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Standard disclaimer.
Gwen was feeling bored and a bit restless.
She had so many things on her mind, but most of her thoughts were centred around the Prince of Wales, Arthur Pendragon.
This man had the ability to do things to her, just by looking at her and somehow, somewhere along the blurred lines of propriety, they've managed to connect on levels, that have slipped passed her usual sensible defenses.
Being in close proximity of him, mostly when she finds herself alone with him, she's reduced to a jittery, weakened woman, who has little control over her feelings.
He's a master puppeteer.
He stirs feelings, that has long been buried and all of her walls are crumbling.
And the only thing she can do, is to watch them fall, knowing she's powerless to stop them.
A weary sigh escaped her, as she looked out the window, at the garden below, bathed in silvery moonlight.
It looked so enticing, she decided to go out there and enjoy it.
This time, when Gwen sneaked out of the palace after ten o'clock, she propped the door open with a flip-flop.
She wore the other rubber sandal on her healing foot, to keep it from getting hurt.
Henry had told her, the stitches should dissolve within the next few days, so she was being extra careful.
She inhaled the breeze and stared at the full moon, as once again, her thoughts drifted to Arthur.
He had sent a message earlier, inviting her to his quarters for dessert and drinks, but she had declined, saying she was tired.
Actually, she was trying to be sensible.
She was starting to care far too much, for this royal dad and his son.
She could feel herself growing attached, and she would be leaving in a few weeks time. At this point, it was already going to be difficult, to say goodbye to both.
Her chest felt tight, with those 'missing' feelings, she knew she was going to have.
She breathed deeply and tried to allow the serenity of the evening to settle her.
"I thought you said you were tired," a male voice from behind her said, making her jump. She reeled around.
"You walk very quietly for a prince," she accused, taking in the sight of his chest, beneath his unbuttoned shirt.
"How is a prince supposed to walk?"
"With a loud, arrogant stomp, so everyone knows he's coming. So, if they're complaining about him, they can stop, before he sends them to the dungeon."
"You weren't complaining. You were looking at the moon."
She turned back around and tried to recover some of the serenity, but her heart was skipping like a stone on the water.
He moved just behind her, so she could feel the heat of him.
"I see you remembered to prop open the door this time."
"I'm a fairly fast learner about practical things," she said.
"Why didn't you come when I asked?" Gwen felt her heart hammer in her chest.
"I felt bad about not respecting your wishes about your son."
"Are we going discuss the photo again?" he asked in a weary voice.
"We don't have to," she said. "But I don't compartmentalize real well."
"That's not the only reason you didn't come," he said. She wouldn't expect such a man, to be able to look outside himself and practically read her mind, but he could.
"You're right," she said, still staring at the moon. "I have a problem." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.
"I can fix it," he said, with entirely too much confidence.
"No. I think you might make it worse." He dipped his head in disbelief. "Don't tell anyone, but I think I might be starting to like you and Andrew too much," she finally whispered.
His gaze softened and he lifted his hand to her cheek.
"Oh, Guinevere, that's no problem."
"Maybe, not for you," she said. "But it is for me. I'm going away in a few weeks and I'm going to miss the devil out of you two."
"You think we won't miss you?" he asked.
"Not like I'll miss you," she confessed, voicing a forbidden fear.
"You're wrong. Besides, you could stay."
"My assignment will be over…"
"It doesn't have to be over," he said, his gaze dark with secret emotion. "Your assignment can be extended. I can take care of you."
'Mistress.'
"But that's so sleazy," she said.
"Pardon?" he said in disbelief.
"The mistress...kept-woman thing. I'd rather be your friend. I'd rather be someone you can be yourself with. The biggest...best gift, you could give me, is to be real with me. To laugh when your amused, to yell when you're angry."
"I don't yell very often. A lack of restraint shows a lack of power."
"Power shmower...this isn't about being princely. It's about what you really, truly feel." He stood silently for a long moment.
"I really and truly, want to make love to you all night long," he said in a low, urgent voice, that tied her in knots, and at the same time, undid her.
Her breath left her lungs.
"I'm going to have to think about this," she said. "When my brain works again."
"When will that be?" he asked, with an edge to his voice.
"When you're not within twenty feet of me." He looked deeply into her eyes and shook his head.
"I'll find a way for you to stay and I'll find a way to make you want to stay," he said.
"The last one isn't the tough one," she said, and gave into the silent demand in his gaze and kissed him.
Two mornings later, Arthur heard a tap at his door, then, his assistant announced Gwen.
He nodded, and she rushed into the room like sunshine.
His heart lifted at the sight of her, although he suspected she might not like his news.
"Good morning, Your Highness," she said with a bright smile. "You rang? No wait, I want to show you something first."
She extended a sheet of paper for him to view.
"Andrew's signature. Isn't it great? I'm so pleased with his improvement." Surprised and pleased, Arthur studied the paper.
"Andrew hates to write."
"Hated. Past tense. I made a little game of it. I told him, since he was going to be very famous, everyone was going to want his autograph, so he needed to start practicing, so he would have a dynamite signature."
"Clever. But, no surprise there," he said.
"Thanks," she said, her gaze holding his. "Your Highness, may I invade your space?"
A mix of curiosity and excitement, clicked through him.
The woman had invaded his mind. Hell, she might as well invade his space.
"Yes," he said.
Gwen stepped forward and put her arms around him, then looked up at him, lifted up on her toes and pressed her warm soft lips to his.
Arthur felt, as if something inside him,had sighed with relief and pleasure.
Gwen felt so right in his arms. He lost himself in the kiss and gave as good as he got.
Moments later, she he pulled back and said,
"You looked like you needed that." He couldn't deny it, but it didn't make what he was about to tell her, any easier.
"I called you to my office for a reason. I have a visitor coming this afternoon and I didn't want it to take you by surprise." She shrugged.
"You have visitors all the time, don't you?"
"Frequently," he said with a nod. "But not quite like this one. We're having a party tonight in honor of her visit."
"Oh, I know. Andrew has asked me to come with him, so I borrowed a dress, from one of the administrative assistant's daughters."
Arthur ruthlessly pushed aside, the seed of regret, growing in his belly.
"This is the daughter of an Italian count. Her father is highly influential in the government, and he is also an astute businessman. The advisors are quite impressed with her. She was educated in Swiss boarding schools and can speak three languages fluently. She's poised and even-tempered."
He paused.
"She is being considered as a wife for me." Gwen's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.
"Oh," was all she could say, but Arthur could practically see the wheels in her brain spinning so fast, they smoked.
She turned away, and that small gesture sliced at him.
He watched her take a breath, as if to compose herself, then turn back to him.
"I just really hope...you'll make sure she likes Andrew. He's such a terrific kid, he deserves people who see that," she said.
"This is not a done deal, Isabella is just a prospect. But she will be a guest this weekend, and I thought it fair to inform you." She nodded vigorously.
"Very fair," she started. "So, I won't be expecting to spend time with you."
"You don't have to attend the party tonight," he said.
"Yes, I do. I told Andrew I would join him. But I'll be okay. It's not as if, you can really pay a lot of attention to me in public, anyway. I mean, our relationship hasn't been and won't be public."
Arthur wondered why his gut was clenching.
"You need to understand that, this is a political duty. There is no emotion involved." She pressed her lips together, and her eyes turned sad.
"Well, that's a darn shame. You do what you need to do, and I'll be okay," she said, and even though she stood mere feet from him, she could have been a million miles away.
"Thank you for telling me."
He wanted to tell her, the visit had nothing to do with his feelings for her, but he wasn't accustomed to having to explain himself, in this kind of situation.
"You're very welcome." She nodded and walked to the door, then looked over her shoulder, as she was leaving.
"I hope she makes you laugh."
That night, Gwen put on her full armor.
A full-length, strapless, turquoise dress with a slit, sexy sandals, mascara, eye shadow, blush, lipstick and perfume.
But she felt like an amateur, compared to the Italian visitor, Isabella.
The woman wore a wispy chiffon dress, and had a body, that made Gwen rue the chocolate croissant, she'd eaten for breakfast, and she moved like a cloud.
But, as she danced with Andrew on the balcony, Gwen told herself it didn't matter.
She would never be a prospect, for the position of wife to Prince Arthur Pendragon, and she didn't want to be.
If there was one job she was ill suited for, it was the job of a prince's wife.
"One-two-three, one-two-three," Andrew said, moving in a surprisingly smooth waltz, as he held on to Gwen's hands.
"You're doing great. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" she asked. Andrew shook his head vehemently.
"Nobody made me but you." Gwen felt a tap on her shoulder.
"May I?" a male voice asked. She turned to face Henry and felt a whisper of relief. She smiled despite her inner turmoil.
"Did you want Andrew or me?" Henry laughed.
"You. I want to see how your foot acts under pressure."
"It's almost completely healed. Andrew, do you mind if I dance with your uncle?" Andrew shook his head and pulled at his collar.
"I'm going to get a brownie," he said, and raced away from the balcony. Gwen turned to Henry, who took her arm and gestured toward the ballroom.
"In the ballroom." Gwen's heart sank.
"Do we have to?" He nodded firmly.
"Yes." He led her nearly to the center of the floor, and they began to waltz.
"Is there a reason we couldn't stay at least, in the back of the room?"
"Yes, there is," Henry said. "I want him to see you."
"Who is him?" she asked innocently.
"My brother."
"Which one?" she persisted. He shot her a look of disbelief.
"Arthur."
"You're not trying to cause trouble, are you?" He shook his head.
"No, but I think you're good for him. I don't want him to forget it." Gwen looked past Henry's shoulder to the beautiful Isabella.
"It would certainly be understandable, if he did forget me. She's amazing, almost perfect."
"Dull. She's had everything interesting drilled out of her. Arthur would die of boredom. You're an excellent dancer. Everything about you sparkles tonight...except your eyes."
Gwen tilted her head.
"Are all of the Pendragon's this perceptive?"
"For the most part. In a position of authority, it can be necessary for survival. Speaking of authority, did you know that although the queen has handed over most of the responsibilities to Arthur, she has not given him the crown?"
Gwen shrugged and tried not to look at Arthur.
"No. Why should I?"
"No reason. She's waiting for him to marry again." Gwen digested that fact.
"Is there much difference, between being the official ruler and the unofficial ruler?" Henry nodded.
"When Arthur takes the throne, he gets to choose his own advisors and set his own policies. Until then, he walks a tightrope, between the queen's wishes and his own vision."
"Sounds challenging," she murmured, and her gaze caught Arthur's. Her heart leaped and she looked away.
Although she'd been carrying around, a silly, secret ache all evening, she sympathized with the prince. She hated that he felt pressured to marry.
He led such a complicated life.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"Just making conversation," Henry smirked. The dance ended and the crowd applauded. An attractive man in military uniform, approached Henry.
"Your Highness, it's great to have you back," he greeted. Henry grinned.
"James, it's good to see you. How is my brother treating you?"
"Working us like dogs," James said, glancing curiously at Gwen. Henry raised his eyebrows.
"Pardon my manners. Colonel James Bonaire, this is Madam Guinevere James, from the United States. She's tutoring Andrew. Gwen, John and I were friends in our teens. We both attended the same boarding school."
"Enchanté, Mademoiselle," James said, taking her hand and brushing his lips over it.
"It's nice to meet you, too," she said.
"Gwen, he was speaking about my second-oldest brother, Alan...you haven't met him yet, but I'm sure you will. He's second in command of Wales' military. He has a twin named Alfred, who is a special diplomat to Japan. Then, there's my youngest brother, Alexander, he's married and operates a yachting business.
He spends most of his time in the States. And then there's Morganna, she's the baby." Gwen's head swam with all the names.
"I don't know if I can keep all this straight."
"When you get lost, just use 'Your Highness' and that will keep you out of trouble," James said with a smile. The music started again. "Would you care to dance?"
Gwen opened her mouth to say no thank you, but Henry interrupted.
"Of course. She's a lovely dancer. Both of you enjoy."
Gwen shot Henry a dark look, but took a breath and agreed to dance with the colonel.
A dance with the colonel turned into three, then two other men approached her and so on.
Until she finally begged off and headed straight for one of the men, carrying trays of champagne.
She was tempted to grab two glasses, but thought better of it and instead went in search of Andrew.
She found him beside the dessert table.
"I'm afraid to ask how many treats you've eaten," Gwen said, as she brushed the crumbs off his flushed cheeks.
"Just a few," he said, but gave a slight wince. "My tummy doesn't feel good."
"Oops, that sounds like more than a few," she said, gently urging him to his feet. Hearing a slight commotion behind her, she looked back.
"Oh, look, Prince Arthur is introducing Isabella Caron. Aren't they the perfect couple?" a bystander said.
Gwen's stomach twisted, but she pushed the sensation aside, at the sound of Arthur's voice.
"Ladies and gentleman, it is my great pleasure, to introduce to you, our honored guest from Italy, Isabella Caron."
The crowd applauded and Isabella smiled regally and nodded.
"Definite princess material," Gwen muttered under her breath.
"What did you say?" Andrew asked. Looking at his sweet face, she was struck by an idea.
"Nothing, but there's one thing I want you to do before we leave." His face brightened.
"We're leaving?"
"Definitely. Have you met Mademoiselle Caron yet?" He shook his head. "I think you should go meet her." Andrew looked at the long receiving line and made a face.
"That's a long line." Gwen knelt down in front of him and looked into his eyes.
"Usually, you should take your turn like everyone else. That's the fair thing to do. But since your tummy hurts, we can make an exception."
"I can butt in?"
"Just this once. Be brief and whatever you do, don't heave on her dress."
Andrew took off and Gwen smiled...and waited.
Stay home, stay safe.