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 couldn't sleep although the wind was howling a mournful tune outside her window... the perfect lulling song to help a person fall asleep.
Only she couldn't sleep.
And the only thing she could think about was the prince's rumbling voice. You were marvelous, Miss Davies.
Her face flushed with warmth...
Giving up on the notion of sleep, she tossed back the coverlet and donned her robe, tightening the sash about her waist.
She would go for a stroll... Maybe the walk would make her tired and then she'd be able to sleep.
Maybe...
The corridors were empty as she made her way downstairs, the house silent as a graveyard.
She paused at the library doors, making certain the gentlemen had long since quit their cards and retired for their beds.
Not a sound greeted her...
Intent on selecting a book, she entered the quiet room.
The fire in the hearth still burned high even as a log crumbled and sparks flew and popped. She must've just missed the others.
She edged closer to the fire, drawn by its heat. Holding out her hands, she sighed with pleasure, letting them get almost too warm.
"Careful. You're standing close," someone said.
And Gwen startled, a small shriek escaping her, her hand flying to her pounding heart.
She turned, to see the prince lounging on a chaise just behind her.
He was stretched out, his booted feet crossed in a relaxed pose, and looking quite beguiling. Not at all his usual stiff self.
"I didn't see you there," she said breathlessly, her pulse racing against her neck.
He said nothing, only gripped a handful of papers loosely above his chest. Several others littered the small rosewood table to the right of the chaise. And a few even littered the carpet.
She'd obviously interrupted his reading.
Gwen looked at the prince, she'd never seen him like this before. He'd removed his jacket and neck cloth...
Her mouth dried at the sight of his smooth flesh peeping out from his loosened shirt.
He looked human...
He looked like an absurdly handsome man who was suddenly much too approachable.
"H-hello," she stuttered, her breath shuddering past her lips. She felt silly and unsure of what to say.
"Hello," he returned, his deep voice a feather's stroke on the air. He removed the papers from his chest and dropped them all on the table. "Have you come to sing for me, Miss Davies? Perhaps you wish to honour me with a solo performance?"
For some reason his question made her feel shaky inside, driving home the reminder that they were all alone.
"No. I thought I would pick out a book to read. What are you doing?"
He motioned to the mass of papers.
"Going over correspondence from home."
She stepped closer, fidgeting with the ruffled edge of her night rail.
"All that?"
The prince ran a hand through his hair, sending the blonde strands into wild disarray.
"I receive this much every week. I'll spend a good portion of my day tomorrow replying."
Gwen arched a brow...
"Indeed?"
"With my grandfather ailing, many matters need my attention. And I'm afraid I've lingered here for much too long."
For a brief moment, he looked frustrated, before the calm mask fell back into place.
Gwen frowned, seeing the prince in a new light. Apparently, his life wasn't all leisure and vain indulgences as she had assumed.
"I won't disturb you further." She crossed her arms, suddenly chilled. "Good night." Then she took only one step before his voice stopped her...
"Please. Stay. You came for a book, did you not? Pick one."
He motioned to the many books lining the shelves.
"Thank you. I will."
Gwen turned and tried to focus on the titles, angling her head to read the spines. But the letters swam before her eyes.
She could only think that the prince sat a few feet behind her...
That she wore only her night rail...
That he looked delicious and relaxed and thoroughly accessible...
And that they were all alone.
She snatched a book off a shelf and whirled around, prepared to flee to the sanctuary of her bedchamber.
"What did you find?"
She blinked, stopping.
"What?"
"Your book. What did you select?"
"Um..." She glanced down and turned the book around in her hands. Her stomach sank... " A Comprehensive Study of Oxen Husbandry."
Arthur snorted. And heat swamped her face.
"Sounds fascinating," he murmured. "A real page turner. I must read it after you've finished."
It took a moment for Gwen to realize he jested, even though one side of his mouth curled faintly.
Did he actually possess humour?
She stifled a chuckle and patted the thick volume.
"Nothing like a little reading on animal husbandry to help one sleep."
"Are you having trouble sleeping, Miss Davies?"
That gave her pause...
"The wind..." She motioned lamely to one of the windows. "It's so loud tonight."
'Better that excuse than the truth,' she thought. She wasn't about to admit that thoughts of him kept her awake.
Then she heard herself asking before she could reconsider,
"Did you really enjoy my singing?"
Arthur cocked his head to the side...
"Are you fishing for more compliments? I said as much."
"Yes, but did you say that because you felt sorry for me or because you truly thought I was good?"
At this question, the other side of his mouth curled upward.
"Perhaps...both."
"Hmm," she murmured, unsure how she felt about that. "Well, good night then."
"Your song." His voice stopped her. "What was it about?"
She smiled... And before she could contemplate the wisdom of such honesty, she admitted,
"It was a tale of buxom milkmaid with...er, an insatiable appetite."
This time the prince laughed outright. And it caught her by surprise. She'd made the Crown Prince of Camelot laugh. Her chest swelled...
"Little hoyden. I suppose I shouldn't find it so amusing that you regaled us all with a tawdry song."
"No, you shouldn't," she countered. "It's not often I entertain members of the ton with naughty songs. Especially princes."
Immediately Gwen regretted the reminder, however playful she had meant it to be.
Arthur's laughter faded. And just like that, the stoic prince was back.
He looked back down at the mass of papers, as if that somehow reminded him of who he was...and who she wasn't.
"Good night, Miss Davies. I still have much to attend to this night."
Feeling dismissed, she gave a curt nod and skirted past the chaise.
Minutes later, secure in her bed, she opened her book and started to read, doubtful that she would find any rest tonight.
It's short, but the next chapter will be longer.
Stay safe!