and took his leave. “What fun, yes?” Isabel said. Pretty much no one agreed with her. Except for Arthur, who couldn’t stop grinning.
A ton of food was delivered to the table. Almost all of it meat. Even though she was not a vegetarian—not completely, but for the most part—she was totally grossed out. Especially with the meat. Boar, rabbit, squirrel and, oh man, more pickled eel. The best she found were cabbage and beets. Not her favorite veggies.
Isabel had never been a liquor person, but tonight she was drinking like a sailor, hoping alcohol would help in her mission. Both to eat the eel without throwing up and to try to seduce the child knight who was just as inedible.
You’re kidding, right, Lady? This is an impossible task.
You must needs try, Izzy. Think of Merlin.
So far, just not working. He was cute enough, if you liked boys. Which she had, when she’d been a girl. But as handsome as he was, he was young. Way too young.
The sad thing was, he had no interest in Isabel, either. He had eyes for only Gwen. Which was apparent to everyone in the room except for King Arthur, who was so busy talking about this important meeting with other knights of the realm that he seemed oblivious to the looks exchanged between Gwen and the cute boy.
Seemed that everyone at the table watched and scowled, but felt nothing could be done to stop it as long as the king said nothing. Either the king had forbidden all to even think about the possibility, or he’d made certain no one voiced it.
She felt so bad about it all, but then again she had other things to mourn over.
Like the eel.
Like her total disinterest in Lancelot.
Like Lancelot’s total disinterest in her.
Like Guinevere’s total interest in Lancelot.
She was in magical hell.
Isabel could not fix all things at once, but there were a couple over which she had some control. She politely requested that a servant remove the eel, the boar, the rabbit and the squirrel, and then politely excused herself to go fashion a barf bag.
CHAPTER SIX
OKAY, so she was a little tipsy. But not so much that she didn’t notice that Gwen and Lancelot had excused themselves almost at the same time. They didn’t even try to pretend. It broke Isabel’s heart for Arthur. He had to know. And yet he didn’t seem to know. Or care.
“Would you enjoy a tour of the castle, Countess?” Arthur asked her, as the evening meal had thankfully concluded.
Thank God for Mary, who had met her in the garderobe, carrying a bowl of mint. Otherwise she’d be afraid that her breath would topple trees.
“I would love it, sir.” What she wanted was a tour of his body, but the castle would have to do for now.
“The gardens,” he said. “They mean much to Gwen. For a reason I cannot fathom, she tends to them almost daily, even though we have many, many gardeners to do such things.”
“We all have our favorite hobbies.”
“And what would be yours, Countess?”
Photography immediately came to mind, but she doubted she could explain that one. Sex was also high on her list, or it had been back in the day. Or forward in the day. She’d love to experiment here, but unfortunately not with Lance, but with the king. “I very much enjoy exercise. Sporting, as it were.”
The surprise on his face was so adorable, she wanted to kiss those raised eyebrows. “Sporting? Such as exercising the horses?”
“Well, yes, but much more than that. For example, I love jogging.”
“Jogging? What is this jogging?”
“Steady running for long distances.”
He laughed. “And you accomplish this in gowns?”
Now here was an opening she’d been waiting for. “Actually in Dumont the women who enjoy such exercise wear smaller versions of men’s leggings.”
“Pardon?”
“We believe women have as much right to exercise their passions as men. Can you possibly imagine women who love to run, doing so in gowns? Preposterous. So in Dumont, when women have the need or desire to stretch and
A ton of food was delivered to the table. Almost all of it meat. Even though she was not a vegetarian—not completely, but for the most part—she was totally grossed out. Especially with the meat. Boar, rabbit, squirrel and, oh man, more pickled eel. The best she found were cabbage and beets. Not her favorite veggies.
Isabel had never been a liquor person, but tonight she was drinking like a sailor, hoping alcohol would help in her mission. Both to eat the eel without throwing up and to try to seduce the child knight who was just as inedible.
You’re kidding, right, Lady? This is an impossible task.
You must needs try, Izzy. Think of Merlin.
So far, just not working. He was cute enough, if you liked boys. Which she had, when she’d been a girl. But as handsome as he was, he was young. Way too young.
The sad thing was, he had no interest in Isabel, either. He had eyes for only Gwen. Which was apparent to everyone in the room except for King Arthur, who was so busy talking about this important meeting with other knights of the realm that he seemed oblivious to the looks exchanged between Gwen and the cute boy.
Seemed that everyone at the table watched and scowled, but felt nothing could be done to stop it as long as the king said nothing. Either the king had forbidden all to even think about the possibility, or he’d made certain no one voiced it.
She felt so bad about it all, but then again she had other things to mourn over.
Like the eel.
Like her total disinterest in Lancelot.
Like Lancelot’s total disinterest in her.
Like Guinevere’s total interest in Lancelot.
She was in magical hell.
Isabel could not fix all things at once, but there were a couple over which she had some control. She politely requested that a servant remove the eel, the boar, the rabbit and the squirrel, and then politely excused herself to go fashion a barf bag.
CHAPTER SIX
OKAY, so she was a little tipsy. But not so much that she didn’t notice that Gwen and Lancelot had excused themselves almost at the same time. They didn’t even try to pretend. It broke Isabel’s heart for Arthur. He had to know. And yet he didn’t seem to know. Or care.
“Would you enjoy a tour of the castle, Countess?” Arthur asked her, as the evening meal had thankfully concluded.
Thank God for Mary, who had met her in the garderobe, carrying a bowl of mint. Otherwise she’d be afraid that her breath would topple trees.
“I would love it, sir.” What she wanted was a tour of his body, but the castle would have to do for now.
“The gardens,” he said. “They mean much to Gwen. For a reason I cannot fathom, she tends to them almost daily, even though we have many, many gardeners to do such things.”
“We all have our favorite hobbies.”
“And what would be yours, Countess?”
Photography immediately came to mind, but she doubted she could explain that one. Sex was also high on her list, or it had been back in the day. Or forward in the day. She’d love to experiment here, but unfortunately not with Lance, but with the king. “I very much enjoy exercise. Sporting, as it were.”
The surprise on his face was so adorable, she wanted to kiss those raised eyebrows. “Sporting? Such as exercising the horses?”
“Well, yes, but much more than that. For example, I love jogging.”
“Jogging? What is this jogging?”
“Steady running for long distances.”
He laughed. “And you accomplish this in gowns?”
Now here was an opening she’d been waiting for. “Actually in Dumont the women who enjoy such exercise wear smaller versions of men’s leggings.”
“Pardon?”
“We believe women have as much right to exercise their passions as men. Can you possibly imagine women who love to run, doing so in gowns? Preposterous. So in Dumont, when women have the need or desire to stretch and
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