Chapter 5

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And so again the knight stood in silence, surrounded once more in shadows. What should he do? Retreat to his room and try to forget what had just taken place or should he follow her.

The knight placed his back against the wall as his eyes peered out of the stable doors.

Even in the cold of the night he could feel her warmth upon him. Lingering upon that simple yet sweet reminder he chose the later of the two decisions.

Lancelot strode out of the stables, hoping that the woman hadn't traveled too far. He had made up his mind. This wasn't betraying Arthur, he told himself. Lancelot knew he could not leave this fortress without telling the woman how he felt and obviously neither could she.

He caught her walking along the wall. Her movement was graceful, he posture independent, he body was altogether beautiful.

Lancelot ran up to her and grabbed her by her slender wrist. She turned around to face him, a soft smile spread on her lips. "Guinevere…" he gasped.

Without another word Lancelot pinned her against the wall and kissed her passionately. Finally letting his lust free he found himself in a state of ecstasy.

When he felt the wonderful sensation of her fingers tangling in his hair, Lancelot wrapped an arm around her waist while the other caressed her smooth neck. She felt so powerful yet soft in his arms.

He could feel her pulling him closer and even though his lungs ached for air he did not want to break the kiss that he had been longing for so long.

Guinevere had pulled away first and gasped for air. Her lips were swollen from the greedy and passionate kiss and he guess that his were too.

Lancelot leaned against her shoulder. He could feel the rising and falling of her chest, her rugged breath against his ear. Their breathing slowly beginning to normal.

"I would know happiness…" he murmured against her shoulder, "with you."

"Then I will give you that in which you need, for I long for it as well," she said.

Deep down Lancelot know that it would be the wrong thing to do. She must have noticed the change in his face as he thought through the complex situation that had arisen, "What is it?" she asked.

One word said it all, "Arthur," muttered Lancelot.

"He need not know," Guinevere whispered, tracing Lancelot's face with her smooth fingers.

Lancelot's mind was too clouded to think anymore on the matter. He leaned into finish where they had left off as though there had been no interruption.

Lancelot moved from her mouth down to her neck, sending a shower of feathery kisses along her jaw line, down to her collar bone. Claiming her, she was all his at that moment. He desperately needed her, but Lancelot had an uneasy feeling upon him as if they were being watched and worse he felt as if it were Arthur's eyes on him full of blame and betrayal. With this image in his head Lancelot pulled away form Guinevere.

"What?" she asked. Lancelot looked over his shoulder searching for a pair of nonexistent eyes. He could feel Guinevere's fingers caress his jaw and he slowly turn his face to meet hers. She smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, but even with that simple pleasure, he still felt uneasy. "Come…" he murmured against her lips as he took her hand to lead her to his chambers. He knew as well as she, that they could not continue here.

As they made their way back to the fortress numerous thoughts flashed in the knight's mind. Why are you doing this? She is not yours. She is Arthur's. You lost your chance that night she came to you in the snow. You are betraying him…his guilty conscience continued to call. Luckily he managed to push all of those thoughts aside for the time being.

Almost there, he thought. The corridors were long and narrow and he cursed under his breath due to his impatience.

No sooner then he had closed the door to his chambers then he felt Guinevere's hands warp around him. He became lost in the moment forgetting everything else, freedom, death, and Arthur. Nothing else mattered or ruled over his life, it was now only Guinevere.

Lancelot lied on his bed, the sun had not yet risen and Guinevere had just left not wanting anyone to find her absent come dawn.

He could not remember feeling the way that he felt with Guinevere ever before. All others didn't matter. Now though he had bigger problems the guilt had settled over him. He did not regret what they had just done however; he did feel guilty about betraying his closest friend. Now it was all too late, it had happened, and there was no going back now.