“This is not how you win a woman's love,” I panted as I jumped out of bed.
“Of course it is.” He scowled at me. “How else would I win you?”
“Dear God, you've never courted a woman in all of your life, have you?” I gaped at him as I smoothed down my skirts.
“I've seduced several.” He angled himself to his side, not bothering to straighten his clothing.
His member was completely human; a hard piece of flesh standing out against the dark fur of his belly. It was slick with my own desire, and I blushed as I looked away. Lance chuckled.
“I admit I was worried that you would prove unwilling,” he said. “But I'm pleasantly surprised to find that my appearance doesn't dissuade you. Perhaps wearematched well, and you truly are the woman we've been waiting for.”
“Sexual compatibility is only one aspect of a relationship,” I snapped. “Before you bed a woman, you need to win her heart, or this”–I waved my hand back to the bed–“will be meaningless.”
Lancelot pondered this.
“This is all I've known of love.” He finally tucked himself into his pants and then eased off the bed. “Wanting, fucking, finding pleasure together. This is not love for you?”
“That's lust, honey.” I smiled to ease the sting. “Love is much more than that.”
“How do I get that then?” Lancelot asked. “How do I make you love me? How do I fall in love with you?”
“What questions,” I whispered. “I think they've plagued humanity since the beginning of time. Stop overthinking this. All we need to do is get to know each other.”
“And how do we do that?” Lance asked.
“Well, we start by talking.” I waved my hands toward the seats before the fire.
“Talking? We're talking now.”
“And we should keep talking,” I said. “I already feel closer to you, and it has nothing to do with what we did in your bed.”
Lance blinked, seemed to consider it, and then nodded.
“Yes, I believe you're right,” he said with some surprise. “I do feel like I know you better, and it even makes me like you better.”
“Amazing,” I said sarcastically.
Lancelot laughed, a great booming sound, but stopped abruptly with a shocked look.
“I laughed,” he said.
“Yes, I heard you.”
“Not just a chuckle, but a laugh. I haven't laughed like that in years.”
“It's fun, isn't it? Wanna give it another go?”
“I think I do.” He smiled back at me and walked over to join me at the fire. “Let's talk, Sylvaine, and perhaps we can laugh together too.”
“Excellent idea. I wish I'd thought of it.” I rolled my eyes.
And Lancelot laughed again.
Chapter Eight
After talking with Lance late into the night, I went back to my bedroom and dreamed of him. He had softened the more I spoke to him and revealed that thinkers had depths to them which were worth the trouble of braving their melancholy. Lance had dreams for his kingdom that had been blossoming in his mind during his magical incarceration, but he was too much of a realist to give in to any hope that he might be able to fulfill them. It took me only two hours to change his mind and his mood.
Lancelot eagerly showed me the plans he'd been sketching for aqueducts to bring fresh water to the nearby village, and the thoughts he'd had for importing and exporting goods with the neighboring kingdoms. He had all sorts of ideas that both amazed and baffled me. Lancelot was not the man I had thought him to be. Not in the least.
