Part 22: link


    Arthur wakes before Gwen. He decides to get up and shower, so that they can have plenty of time to get to her apartment before his father’s. He is able to reach up enough to wash his own hair, which makes him happy. When he returns to his room, he finds Guinevere awake, which also makes him happy.
    “Good morning, love,” he says, leaning to Kiss her. She offers a cheek, which he kisses, then scowls.
    “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she tells him.
    “I don’t care,” he tells her.
    “Well, I do.” She gets up and strolls to the bathroom to remedy that situation.

    Arthur drives them to Gwen’s, leaving her car at his flat.
    You may not have to work until noon tomorrow, but I need to leave earlier, she had a dit when he suggested taking her car back to her place an leaving it there. Unless toi don’t want me to stay.
    A raised eyebrow is all the response he gave as he picked up his keys and pulled her to his car.
    Gwen opens the door and immediately she hears, “Gwen? Is that you?” from down the hall.
    “No, it’s a pack of murderers,” she calls back.
    “Oh, good, because I’m not dressed yet.”
    “I’m not alone, Morgana,” Gwen warns.
    “Noted,” she calls back.
    Arthur sits on the sofa, and moments later Morgana comes sprinting out of her room, declaring, “Okay, let me see that thing in person!”
    Gwen offers her left hand for inspection, and Morgana appropriately oohs and aahs. “That is so beautiful. toi have good taste,” she says to Arthur.
    “Actually, it was my mother’s,” he tells her.
    Morgana blinks. Gwen obviously has told her about Arthur’s mother. She eventually manages an “Oh!” not knowing what to say. She looks at Gwen.
    “I know,” Gwen agrees softly.
    Arthur chuckles and says, “Getting it from my father was the difficult part.”
    “I can well imagine,” Morgana says.
    Gwen pries her hand from Morgana’s grasp and declares, “I am going to take a shower. toi two behave yourselves.” She takes her bag back to her room.
    Morgana looks at Arthur. “You’re looking better. Can I get toi something to eat?”
    “No, we’re actually having brunch, brunch du at my father’s in a bit. Gwen’s father is attending as well.”
    “Good luck with that,” she says, heading to the kitchen. “You can turn on the telly if toi like,” she calls.
    “Thanks,” he answers, and does so.
    He hears the douche turn on, and looks back down the hall. “I know what you’re thinking,” Morgana teases him as she re-enters the living room, carrying a cup of thé and some pain grillé with marmalade.
    Arthur blushes and surfs through the channels. He finds something he can live with, then pulls out his phone.
    Gwen’s dad coming to brunch, brunch du also he texts his father.
    A minute later, Just her dad?
    Yes. Her mum is dead
    interesting comes the reply after another minute. Arthur puts his phone away as Morgana finishes her toast.
    “Arthur,” Morgana says after several minutes. He looks up and finds her face uncharacteristically hard.
    “Yes?” He thinks he knows what’s coming.
    “You hurt her, ever, and you’ll need to run a lot farther away than Lance did.”
    He was right. “I know. I promise toi that toi will never have to worry about that.”
    “I will hold toi to that.”
    “I know.” He holds her gaze for a minute, trying to prove to her that he is in earnest. She looks away first, taking a drink of her tea. Good, he thinks, feeling as though he has passed the first test. He is starting to worry about brunch.

    Gwen is ready to go. She has repacked her bag with clothes for work the suivant day, and is wearing a white sleeveless chemisier with a flowing lavender skirt. Arthur smiles when he sees her, standing. Wonder what surprise she has under that jupe for me today? he cannot help but think.
    She exhales, looks at Morgana, and says, “Wish us luck.”
    “Good luck. toi might need it,” Morgana says.
    “Nervous, too, huh?” Arthur says to her as they walk to his car.
    “A bit, yes.”

    Uther Pendragon is sitting in the sunroom at the back of his massive house, drinking his favori coffee and lire the newspaper. He glances at his watch. Ten-thirteen. He knows Arthur’s habit for arriving ridiculously early, and expects that they’ll arrive within the suivant fifteen minutes. Uther has a sneaking suspicion that his son wasn’t planning on hanging on to that ring for very long, and has been thinking on and off all morning about how he feels about his son proposing to a woman that he has only just met.
    I want mother’s ring, Arthur had said.
    What ring?
    Her diamond engagement ring. I know toi have it. Arthur’s eyes déplacer pointedly towards the Monet on his father’s wall, indicating that he knows the ring lies in the sûr, sans danger behind the painting.
    What makes toi so certain? Uther asked, but deep down he knows that his son is going to walk out of this building with the ring.
    Because I know toi didn’t destroy everything of her. I know toi keep a picture of her yet, though toi burned the rest. I know toi have one of her handkerchiefs in your nightstand drawer. I know toi talk to her sometimes, when toi think no one is listening. I know…
    Enough! He pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
    Father, he a dit softly, I am not intending to cause toi pain. I want to marry Guinevere, and I want her to have mother’s ring. That’s how much she means to me. If mum could give her consent, I think she would. We both know I could go buy a ring. But she is worth plus than that to me. I have so little of my mother; please let me have this one thing of her to give to the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with.
    Uther stares out the window. Very well, he sighs. Arthur stands and goes to the safe, which he opens easily.
    You know the combination? Uther asks, surprised.
    Of course I do, father. It’s my birthdate. You’re not that difficult to figure out, toi know.

    “Hello,” Arthur’s voice calling from the front of the house pulls Uther out of his memory. Ten twenty-six.
    Uther stands and walks to the front of the house. He sees them standing there in the foyer. Guinevere is even lovelier in person than she was in the picture on Arthur’s phone.
    “Arthur, you’re early, as usual,” he smiles. “You must be Gwen,” he says, extending a hand to her.
    “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you, sir,” she smiles up at him. He is a handsome man still, despite the grey hair and the face that doesn’t look like it smiles enough. Arthur’s looks definitely favor his mother, though he and his father share the same strong jawline.
    “Welcome to Camelot Manor,” he says.
    “You have a lovely home,” she tells him.
    “Thank you. It’s been in the family for generations.”
    Just then Uther’s phone rings. Arthur rolls his eyes as his father looks at it.
    “Father…” he begins.
    “I’m sorry, I must take this. Won’t be long, I promise. Why don’t toi give her a tour?”
    “Yes, I’d like that,” Gwen says to Arthur, putting her hand on his arm as Uther walks away, speaking French into the phone.
    Arthur leads Gwen through the first floor, montrer her the house. “This will be mine one day, toi know. Ours. That is, if toi want it.”
    That hadn’t occurred to her. “Oh,” she says, then recovers. “Well, I don’t know, this neighborhood doesn’t look that safe…” she jokes.
    He laughs, leading her into the kitchen. She looks, eyes wide. “Sold,” she says, and he laughs again.
    “Good morning, Leah,” Arthur says to his father’s housekeeper, the only staff he has in the house. Leah is an older woman, handsome and sturdy, and she is fussing over their brunch, getting everything ready.
    “Arthur!” she turns around, “How are you, darling? Your father told me you’d been hurt,” she studies him.
    He gives her a quick hug, telling her, “I’m much better, thanks. Leah, this is Gwen,” he introduces them.
    “Nice to meet you, Gwen,” she says. Gwen extends her hand, and Leah takes it.
    “You, too,” Gwen says, finding Leah’s fondness for Arthur sweet. She obviously has worked for Uther a long time, she thinks.
    Leah notices the ring on Gwen’s finger and she gasps before she can help herself, and looks at Arthur. He smiles and puts a finger to his lips. She understands, and will say nothing.
    “Brunch smells wonderful,” Gwen tells her, “I’m looking vers l'avant, vers l’avant to it.”
    “Thank you, my dear.”
    “All right, on with the tour,” Arthur says, taking Gwen’s hand. They pass Uther’s study and still hear him on the phone. Arthur takes her upstairs.
    “This is my room,” he opens a door. She goes in and looks around. Narrow lit with a red coverlet. Fencing trophies. feu engine toy in one corner. Football in another. Poster from “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.” Model car. Gwen picks up the car.
    “Aston Martin DB5. James Bond’s car,” she says, inspecting it. “Great car.” She puts it down. “I prefer the V12 Vanquish, myself. I liked that they used it in some of the newer movies. I’d l’amour to just drive one once.”
    Arthur stares at her.
    “What?” she says.
    “That was so hot,” he declares, and she laughs.
    They leave his room, and he opens a door to a tiny room, little plus than a balai, genêt à balais cupboard ou a crawlspace. “This was my favori hiding place when I was a boy. I used to bring my toys in here and play. Sometimes I’d haul pillows and blankets in and build a fort.” He leads her inside and closes the door behind them.
    I know that look, Gwen thinks as he leans toward her, pulling her to him.
    “Ar—“ he stops her words with his kiss, leaning into her. He plunges his tongue into her mouth, hungry, passionate. She returns his desire, her own tongue desperate and longing.
    Arthur pulls his lips away from hers, trailing kisses down her neck. “I want you, Guinevere,” he whispers in her ear.
    Her skin tingles at his words. “But, your father…” she attempts weakly, her willpower not that strong to begin with.
    “…is downstairs talking to French people. And we have time,” he says between kisses, working his way down her collarbone, hands undoing buttons on her blouse.
    “Hell with it,” she surrenders, unfastening his trousers and sliding her hand inside.
    He opens enough of her chemisier to give him access to a good portion of her breasts and plants kisses there as his hands slide down, lifting her jupe and sliding his hands up her thighs.
    Guinevere sighs, leaning her head back. She shoves his trousers and underwear down enough to free him and takes him in her hand as he reaches up and pulls her panties down, immediately returning his hand to the warmth he has exposed.
    He backs her up to a small ledge on one side of the room, and she jumps up to sit on it, knowing that he’d try to pick her up if she didn’t. He presses against her, s’embrasser her hotly, and thrusts into her, causing a soft cry to exit her lips.
    Arthur closes his eyes as he drives into her; all need and want, the complete opposite of the gentle loving they shared last night. The plus I have of her, the plus I want her, he finds himself thinking, amazed that he can even form a coherent thought right now. He continues his rhythm, right arm wrapped around her waist, left hand at her breast, kneading, stroking. He feels her legs around his waist, spurring him on deeper, harder.
    She feels herself coming close; hears noises begin to escape her lips of their own accord. Letting go of his neck, Gwen puts her own hand over her mouth as she climaxes, mindful of the noise. Arthur nudges her hand away with his nose and swallows any sound either of them might make with a Kiss as she feels him spill himself into her, reaching his own finish.
    They hold each other a minute more, panting; foreheads together. Gwen starts to giggle. “Who’s the naughty one now?” she asks him.
    “Still you,” he teases back.
    “Oh!” she shoves him, smiling. He lets her down, backing up so that she can put herself back together.
    After a stop in the bathroom, they go back downstairs. Uther emerges from his study as they descend the staircase, and just then the cloche, bell rings. Guinevere’s father has arrived.

Part 24: link