Thank you for your continued interest in my stories. I appreciate it. A warm hello to Mrsce...welcome and thank you.
Standard disclaimer.
"Madam Gwen, this is the third time you have taken Prince Andrew out, for one of your field trips," Francis said, the following day, as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief.
"Isn't this excessive?"
"It's a reward," Gwen told him. "He has shown improvement already, and he worked hard this morning. Right, Drew?" she said to the boy, skipping slightly ahead.
He nodded, as he swung the bucket he had in his hands.
"You should have worn shorts, sir. Maybe you could roll up your pants," she suggested to Francis. He looked down his nose at her.
"I think not," he said. "And you should know, Prince Arthur is aware of all your activities. He asks for an accounting every day." Gwen came to a dead stop.
"Are you saying, he's asked you to watch me?" she asked. Francis seemed to grasp the slight pique in her tone.
"Well, not in so many words."
"In exactly how many words, then?" She felt Andrew come to her side and she glanced down at him. He looked at her, then Francis, and pulled at her hand.
"Father does the same with me," he said, as if he wanted to placate her. She held his gaze.
"He doesn't have time to be with me all day...every day, but he still wants to know about me every day. He always says, if anything happens and he knows about it, then, he can take care of me."
Sometimes, Andrew's sensitivity amazed her.
"Take care of you how?" Andrew shifted from one foot to the other.
"The advisors and sometimes, Grandmother...the queen...can be…fussy."
"Prince Arthur is quite protective," Francis said with pride.
"But I don't really need protecting," Gwen said. Francis hesitated for a beat.
"The advisors have opinions about almost everything," he said in a hushed voice, as if he feared the butterflies fluttering nearby, might repeat his words.
Realization dawned on Gwen.
"Oh, the advisors still don't like me."
"It's not such a matter of liking, as approving," Francis said, tugging at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion.
"Hmm," she said with, a huff, then allowed Andrew to pull her forward. "They'll approve the results."
"That's exactly what Prince Arthur says," Francis said.
"And what Prince Arthur says, goes," Gwen said, remembering his assertion, that they would be lovers.
"As it should," Francis said.
She could disagree, but she bit her lip and focused on helping Andrew enjoy the beautiful day.
They caught more tadpoles and waded at the water's edge.
And Francis fussed, if they waded more than a few feet, from the edge of the pond.
Ignoring him, Gwen told Andrew all about the life cycles of tadpoles and frogs, watching, as his blue eyes sparkled with excitement.
They nibbled on sandwiches and tossed a few crumbs to the fishes, bringing more joy to the little prince.
A while later, Andrew spotted a turtle on a rock, farther out in the pond.
He was so excited, Gwen thought he'd found the Holy Grail.
Unable to resist the longing in his eyes, she waded out to the rock, getting wet up to her waist.
But was able to grab the turtle and return.
On the way back to the prince, she stepped on something sharp.
"Ouch!"
"What is it?" Francis asked. "Did something bite you?"
"No, I stepped on something," she said, feeling her foot burn with pain.
"Are you okay?" Andrew started, concerned for her. "Are you bleeding?" The worried expression on his face tugged at her heart.
"I'm sure it's just a scrape," she said, even though it hurt like the dickens.
"Here, put the turtle in the bucket. You get to name him, but his name needs to start with a T," she told him.
"We're not taking that…that amphibian back to the palace," Francis said, in an appalled voice.
"Reptile," she corrected. "We have to. We just got him and I think I could use a Band-Aid." Andrew looked at her foot, as she walked out of the pond.
"You're bleeding," he said, and bit his lip.
"I'll be okay, I just need a Band-Aid," she assured him. She sneaked a glance at the bottom of her foot and swallowed a wince, at the dirty gash.
Francis pursed his lips, then opened his mouth, but Gwen cut him off with a shake of her head.
"Sorry, but I think we need to get back. Let me put on my shoes."
During the walk to the palace, she helped Andrew think of names for the turtle. By the time they'd arrived, she was grinding her teeth at the pain.
"Go get cleaned up," Gwen told Andrew. "And I'll do the same."
"But, what about your foot?" he asked.
"I'll take care of it. You go on ahead, okay?" As soon as he disappeared down the hall, she turned to Francis.
"Please get me a first aid kit."
"There's always a doctor on call for the palace."
"Not necessary," she said. "I'm going to take a shower. Please leave the kit on my bed."
'Dear God! She's as stubborn as they come.' Francis sighed and turned away.
Gwen entered her room, stripped, turned the shower on hot and bit down on a washcloth, while she cleaned her wound.
Pulling on a big, fluffy terry cloth robe, she sat on the closed commode and looked at her foot.
"A butterfly bandage," she murmured without much hope.
Sighing, she stood and opened the bath door, stepping back into her room.
Prince Arthur and Henry stood waiting for her.
Her heart caught, at the intense expression in Arthur's gaze.
"We're here to see the foot," Henry said.
"Francis is such a busybody," she muttered, hopping forward.
Before she could take a second hop, Arthur scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bed.
Henry immediately took her foot in his hands and made a clucking sound.
"Stitches," he said.
"I was hoping for a butterfly bandage," she began. He shook his head.
"Stitches and a tetanus shot."
"You're a regular messenger of joy," she grumbled, watching him pull a needle and other things from his black bag.
"You shouldn't be so careless with yourself," Arthur admonished.
"I wasn't careless," she said. "Just a little adventurous. I had to get Tex."
"Tex?" Arthur echoed.
"I'm surprised Francis didn't blab that part, too. Tex, the turtle, was on a rock out in the pond." Henry chuckled and placed a fat towel beneath her foot.
"Something tells me, Tex is no longer in the pond. Antibacterial antiseptic," he said, and spilled cool liquid from a bottle.
"Cream for numbing," he said. "I'll stick you next."
"You waded into the pond for a damn turtle," Arthur said.
"Andrew wanted it," she said. She felt the prick of the needle and winced.
"He could have lived without it," Arthur said. "It's not like it was a pony. It was just a turtle."
"It wouldn't have been that big a deal, if I hadn't cut my foot. Don't you need to be meeting, with some sort of ambassador, or making legislation or something?"
"I can handle my schedule," he said in a too-soft voice of warning.
And despite her bravado, Gwen felt a shiver of apprehension.
She decidedly clamped her mouth shut, while Henry worked on her foot and Arthur paced beside her bed.
The young doctor smiled gently when he'd finished, gave her a few instructions and softly squeezed her shoulder, just before he left.
Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed impatiently.
"I repeat, you shouldn't be so careless, Guinevere."
"And, I told you I wasn't careless," she protested.
The tension emanating from him, made her stomach knot. He sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand in his.
Gwen glanced down at the way his large, strong hand enveloped hers. The protective gesture, tugged at something deep inside her.
"I'm going to be okay," she said, meeting his gaze. "It's not as if I was attacked by a shark." Arthur groaned.
"God forbid." He shook his head. "My son doesn't like to see you hurt." Gwen's heart softened.
"I know."
"Neither do I," Arthur said, his gaze completely focused on her.
There was something beyond desire in his eyes.
Tenderness. She saw it, and the effect slipped passed her defenses, like smoke through a keyhole.
He sat with her for a while longer, chatting quietly. Then, kissed her hand, her lips and forehead, before he exited her room.
Arthur listened to Henry's stories, of his recent trip to America, while the two brothers shared breakfast in Arthur's office.
One of his assistants interrupted, with an expression of regret.
"Mr. Fortenbury wishes to see you briefly, Your Highness."
Michael Fortenbury is the prince's least favorite advisor. And as soon as Arthur formally took the throne, he planned to retire Fortenbury with honors.
"After Henry and I finish breakfast," Arthur told him. The assistant gave a hesitant nod.
"Yes, Your Highness. Um...Mr. Fortenbury prefers to have a private word with you, before the general meeting with the other advisors."
Arthur frowned.
Fortenbury was going to make a fuss about something. He wondered what.
"I'm sure he said it was an issue of grave concern, didn't he?" The assistant nodded and gave a slight grimace.
"Yes, sir."
"I don't mind. We're almost finished," Henry said, and then, "I haven't had the pleasure of talking with Fortenbury in years. I'm surprised he's still around."
Arthur resisted the urge to agree, then tossed his napkin on the table and nodded at the assistant.
"Tell him I have five minutes."
Fortenbury, a tall, self-important man with bulging eyes, was admitted to the office and gave a slight bow.
"Your Highness." Arthur nodded and Henry said,
"Good morning." Fortenbury turned his attention to Arthur.
"I have an issue of grave concern to our country."
"Does this issue concern military, crime or famine?" Arthur asked.
"None. It involves our future ruler, your son." Arthur tamped down the scratchy irritation he felt, at the back of his neck.
"It has come to my attention that his American…." He said the word with disdain and Arthur's irritation grew.
"…tutor, endangered the prince, during a trip to the pond."
"I don't know where you got your information," Arthur started, his impatience with the man driving him to his feet.
"But, Prince Andrew has remained on the palace grounds, during his lessons. He was provided with a palace escort, during his trip to the pond. His tutor has been protective of him. In fact, she injured her foot during the trip. More important, her methods have produced better results, than I had hoped for. If the tutor should take Prince Andrew beyond the palace grounds, I can assure you, that security will accompany them."
He nodded towards Fortenbury.
"That should settle your concerns." Fortenbury gave a slow nod.
"Yes, Your Highness. But I'm not sure it's appropriate, for Prince Andrew to be running barefoot on the grounds. This tutor does not appear to be a proper influence, in terms of propriety."
One of the things that irritated the hell out of Arthur, was the way everyone felt, they should make decisions, about how his son was raised.
"The tutor is providing Andrew with invaluable tools, that he will need throughout his life."
"But propriety…"
"Propriety isn't always the top priority. Andrew will have countless opportunities to focus on propriety. He's learning quickly, and he's happy."
"Happiness is not a priority in Prince Andrew's training," Fortenbury pressed.
"I'm his father, and it's a priority for me. Andrew is more productive when he's happy."
"With all due respect, I understand your concern for Prince Andrew as your son, but Prince Andrew also belongs to the people."
Arthur felt his blood pressure climb.
In the back of his mind, he could imagine Gwen's response.
'Butt out!' The thought calmed him, enabling him to speak his mind, somewhat diplomatically.
"It's my job as his father and his ruler, to balance his future responsibilities, with the development of his character. I appreciate your support of my judgment, as I carry out both roles."
Fortenbury gave a slow dip of his head and dismissed himself.
As soon as he left, Henry rolled his eyes.
"God, what a pain. Why don't you fire him?"
"It's not yet, within my authority to get rid of him," Arthur said, shoving his fist into his pocket. "While mother has passed on most of the responsibilities of the ruling position, I'm not officially it."
"So, you've got all the work, but not all the perks," Henry concluded. "Bummer. When do you think Mother dear, will toss the crown in your direction?"
"I think she's waiting for me to marry again." Henry made a face.
"What a choice. Marry someone the advisors choose, or put up with their endless yammering. I don't envy you, brother. How do you stand it?"
Arthur knew, that none of his adopted brothers envied him, yet, for all the frustration of his position, most days, he wouldn't part with it for the world.
He gave a wry chuckle.
"How do I stand it? I care. I care about Wales."
"We're damn lucky then, that you're in charge," Henry said. He studied Arthur. "Just curious, what's up between you and Andrew's tutor?" Arthur tensed.
"Nothing. She's American…she's inappropriate." Even though he thought about her entirely too often, Arthur mentally added.
"She's lovely...not hard on the eyes at all," Henry said.
"Just hard on a man's patience," Arthur muttered, and raked a hand through his hair.
"So, you won't mind if I spend some time with her," Henry said.
Arthur didn't breathe for a half moment.
He rolled through every response he should make.
He shouldn't care if his brother spent time with Gwen.
He shouldn't care if she laughed with him. Or kissed him.
But, everything inside him rebelled at the thought.
He could tell Henry to leave Gwen alone, so she wouldn't be distracted from her job, but he wouldn't. He met his brother's gaze, with honesty.
"I would mind." Henry looked at him for a long, considering moment, then gave a slow smile of approval.
"Okay."
Stay safe and stay blessed.