A Knight on the Town by Hermione Moon

Author:Hermione Moon [Moon, Hermione]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It turns out that Arthur likes curry.

“Do you think there’s anything you’re not going to like?” I ask him with amusement, as I watch him wipe up the last drops of sauce with a piece of homemade naan bread.

“No,” he says, chewing and then giving me a grin. “You’re an amazing cook, Gwen. I’ve watched you for all these years producing fantastic cakes and pies and thought they were wonderful, but you truly are talented.”

“I’m really not,” I scoff, rising to collect his plate and taking it with mine over to the dishwasher. “Anyone can make a decent curry. It’s really easy.”

He watches me, his eyes holding that lazy, sexy look that suggests he’s wondering what I look like without my clothes.

“Stop it,” I scold, squirting washing-up liquid into the bowl to clean the pan. “I’ve known you one whole day. You can’t look at me as if you have x-ray vision.”

“What’s that?”

“As if you’re wearing glasses that can see through my clothes.”

“Is there such a thing?” His voice holds wonder and hope.

“No.” I laugh. “I’m sure you’d buy a pair if there was.”

“Absolutely I would. What man wouldn’t?” He chuckles and rises to pick up the tea towel and dry the items I put on the draining board.

I cast a sidelong glance at him. “This is weird.”

“What is?”

“Washing up with King Arthur.”

“I told you, I wasn’t a king. But I don’t mind if you want to call me that.”

I nudge him. He nudges me back. Merlin snorts from under the table, and we both laugh. I glance over my shoulder at him. “It’s funny to think he was a bard.”

“And a good one at that.”

“He composed poems?”

“And sang them while he played the lute. He had a lovely singing voice.” Arthur’s gaze drifts off for a moment, and I wonder whether he’s picturing an evening sitting around the fire with his soldiers, listening to songs of home.

“Do you want to hear one?” Arthur says.

I blink. “What do you mean?”

He picks up a plate and dries it while he sings. He has a deep, rich voice that sends shivers all the way through me.

“Sparks in the hearth, stars in the sky, singing an endless lullaby, your love is a golden thread through the weft and weave, a fairy tale I’ll always believe, leaving you is a sword that pierces the heart, the wind and the rain and the heavy snows… that fall on the fields and the valleys and the hills… will never keep us apart…” He holds the last note, then stops and smiles.

“Oh,” I say breathlessly, looking down at Merlin, “that’s beautiful.”

The Labradoodle lies with his snout on his paws, his big brown eyes looking up at me.

“Who was it about?” I ask softly. “He obviously loved her very much.”

Arthur looks down at the dog, then back up at me. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches for another plate to dry.

My mouth opens. “M-me?”

“He was soft on you,” Arthur says. “We never discussed it, but it was obvious.

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