ELEVEN
Guinevere couldn't say what woke her, but as her sleep-fogged mind registered the heavy breathing in the bed beside her, the weight of dread pulled her out from under the covers. The room still held the warmth of last night's fire, now little more than ashes in the hearth she edged toward, but a chill settled over her as she reached for a shift to clothe her nakedness.
The white silk gown, puddled where it had fallen, reminded her that she was a new bride, and her heavy-breathing bedmate was her husband, but it couldn't dim her desire to dress before he woke. Only when she'd laced up her lavender linen gown did she dare to approach the bed again on slippered feet.
Artorius' eyes opened, but they filled with horror at the sight of her.
Guinevere wet her lips. "It is I, Guineve
