Hi friends, it's been a while but I'm still here. I hope this update finds you and yours in peace, love and safety.
Thank you for your patience, your interest and your support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Wicked In Your Arms.
Air hissed between Gwen's clenched teeth even as Prince Arthur's warm breath teased her ear and his head lowered...and lowered.
Soon, parted lips touched the flesh of her neck, skimming lightly. And another sharp breath pushed past her lips.
'What are you doing?'
The words formed in her mind but she couldn't speak them... She just couldn't risk speech.
She was wishing that his mouth was still pressed hotly to her ear... Better that than this.
Nevertheless, sensations zipped along her nerves reminding her that she wasn't immune to a handsome man...
A handsome man who happened to be everything that was wrong for her.
He was a prince with only disdain for her.
But here she was, reacting and reveling in his sensual assault as if he hadn't said any of those horrible things about her.
Which begged the next question...
Why was he even taunting her with seductive caresses?
His mouth did not move into an actual kiss... Nothing so bold as that. Yet, that didn't lessen the absolute shock of his soft lips grazing the side of her throat...
Nor did it stop the shivers from racing along her skin.
When Gwen felt the light, erotic scrape of the prince's teeth on her neck, she yanked her head away and stared up at his shadowed face.
His eyes gleamed in the dark...the only thing she could discern in the gloom... And yet, she couldn't read beyond their inscrutable depths.
She couldn't determine what they said or what he thought.
She just trembled in his arms like a leaf clinging to the last vine amid a storm. If he wasn't holding her up, she would've collapsed.
Was this what she had become?
Was this what loneliness did to a female?
Shattered her?
Broke her?
Made her cave at the first man who...? No! Definitely not!
She gave herself a mental shake...
The Crown Prince of Camelot was no ordinary man...
He didn't look ordinary...
He didn't talk ordinary with that hypnotic voice of his. And unfortunately, she couldn't stop herself from reacting to him.
Sad but true. But she simply couldn't allow herself to forget that he was an arrogant snob who considered himself her better.
Suddenly, she felt a new touch...
The prince's fingers brushed the side of her face... A caressing graze that sent a ripple of shock through her.
Then his warm, brandy-laced breath fanned her lips, alerting her that his face had changed position.
She swallowed, trying to soothe a suddenly dry throat and held herself as still as stone...
She was not about to move and accidentally brush against the warm press of his body. He might begin to think she deliberately wanted to touch him.
Or that she liked this...
That she liked him.
No way! She possessed more pride than that!
After the way he had talked about her, that would just be...pathetic. Not to mention, vastly inappropriate.
Not that anything about this situation was appropriate, but she wouldn't have him think she was a breeding cat who was desperate for his attentions.
She was no stranger to a man's kisses... Indeed not. And she was not about to initiate such intimacy with such a cad as Arthur... Prince or not.
No matter how he affected her or how she quivered at his touch in the small dark space they shared...
No matter how he made her remember things best left forgotten...
She was made of sterner stuff. She could resist the likes of him.
Still...
If he should kiss her at this moment, she would questioned her ability to resist.
In their dark sanctuary, Gwen too well recalled the longing, the exhilaration and the belief that she was valuable enough that a man could look beyond the circumstances of her birth.
She missed such feelings, even false as they had been. For desire and longing only brought pain and allowed one to believe in fairy tales.
And she didn't have time for fairy tales... She would find her retiring gentleman with his home in the country and she would have safety, peace, contentment and respectability.
That would be enough. It was everything she ever needed. And no one would ever hurt her again.
She held herself perfectly still...like a statue...cold and unfeeling. It was a ruse, of course. Because she was burning up on the inside as the prince touched her face, like a blind man feeling her every feature.
He felt the slope of her cheek, the curve of the jaw she always thought a little too square and her mouth, which she often thought too full, especially the bottom lip.
Then he moved and leaned in yet again...
The barest graze at the corner of her lips told her he was there, touching her, toying with her, exploring her face.
Imprisoned in the dark, it was almost hard to imagine that this prince did this... That the austere, cold-eyed boor was moved to even touch her.
Unable to resist any longer, Gwen lifted her face. And a treacherous yearning filled her, betraying her.
This was it. She would permit a kiss.
Only no kiss came...
"They've gone." The prince's voice fluttered over her skin, quiet and even. Unaffected. As though he was commenting on the weather.
As his words sank in, she listened. And silence carried from the other side of the door.
They both held still...
Moments stretched as she verified what he said was true. Then she took measure of herself and the wholly unsuitable embrace she shared with a man who deemed her one step above the gutter.
His voice rustled the tiny hairs that had spilled free from her chignon to frame her face...
"Of course if you would prefer to stay here, I'm quite sure we could occupy ourselves."
He spoke so calmly. As if he did not care one way or another if she accepted his offer. And perhaps that stung the most.
Not the offer itself, but that he would proposition her and not care whether she agreed.
"Get away from me, you wretch!" she seethed, then flung herself back. Twisting around, she fumbled with the door and burst from the armoire.
Breath sawing from her lips, she whirled around, her burgundy skirts sweeping wide as she glared at the man emerging from the armoire.
Taking in his immense size, she marveled that the two of them had fit inside at all.
She blew at a strand of hair swinging before her eyes. It still dangled in the most annoying fashion, so she swiped at the offending strand furiously, never breaking her glare.
The prince's blue-grey eyes followed her movements with mild interest...a notable change. He'd looked bored before.
"Is this far enough away? I must confess, a woman has never asked me to remove myself from her side before."
'Arrogant jackass!' Gwen thought.
His eyes were glowing...fire burning as bright as sunlight. How did one possess blue-grey? She'd never seen the like. Perhaps he was the devil...
Suddenly he looked awake...
Not even when she had doused her lemon water over him had he looked quite so...alert. Not as he did now, circling her like some sort of jungle cat.
Or predator.
A tiny frisson of alarm coursed through her to realize she was the cause for that. She was the reason his eyes burned brightly...
Gwen sucked in a breath, marveling that her stays had not felt this tight at the beginning of the night.
Right now, her clothing felt constrictive, her body sensitive, swollen and chafing against her garments.
Her cheeks burned with mortification.
She pulled back her shoulders and regretted the move when the prince's gaze dropped to her décolletage. The modest cut was no more daring than that of any other lady in attendance tonight, but the sweetheart neckline felt very risqué beneath his regard.
She angled her chin and clasped her hands in front of her...
"Was it necessary to accost me while we were hiding?"
An indolent smile curved his sinful lips.
"Forgive me," he said without a hint of apology. "When I have a woman pressed against me, it's only human nature to react."
Heat fired Gwen's cheeks.
"Human nature," she bit out. "Does not give you leave to touch me. I don't care if you're a prince or not. No one touches me!" she growled.
At least not again. Not without the protection of marriage.
Never again would she lose control when a handsome man put his hands on her or whisper promises in her ear.
Not that the man before her had whispered such words... Nor would he ever.
On the contrary, he'd said only the most insulting things to her...about her...since they'd met.
Arthur shrugged one broad shoulder, clearly unbothered by her outrage. And that only outraged her further...
Did he think himself so above the conventions that governed the rest of society?
"You did not seem...opposed," he said. He drew closer, staring at her in the most perplexing manner. "I thought perhaps you wanted to become friends."
"Friends?" Her eyes narrowed.
"You're not unattractive," he drawled.
Gwen blinked...
"So therefore I'm worthy of a dalliance?" She shook her head, marveling at his arrogance. "This may come as a shock, but I don't care for your opinion of me."
Arthur continued as though she hadn't spoken...
"Your hair isn't the most well-behaved, but it is appealing." He cocked his head as he surveyed her. "Your skin has seen too much of the sun," he announced. "Have you never heard of a bonnet?"
Gwen pulled back her shoulders in affront.
"Have you never heard of manners? Does being a prince exclude you from basic courtesy? I don't recall asking your opinion regarding my appearance."
Arthur folded his hands behind his back, ignoring her words as he began circling her, ever again the stiff and judgmental prince.
Even with his smouldering eyes, she faced the fact that he would always be that... A man far removed from her.
He knew it. And she knew it, too.
She turned with sideways steps, following him as he moved, not about to have him at her back.
He stopped before her, still considering her with those eyes of his.
"How old are you?" he asked.
There was a fair amount of suspicion in his voice as he asked this. As though whatever she said would be wrong.
Gwen eyed him, answering slowly.
"Not that it's any of your concern, but I'm eight and twenty."
Arthur blinked.
"You're a bit long in the tooth, aren't you?"
She gasped.
"For what? Being alive?"
"For being yet unclaimed."
"Unclaimed? As in unclaimed by a man?"
He nodded once.
"A little archaic, aren't you? I've been busy... I haven't gotten around to a man...claiming me yet."
"I see," he murmured, either missing her sarcasm or deliberately ignoring it.
Propping her hands on her hips, she demanded,
"And how old are you?"
"It doesn't matter how old I am. I'm a man."
"No, you're a jackass!" she retorted.
His expression didn't crack at this accusation; if anything, he looked only grimmer.
With her hands clenched at her sides, opening and closing into fists, Gwen couldn't recall a man ever exasperating her more.
Even when she was a child, when the village boys would torment her with lizards and various other creepy crawly creatures, they'd never infuriated her like this.
Arthur shrugged as if it was of no account to him.
"I'm eight and twenty, as well."
She blinked... He must be jesting.
"You mean to say we're the same age?"
"Yes, but as I pointed out, I'm a man." He held up a broad palm when she began to protest. "Albeit a jackass, as you've said." His mouth twisted into what almost resembled a smile. "The question that begs answering is who is older? When were you born?"
Shaking her head, she replied coldly and emphatically,
"I'm not telling you my birthday."
"I can find out," he said with maddening confidence.
"Why should you wish to?"
"You've put yourself on the market for a husband, have you not? I've a right to consider your assets."
Gwen snorted and dropped her arms.
"Do you mean to say you're considering me as a prospective wife? Heavens! Have the stars truly shined down on me? Could I be so blessed?"
She flattened a hand to her chest and cocked her head at a jaunty angle, enjoying herself and almost laughing as she played out her mockery.
Then sobering, she looked him squarely in the eye and said,
"I overheard you earlier. I know what you think of me."
"So the drink on my head was no accident. I thought as much."
'Bloody hell!'
It was too late, she realized she'd been trapped. She propped a hand on her hip.
"No, it was no accident. I believe you called me a nobody with ignoble roots. You deserved my drink on your head. That and more."
Arthur nodded sagely, assessing her again, not appearing the least remorseful at the reminder of his insulting words.
"It's true, I said that. Quite so. but it was the truth. You'd do well enough in my bed. You smell like vanilla and you tremble sweetly when I touch you, but..."
"Stop!" Gwen cried, lifting her hands to her ears as if she could block out his outrageous words. All her humour vanished as scorching heat swept over her face.
That he spoke matter-of-factly, almost dispassionately, over the issue of her beddable-ness galled her.
"But as a wife?" he continued as if she had not spoken. "Indeed not. Your age alone would offend my grandfather."
"So long as you're picking a wife to please your granddaddy," she threw out.
She smirked...
That earned her a glare, for which she felt immense satisfaction. She needn't be the only one discomfited.
"I've more than my wishes to consider when choosing a wife," Arthur tossed back. His voice fell hard and flat. "I've a duty to my kingdom." He waved a hand in her direction. "It would be foolish and irresponsible to consider you. I should be lucky to beget a single child, much less the half score I require."
Gwen's hands flew back to her hips...
"Holy hellfire! Is there no end to your conceit and arrogance? This isn't the Middle Ages. Wives are more than broodmares, you know."
"I'm not merely looking for a wife. I'm looking for a princess. A future queen."
That silenced her. What did she know about such matters, after all?
"Aside from your age, your speech and manner hardly befit a princess..."
"I quite understand you. I'm not wife material for you. But I don't recall ever vying for the position." Hot indignation swarmed over her in tiny hot prick points. "It's a good thing that you have no interest in me," she said, deliberately forgetting that he said she would do well in his bed. "Because I most assuredly have none in you."
She swallowed, hating the way her voice sounded tight and out of breath.
And yet again, the prince continued as if she hadn't spoken...
"Indeed, you won't do at all as the future queen of Camelot, despite having a certain...raw appeal."
He angled his head again and a blonde lock of hair fell across his forehead, making him look rakish... Gwen could almost excuse the simmer in her blood. For all that he said, and all that he was a cad, he was irresistibly handsome.
And yet, that changed nothing.
As much as her blood simmered, so did her temper. He was an insulting boor and she would not abide him another moment.
"So let us discuss how firm you are on the matter of marriage. Are you opposed to another type of arrangement?" Arthur asked.
Gwen glanced around, searching wildly for anything she might use as a weapon...
"You're abominable! Is there no end to your..."
"Honesty?" he supplied with a bold lift of an eyebrow.
"No!" she shot back. "Wretchedness! You can't make an indecent proposition and pride yourself on honesty." She shook her head. "It simply does not work that way."
"I merely pointed out you were appealing and I would perhaps care for more of your company."
With her face still flaming, she lifted her skirts and moved for the door, ready to put His Bloody Highness behind her for good. She felt sorry for whatever female married him.
She could well imagine listening to him pontificate over her failings all the days of their union. She would jump off a cliff first.
"I wouldn't leave just yet," Arthur said.
Gwen paused, looking over her shoulder at the much too handsome wretch. She couldn't help thinking that it was vastly unfair that such a wicked man should be wrapped in such packaging.
It hid all that was twisted inside him.
"And why not?"
"Rather soon on the heels of Lord and Lady Barclay, is it not? You don't want them to spot you leaving."
He lowered himself to the bed, stretching out long legs before him as he observed her with his keen eyes.
He smiled then... And the suddenness of that grin stole her breath.
Austere and unsmiling, he was a sight to behold. Smiling like this...
She was in trouble.
She scowled at him. And his smile deepened, flashing blinding white teeth. Apparently, her scowl did not affect him. But she was not sure much of anything would.
She cleared her throat and lifted her chin.
"It's unlikely they're lingering..."
"They're properly wedded," he reminded in that rich voice, making her skin tingle in the most bothersome way. "They have no cause to hurry back. And...knowing Lady Barclay, she's probably distracting him along the way."
Gwen loathed his logic. But the couple had sounded quite amorous moments ago, after all. She should put nothing past their salacious natures.
She crossed her arms and gazed at the prince. Her thoughts still stumbled over the fact that he was royalty, and that he was here. With her.
That he had propositioned her and seemed unmoved by that fact.
Her chest tightened. He probably did it all the time to lowly females such as her.
Who would've imagined that her, more comfortable in trousers and astride a mount, would ever find herself in such a scenario?
The Gwen of old had spent several evenings a week at the local tavern, drinking ale with lads who viewed her as one of them... Simply another low-born lad.
And as a game master, she'd spent little time in dresses and even less time in ball gowns.
She swallowed... The blasted prince was right... She would make a poor queen. And that wasn't something she regretted, as she didn't aspire to be a queen.
She only sought a marriage to a gentleman.
She knew how hard life could be. And she wanted to make sure she was shielded from the worst of its storms. Nothing more.
Leaning back on his elbows, the prince continued to stare at Gwen as she made no move to leave.
"Thought you might see my point."
"Concerned with being caught with a lowly serf such as me, are you?" She could not stop the biting question. He, a prince. She, a bastard who'd fallen into some money...
The two did not mesh.
He tilted his head, firelight gilding the golden strands. And she swallowed again, vowing to stop letting his looks addle her head.
"Not especially," he answered. My reputation shall not suffer if we're caught together, after all." A corner of his mouth pulled seductively. "Sorry. It's that man thing again."
He mocked her...
Her fingers dug into her palms, the nails cutting into the tender flesh, even she stared at him for a moment, cocking her head.
"You mean I alone would bear the shame of being caught alone with you in a bedchamber?" she asked.
"Naturally."
"Such an occurrence shall not affect you in the least."
"You needn't sound so indignant." He nodded a single time. "'It's the way of things. In your society and mine."
'Yes,' Gwen thought grimly. It was the way of things.
She would suffer scandal, and he would merely become more desirable in the eyes of the ton. Men would admire him and women would only think him more the dashing rake.
If she thought the whispers about her were bad now, they would pale in comparison if she was caught alone in such intimate quarters with the bloody Crown Prince of Camelot.
She bit her lip, looking anxiously to the door again...
He certainly wouldn't salvage her honour by offering to marry her.
A bitter taste filled her mouth...
Make no mistake, he did not deem her worth saving from ruin. She was merely a bastard.
Too old... Too freckled and sun-browned.
"Then I best not linger here," she retorted at last. "Since every moment with you places me at risk."
She turned for the door, determined that this time, he would not stop her.
And he didn't.
He didn't utter a word as she fled the room.
And why should he?
As she hurried down the corridor, she grasped her skirts in two clenched hands, chasing her repeating shadow and reminding herself that she was nothing to him.
Nothing.
Just as he was nothing to her.
So, I'm still busy working seven days a week and other real life stuff, but I haven't forgotten you guys.
Take care and stay safe!