Read Online THE WARRIOR QUEEN (The Guinevere Trilogy Book 1) by Lavinia Collins - Free Book Online
Authors: Lavinia Collins
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their arrival. I sat at the Round Table that I had lain on, days before, and wished for Arthur’s death, beside Arthur who was now my king and surrounded by his knights. At my side sat the Lady Igraine, but everyone else was a knight at that table, apart from Merlin, who sat on Arthur’s other side. I laid my palm flat on the cool wood of the table. I was not yet ready to un-wish my wish, but I was no longer glad I had made it. But the wine was sweet and rich, and soon I had forgotten about it. Arthur and I shared honey-glazed meats and sweet vegetables from one plate, and big chunks of fresh bread, still warm and soft. I did not think I had ever felt so hungry; nor had food tasted so good.
When at last the harpist and the lutist slumped in their seats with sleep and the stars were full out in the clear night, and almost everything was eaten, Arthur stood and called an end to the feast. He took me by the hand and led me away, away from the others, the knights with whom I had to practice little courtesies, anxious not be accidentally offending, and talking sweet but empty pleasantries with the gentle Lady Igraine, and out from the cold beady stare of Merlin. I realised as we left that I was yearning to be alone with him once more.
Arthur did not lead me up to his room, but back to the one where I had stayed on my first night.
“Why do we not go to your chamber?” I asked, as we stood in the doorway. My parents, my whole life, had slept in the same bed at the centre of the castle.
“These are your chambers, my lady. This whole tower is yours. The queen of all of Britain must have her own rooms.” He put his hands gently against my hips where he stood behind me, and drew me back against him, pressing his lips lightly against my ear. I could feel myself dizzying with it already. “Besides,” he whispered, “I will not leave you lonely.”
He stepped into the room, and I moved with him. I heard him shut the door softly behind us, his hands already in my hair, unwinding the plait of it. I felt it fall loose around my shoulders, and his fingers brush down my cheek, across my jaw, down across the flush already rising at my neck, down, lightly, across the soft skin that showed above the neck of my dress. I leaned back against him, unable to suppress a sigh, a sigh of desire for something I was not yet consciously sure that I was longing for. New, still, but all the more wanted because of it. I had not expected myself to grow used to being a married woman so fast. Nor had I thought that I would want my husband so powerfully so soon.
I turned my face back, over my shoulder, towards his, and I felt his other hand brush against my cheek as our mouths met in a kiss, deep and passionate. We were strangers still, really, and yet my body knew what it wanted already; the touch it had known the night before, and that morning, once again.
“All day, all I have thought about is being alone with you again,” Arthur murmured, his fingers slowly drawing apart the lacing at the back of the overdress. Too slow; I could feel the delicious impatience of my body, but I did not give in to it. Not yet. He kissed me again, and I could taste the sweetness of the wine, which this time I had drunk in a tentative happiness, on both our lips. Arthur pulled the overdress down over my shoulders, and I shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the ground and gently kicking it aside. I heard Arthur laugh, low and pleased, and suddenly he pulled me hard back against him, his huge hand spread against my stomach, his lips at my neck. I could feel his body pressed tight against mine, his other hand winding into my hair, pulling gently, and I could not pretend that I did not like it, did not already want his touch.
With the hand in my hair, he turned my face back to his, kissing me, but teasing this time, and his other hand brushed light across my breasts over the thin underdress. I held back, just for the moment, from pressing into his hands for more,
When at last the harpist and the lutist slumped in their seats with sleep and the stars were full out in the clear night, and almost everything was eaten, Arthur stood and called an end to the feast. He took me by the hand and led me away, away from the others, the knights with whom I had to practice little courtesies, anxious not be accidentally offending, and talking sweet but empty pleasantries with the gentle Lady Igraine, and out from the cold beady stare of Merlin. I realised as we left that I was yearning to be alone with him once more.
Arthur did not lead me up to his room, but back to the one where I had stayed on my first night.
“Why do we not go to your chamber?” I asked, as we stood in the doorway. My parents, my whole life, had slept in the same bed at the centre of the castle.
“These are your chambers, my lady. This whole tower is yours. The queen of all of Britain must have her own rooms.” He put his hands gently against my hips where he stood behind me, and drew me back against him, pressing his lips lightly against my ear. I could feel myself dizzying with it already. “Besides,” he whispered, “I will not leave you lonely.”
He stepped into the room, and I moved with him. I heard him shut the door softly behind us, his hands already in my hair, unwinding the plait of it. I felt it fall loose around my shoulders, and his fingers brush down my cheek, across my jaw, down across the flush already rising at my neck, down, lightly, across the soft skin that showed above the neck of my dress. I leaned back against him, unable to suppress a sigh, a sigh of desire for something I was not yet consciously sure that I was longing for. New, still, but all the more wanted because of it. I had not expected myself to grow used to being a married woman so fast. Nor had I thought that I would want my husband so powerfully so soon.
I turned my face back, over my shoulder, towards his, and I felt his other hand brush against my cheek as our mouths met in a kiss, deep and passionate. We were strangers still, really, and yet my body knew what it wanted already; the touch it had known the night before, and that morning, once again.
“All day, all I have thought about is being alone with you again,” Arthur murmured, his fingers slowly drawing apart the lacing at the back of the overdress. Too slow; I could feel the delicious impatience of my body, but I did not give in to it. Not yet. He kissed me again, and I could taste the sweetness of the wine, which this time I had drunk in a tentative happiness, on both our lips. Arthur pulled the overdress down over my shoulders, and I shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the ground and gently kicking it aside. I heard Arthur laugh, low and pleased, and suddenly he pulled me hard back against him, his huge hand spread against my stomach, his lips at my neck. I could feel his body pressed tight against mine, his other hand winding into my hair, pulling gently, and I could not pretend that I did not like it, did not already want his touch.
With the hand in my hair, he turned my face back to his, kissing me, but teasing this time, and his other hand brushed light across my breasts over the thin underdress. I held back, just for the moment, from pressing into his hands for more,
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