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 watched with wide eyes as the prince's head descended towards her, certain she was dreaming.
Was she?
Maybe, because he slanted his lips over hers. But she didn't draw breath as the cool dryness of his mouth pressed to hers.
This was no dream...
She didn't move... She didn't stir... Not even a muscle twitch.
She was much too shocked and too afraid that should she move, it would be to toss her arms around his neck and drag him tighter against her.
It had been too long since she'd had this... Since anyone felt inclined to reach out and touch her. And she didn't trust herself.
And last night proved she shouldn't.
Alas, the prince pulled back to look at her and her chest tightened at the sight of his handsome face.
This close, she could see that the tips of his lashes were far lighter than the rest of his hair.
His lips curved in a slow, seductive smile that pulled at her belly.
"And I'm so glad that I can."
"Can...what ?" she asked. Her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.
"Kiss you."
The words rolled over Gwen, thick as syrup. And just as decadent.
"Oh." She blinked, murmuring rather dreamily, "Yes. Kissing. You can do that...some more."
"Excellent! Although you should know that this sort of thing generally works better when you move your mouth." His head inched back towards her, his breath fanning her lips. "When you part your lips. Just a little. Remember?"
At that, her eyes drifted shut, lulled by that deep velvet voice and by the brush of his lips on hers once more.
His breath was warm and sweet and she sighed.
Then she moved her lips, tentatively at first, her thoughts racing and jumbled, trying to remember why this was wrong... Why she shouldn't be doing this...
She'd known why last night.
All thoughts fled as the prince deepened the kiss, parting her lips wider for him.
Gwen shuddered at the first stroke of his tongue against hers and lifted her hands to his shoulders. Then she curled her fingers into the hard shape of him beneath his great cape and surrendered to his mouth, kissing him back.
Their lips fused hotly, the perfect fit, like two long-lost pieces of a puzzle.
And she wrapped her arms around him, clinging and pressing herself close with abandon.
Arthur moaned with satisfaction and slipped his hands beneath her cloak. Palming her back, he hauled her against him.
Splayed against the hard breadth of him, she was instantly enveloped in his heat. And the wintry world around them disappeared.
There was nothing but him...
Nothing but his hard pulsing body...
His warm hands...
And his mouth...those delicious lips with the faint taste of chicory coffee.
Arthur slanted his mouth over Gwen's one way and then another, exploring her, tasting her, gliding his tongue sinuously against hers until a faint throbbing twisted low in her belly.
And the kiss deepened further, until they were clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it.
After a while, Gwen's hands began to move, roving and reveling in the impossible strength she felt radiating from every inch of him.
Small starved whimpers rose from her throat... And he slid one hand down her back, grasped her bottom and pulled her tightly against him.
Suddenly she could feel the definite bulge of him through his trousers. But she was no green girl, she knew exactly what that signified.
He wanted her...
It should've horrified her to know that she was all alone with a virile man, engaging in intimacies that could lead to only one thing...
One thing that should be reserved for her husband...
And yet she was not. In that moment, she did not care.
All her life she'd tried so hard to do what she thought was right...the good and proper thing.
She'd tried so desperately to earn everyone's acceptance and approval. Even when no one expected it of her... Even when all they saw when they looked at her was the game master's mannish bastard daughter.
But then it occurred to her that that voice had never served her well before. And it had never won her acceptance. So why should she listen to it now?
The prince tasted delicious. And his kiss was deep and smooth, nothing messy or slavering like the way Thomas had kissed. This was bliss and Gwen had no wish for it to end.
'This man would know how to make my first time exquisite...'
The shocking thought rushed through her head unbidden, making her cheeks flame hotter, her body ache and burn in places she never knew could even feel.
She would be clay in his hands.
Suddenly, the prince stiffened and she wondered rather insensibly if he had gleaned some knowledge of her outrageous thoughts.
Maybe he did, because it didn't mean that because he'd kissed her that he wished to take things further.
However, he broke their kiss and lifted his head, looking beyond her shoulder. She tried to pull from his embrace, but he held fast, tugging her closer.
She cleared her throat softly, distrustful that her voice would rise a mere squeak from between her kissed-numb lips.
"Unhand me, please," she said.
But his arm tensed around her and his brow furrowed as he continued to study the horizon.
"Do you hear that?"
She listened, at first hearing nothing but the wind, but then she caught sound of it... Voices. Very faint... As whispery as the wind itself.
"Yes."
He released her then...
Grasping her arm, he guided her forward. And together they climbed the small rise.
Gwen risked a glance at his face, but he stared straight ahead, his features impassive.
Did he regret their lapse of restraint?
'Of course he did. He's here to find a bride, presumably the very worthy and estimable Lady Phillipa. A rich earl's daughter. She fit his needs perfectly. For he certainly didn't wish to become entangled with me.'
Topping the rise, Gwen spotted several figures on horseback.
"Stable lads?"
"The horses must've returned and they've come to find us," Arthur murmured.
She nodded.
"They shall be quite relieved to know we've sustained no injuries."
She lifted an arm and waved to gain their attention, quite eager to take her leave of his company and reflect on her improper response to his advances, so that she did not repeat such a mistake again.
Because, truly, this needed to stop.
"You are quite the surprise, Miss Davies," Arthur said.
She turned to find him gazing upon her and said,
"I thought you claimed you were coming to know me. Am I not predictable anymore?"
"Ah, knowing someone and being able to predict someone are two very different things. I am coming to know you, in that, I know you're not someone who can be predicted."
With a cool voice she was much proud of, considering what happened a few moments ago, she suggested,
"It would behoove us not to waste too much time contemplating each other, do you not agree, Your Highness ?" She placed emphasis on his title, letting it stand between them as a reminder of the gulf that forever separated them.
Arthur stared at her for a long moment before answering,
"Indeed so, Miss Davies."
The grooms were upon them now. And not a moment too soon as far as Gwen was concerned.
"We're quite well," the prince assured the concerned faces staring down at them. "Thank you for your hasty response of coming to our rescue. But it was just a slight mishap. Nothing to fret over. However, Miss Davies here is quite chilled. Would one of you see her to the house at once? I'm quite well enough to walk the rest of the way."
A groom hastily dismounted and gave up his mount for Gwen.
"That's not necessary," she objected.
But her arguments were silenced with a wave of the prince's hand.
She glanced at each of the grooms' faces... They looked only at the prince, eager for his next command. Nothing she said would sway them.
Sighing, she held her tongue. Best to let people think she was the missish type of female who gets chilled and cannot walk out of doors. Besides, she didn't want the staff gossiping that she was some hot-blooded virago. She already had a strike against her with her father in tow.
She narrowed her gaze at the prince standing so stalwart in the morning wind. As if nothing untoward had occurred. But he didn't spare her a glance, even as she couldn't stop devouring the sight of him.
Her cheeks blazed afire...
Perhaps he only wished to be rid of her and that's why he wished to send her ahead.
A groom assisted Gwen as if she was some delicate lady who could not manage. And in moments, she was riding at a ridiculously slow dawdle, led by the groom who gave up his seat for her.
She sent a glance over her shoulder at the prince, speculating that his strides might very well overtake her.
But he gazed straight ahead, his eyes unreadable beneath his slash of blonde brows.
Sucking in a deep breath, she faced forward again and plodded ahead, letting him fall behind as she wished for the house to appear.
By the time Arthur reached the house, he had done nothing to exorcise Gwen from his thoughts.
He had spent the half-hour walk attempting to persuade himself that he merely craved a woman and not her specifically.
One of the comely housemaids whose eyes followed him about hungrily should satisfy his needs...
There was no glimpse of Gwen upon entering the high vaulted-ceiling foyer and Arthur's heart sank with a disappointment he couldn't deny.
There was something about her...
A fire...a passion he had not seen since before the war.
She was no simpering, naïve, spoiled miss. She possessed an air, a certain knowledge of life, and perhaps most astounding of all, she wasn't jaded for it.
His steps echoed a lonely sound across the aged marble as he moved towards the grand staircase.
It already seemed long ago that he had held her with winter winds buffeting them on all sides. And if the sweet taste of her didn't linger on his mouth, he might've convinced himself the entire encounter had not occurred.
Because, surely, only in a dream would he have disregarded logic and acted so rashly.
What on earth had motivated him to kiss a marriage-minded female he had no intention of wooing for the purpose of matrimony?
His goal was clear... He had traveled to London for one reason and one reason only and he needn't waste his time chasing after an ineligible female.
And yet, somehow, in the course of their brief acquaintance, Gwen had transformed in his mind. He no longer saw the unfortunate sun-browned, freckled female with the unfashionable hair and miserable pedigree.
No. He saw a strong, enticing female who would do quite well in his bed. Too bad she was not angling for the position of mistress.
Shaking his head as if that might free him of such a pointless wish, he entered his chamber, startling his valet from where he dozed in the chair by the window.
"Your Highness? Back already?"
The elderly man had been his father's valet and closest friend.
After his father had passed, his brother had inherited him first, then him next. And there was no question that he should find a younger, more spry valet.
But as long as Julius was willing, he would serve as valet to the Crown Prince of Camelot.
Tradition was not something to be tossed aside lightly, especially one involving said valet.
For some reason the thought of tradition only further drove home how wholly inappropriate his feelings for Miss Davies were. She was an heiress hunting for a husband, and he best not dally with such a female.
"I'll ring a bath for you," Julius said. His joints cracked as he passed by.
Arthur spared the man who was like family to him a tender smile...
"Thank you, Julius."
His valet nodded.
"Can't have you looking mussed if we're to woo the future queen."
Arthur's smile faded... His mind drifted to the lovely Lady Phillipa, feeling strangely empty as he imagined her as his bride.
"No. We can't have that."
A short time later he was the first to arrive in the dining room, but he was not to be alone for long.
His cousin entered the room just as he was cutting into a fat kipper.
Arthur greeted him with a nod, studying the man's back as he moved to the sideboard and made himself a generous plate of food.
Presently, Nigel tugged down his jacket as he seated himself, and Arthur couldn't help noticing it had already grown snug in the fortnight they'd spent together.
A definite paunch had grown there since he'd located him in his rented rooms in Seven Dials...a far cry from the fashionable lodgings he had expected to find him occupying.
When his grandfather banished his uncle twenty years ago for daring to ravish a visiting Italian dignitary's daughter, Nigel and his mother accompanied him to London, despite Grandfather's offer for them to remain behind.
But his aunt refused to believe the Italian girl's accusations and wouldn't let her husband depart without her, so the entire family fled.
When they left they were by no means penniless... But his uncle, Arthur learned, had lost everything at the gaming halls and then only inconvenienced his family further by dying in a duel and leaving them to endure poverty without him.
And Arthur had felt only pity for Nigel when he'd learned that they had been living in genteel squalor, pride preventing them from returning to Camelot.
"Even if I wanted to, Mama refuses," his cousin had explained when he had offered to send them home now. "She feels shame over Papa's banishment... And she's still angry. She'll take nothing from Grandfather."
Arthur had seen his aunt only a moment, a wan figure reclining on a faded chaise, her smelling salts in one hand and a much-read novel in the other...which she had thrown at his head.
The genteel aunt of memory was nowhere in evidence...
That woman would not have known the curses to heap upon his head for Grandfather's lies and cruelty...as she had phrased it.
But he did not blame his grandfather for banishing his uncle. By all accounts his uncle had badly damaged the girl. But none of that was Nigel's fault. He wasn't to blame for his father's sins.
So he had taken his cousin under his wing, supporting him with his own dwindling funds since he'd arrived.
His cousin might be penniless, but his rank still gave him access to the ton. And Nigel knew everyone. There wasn't a hostess who did not dote on him.
And with him as his guide, Arthur saved precious time, since Nigel knew instantly what debutantes he should consider.
"Pleasant ride this morning?" Nigel asked, lowering down to the table and digging vigorously into his breakfast. "I don't know how you rise at such an ungodly hour."
Arthur took a lingering sip of his coffee...
"Cousin..."
"Hmm," Nigel murmured as he sawed into a kipper.
"I would like to know more about Miss Davies."
At that, Nigel stilled his sawing...
"The one you staked a claim on already?" He snorted. "It sounded like you knew enough about her."
Arthur stifled his wince, determined to suppress the emotion of the previous night when he'd reacted so possessively to his cousin's interest in Gwen.
Nigel continued...
"I should think you could make better use of your time than inquiring into an ineligible bastard. She's hardly suitable as the future queen."
Arthur shrugged, pretending his cousin's words did not annoy him. He loathed revealing more of his interest in Gwen, but Nigel was the only one he could ask and expect discretion.
Rising from the table, he stared down at his young cousin...
"Just learn everything you can about her. Will you do that?"
Something flickered in Nigel's face that he had never seen before, and for a brief moment he was reminded that he really did not know him, cousin or no.
But before he could identify the sentiment, the expression was gone, replaced with Nigel's usual affable smile.
"Of course, Arthur. It's the least I can do for you after all you've done for me. What do you wish to know?"
"Everything."
As he departed the room, Arthur didn't want to think about why it had become so important to learn everything he could about a woman whose company he would not keep for much longer.
Stay safe!