Thank you for your continued interest and support.

I do not own Merlin or the characters and I do not own Wicked In Your Arms.


"Gwen?"

Gwen couldn't quite identify the emotion that hummed through her father's voice. He was shocked to be sure, but there was an excited tremor there as well.

She closed her eyes in a tight blink, well imagining his thoughts...

'If my daughter is caught in a compromising position, it might as well be with a prince!'

Matilda stood beside him as well, looking perfectly apologetic as she looked between the prince and Gwen.

"I-I'm sorry, Gwen. I feared you were ill," she said.

"Your Highness, there can be no excuse for this display!" Gwen's father said.

Arthur nodded.

"I have none to give."

"Dad," Gwen pleaded. "Would you keep your voice down. There's no need to alert the house..."

"What's this?" a new voice inquired and Gwen sighed as the viscount stepped into view.

"Miss Davies?" he murmured, his tone reflecting his surprise as he looked from her to Arthur.

"Bloody hell!" Mr. Davies growled, doing a poor imitation of an outraged papa since his eyes gleamed with glee.

"I demand you do the honourable thing by my daughter!"

"Don't be absurd. Nothing untoward occurred," Gwen lied, glad they had not come upon them five minutes sooner.

At that, everyone swept their gazes over her disheveled hair. And she fought not to fidget beneath their dubious appraisal of her.


Mr Davies snorted.

And the viscount arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Indeed," he sneered.

Arthur took a menacing step forward.

"Show some respect!"

Gwen's father shook a fist.

"I demand the honourable thing be done..."

"And it shall!" the prince snapped.

With that, Gwen swung her gaze to him.

"No. You cannot..."

"It is done!" Arthur declared flatly. "I've compromised you and we will marry."


Gwen gaped, thinking back to the first night they had met and his proclamation that he would never marry her...even if caught together in a compromising situation.

"You can't mean that," she whispered.

"Of course I do."

She shook her head, stunned, feeling as though she'd been struck a blow.

But Arthur coolly addressed her father...

"Mr. Davies, I'll call on you tomorrow with my formal offer and we can discuss the arrangements."

Mr. Davies looked almost as stunned as Gwen. For all his demands, she doubted he really thought he'd get his way on the matter. At least not so easily.


Arthur faced Gwen, his face all hard lines, again the stoic resolve of a marble statue. Fleetingly she marveled that this must've been what he looked like on the dawn of a battle.

Was that how he viewed agreeing to marry her?

An unpleasant yet necessary task?

His eyes revealed nothing, staring through her as if he didn't see her at all.

"We'll speak tomorrow."

She shook her head.

"Art...no. You don't have to..."

"I do!" he bit out. "We both do!"

And with a curt nod, he turned and left her there.


The viscount looked Gwen over, his eyes bitterly cold before he too turned and left.

In minutes everyone would know she'd been caught in a compromising situation with the Crown Prince of Camelot.

Matilda hurried to her side...

"Come, we'll find a room to repair your hair."

"I just want to go home," she murmured, shaken and unwilling to face anyone else. She wanted to crawl into her bed and pull the coverlet over her head.

Her sister laced her fingers with hers and said,

"Certainly, come."

At the threshold, her father clapped her on the back so hard it jarred her teeth.

"You did good, girl. You did good."


Mortifying heat washed Gwen's face. And she had to stop herself from striking her father.

Did he think that she'd planned this?

He looked at her face and frowned, his brow knitted in concern.

"What's wrong? You're not ill, are you?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Then why aren't you pleased? You should be. Gwen, you'll one day be a queen. Just think of it."

He didn't understand. Only she did.

She knew Arthur was already regretting it. And his regret would grow and fester into bitterness until he hated the sight of her.

She gave a weary sigh and walked off with her sister.


Arthur walked a hard line into the library of his rented townhouse, his booted heels clicking over the marble as he made his way for the tray of brandy.

After tonight, he could use a drink. Something to steady his nerves.

Not that he regretted his decision. Not that he ever would. He merely needed time to consider how he was going to present his new bride to his grandfather without sending the old man into a seizure that would rob him of his last breath.

His top lip curled into a grimace. The old man was stronger than that. He'd outlived two sons, a wife and multiple grandchildren.


Dropping into a plush wingback chair, he stared at the smoldering logs in the fireplace, feeling moody and pensive.

For several moments he didn't move, he simply stared at the sparking embers, waiting for guilt to attack him. Or regret for failing to do the one thing that was expected of him.

Only it didn't come.

So his wife-to-be didn't possess the most stellar of pedigrees... He knew he should care, but at that moment he was having trouble mustering enough anger at himself for the situation.

Gwen was smart and beautiful and strong...everything he wanted in the wife who would stand beside him and lead his kingdom into the future.


In the distance, a door slammed.

Moments later, the door to the study banged open...

"What have you done?" Nigel demanded in tones so shrill they resembled a woman's.

Arthur winced. He didn't need to ask his cousin to explain himself. He understood perfectly.

"I had to find out from some old hag that my own cousin just offered marriage to Miss Gwen Davies after being caught in a state of dishabille with her."

"Nothing as dramatic as that, I assure you. We were both dressed."

At that, an expression of vast relief crossed Nigel's features.

"So you didn't propose?"

"Oh, I proposed."

Nigel marched to stand before him, his hands propped belligerently upon his hips as he glared down at him.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"I'm honour-bound to offer marriage."

"Rubbish! She's gotten into your blood. That is all. You've wanted her from the first minute you clapped eyes on her." Nigel shook his head vehemently. "You're not thinking. You'll soon tire of her. And the last thing you shall want is to then find yourself shackled to her."

"That won't happen."

"Listen to yourself! You sound like you're in love with the chit!"


Arthur opened his mouth to deny the charge, but instead closed it with a snap.

He instead... shrugged.

For some reason he had no wish to deny the allegation.

He angled his head, scratching his jaw thoughtfully... Perhaps there was a kernel of truth to it.

He'd known what would happen when he followed Gwen. And he knew when he followed her into that room he was playing with fire.

He'd also known that he would have to touch her. And taste her.

Since she ended their affair, he'd missed her abominably. She'd haunted his every waking moment...hell, even his dreams.

And he'd found courting other women and abiding their inane chatter, intolerable.

Even more intolerable was the notion that she was being courted...by the viscount or some other man.

Or that some other man could be putting a hand on her...

Or that a man other than him could kiss her or take her to his bed.

He couldn't stomach the notion. She was his.


"What will your grandfather say?" Nigel asked.

A muscle near Arthur's eye ticked and he rubbed at the bothersome area, hoping to be rid of the sensation.

"He'll be happy I've married," he replied vaguely.

"To someone as common as the Davies girl? A chit as long in the tooth as she is?" Nigel snorted. "I think not."

Arthur's jaw clenched.

"He'll get over it. Once Guinevere has delivered him his first grandchild, he'll be satisfied."

Nigel's faced flushed red and he stamped a foot.

"He won't! He won't be happy. He won't!"

Arthur frowned at his cousin's strange words and even stranger behaviour. He won't be happy. He was unsure if the man was stating this as fact...or as a wish. Either way, he was in no mood for such theatrics.


He rose to his feet.

"This isn't up for discussion, cousin."

"You're making a mistake." Nigel's eyes glittered brightly.

"I think not! Even so, it's my mistake to make. It's my life. And you should have a care when you're speaking about my wife to be." He held his cousin's gaze for a long moment. "I'll hear no more on the subject. I'm going to bed."


Turning, Arthur felt Nigel's stare drilling into his back as he left the room.

Taking the stairs to his quarters, he wondered at his cousin's strange behaviour and wondered if he really knew him at all.

Or if he even wanted to.


Stay safe!