Arthur turned on his side, grinning. "I have an example."

She turned on her side as wel . "Oh, please, I can't wait."

"What would you cal over one hundred men attempting to take on one much smarter woman?"

She went stil . "I don't know. What?"

"Outnumbered."

She laughed. "Arthur, your men would have made toast of them."

"There we go with the toast thing again. And, yes, I agree we would have vanquished the invaders. Yet truth be told, Isabel, if not for your quick wits, Camelot blood would be staining the grounds this day. Because of your whacky plots, al of our people are alive and safe once again."

"Whacky?"

"Did I say whacky? I meant witty."

"You meant whacky."

He grimaced. "Yea, but I meant whacky in the wittiest sense of the word 'whacky.'"

Isabel smiled and traced the contours of his face until they smoothed back into contentment. "It was merely a whacky way of turning back the enemy."

"'Twas not your battle to fight."

"It was the moment it involved you. I love you. And al of the people of Camelot. This might make no sense to you, Arthur, but I have come to care for the people here in this short time. They are good and they are kind, and most importantly, they love their king. If you didn't recognize the evidence of that yesterday when the women were wil ing to actual y stand up against you to fight for you, then you are woeful y underestimating the love and loyalty your people have for you. They love you, Arthur. They are wil ing to do anything to protect and honor their king."

"I am to protect them, Isabel. Is that not my ultimate duty as king?"

"If you think so. Your second ultimate duty is to take care of them, make certain they want to protect you as their king. And so far, I think that's working."

"I sometimes doubt, and I recognize how weak I sound even admitting such a thing."

"The weak leader is the one who refuses to admit to doubts about how he runs things. The strong leader is the one who constantly questions how he can perform his duties to the betterment of al in his-or her-lands. You are the strongest, most honest and loving lord of his lands I have ever known. You do not deceive the people of Camelot, and you do not abuse them. If I were a numbering person, I would be adding those into the plus column."

He turned her on her back and looked into her eyes. "You are the best thing that has e'er happened to me, Isabel. I cannot even begin to say how much."

She smiled. "I hope that you always think so."

"I cannot imagine that ever changing."

There was a knock on her door. "Time is up, Countess," Mary cal ed. "Do you want a bath, or no?"

Isabel scrambled out from under Arthur's arms. "Oh, yes, Mary, but please, a few minutes before you have the men bring in the water."

"Jeesh, you two," Mary said. "James and I have been married but two days, and it did not take this long."

"I wil be happy to give James more tips, should you need," Arthur cal ed, as he pul ed on his leggings.

Mary giggled. "I wil keep that in mind, should I need, King Arthur."

"And that," Isabel said, pul ing on her robe, "is why you are a great king."

"The lovemaking tips?" he asked.

"No, the fact that Mary wil probably have no problem asking you ... should she need."

Arthur pul ed his tunic over his head, then glanced around to make certain he had left nothing behind. Then he strode over to Isabel. "I love you. I wish for the day I do not have to leave your bed."

"I love you, too. I also wish for that day."

"You saved many Camelot lives yesterday, Isabel. Tonight we celebrate your success."

"No! The party tonight is for al ! It was our success."

"One would think, wouldn't she? One who, perhaps, questions how to make lives better for al rather than one who presumes she already knows al ."

"Arthur!"

"Tel her to get over it, Mary," he said as he left the room.

"Oh, right, good luck to me with that," Mary muttered as she entered.

"Mary!"

"Get over it. The king ordered so."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

THE great hal , once again, looked amazing. The fire in the immense fireplace burned bright, the flowers were abundant and awesome, and the aroma in the air was truly delicious, not a single pig or chicken scent in the air.

"Is Ashton ready?" Isabel whispered to Gwen.

"As ready as any man, scared skinny at the thought," Gwen replied.

"And Jenny?"

"She knows nothing. But we had a long talk this day. She is aware that she wil never lose her position, no matter the circumstances."

"Does she love him?"

"Do you love Arthur?"

Isabel stared at her.

"Al right, that was not fair. I wil ask an easier question. Do I love Lance?"

"I truly hope that you do. Because, Gwen, he is so in love with you."

"I do. I do not have a waking moment when I do not think of him. Nor many sleeping moments, for that matter."

"Good. He is a wonderful man. You two were meant to be together."

"Good. Now back to you and Arthur."

"You sound very much like Hester the Jester."

Gwen laughed, then sipped her wine. "That 'take my wife, please,' truly is getting old, do you not think?"

"You have no idea. I mean it, real y. You have no idea."

"Now back to you and Arthur."

"How about we not go back to Arthur and me?"

"Isabel, you asked for honesty from me. I am merely asking that you are also as honest. I care for Arthur deeply. I know that I have already wounded him. I would truly hope that no other woman would scar him in that way again."

Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. "My honest answer is that I cannot predict the future, Gwen."

"He loves you, Isabel. Deeply. He has admitted as much to me."

"Fine," Isabel said, turning to face Gwen. "I love him. I love him more than I ever thought was possible. I would walk through fire for that man.

Okay? Honest enough for you?"

It was a scene out of a real y bad B movie. The music had stopped, the conversation had stopped. Everything in the freaking room had stopped.

Except, apparently, Isabel's overly loud tirade.

She looked around, and the one face that stood out was Arthur's. And he was grinning.

"And that," she said to the entire room, "is the final line in that last play we put on in Dumont."

Nobody moved. "Okay, okay, so the play had a cheesy ending. But I didn't write it, so give me a break. Musicians? Please? Or for God's sake, where is Hester?"

"THANKS for stepping in there, homey," Isabel muttered when Arthur brought her a fresh goblet of wine.

"'Twas in a bit of shock. I did not realize that you put on plays in Dumont."

"Wel , we do."

"And 'twas not a cheesy, as you say, ending to me. Sounded much more of a love story."

"Could be."

"One about a woman professing her love for a man."

"Could be."

"A woman who would walk through fire for her man."

"So you got the gist. Your point?"

"I would also walk through fire for my woman."

"And who would she be?"

"Take a wild guess. I give you two chances, and the first better not be Pix."

Her irritation sort of disappeared. Fast. "I am so sorry, Arthur," she said, final y looking up and facing him. "I never meant those words for anyone's ears but Gwen's."

"I know this. Do you know how proud and happy I am that the entire hal happened to overhear?"

"How is that possible? I could have just put both you and Gwen in jeopardy."

He shook his head. "No. We are soon to be free."

"Are you nuts?"

"I would hope those would be walnuts. I would kiss you mindlessy right now, but I made a promise to you earlier and must needs fulfil it."

And he did. He loped to the large table and jumped up on it, without using a single bench or chair.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Camelot, please have a listen."

The entire hal went eerily quiet.

"We have so many reasons to celebrate this night. We wil begin with an important one. Ashton? Where be you?"

"I am here, my king," a voice came out of the crowd.

"Then get your bloody ass over here."

Arthur looked around. "Jenny, where are you?"

It just so happened Jenny was very near to Isabel. Isabel inched over. "Go with it, Jenny."

"May I have a sip of your wine, Countess?

"You mean Isabel. My name is Isabel."

"May I, Isabel, have a-"