He stared at her for a moment, then said, as he rose up on his haunches,
"Of course...I won't have you feeling anything less than safe in my bed."
With a quick kiss to her brow, he rose from the mattress and made his way towards the door. And Gwen lazily rolled onto her side, watching him.
As Arthur covered the distance in easy strides, Gwen admired the long, lean muscles of his calves and the sculpted tone of his shoulders and back.
And his bum...'Lord above.' The world has not seen such a perfectly formed behind, since the sixth day of Creation.
His buttocks were taut, rounded domes of pure muscle. And as he walked, tantalizing hollows appeared above each cheek, alternating with every step.
Right, left, right...
He reached the door and rattled the latch.
"Locked," he confirmed aloud.
Then he turned around...'Praise be.' And began the walk back.
If he was arousing to view from behind, he was devastating in the frontal approach.
"Wait," Gwen said. "Stop there."
Arthur halted.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"It's just...I've lied to you about something."
His blonde eyebrows gathered together and his eyes darkened like storm clouds.
"What?"
"I wasn't truly that concerned about the door latch," she confessed. "I just wanted to watch you walk across the room."
It took Arthur a moment for her words to sink in, then, he laughed, making his abdominal muscles tense in a delicious manner.
She reclined on her elbow and sighed languidly.
"You're so beautiful. If 'beautiful' is the right word to use for a man."
"I wouldn't know. I don't often compliment naked men." He tugged at his ear in a self-conscious gesture. "I'm starting to feel like a display in the British Museum."
"You belong in a museum." She shook her head, amazed. "How do you stay so fit? You're a nobleman, but your body puts farmhands to shame."
He scrubbed a palm over his washboard of a belly.
"I just stay active. It's important to me. One winter at Oxford, I caught pneumonia. I laid sick in bed for months and nearly died. It was a difficult time."
Gwen softened, she could imagine it would have been. Not only for him, but for his parents.
He was their only child, remaining of four, and if something had happened to him...
He confirmed her suspicions.
"I was already a disappointment to them. But it seemed the least I could do, was stay alive, you know? As soon as I was able, I worked hard to recover my strength."
He stretched and flexed one arm.
"Not only strength, but balance, reflexes. And I've tried to stay fit ever since. Lately, it's mostly the fencing."
Gwen smiled cheekily.
"All that thrusting has served you well."
"Fencing's not only about the thrusting." He drew closer. "It's about quickness of mind and body. Flexibility, concentration and strategy."
The dark quality in his voice, was making her intimate places swell and ache.
Her gaze dropped to his eager, arching member and seeing how badly he wanted her...made her desire him even more.
Just to tease him, she moved back to the middle of the bed and said,
"Let me gaze a bit longer, please. It might be my last chance."
"It won't be your last chance, Guinevere."
The mattress dipped as he joined her, rolling atop her and settling between her thighs.
Thanks to his brief sojourn out of bed, his body was cool and as solid as marble.
"This will be the last time," she whispered.
He slid into her with one long, powerful stroke.
"It can't be the last time."
Something broke inside of him a little. This couldn't be the last time he'd ever be intimate with her...it just couldn't.
Gwen wrapped her legs over Arthur's, as he worked in and out of her.
He braced himself on his hands and stared down at her, deep into her eyes. The intensity was piercing.
She felt so exposed, so raw and vulnerable, her hands began to tremble, where she touched his. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
He stopped after a while, holding still within her and a slight frown wrinkled his brow.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You're perfect."
Her heart wrenched in her chest. There's that word again. Perfect.
And it didn't come when she was dressed in a silk gown and draped with jewels...just here...when she lay naked beneath him, in the full light of morning.
Where nothing was hidden and nothing was concealed. There was absolutely nothing between their bodies, but musk and heat.
It was worth the whole week's wait, to hear it now.
She slid her hands to his back and arched her hips, drawing him deeper.
"Take me hard Arthur...hold nothing back. I want to be sore. I want to feel you for days."
She didn't have to ask twice.
He did as told, lifting her legs and guiding them around his hips, so he could ride her hard and well.
Her breasts danced to his rhythm, as his thighs smacked against hers, with every deep, penetrating stroke.
She raked her fingernails down his back, scoring his flesh...so that he'd feel her for days, too, as she rode the wave of his deep, forceful thrusts.
He pressed his forehead to hers.
"I don't want to withdraw. I want to be deep inside you when I come."
Gwen was stunned.
"Arthur, no. The risk is too great."
"I want the risk." He kissed her lips. "I never thought I'd say that again, but I want it and I want you, always."
He was talking madness. Lust had certainly addled his brain, those were her first thoughts.
She had to leave...he must stay. And they were both completely unprepared to deal with those consequences.
But some crazed, unthinking part of her, wanted the same.
The decision would be made and there would be no undoing it. This way, he couldn't shut her out of his life.
And how wonderful it would feel, to someday place a cooing, healthy infant in his arms.
Her heart melted at the idea.
She could make him so, so happy.
He paused above her, every muscle tensed. And when he began to thrust again, she sensed a now-familiar shift in his rhythm. His peak was near.
"Don't stop me." He pumped hard and fast. "I can't let you go."
"Arthur..."
"Take me," he breathed, driving deep. "Take everything. Just love me."
His words undid her and tears leaked from her eyes.
"Yes," she all but screamed as her own climax broke, sending her into a place beyond thought or reason. "Yes! Yes..."
The door crashed open, startling both.
Gwen shrieked.
They jolted apart, and she burrowed under the bed linens, still shuddering with the last tremors of her orgasm.
'Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God,' she chanted, scared stiff.
Arthur cursed and flipped onto his back, drawing her into a protective embrace...the hard, frustrated ridge of his length throbbing against her hip.
"What the devil...?" he said, anger beginning to surface.
Lord Leon stood, framed in the entryway, lifting a hand to shield his view.
"It's worse than I thought. My eyes."
"I thought the door was locked," Gwen whispered, clutching the bed sheets to her chest.
"It was locked," the duke said, through gritted teeth.
"I broke it in," Leon said. "This is urgent, Arthur. Do you know this girl you've been squiring all around the town, is a bloody barmaid?"
'Oh, Lord.' Gwen's face blazed with humiliation.
The duke's arm slipped from its protective perch around her shoulders and she felt his erection flagged.
He slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his face with both hands.
"How did you know?" she asked, in a small voice.
"Everyone knows," Leon answered. "Mrs. Haughfell ferreted out the truth, and now it's all over town."
She should have known. Those cursed Awfuls.
"No doubt, this week has been quite the lark for you, Miss Campbell. But it's at an end."
He walked a few paces into the room, took up Arthur's discarded breeches from the floor and flung them at him.
"You've had some narrow scrapes, Arthur and I've seen some brazen fortune-hunting schemes in my time. But this beats all. Seduced by a barmaid, in the ancestral bed."
Calm and silent, Arthur Pendragon collected his breeches.
He turned aside...away from Gwen...and slid his long legs into them, one at a time.
His back was to her, as he stood and yanked the breeches to his waist.
'Farewell,' she thought wistfully. 'Farewell, finest ass in Creation.'
This was it, then.
She'd known they were down to their last few hours of bliss, but this was a mortifying ending.
She wanted to disappear under the mattress, never to be seen or heard from again.
Lord Leon went on,
"At least no one can expect you to marry the girl. The gossip will deem her, just another of your debauched larks. Toss her a bit of money and send her off. But I hope you've been careful not to get a brat in her. She probably hid it from you, but there's imbecility in the bloodline."
Arthur paused in the act of fastening a button on his breeches. He looked up at Leon for a brief moment.
"Leon," he said, in a low, easy voice, "It will take me about ten seconds to button these. That's how much time you have to run."
Lord Leon shook his head.
"I'm not going anywhere until I'm certain this..."
"Run," Arthur shouted, as he finished the last closure.
He swung his arms at his sides, shaking his fingers loose and the expression on his face was murderous.
"I mean it, Leon. You had better flee, because I fully intend to kill you."
Arthur could tell by the look on his oldest friend's face, that he didn't believe him.
"Come on, Arthur." He held up his hands. "You can't be serious."
The duke pulled back his right fist and crashed a full-force punch into Leon's gut.
"Convinced?" he growled.
Leon doubled over, eyes wide with shock.
"Jesus!"
"That's right, say your prayers. You're going to need them."
Arthur threw another punch, this time catching him on the jaw.
Realizing he was at a disadvantage, Leon scrambled down the corridor.
"Stop and think about this, Arthur!" he called. "We had a pact, remember? I'm trying to be a friend. Rescuing you from entrapment. Saving you from greater scandal."
"You had better save yourself."
They raced towards the salon, where they'd begun so many days together.
They wouldn't be using blunt practice swords today.
Arthur yanked a short sword from its wall mount and swung it, limbering his arm.
"I've something to tell you, Leon. All these years, we've been perfectly matched fencing opponents..." He raised his blade. "...I've been holding back."
Leon stared wide-eyed, and as soon as he'd armed himself, the duke went on the attack, swinging savage blows, and driving his opponent backwards, until he had him against the wall.
He let the blade press ever so slightly against Leon's cheek, until a thin line of blood appeared.
"Oh, too bad. That might leave a scar."
"Women are mad for scars. I'm still miles better looking than you." Leon smirked. "Perhaps barmaids aren't particular."
"You vermin. She is not a barmaid, and she will never be one again."
"Do you mean you knew?" Leon lifted one boot and kicked Arthur in the shin, sending him back a step.
He recovered quickly, but the brief separation gave Leon enough time, to raise his weapon to defend himself.
"Wait, wait, wait," Leon said, panting. "Are you...God...you can't tell me, you believe yourself to be in love with that girl."
Arthur shook his head, but not in denial.
Love was too small a word for what he felt.
Just now, when she'd been beneath him...he'd never thought he would feel that way again.
He was ready to brave any sorrow, just to keep her at his side. Perhaps the impulse wasn't logical or reasoned, but it was real and true.
It was choosing hope, rather than despair...seizing the one sparkling possibility, in a roomful of someones.
It was her. All her.
He'd been dead inside, but she brought him back to life.
"I'd die for her," he said. "And I'd kill for her. The rest doesn't concern you right now."
"Devil take me. You do love her," Leon said and ducked, parrying the duke's enraged strike. "This is even worse. Just what are you expecting to come of it? You plan to make her your mistress?"
"Guess again."
"Well, I know you don't mean to marry her." Leon laughed. "That would be rich. I can see the scandal sheets now..The Barmaid Duchess."
Enraged, Arthur flew at him and they locked swords.
He flexed his arm, pushing the crossed blades forward, until one edge lodged against Leon's throat.
"I think the papers will carry a different story tomorrow. One about the late Lord Leon."
He mustered all the strength in his arm and prepared to deliver the deadly jab.
Stay safe!