Page 30 of Propriety (le morte d’Guinevere #1)

Guinevere slid the lock back into place with shaky hands. She had survived, but only just. Only because of Arthur’s hubris, his need to break her, did she slip through that interaction.

Lancelot was standing near the bed, eyes wide. She wasn’t close enough to read his expression, but she could feel his rage from where she stood.

“Tell me he didn’t just say what I think he said.” He uttered through clenched teeth, with closed fists. “Tell me I misheard him.”

“I… I can’t.” She whispered, shaking her head. “Morgana-”

“You know it’s a lie, right?” He closed the distance between them in less than a few steps, framing her face in his hands. “You know I have never lain with that woman, right?”

She nodded, trying not to fall apart once more.

“I need to hear you say it, Guinevere. I need you to know that it never happened.”

“I know, of course I know.” She nodded again, fingers circling his wrists. “I know, now.”

“ Now ?” His voice sounded appalled, hurt.

“It was so hard, Lancelot.” She couldn’t breathe. “It was so hard to know what was truth, what was a lie, and what I had imagined in my head. I lost so much of myself.”

His fingers tightened against her cheeks. “You thought I left you? The night I confessed my love for you, you thought I left to fuck someone else?” He wasn’t angry, he was hurting.

“No, no, no, of course I didn’t.”

“Guinevere…” He was shaking.

In the light of the day, withdrawn from the safety of their bed, she looked at him.

He was covered in mud, in grime, and in blood. His hair was matted, his face taut. The once defined lines of his muscles had softened. He was no less beautiful, but he looked haunted. “Stay here,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss him softly.

“Don’t go.” His eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“I’m just going to have someone draw a bath, my love.”

“No, I don’t need that.”

She laughed, gently cupping his face in her hand. “Oh yes, you do.”

His brow knotted, a tear escaping with the motion. Gwen reached up, brushing it away with the pad of her thumb. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I’m sorry I let them tarnish my memory of you.”

Lancelot turned, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You owe me nothing, mon amour . They will pay for all they have sowed.” His eyes flickered with a fire that startled the queen, an anger she hadn’t seen in him before.

Guinevere’s breath hitched. The man before her wasn’t the soft-tongued rake who once seduced her with a glance, nor the desperate knight who clung to the memory of her voice through fevered dreams. This was something else.

This was fury with purpose. A storm ready to be unleashed.

“Lancelot…” she whispered.

He turned his eyes back to her, and the fire softened — but it didn’t vanish.

“I won’t let them rewrite me,” he said. “I won’t let them smear the only part of me that was ever pure.”

Her eyes burned. “You’ve always been pure to me.”

He reached for her hand, pressing it over his heart. “This is yours. It always was. And if they want a battle, they’ve earned it.”

She stepped into him again, rested her head against his chest, just over the slow, thunderous beat of his heart. “There will be time for the fight another day, knight. Please, let me take care of you.” She echoed her statement from the night before.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from him, out of the safety that his arms offered her. “Let me go find one of my maids. I’ll be right back.”

Lancelot frowned, but relented, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Guinevere slipped out the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Her wild hair, her swollen lips, the vigor and life returned to her cheeks.

She… was still in her nightclothes.

“Oh,” she whispered, finding a familiar face. “Lunete,” she waved the woman over.

“Your grace,” the older woman gave her a once over, confusion written across her features. “Are you quite well?”

“Yes, thank you. Could I have a bath drawn?” Guinevere hoped that her wringing hands and uncomfortable stance weren’t as noticeable as it felt.

“Of course, your grace.” Lunete bowed her head politely. “I’ll get on it right away.” But when she met the queen’s eyes, there was a question in her gaze.

One that Guinevere wasn’t ready to face yet.

She turned on her heels, throwing a gentle “thank you” over her shoulder as she hastened back to her chambers.

The door had barely locked behind her before there were hands on her, pressing her back into the solid oak. His kiss was frantic, fingers clutching tightly to her gown.

She met him with a whimper, eyes fluttering shut as he held her so fully.

“You were gone so long.” He rasped against her lips, pressing kisses across the length of her jaw, down her throat. He sucked gently on her pulse point, teeth grazing her skin.

“N-No,” she shuttered, pushing half-heartedly against his chest. “No marks.”

With an unsatisfied rumble, he pulled back from her, eyes hooded and laced with desire.

“Lance,” she whispered as his hands slipped underneath her dress, caressing the skin on her hips, holding her to him. “You’ve got to stop,” but she was panting. She was breathless.

“I don’t think I do.” He growled, and she felt his lips upturn.

“They are drawing me a bath, you fool.” His teeth drug along her earlobe, while pawing her rear with a greedy touch. “Do you,” another nip, this one just below her jaw. “Do you want them to see you?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly, hips rutting against her, his erection pressing into her stomach. “Let them see. Let them know. ” He dropped to his knees before her, pushing the flimsy material of her dress out of his way. “ This is my spiritual act of worship.”

In one fluid motion, he hiked her leg up over his shoulder, pressing slow, languid kisses across her thighs, higher… closer.

“There she is,” He chuckled, his breath warm and exciting as he drew nearer to her core. “So wet, so quick.”

His tongue danced along her center with only the lightest of pressure. “Tell me how much you missed me, my queen.” He breathed, adjusting his grip on her, kneading a handful of her ass in his hand.

“They’ll be here,” she gasped, pressing a hand against her mouth as his tongue brushed against her clit. “The bath, they’re coming.”

“Not before you do, Guinevere.”

His other hand clutched at her hip, steadying her against the door. “Tell me, woman.” His tongue darted against her once more, and she couldn’t help the way her hips bucked against him. “And I’ll let you fuck my mouth until you fall apart for me.”

“Lancelot,” a shutter wracked through her body, one hand anchoring herself in his hair. She was adrift, and he was the only beacon at sea.

He pulled back, removing all contact while she throbbed before him. “Tell me, Guinevere.”

“I missed you,” Panting. Spinning. “Like the flowers miss the rain.” She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.

“More,” he growled, a single finger coming to circle her clit. “Give me more, my queen.”

“Like the grass misses the dew.”

His tongue, greedily lapping at her as she quivered before him.

“Like the moon misses the stars.” She was shamelessly grinding against his mouth, feeling the precipice rising inside of her.

“Good girl.” He whispered against her, removing his finger from her clit, and sucking the bud gently into his mouth.

One finger.

Two.

He teased a third, but -

Guinevere’s head fell back against the door, and his hand pressed firmly over her mouth, stifling the moan that escaped her.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she crested, nails scraping against his scalp. His fingers moved faster as she clenched around him, a groan drifting from his own mouth as she tipped over the edge.

Her orgasm lasted hours.

She stood there, flying , under his touch, for days.

Maybe weeks.

She never wanted her feet to find solid ground.

Her vision returned to her. He removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he met her gaze.

“You are divine .” He whispered, untangling her leg and lowering her to the ground before him.

“For the record.” He wore a smug grin. “That’s three for the orphaned knight, and zero for the King of Camelot. ”

Guinevere blushed furiously as a knock rang out in the room. “That’ll be the bath. I’ll just be there.” He jabbed his thumb towards her closet, tugging her up on his feet before darting out of sight.