"Oh, sir, that is a wonderful gift."

"Where is the queen?" Arthur asked. "Queen Guinevere, please come forward to tel them the rest."

Gwen again squeezed Isabel's hand. "This should be you."

Isabel shook her head. "No, you are the queen, Gwen. Go!"

Gwen walked forward, and Arthur stepped down from the table to greet her. They made such a beautiful couple, Isabel was ready to shoot them both.

Gwen smiled as she took center stage, her crown glistening atop her head.

And then she said, "No, I cannot take credit for the gift that comes next. It is Isabel, Countess of Dumont, who was insistent. Please, Countess, come here to tel Mary and James."

Isabel wanted to disappear, literal y and figuratively.

She shook her head. "No!"

Gwen pointed at her. "Go get her, James."

Being dragged center stage, at least a foot off the ground, was not exactly her idea of making a grand entrance. But that was exactly what James did, Mary clapping and laughing the entire time.

"My pardon, Countess," James said as he set her down. "But you have been summoned by the queen."

"I wil get you for this. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I wil get you," she said to Mary's new husband. "So watch your back."

"I wil , Countess. I am truly shaking."

She wanted to glare at him, but how could she? "Bend down," she said.

He did and she kissed his cheek. "Happy days, James. You make her happy or you answer to me."

"Now that truly frightens me," he said.

"Good."

"This is ridiculous," she told the crowd. "Your king and queen are responsible, not me."

"Not true," Arthur said. "As we al pondered gifts for Mary and James, it was the countess who suggested the one the queen and I offer. So, Countess, please let them know."

Isabel turned to the couple, then she couldn't help it. She held up her pinky finger to Mary. Mary laughed and the two hooked up. And then Isabel looked at Gwen. "Your Highness?"

"You know I dislike when you cal me that," Gwen said, but smiled and wrapped her little finger around theirs. "Friends!" the three said, holding their entwined fingers in the air.

They broke apart, laughing. When Isabel final y glanced up, she saw just about everyone in the hal gaping at them. Including Arthur.

Isabel ignored him and cleared her throat. "What the king and queen are too modest to admit is that their gift to Mary and James is not merely the cottage for the night. The gift is the cottage, for the two of them to live in as long as they desire."

Mary gasped. James staggered a bit. The stunned expressions on their faces were priceless. Good gods, she wished she had her camera.

Mary reached for her and Isabel held her, waiting for Mary's heaving sobs to settle.

"Mary, it isn't my gift. It is from the king and queen. You should be thanking them." She pul ed the hanky from her wrist and wiped Mary's eyes.

"Mary. King. Queen. Gift. From them."

Mary pul ed herself together and turned to Arthur and Gwen. She tried to curtsy, but her legs were obviously a little shaky.

Arthur took her arm. "Enough of that."

"We cannot," Mary hiccupped, "thank you enough."

"You may try," Arthur said, grinning. "I wil not be offended."

Isabel shot him a disgusted look, but then he pul ed the big move on her. He winked. And once again she was a goner.

DEAD on her feet did not even begin to describe how Isabel was feeling.

Without Mary there to help her out of this gawdawful gown, she was in trouble.

She contemplated just dropping down in bed, gown or not, when there was a knock on her door. "Thank you, Jenny, I need so badly help out of these clothes. Come in."

And in walked Arthur. "I am not Jenny, but I wil gladly help you undress."

She smiled, but it was pretty weak. "Arthur, I am so exhausted, but I wil gladly accept your help out of this contraption."

"My pleasure, madam."

She turned her back to him so he could work the back laces. "This could be a problem. Jenny might show up here at any moment."

"I gave Jenny the night off."

"Jenny is Gwen's girl."

"She is. Gwen gave Jenny the night off an hour ago. Just afore Gwen and Lance disappeared."

"Oh, I am so sorry."

"For what reason are you sorry?"

"That Gwen ... that Lance ... that you ... oh, hel , I'm just sorry."

He flipped her back to face him. "Why are you sorry, Isabel? Tel me."

"I guess, just that it stil has to hurt at some level."

"Do you know what hurt tonight? That I was unable to introduce you as my love and my wife. And that this pretense is kil ing me. That you are not my queen."

"I do not give a flying fig about being a queen, Arthur."

"Do you give a flying fig about being my wife?"

She gaped at him. "News flash. You are already married."

"Let us just pretend for a moment. If I were not already married and I asked for your hand, would you say yea or nay?"

"Are you asking me to pretend whether I'd marry you?"

"Of a sort," he said, although his expression was a wee bit wary. "If I were able to ask, would you accept, Isabel?"

"That depends."

"Upon?"

"Whether you would real y want to marry a woman who is not a virgin."

He seemed to ponder. "That depends."

"On what?"

"I suppose on how much I crave that woman."

"Craving and loving are two different issues."

"Not necessarily," he said, holding up a finger. "If the craving is born from the feelings, the loving, then they are intertwined."

She hated when men made sense. They were supposed to be idiots.

"Okay," she admitted. "That is one logic point for you."

He looked mighty pleased with himself. He kissed her senseless, which was also a foul in her book. Senseless was not a good place to be when scrambled brains did not work in her favor.

Catching her breath, she said, "Arthur, this is a moot point."

"It is not. It is a simple enough question, Isabel. Wil you marry me?"

She stared at him. "Are you serious? Or are we stil pretending?"

"I am serious."

"Since you're already-"

"No! Today, now, we are both free to marry." He stopped. "Okay, that's a little bit of pretend since it would not exactly be today. But it can be soon. Would you agree to be my wife? Wil you marry me, Isabel?"

"Yes," she whispered. "In a heartbeat."

He smiled, picked her up and twirled her around until she almost fainted. "See, was that such a hardship?"

She was stil seeing stars. "Parts of it, yes."

He set her back on her feet. Isabel had to hold on to his arms for balance.

He kissed her again, then held her face. "Do you mean it, Isabel? Truly?"

She took his hands and pul ed them from her head. "Arthur, please tel me what this is al about. You are not free to marry me. Not even free to ask, actual y."

He grinned. "I might be. Very soon."

"How so?"

"I poured over the legal papers pertaining to this matter. I may not divorce her without cause. That cause being infidelity, which, as you know, would have serious consequences."

"Yes, I believe death would qualify as fairly serious."

"But," he said, "she may divorce me."

"On what grounds?"

"Neglect, physical abuse, infidelity and a few other horrid crimes I forget at the moment."

"You aren't guilty of any of those!" Isabel said. "Okay, maybe one, but she started it!"

"What does it matter? We can agree on whate'er she wants to claim." He stopped. "With the exception of infidelity, because I wil not al ow you to be involved."

"Arthur, do you hear what you're saying? You are going to al ow her to accuse you of crimes you have not committed?"

He waved. "I care not what accusation she decides upon. The people who know me wil realize 'tis not true. The point is that Gwen is free to dissolve our marriage with no harm to her or Lance, and I wil be free to make you my wife, which, Isabel, is what I desire most in the world at the moment." He smiled. "I want to proclaim to the world that you are mine, that we are one. I no longer want the pretense of what we had to endure this eve."

"You would rather endure being labeled a wife beater?"

"I do not care! People may cal me anything they want. I wil be free to marry you."

Isabel didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Arthur, I love you so much."

He looked down at her and his smile disappeared. "I'l take Do Not Care to Hear a 'But' After That Sentence for a thousand, Alex."

Wel , damn, but was exactly the next word on her tongue. So she rearranged the sentence.

"I don't want you taking the blame for something you didn't do, Arthur."

"If it wins me freedom to marry you, it matters not."

"It matters to me."

He shoved his hand through his hair. "Dammit, Isabel, what do we do? I do not want to hide my feelings for you. I do not want to pretend to be happy in a marriage that is a sham."

"Change the law," Isabel said softly. "You are the king, it shouldn't be that hard."

He rubbed his neck. "Harder than you think, Isabel. I cannot take out my sword and whisk it around and say, 'I have changed the laws of the land because it suits my purposes and desires.'"