-17-
Sunday was the one calm day of Guinevere's week. Five days were spent in an office where she was practically buried in legal casework, Saturdays were spent catching up on bills and other everyday worries, but Sundays were all hers.
A couple of weeks have passed by since the meeting with Arthur and with her father recently gone on his trip to France, she and Elyan had been spending much more time together. She had noticed, however that he has been distracted, often checking messages on his phone. Warning bells had gone off in Guinevere's head and with a little snooping and a lot of guilt, she found out what, or rather, who, had his attention. The knowledge drove a dagger through her heart.
She thought back to her meeting with Arthur. While it was obvious that he was unnerved when he saw her, she was quite surprised that he had not made any contact with her. She had been walking on eggshells since the meeting, jumping every time her phone rang or when someone knocked at her door. But after a few days, it was obvious that there was no big, bad Arthur to jump out at her from the shadows.
Guinevere wasn't lulled into a false sense of security, however. Hunting was one of Arthur's greatest skills, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before he trained his sights on her.
She sighed. 'Even on my days off, it's always Arthur. I constantly have to look over my shoulder to see if he's there.'
Guinevere gave her head a shake and instead concentrated on the rows of fresh produce that lined the stalls of the weekend farmer's market. She had her regulars of course: the tomatoes from Mr. Dale, herbs from Mrs. Shipp, fresh cheese from Erica and her mother, and flowers from Melissa.
She loved the sunshine and the smells of the market. It was a welcome change from the office that took so much of her time.
"Guinevere."
She turned and saw him. Arthur. Her stomach churned and upon instinct she knew: he wasn't the businessman who met with her father weeks ago; the man in from of her was The Once and Future King.
"Sire."
It was difficult not to revert to old habits. She actually had to catch herself before falling into a curtsy.
"No more of that, Guinevere," Arthur said as he moved closer. "Never do that."
She looked at him, her face a mask devoid of any emotion—but it was difficult. This was the man she fell in love with and, even now, he still had pull over her. Her heart hammered in her chest and it took all of her willpower not to turn and run.
But she vowed never to run away ever again.
"When?" Guinevere asked. She wanted to know when he remembered.
"After I met you that day in your father's house."
She nodded then turned her attention back to the stalls of produce and continued to walk. Anything to get away from him and the feelings his nearness brought out in her.
"Wait."
He never raised his voice, not even changing the tone he used, but it carried so much authority that Guinevere automatically stopped and waited until he was beside her once again.
She looked up at him, noting how the early morning sun turned him completely golden. Guinevere resisted the temptation to raise her hand so she could shield her eyes from the glow. The familiar burn was back in her stomach, and her hands yearned once again to touch him. Even after lifetimes, he still had this effect on her.
"Yes?" She asked.
Her curt question erased the confident smile from his face.
"Will you dine with me this evening?"
Her brow furrowed as she considered what he was asking.
'What are you up to Arthur?'
