We rescheduled the concert for the following night because it slowly took on a life of its own. I paced nervously across the white carpet in my golden room. The sun was setting over the lake and the view was spectacular. I wrung my hands together and then released them to shake my wrists. It was a ritual of types that eased the nerves and loosened my hands. I was wound up, turning and trudging across the rug again.

How did I get into this position? I was comfortable playing in a concert hall, but not in an intimate setting. Especially not in front of the entire Nights band, their dates, and a few others that Ingrid and Ana decided must be invited to this impromptu concert. I reminded myself, over and over, that the purpose of this was to showcase Morte’s talent, not mine, and to make a connection between Arturo and Morte. This was not about me, yet I somehow felt I had been tricked into performing.

When we returned to Camlann yesterday, Morte and I were escorted to the barn, where we could practice a few songs together. Morte shooed Arturo away, stating he wanted the whole night to be a surprise. A surprise indeed it would be. I was impressed with Morte’s ability at such a young age. He was classically trained, similar to my start in music, and I was able to play along with him. I told him he should showcase several songs on his own, and then, we practiced more modern tunes with me accompanying him. We even practiced one of The Nights’ songs to add a modern twist to the evening and we decided it would be our finale piece.

I was dressed in another long summery dress in navy blue that had thick straps over my shoulders and veered deeply between my breasts. I felt the material swish against my legs as I turned to pace back across the rug again. I twisted my hands again and again as I counted the steps the length of the room then turned one more time to find Arturo standing in the adjoining doorway watching me.

He was dressed up, for him, in a white button-up shirt rolled up to his biceps and a slim-cut black tie. With his dark jeans and lazy stance against the doorframe, he had the look of a clothing model. His long legs were crossed at the ankles as his arms crossed his chest, and his dark choppy waves were slicked back for the moment in wetness from his shower. We hadn’t had a chance to discuss yesterday, as I gave him space with Morte during yesterday evening. He smiled shyly at me.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look nervous.”

“Thanks,” I snapped.

“Let me start over,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. Are you nervous?”

I stopped pacing and stared at him. I responded by silently nodding.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t usually play for small groups, although at the rate Ingrid mentioned people, it sounds more like a crowd the size of The Round Table will be attending.”

Arturo laughed.

“You know how she is,” he said. “Over the top sometimes.”

He paused for a moment. “Why would that size group bother you? You’ve played in concert halls before.”

“I know. But this … this will be so intimate.”

He smiled at me again and I felt my shoulders relax a little.

“I always get a little nervous, as well, before a concert, but I’m usually more pumped up. Of course, a strong dose of Jack can help that and so can…” He stopped himself, as if he were saying too much to fill the space of conversation.

“So can what?” I taunted him.

“So can sex,” he said directly, not so much to shock me, but more like a suggestion.

I gasped.

“Well, I guess you would know,” I replied, trying to sound haughty as I spun to pace again. When I turned after reaching the opposite end of the room, I bumped into Arturo, who had apparently been following me.

“I might know. In the past. But I want to know in a different way now, Guinevere.” He said my name softly as we stared at one another.

“Guinie,” he said gently, leaning toward me slowly, keeping his eyes focused on my own.

“Guinie,” he said again on a whisper, and I felt my mouth water with the need to touch his lips with mine, even if only briefly.

My wish was granted when he brushed his lips against me softly. It was a tickling kiss. A tease. A dare. And I took it.

Surprising even myself, I lunged at him and wrapped both my arms around his neck to pull myself upward and take his mouth with mine. I kissed him hard and felt the thrill of it race through my lower section like fireworks exploding in the night. I felt a trickle of dampness and cursed myself for wearing the navy thong, knowing it would add to the turn-on of pressing against Arturo. His hands reached for my hips and pulled me tight against his excitement. I was relieved that he responded to me and I tilted my head to get better access to his mouth.

My tongue slipped out to caress the crease of his lips and he immediately opened with a groan, inviting my tongue inside to play and stroke and dance. I felt his hands slip to my ass and gently tug me closer, if that was even possible with our clothing on. I was clamped to him with my arms around his neck and his hands held me in place against him. Our mouths continued to explore possessively. It was only the soft voice of Morte calling my name outside my door that forced us to quit.

I pulled back slowly, breathlessly, as I tried to respond to Morte. My eyes remained focused on Arturo’s face, trying to read his feelings. He leaned his forehead against mine and whispered, “Tell me you forgive me.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he sighed deeply, and I felt his breath like a temptation. He kissed me quickly, then pulled back to open the door for Morte.

He was dressed in a suit and looked awkward and uncomfortable.

“Ah, little man. You can’t wear that tonight.”

“Why not?” Morte looked down at himself, smoothing out the coat jacket that was buttoned, making it look tight and severe.

“You look too formal.”

“Mother says a concert like this is a formal affair.”

“Well, your mother’s wrong,” Arturo said defensively. I had to catch the giggle threatening to escape.

“Come here,” Arturo said with a nod of his head toward his room. He looked over his shoulder at me as he guided Morte away.

“It’s a guy thing,” he informed me then winked before disappearing into his own room with Morte in the lead.