Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Wicked In Your Arms.
Gwen passed the ladies' retiring room and dove down a corridor rife with flickering shadows...
Sconces lined the walls every few feet, plunging her in and out of darkness as she moved forward.
Likely, one of these rooms deep within the house wouldn't be occupied.
She selected one, pressing her ear to it before turning the latch.
Stepping inside, she saw it was a bedchamber... A fire burned low within the hearth...
Closing the door, she drew closer to that delicious warmth, thinking she might curl up on the chaise and enjoy the sanctuary she'd found.
Only, upon drawing closer did she see that the chaise was already occupied with two figures gilded in the firelight...
She jerked still, her heart lurching to her throat. She must've made a sound... A small gasp of horror, because the couple flew up suddenly, tearing apart as if split asunder by lightning.
The female squeaked, her hands fumbling to lift her gown back up over her exposed breasts. And Gwen recognized her at once...
Few women possessed a bosom of such immense proportions...
"Lady Barclay," she murmured.
And before her gaze even drifted to the room's other occupant, the man responsible for Lady Barclay's state of dishabille, she knew whom she would see...
Prince Arthur...
He stared back at her, a brow arched drolly. And nothing in his countenance reflected embarrassment.
"You again?" he asked.
Gwen's embarrassment fled even as her indignation surged. She crossed her arms...
"Yes. Me again."
"This isn't what it looks like," Lady Barclay choked as she shoved her very large breasts back into her bodice. "Arthur, say something," she hissed to her companion.
But the prince said nothing, merely maintained his cold stare.
"Oh, I'm certain I've interrupted nothing...unseemly," Gwen lied, uncaring of the sordid business she had indeed interrupted, only wishing to escape the awkward situation.
Backing away from the pair, she waved a hand reassuringly...
"I didn't see anything. Please. Go about whatever it is...you're doing."
"Of course, you didn't see anything. We weren't doing anything," Lady Barclay replied shrilly. "There's nothing to see. Nothing untoward has occurred." She jabbed a finger threateningly at Gwen. "And if you dare spread word that..."
"I assure you nothing will be said." Gwen nodded, still backing away.
The prince chuckled, the sound low and deep. He shook his head almost as if he couldn't believe he was in such a state of circumstances. Or perhaps it was Gwen...
He couldn't believe that she was here... That someone like her should even be in the same room with him...
"Really, Arthur." Lady Barclay patted her hair feverishly. "I don't see what is so amusing about any of this."
Inwardly, Gwen echoed that sentiment, but she wasn't inclined to linger to hear the prince's response.
"If you'll pardon me, I'll leave you to..." she floundered, and the bloody man cocked that blonde slash of an eyebrow at her, his blue-grey eyes gleaming wickedly. "Pardon me, I'll leave you to that thing it is you're not doing."
At that, Lady Barclay puffed herself up and made a shrill, unattractive sound that rather resembled the squeal of a pig.
Gwen opened the door and hastily stepped out into the hall, eager to escape. Hand still on the latch, she froze...
Advancing down the corridor towards her was none other than Lord Barclay... His expression thunderous.
He hadn't seen her yet, too focused on slamming open doors and peering inside every room he passed, so Gwen dove back inside the room and shut the door as silently as possible.
The pair had scarcely moved since she'd slipped from the room... Startled at her sudden return, they stared at her with blinking eyes...
Gwen, however, flattened her palms to the door, her heart hammering a furious beat in her chest.
"It's your husband," she hissed. "He's coming."
Lady Barclay slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her screech. Gwen winced, watching in fascination as the woman started hopping in place like a child caught in the throes of a tantrum.
Despite the dire situation, she fought a smile at the ridiculous spectacle.
She lifted her hand...
"Don't just sit there! What shall we do?"
The prince glanced around the well-appointed bedchamber, still maintaining his perpetual manner of ennui. For all the world, he looked icy cool and not at all perturbed that an irate husband was bearing down on them.
His gaze stopped on a large mahogany armoire, and a thoughtful look came over his carved features.
Rising from the chaise in one liquid-smooth motion, he grasped Gwen's arm and she started at the touch, heat sparking along her veins from the contact.
"Come!" he commanded, his voice that infernal tone again... The voice of one accustomed to being obeyed.
But she dug in her heels, shaking her head fiercely.
"Where are we going?"
"To place ourselves out of sight."
She sneered at his overly formal speech.
"You mean hide?"
A muscle flickered along the taut flesh of his jaw.
"I never hide. I merely know when to retreat until it is time to reappear."
Gwen rolled her eyes...
"Call it whatever you like. Why do I need to...retreat ? I haven't done any..."
"You think your reputation shall remain unscathed when you're found here? When Barclay raises all hell and the entire household pours into this room, do you think you shall remain unsullied? The ton loves a sordid tale. Your presence here shall be made into a colourful account. You'll be tossed into the fray, too."
Gwen's stomach dipped, her face flashing hot and cold. She didn't need another strike against her as she navigated the waters of the ton.
She was here to achieve a modicum of status and respectability, not to earn further disdain.
Seeing no alternative, she stopped resisting and let the prince drag her the rest of the way.
"Hurry," Lady Barclay urged, shooing them with her hands...
The prince opened the door and shoved aside the few garments before folding his tall length inside. Then he extended a hand for Gwen.
She stared hard at the long, blunt-tipped fingers and broad palm for one heart-stopping moment, in which she quite clearly heard the rush of blood in her ears.
It seemed like forever but could only have been a moment before she placed her hand in his...
He pulled her inside before him, his long arm brushing hers as he closed the door, sinking them into darkness.
Gwen's breath caught in her throat...
Shrouded in darkness, forced into such close confines with a veritable stranger...a prince, no less...her senses skipped into hyper-awareness.
Too late, she realized she should've turned around... Her back to his chest would've been a vast improvement to this...
Chest to chest. Heart to beating heart.
She couldn't see the hand before her face, but she was keenly aware that not an inch separated her from the most wretched, arrogant man to ever cross her path...
And that he was all male... Solid, firm, warm male.
His breath fanned her forehead... She was tall in her shoes, but he was so much taller.
She pressed her lips shut to make sure not a sound escaped. She need only withstand a few moments of proximity and then she'd be free of him.
They'd hidden just in time, apparently, for a mere moment passed before she heard Lord Barclay's booming voice...
"Minerva, what are you doing in here?"
Gwen listened closely, straining to hear what possible explanation the lady would offer.
"Why, awaiting you, husband."
"Me? We made no arrangements to meet..."
"Precisely, but I knew you'd know I was missing and take pursuit... Did you not find the hunt...titillating?"
Heavy silence ensued...
Gwen held her breath and listened, wondering what was happening on the other side of the door.
Did Lord Barclay actually believe his wife?
Or was he strangling her?
She had her answer when a long, pleasure-filled male moan scored the air...
Heat fired her cheeks. The idiot cuckold truly believed his wife had planned a tryst for the two of them.
"Come here, you little minx. Ride me hard."
Mortified, Gwen squeezed her eyes in a blink even though there was nothing to see... Plus, closing her eyes did nothing to shield her ears...
Lord Barclay's groans floated on the air. And his wife's squeals came in fast succession.
At that point, Gwen was convinced the woman spent a great deal of her time on a farm, for the noises she made resembled the sounds a piglet makes when being chased.
A great deal of banging came next and Gwen suspected they were on the bed, their actions rattling the headboard.
"That's it, my fine filly!" A loud slap echoed on the air.
"Yes!" Lady Barclay shouted.
"Spank me!"
Gwen pressed her fingers to her mouth... She wasn't certain what sound she was trying to suppress.. A groan of mortification or outright laughter.
The broad chest in front of her shifted, lifting on an inhalation, and she stilled, biting the edge of her thumb.
While she might feel a modicum of humour, that wasn't the only sensation affecting her...
Body heat emanated from the man in front of her. His nearness overwhelmed her, scraping her nerves.
She hugged herself with both arms, hoping to make herself smaller and unnoticeable, but only succeeded in brushing against Arthur.
She squeezed herself tightly, careful not to move again, determined to merely wait out Lord and Lady Barclay's trysting.
However, the prince moved... Just the barest inch, but his chest brushed her crossed arms.
As though burned, she arched away to escape the contact. But off-balanced and wobbled, and she had to take a step to brace herself.
The clomp of her foot rang out in the tight space of the armoire, and she cringed, her skin tightening in fear that they'd been heard.
But Arthur caught her up in his arms, holding her to his chest as though fearing she would move again and make further noise.
Gwen gasped, gripping his arms to shove him away. Only he wouldn't budge. She was a prisoner in his arms. Unless she wanted to struggle and alert Barclay of their presence... she was stuck.
Her fingers flexed against the superfine of the prince's jacket, marveling at the hardness of his biceps beneath her fingers.
Thomas had not felt nearly so firm and muscled, and he was a physical man...
She shook her head once as if to shake it free of such senseless thoughts. What was she doing making comparisons between the two?
Neither was a viable option for her. In fact, both men had made it clear she was unacceptable.
Heat stung Gwen's cheeks, and she renewed her attempts to disengage herself with care, wiggling against Arthur with constraint, still determined to break free of the unwanted intimacy.
He pulled her closer, his arms steel bands around her. And one of his hands crept to the back of her head, pressing their faces horrifyingly close.
His cheek rasped against hers... And her skin tingled where their skins touched.
Her belly dipped and twisted. And a ragged breath escaped between her lips.
She wanted to demand he move away, but fear of being discovered held her voice in check.
His lips brushed the sensitive whorls of her ear as he whispered,
"Cease your movements lest you wish to be caught and explain what we are doing in this wardrobe together."
Shaking from head to foot, she gave a hard nod, not trusting herself to speak in a voice that wasn't a shrill squeak.
"Good girl," he murmured in that low voice that pulled at her belly.
With one hand at her head, his other spanned her back. And she felt the hot imprint of each finger through the silk of her gown.
All else faded but this... But him...
The hard length of him painted onto her.
She no longer registered any sounds outside the wardrobe... The world was gone...
There was only this...them... Captives in this tiny space.
His mouth remained at her ear, not moving, but still touching. Still driving her mad...
She tried to pull back once again. Surely he would see that she would be careful, that she dared not make another sound. But he fastened a hand in her hair while his broad palm at her back deepened its pressure, keeping her pinned against him.
Strength radiated from the prince...
Unusual for a dandified prince... Unusual for any of the dandified lords she'd met about Town.
Upon arriving in London Gwen had quickly realized she could overpower most of the lily-handed prigs.
As a former game master for a vast estate, she was accustomed to working and pushing her body to the limits every day. And yet, the hard male body against hers did not belong to any idle blueblood.
At least he wasn't moving against her, actively touching her. She could withstand this...
She could tolerate mere closeness to him. As long as he kept still. He was only holding her to help keep her motionless, after all...
Then he moved...
Stay safe!