"My animal master and devoted ... friend, for many moons. As have Tom and Dick. In Dumont, we are al friends, working together."

There was a silence while Harry attempted to bow to Arthur and Gwen, which looked painful to everyone. To a male, every single one of them in the dining room winced.

But then they fol owed their king's lead, holding up their steins.

"I am assuming you took one for the Gipper, master Harry," Arthur said. "He has always been a bit overly accurate with his legs."

"Oh, wait a minute," Isabel said, "you have a horse named Gipper?"

Gwen spoke up first. "I'm afraid Gipper is mine. And my apologies, sir, for his ... exuberance. Sir Ronald of Reagan gifted him to me at our matrimonial ceremony. He is a beautiful stud but can be much of a handful. But not as taxing as most."

Harry bowed again, then headed straight to Isabel. "He's not going to be studding anytime soon. The sonofabitch nearly blew off my bal s," he whispered.

"Please don't tel me ..."

"No little Gippers showing up soon. Actual y ever. And it felt good."

At the supper table, Arthur spent a few minutes introducing his men as wel .

James was his first man, whatever that was. But he was bigger than any professional wrestler, so Isabel was guessing he was also a bodyguard of sorts.

Tristan, his second man, who was only slightly smal er than James and who she recognized from the woods, bowed his head. Isabel waved at him, hoping he hadn't seen her bare butt while she'd stopped to pee. Unfortunately, Tristan grinned at her, which gave her the feeling that at least he had.

And on and on with other men who meant something to Arthur or Gwen. It was a big freaking table.

And then, final y, she was introduced to Lancelot. He stood and bowed more deeply than al of the other men. He was her target, apparently, but not a single one of her hormones charged to life.

Lancelot, a darling blusher, was as shy as shy could be. To be certain, he was a striking young man, having light brown hair with sun-streaked golden threads that Isabel would love to chal enge her hairdresser, Pelo, to try to duplicate. When he final y managed to meet her gaze, she figured he had hazel eyes, which were looking more green than brown at the moment because of the forest green tunic he was wearing. He stumbled his way through the greeting, which was rather sweet. But not the least bit sexy, unlike the hearty laughter with which King Arthur had greeted her.

Damn, damn and triple damn, not a single sex gene in Isabel's body fired up.

The rest of the King's men were a little grumpy during supper, and she was figuring that it was because she'd asked for her men to be invited.

Isabel was in a bit of a pickle. Her attraction to Lancelot amounted to less than zero. Less than the pickled eel placed in front of her at supper.

Less than Hester the court jester's jokes, which were sadly lame.

As was he, in an endearing way. He had to be seventy if he was a day, and the blue and purple silklike robes didn't do much for his pasty skin.

But Hester tried so hard to entertain the crowd that Isabel decided he was a cool enough fel ow, anyway.

Arthur winked at her, and then so did Hester before he bowed 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 al of it meat. Even though she was not a vegetarian-not completely, but for the most part-she was total y grossed out. Especial y 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 al to even think about the possibility, or he'd made certain no one voiced it.

She felt so bad about it al , 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 hel .

Isabel could not fix al 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 thankful y 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 al 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?"

"Wel , 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. "Actual y in Dumont the women who enjoy such exercise wear smal er 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 strengthen their muscles, they wear what we cal sporting gear."

Arthur stroked his beard and she had the feeling he was trying to keep himself from laughing. "And what, pray tel , do you ... they wear upon their upper halves?"

She figured a sports bra was probably going a little too far. "We wear things cal ed T-shirts. A sort of oversized tunic, made of soft fabric for comfort."

Arthur shook his head. "Apparently my men left much out in their reports from Dumont."

"Setting aside the fact that you sent men to spy on me, let me ask you this: What kind of hobbies or pleasures do you afford your female servants?"

"Hobbies? Pleasures?"

"You al ow Gwen to indulge in her pleasures."

"Of course. She is my queen and my wife."

"And yet al of your servants are not permitted to indulge in things that make them happy? You truly believe that because of their station they may not participate in activities they might truly enjoy?"

"My people are not unhappy. Are they? Have you heard grumblings?"

"No, sir, I have not. But would any voice them in front of me?"

His worried frown saddened her. "Do they appear unhappy to you?"

"Again, no. In fact they appear very loyal to their king. But consider the possibilities of al owing them just, say, a smal portion of a day to fol ow their own dreams. To play with their own favored hobbies. How much happier they might be to go about the routine tasks they are required to do day in and day out when they know they have that smal portion of time to just play. You may even find that their hobbies reap rewards that you and Camelot have never envisioned."

Arthur sat down with a thump, seeming deep in thought. "You give me much to ponder."

Isabel took his hand. "Ponder this. A happy castle staff makes for a happy Camelot. You and Gwen and your highest men enjoy the fruits of the servants' labors. How about al owing the servants to enjoy some of those fruits for themselves? Why are you, Gwen and I al owed to fol ow our hearts, and those who work for us not permitted to fol ow theirs?"

He puffed up like a blowfish. "I do not disal ow my staff from pursuing their own desires! Have you not seen the many children about?"

Isabel wanted to laugh but control ed herself. "Lovemaking and childmaking is going to happen no matter what else is happening. I'm talking about other pleasures."

"What other pleasures are there?"

"Oh, please. Lovemaking is certainly a big one. But there are others. Gwen loves to garden. My chambermaid loves to dress hair. I love to run. I love to draw. The possibilities are endless. We could conduct a pol and find what real y makes them happy. And then al ow them the opportunity to pursue those dreams."

"A pol ?"

"A chance for them to speak up about what they enjoy. And possibly al ow them to voice what they don't."

The beard scrubbing was gone. He'd moved on to standing and rubbing his temples. This was a natural progression in Isabel's life, so she wasn't exactly surprised. Next he'd be begging for a drink. She'd bet money on it.

"You are an unusual woman, Isabel," he final y said. Then he stepped to his left and knocked on a bel . Within seconds Tim appeared. "Wine, please, Timothy. And two goblets."

She needed more wine like she needed more eel. But what the hel ? "I promise that you are not the first to tel me this. About being unusual, I mean."

"But I swear 'tis in a very intriguing way."

"Right, one that drives men to drink."

"One that drives men to ponder as they enjoy an evening libation."

Isabel tried hard to resist, for Viviane's sake. "Should you not be sharing this with the queen?"

"Gwen enjoys evenings to ... pursue those"-he waved his hands vaguely-"things women like to do."

I'll bet. Isabel rather liked mornings for those types of pursuits but decided not to mention that.

"She's very sweet," she said instead, fingering her necklace. "You must love her very much."

His hesitation was palpable as his eyes seemed fixated on her chest. "As I'm bound to do. She is my wife."

He sat down, then immediately stood again and started pacing. Then he suddenly stopped and turned to Isabel, his green eyes searching. "Have you loved, Countess?"

"You're asking why?"

"You have never married."

"I haven't? I mean, of course I haven't. But Arthur, you seem to know much about me." A whole hel uva lot more than she knew about her countess self, as a matter of fact. Until just now, she'd had no idea whether she'd ever been married or not.

Apparently not.

Good God, Viviane, I am no freaking virgin.

'Tis true, Isabel, do you not consider that win-win?

He thinks I am at this stage.

Then consider yourself a hussy, and stop worrying about age.

"How is it that you've come by al of this information about me?"

He looked adorably confused. "I'm not certain. It must have been details my men gathered whilst they were checking upon Dumont."

"Why would you have private investigators checking on me?"