Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it. However, this is the last chapter for this story, but I sincerely appreciate you guys for hanging in with me...even when I was being taken to the carpet and being accused of 'claiming talent'.
Anyway, I still have an update for 'Love and Happiness' which sill soon be out (fingers crossed) but saying that, I will not leave my fellow Arwenites in the lurch. I will have something up in a couple days.
Much love to you all.
To the guest reviewer who kindly wished me Happy Thanksgiving...Thank you so much...but I live in Barbados in the Caribbean, and we don't have Thanksgiving holiday here.
I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Cold Hearted Rake.
Mr. Harcourt took his hands from the bookshelf casings and mockingly kept them in the air, as if he were being held at gunpoint.
With a gasp of relief, Gwen skirted around him and hurried towards a pissed off Arthur Pendragon, stopping in her tracks when she saw his face.
From the looks of it, his grip on sanity was not at all certain.
His blue eyes gleamed with violence, and the muscles of his jaw were twitching. And that meant, the infamous Pendragon temper had begun to burn every civilized layer into bright-edged ash, like the pages of a book cast into a fire.
"My lord," Gwen began breathlessly, "I thought you'd gone to Hampshire."
"I did." His wrathful gaze flickered to her. "I just returned to the House and the twins said they thought you might be here."
"I found it necessary to talk to Mr. Harcourt about Cassandra..."
"You should have left it to me," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "The mere fact of being alone with him, could create a scandal that would haunt you for the rest of your life."
"That doesn't matter."
His face darkened.
"From the first moment I met you, you've tortured me and everyone else within reach about the importance of propriety. And now it doesn't matter?"
He gave her an ominous glance, before turning back to Harcourt.
"You should have turned her away at the door, you conniving bastard. The only reason I haven't throttled you both, is that I can't decide which one of you to start with."
"Start with me," Mr, Harcourt invited gently.
But the air was charged with masculine hostility.
"Later," Arthur said, with barely restrained rage. "For now, I'm taking her home. But the next time I see you, I'll put you in a bloody box."
Turning his attention to Gwen, he pointed to the doorway.
She didn't like being commanded as if she were a disobedient poodle. But when he was in this state, however, she decided it was better not to provoke him.
Reluctantly she started forward.
"Wait!" Mr. Harcourt said gruffly.
He went to a table near a window and seized something Gwen hadn't noticed before. It was the potted orchid that Cassandra had given him.
"Take this bloody thing," he said, shoving the pot at Gwen. "By God, I'll be glad to be rid of it!"
After Arthur and Gwen had departed, Mr. Harcourt stood at the window to view the scene outside.
A streetlamp cast a weak lemon glow over a line of cab horses, illuminating the puffs of steam from their nostrils. And groups of pedestrians hurried across the wood pavement, towards the department store display windows.
Although he was in a pensive state, he became aware of Horace's sturdy footsteps approaching.
After a moment, the valet asked reproachfully,
"Was it necessary to frighten Lady Pendragon?"
Mr. Harcourt turned his head and gave Horace a slitted glance. It was the first time he had dared to speak to him so impudently.
In the past, he had fired more valuable men for far lesser remarks.
Instead, he folded his arms and returned his attention to the street, loathing the world and everyone in it.
"Aye," he said with soft malice. "It made me feel better."
Although Arthur didn't say a word during the short ride back to Pendragon House, the force of his anger seemed to occupy every square inch of the carriage's interior.
And poor Claire, she huddled in the corner, as if she were trying to make herself invisible.
Vacillating between guilt and defiance, Gwen reflected that he was behaving as if he had rights over her...which he did not.
He was carrying on as if she'd done something to injure him personally...which she had not.
The situation was his fault, she thought, because, he was the one who had encouraged Mr. Harcourt to court Cassandra. And he had manipulated the poor girl into the engagement.
She was vastly relieved when they arrived and she was able to escape the confines of the carriage.
Immediately upon entering Pendragon House, Gwen discovered that a sepulchral silence had settled in her absence.
Later, she would learn from the twins, that Arthur became so overwrought when he'd discovered her missing, everyone in the household had prudently disappeared from view.
Setting the orchid pot on a table, she waited as Claire took her outer garments and gloves.
"Please take the orchid upstairs to the parlor," she murmured to the maid, "And then come to my room afterwards."
"You won't need her tonight," Arthur said brusquely, then gave the girl a dismissive nod.
And before Gwen had fully absorbed the words, twitches of indignation chased across her shoulders and the back of her neck.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked.
But Arthur waited until Claire had begun up the stairs, before he said,
"Go wait for me in my room. I'll join you after I've had a drink."
Gwen's eyes widened.
"Have you gone mad?" she asked faintly.
Did he actually believe he could order her to wait in his room, as if she were a strumpet being paid to service him?
She would retreat to her own bedchamber and lock the door. This was a respectable household. Even he wouldn't dare make a scene, when his actions would be witnessed by servants, not to mention, Cassandra and the twins, and...
"No lock would keep me out," he said, reading her thoughts with stunning accuracy. "But try it if you like."
The way he said it, with a sort of casual politeness, sent heat to her cheeks.
"I want to see how Cassandra is," she said.
"The twins are taking care of her."
She tried another tack.
"I haven't had dinner."
"Neither have I," he replied, then pointed meaningfully to the stairs.
Gwen would have loved to decimate Arthur with some scathing remark, but her mind had gone blank.
She turned stiffly and ascended the stairs without looking back, but she could feel him watching her.
Her mind revolved in frantic dithering.
'Perhaps, after a drink, he would become calmer and return to his old self,' she thought. And then,
'Or perhaps he would have more than one...several...and come to me just as Liam once had...drunk and determined to take what he want.'
Reluctantly, she went to Arthur's bedroom, rationalizing that it would be easier than trying to evade him and play out some farcical scenario.
After trudging over the threshold, she closed the door, while her skin blazed and her insides turned cold.
The room was large and grand, the floor covered with thick soft carpeting.
The hulking ancestral bed was even larger than the one at Hampshire Priory, with a headboard that went clear up to the ceiling, and disproportionately huge columns, adorned with intricate carvings and strap-work.
The bed was indeed a sight to behold, with a richly embroidered counterpane of stylized forest scenes, covering the endless plateau of mattress.
And it gave her thought, that it was a bed intended for the procreation of generations of Pendragons.
She went to stand near the hearth, where a fire had been lit, and flexed her cold fingers in the radiant heat.
And a few minutes later, the door opened, and Arthur entered the room.
Gwen's heart began to beat so heavily, that she could feel her rib cage vibrate from the blows.
If the drink had calmed Arthur down, there was no obvious sign of it. His color had heightened to a shade of rosewood. And he was moving a little too deliberately, as if to relax, would unleash a storm of violence contained beneath the surface.
Suddenly, Gwen was driven to break the silence first.
"What happened in Hampshire..."
"We'll discuss that later," Arthur said, as he removed his coat and tossed it to the corner with a carelessness, that would have made his valet weep. "First, we're going to talk about what impulse of madness caused you to put yourself at risk the way you did tonight."
"I wasn't at risk. Mr. Harcourt wouldn't have harmed me. He's your friend."
"Are you that naïve?"
His expression was positively feral, as he stripped off his waistcoat.
The garment was hurled aside with such force, that she could hear buttons crack as they hit the wall.
"You went uninvited to a man's house and talked alone with him. You know that most men would interpret that, as an invitation to do whatever they wanted with you. Holy hell! You didn't even dare visit Liam in that manner when he was your fiancé!"
"I did it for Cassandra."
"You should have come to me first."
"I didn't think you'd listen, or agree with what I had to say."
"I'll always listen, but I won't always agree."
Arthur yanked at the knot of his necktie and ripped the detachable collar from his shirt.
"Understand this, Guinevere...you are never to put yourself in that position again. Seeing Harcourt leaning over you...My God! The bastard didn't know how close I came to killing him."
"Stop doing this," Gwen cried fiercely. "You'll drive me mad. You're behaving as if I belong to you, but I don't, and I never will. Your worst nightmare is becoming a husband and father, and so, you seem determined to form some kind of lesser attachment that I do not want. Even if I were pregnant and you felt duty-bound to propose, I would still refuse you, because I know it would make you as unhappy as it would make me."
After Gwen's tirade, Arthur's intensity didn't lessen, but it changed from anger into something else.
He held her with a gaze of hot blue infinity.
"What if I said I loved you?" he asked softly.
The question drove a spike of pain through her chest.
"Don't." Her eyes smarted with tears. "You're not the kind of man who could ever say that and mean it."
"You're right. It's not who I was." His voice was steady. "But it's who I am now. You've shown me, Guinevere."
Gwen went silent. Arthur too.
And for at least a half minute, the only sound that was heard, was the crackling, shivering fire on the hearth.
She didn't understand what he truly thought or felt. But she would be a fool to believe him.
"Arthur," she eventually said, "When it comes to love...neither you nor I can trust your promises."
She couldn't see through the glittering film of misery, but she was aware of him moving.
He bent to pick up the coat he had tossed aside, and started rummaging for something.
Then, he came to her, catching her arm lightly in his hand, drawing her to the bed.
The mattress was so high, he had to fit his hands around her waist and hoist her upward to sit on it.
Next, he set something on her lap.
"What is this?" Gwen asked, as she looked down at a small wooden box.
Arthur's expression was unfathomable.
"A gift for you."
Fire blazed in her eyes and her sharp tongue got the better of her.
"A parting gift?" she asked.
And Arthur scowled.
"Open it," he gently commanded.
Obeying, Gwen lifted the lid.
The box was lined with red velvet.
Pulling aside a protective layer of cloth, she uncovered a tiny gold pocket watch on a long chain, the casing delicately engraved with flowers and leaves. And a glass window on the hinged front cover, revealed a white enamel dial and black hour and minute markers.
"It belonged to my mother," Arthur said. "It's the only possession of hers that I have. She never carried it." Irony edged his voice. "Time was never important to her."
Gwen glanced at him in despair. Then, she parted her lips to speak, but his fingertips came to her mouth with gentle pressure.
"Time is what I'm giving you, Guinevere," he said, staring down at her. His hand curved beneath her chin, compelling her to look at him. "There's only one way for me to prove that I will love you and be faithful to you for the rest of my life. And that's by loving you and being faithful to you for the rest of my life. Even if you don't want me. Even if you choose not to be with me. I'm giving you all the time I have left. I vow to you, that from this moment on, I will never touch another woman, or give my heart to anyone but you. If I have to wait sixty years, not a minute will have been wasted...because, I'll have spent all of them loving you."
Gwen regarded Arthur with wonder.
And a perilous warmth rose, until it pushed fresh tears from her eyes.
Cradling her face in both hands, he bent to kiss her in a brush of soft fire.
"That being said," he whispered, "I hope you'll consider marrying me sooner rather than later." Another kiss, slow and devastating. "Because, I long for you, Guinevere, my dearest love. I want to sleep with you every night, and wake with you every morning."
His mouth caressed her with deepening pressure, until her arms curled around his neck.
"And I want children with you. Soon."
The truth was there, in his voice, in his eyes, on his lips and in his touch.
She could taste it.
And she realized in wonder, that somehow, in the past months, his heart had indeed changed. He had changed.
He was becoming the man, fate had intended for him to be...his true self...a man who could make commitments and meet his responsibilities, and most of all...love without holding anything back.
And she too could do it...love without holding anything back. Because this was real...he was real.
Sixty years?
A man like that, shouldn't have to wait even sixty seconds.
Fumbling a little with the watch chain, Gwen lifted it and slipped it over her head. And the glimmering gold timepiece settled over her heart.
She looked up at Arthur with swimming eyes. This was the moment of truth. It was time to admit, what she has been feeling for the past few months.
"I love you, Arthur. And yes, I'll marry you. And yes..."
Arthur hauled her against him and kissed her without reserve.
And he continued to kiss her hungrily as he undressed her, his mouth tender and hot, as he ravished every exposed inch of her skin.
He removed everything but the little gold watch, which she insisted she kept on.
"Arthur..." Gwen said breathlessly, when they were both naked and he had lowered beside her, "I...I need to confess to a small prevarication."
She wanted complete honesty between them. No secrets, and nothing held back.
"Yes?" he asked with his lips against her throat, one of his thighs pressing between hers.
"Until recently, I hadn't really checked my calendar to make certain I was..."
She broke off, as he used the edge of his teeth to delicately score her throat.
"...counting days properly. And I had already resolved to take full responsibility for..." His tongue was playing in the hollow at the base of her neck. "...what happened that morning. After breakfast. You remember?"
"I remember," he said, kissing his way down to her breasts.
Gwen grasped his head in her hands, urging him to look at her and pay attention.
"Arthur, what I'm trying to say, is that I may have misled you last night..." She swallowed hard and forced herself to finish. "...when I said that my monthly courses had started."
He went very still.
His face wiped clean of all expression as he stared down at her.
"They haven't?"
Gwen shook her head, her anxious gaze searching his.
"In fact, I'm quite late."
One of his hands came to her face, a tremor running through his long fingers.
"You might be pregnant?" he asked huskily.
"I'm almost certain of it."
Arthur stared down at her dazedly, a flush covering his face.
"My sweet, beautiful love, my angel..."
He began to look over her intently, pressing kisses along her body, and caressing her stomach.
"My God. This settles it...I am the luckiest sod in England." He laughed quietly, his hands wandering over her with reverent gentleness. "I have some good news to share as well, but it pales in comparison to yours."
"What news?" she asked, her fingers lacing through his hair.
He was about to explain when a new thought seemed to occur to him. And his smile faded, his expression turning perplexed.
Adjusting his position so that he could look directly into her eyes, he said,
"Your condition would have become obvious before long. What were you going to do? When were you going to tell me?"
Gwen glanced up at him sheepishly.
"I had considered the possibility of...going somewhere...before you found out."
"Going somewhere?" Arthur looked thunderstruck. "Leaving me?"
"I hadn't made a decision..." she began apologetically.
A low growl interrupted her, leaving no doubt as to what he thought of that idea.
He leaned over her, radiating ferocious heat.
"I would have found you. You'll never be safe from me."
"I don't want to be..." Gwen began, and would have said more, but he had taken her mouth with a deep, aggressive kiss.
Grasping her wrists, Arthur pinned them over her head, to stretch her out beneath him. And after anchoring with his weight, he entered her in a single thrust.
As he slid deeper, again and again, she struggled to breathe around the jumbled pleasure-sounds in her throat...moans and half-formed words.
Spreading herself wider, she tried to take as much of him as possible.
He was claiming her, pumping slowly, pausing almost imperceptibly before each thrust, to allow her to brace against him.
His fingers laced with hers, and his mouth was voracious, lavishing her with kisses.
And the pleasure advanced in rolling waves, causing her to writhe, until her body was out of rhythm with his.
Then, Arthur reached down to her hips and pinned them firmly to the bed, so that no movement was possible.
Gwen whimpered, receiving each thrust without being able to return it, while her inner flesh worked on him convulsively, as if to compensate for her outward stillness.
He took her out of her realm and beyond, and brought her to the edge many times, before his breath caught, as he felt her reach the summit.
Shudders of physical joy made her press up against him so desperately, that her slim hips almost lifted his weight.
Groaning, he pushed deep a few more times and held, the heat of him flooding her, while she clung to him with every part of herself, pulling in every hard pulse of his release, until he collapsed beside her, thoroughly spent.
A long time later, as they lay entwined and talked drowsily, Arthur murmured,
"Will you tell Cassandra tomorrow, that she no longer has to marry Harcourt?"
"Yes, if you like."
"Good. There's a limit to how much discussion of betrothals a man can endure in one day."
Picking up the gold watch, still on its chain around Gwen's neck, he traced its smooth casing over her chest in an idle path.
She pushed out her lower lip.
"You still have to propose to me."
Arthur couldn't resist bending to take her lip between his and tugging lightly.
"I already did," he replied.
"I meant properly, with a ring."
The watch ascended the rise of her breast to her nipple, the skin-warmed gold sliding over the tightening peak.
"It seems I'll be off to the jeweler's tomorrow," Arthur said, grinning as he saw the flicker of anticipation in her eyes. "That pleases you, does it?"
Gwen nodded, sliding her arms around his neck.
"I love your presents," she confessed. "No one's ever given me such beautiful things."
"My sweet little Guinevere," he murmured, his lips grazing hers. "I'll shower you with treasure...because you deserve it."
Letting the watch rest between her breasts, he lifted his hand to caress her cheek, as a wry note entered his voice.
"I suppose you'll want a full-fledged proposal on bended knee?"
She nodded, the corners of her mouth deepening.
"Because, I do so love to hear you say please."
Amusement glinted in his eyes.
"Then, I suppose we're a well-matched pair." Covering her body with his, he settled between her legs before whispering, "Because, I do so love to hear you say, yes."
That's it. Until next story or update, stay safe!