ARTHUR entered his bedchamber, and Gwen was already there, waiting for him.

Her dressing gown was open, her auburn hair falling down over her shoulders.

There was a time when the sight of her would have him hard and ready to pick her up and take her straight to the bed furs. The truth was, even with what he had known, he most likely would still have taken her. So it surprised him that for once the sight of her beautiful young body did not make his member hard as a bed post. In fact, his member couldn't have lifted a flea from a dog at the moment.

When had he stopped wanting his wife? When had he stopped desperately loving her? It was not before his suspicions had been confirmed. He had tried to bring her back to him with lovemaking and romantic gestures.

But her response to his love gestures were obvious. She no longer desired him as afore. What was shocking to him was that at this moment, he no longer desired her. The blue eyes and blond hair of a woman with a smart mouth and smart ideas kept running through his mind. He could not get Isabel out of his head.

Gwen headed to him. She smelled of sex already, and he wanted to back away and beg her to bathe. "Where have you been, Arthur?" she asked.

"I was debating with the countess," he said, figuring that was no lie. "We had so much to discuss about our lands."

'Twas true in a sense. He was so very intrigued with her thoughts on matters of laws and realms. He was eager to travel to Dumont at his earliest opportunity to see in practice many of the ways she had mentioned of how she ran her realm.

The lie was that he had wanted to be with the countess, in so many ways. In all of the ways he used to want his wife after a long day. Was not voicing this thought a lie of sorts? 'Twas another question he was eager to bring up to the countess the next time they had the chance to discuss such intriguing matters. He could not wait to delve further into her thoughts. And truth be told, delve into her in other ways, as well.

Arthur began to undress, and Gwen came up behind him. "Shall we call for bath water?" she asked.

Her touch used to bring him so much pleasure. At this moment he would have loved to throw her hand from his body. He thought of Isabel's words and his decision came to him in one blinding flash of clarity. This charade was over. "Gwen, I know."

"I do not ken. What do you know?"

He turned to face her. "About you and Lance."

Her mouth dropped open. "Arthur, please, of what do you speak?"

He stared down at the woman he had once loved with all of his being. "Denying it is sad and futile. His sex scent is on you even now. You would actually invite me to bathe with you? Where is your allegiance, Gwen? Where is your love? Please, if you have even a glimmer of feelings for me left in you, do not lie to me, wife."

Her silver blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Arthur, I am so very sorry."

"Sorry that I learned of it?"

"I swear that I never meant for this to happen."

In his mind and heart he truly believed her. Gwen was one of the most caring, loving women he had ever met. She would not, ever, hurt a person, a flower, an animal on purpose. He loved her. He just no longer was in love with her. That passion had slowly withered as first his suspicions and then his absolute knowledge had taken root to choke it. It was the saddest part to this debacle.

"I will end this all. This I promise."

He shook his head. "The heart cannot stop what it wants. You can no more end this than you can trample on your adored peonies."

"I do love you, Arthur," she said, wringing her nightgown.

"And I love you, Gwen. But please do not pretend to want me when you want another. I will protect you with my life. But I will not pretend in our bed. And I cannot abide that you keep up the pretense. 'Tis not fair to me, nor to Lance." He sighed. "I do, indeed, want a bath. But not one we share. Before I arrived here, I made preparations. My bath is being filled across the hall. Where I shall also be sleeping."

"Arthur!"

"You, my darling wife, have made the bed you will now lie in. My only request, nay, demand, is absolute discretion. I cannot protect you if you do not protect yourself."

"And . . . and, what of Lancelot?"

Even his trusted knight's name from her lips was a dagger to his heart. Gwen's infidelity had been nigh to unbearable. But learning with whom she was sharing a bed had nearly killed him. "I brought Lance here, Gwen. I took him under my wing, made him one of my most treasured soldiers. He was as a son to me. His betrayal is as hard to bear."

"You will be banishing him, then?" There was nary a hint of pleading in her eyes, just a sad awareness that this would be the obvious solution, the obvious conclusion.

"Nay."

Her head jerked back in surprise. "I am sorry? Do I hear you correctly?"

"You have heard correctly. I have need of him, for the continued prosperity and safety of Camelot. I cannot yet bring myself to forgive, but I do understand. Do not forget that I was also once where he is. I would have done anything for you."

"It cuts deeply that you speak in the past tense, although I realize that it is my own wrongdoing that has brought this on."

"I make this demand of him as well as you, Guinevere. Complete discretion, for both your sakes. For if you are caught, I can no longer protect either of you. Is this clear?"

She laid a hand on his chest. "This promise I make you, in full faith. We will stop this . . . thing between us. Lancelot loves you as much as I. We, neither of us, would ever want to bring shame or dishonor upon you."

His bark of laughter startled her. "I am afraid, sweet Gwen, that the bailey's gate is wide open and the steeds have long past left the castle."

"I'm sorry?"

"Too late."

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