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Brandon Davie’s party, which takes place at the estate of his very affluent friend Chris Parks, turns out to be more enjoyable than Arthur thought it would be. Although Arthur has to be careful what he says concerning the authenticity of things, he manages to get through the evening without saying anything that would be considered strange; at least, not to a half-drunk crowd of over-zealous “medieval” revelers. He must admit; it’s very pleasant to be in an atmosphere that reminds him so much of home.
Merlin looks adorable in his jester outfit, although he insists on taking off the belled cap after the first half hour.
“I always told you you’d make a fine jester,” Arthur teases him after dinner at one of the long banquet tables set up under the oaks. “And I haven’t forgotten the fine juggling skills you displayed.”
“Don’t you dare mention those,” Merlin warns, playfully smacking Arthur on the bum. “You’d better go suit up for the joust. If you’re sure you still want to do it.”
“Of course I’m sure!” Arthur says, “I’ve been looking forward to it.” He strides off to one off the tents that have been set up in the field.
The jousting tournament is a hit and Arthur its instant star, disarming one opponent, and knocking the next two off their mounts. Dirk Wolff is so impressed; he sends a video from his mobile to the director of his film.
“You did that better than the guys in Knights of the Round Table,” he tells Arthur as Arthur changes out of his armour. “They may want to hire you in the future.”
Arthur isn’t sure what to think about that and can’t help but wonder why they made a film about his knights and his table, but he doesn’t question it. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the joust and all the pomp that went along with it, particularly the part when Merlin’s ears turned bright red as Arthur rode up and gave Merlin his favour—a crimson handkerchief. He chuckles thinking about it.
Wolff stands, about to say something else, when the girl he brought as a date pokes her head through the flaps of the tent.
“There you are! Dirk, I’ve been looking all over for you,” she pouts prettily, the bodice of her maiden’s costume bulging in its lacings.
“Well, you found me,’ Wolff replies with a wink to Arthur, and follows her out.
The sun sets, and there is music and dancing in the clearing, a live band set up on a stage. Dozens of couples move to the beat of the music, and Arthur thinks he spots Dirk and his date among them.
On his way back toward the house, Arthur grabs a bottle of water from the large, tin ice bucket by the tents and unscrews the lid, drinking thirstily. The crowd that gathered for the joust has dispersed, and he doesn’t see Merlin anywhere. In fact, he’s pretty sure Merlin disappeared before the tournament was over.
Arthur keeps getting waylaid by women stopping him and telling him how brilliant he was on the horse, so that by the time he reaches the deck, Arthur’s getting irritable.
“Have you seen Merlin?” Arthur asks a woman they’d chatted with over dinner. She is dressed like a barmaid, her skirts hiked up above her bare knees at the moment as she lounges in a chair with a beer. Her name is Janie or Janine, he thinks.
“He went inside,” she says, smiling at Arthur and baring a bit more leg. The breeze brings a whiff of her perfume to Arthur’s nostrils—apple blossoms. “You sure looked good on that horse.”
“Thank you,” Arthur gives her a little bow, and she giggles in response. Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes and heads for the double doors.
Arthur finds Merlin alone in the large kitchen eating fruit and cheese.
“You didn’t watch the last joust,” Arthur accuses.
“No m’lord,” Merlin says automatically. He bites his lip and sighs. “It was all too real.”
Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist. “You never had any problem watching my jousts before.”
Merlin meets his eyes. “I wasn’t permitted to leave before.” He gives Arthur a meaningful look. “I’ve never particularly enjoyed watching you in danger.”
“Not being permitted to do something never stopped you before,” Arthur tells him. “You were a shite servant, remember.”
“I was a brilliant servant,” Merlin says. “And you know it.”
There’s a sound of the back door opening and closing, and they pause, waiting to see if the person will enter the kitchen. When nobody does, Arthur chuckles and kisses Merlin on the nose.
“I was hardly in danger this time, Merlin. I unseated two opponents, and they’re dancing under the stars as we speak, not being laid out for last rites.”
Merlin pinches Arthur on the side. “It’s not funny. It was all just…too close to home, that’s all.”
Arthur sobers, staring into the amazing blue of Merlin’s eyes. “All right, then. But you missed seeing me swarmed by women.”
“Oh?” Those eyes narrow and Merlin pulls Arthur in closer so that their bodies touch from knee to sternum, causing frisson to burn low in Arthur’s belly.
“I’ll go tell our host we’re leaving,” Arthur whispers against Merlin’s lips, the hardness against his thigh pressing forward in response. “Unless you want me to ravish you in one of the bedrooms.”
Merlin shakes his head, mouth turning down at Arthur’s choice of words.
“If you go, Davies may try to hold us here,” Arthur kisses him, biting at Merlin’s full lower lip.
Merlin nods. “I saw Chris out front smoking. I’ll thank him and meet you by the car.”
Arthur breaks away, heading back out on the deck, where he finds Davies lounging with a glass of wine, looking contemplative. The barmaid has vanished, although only recently—the scent of her perfume still lingers in the air.
“It’s been a brilliant night, Davies,” Arthur tells him, putting a hand out to shake, “but I’m worn out. We’re heading home.”
Eyes pinned on Arthur’s with an expression Arthur can’t read and frankly can’t be arsed to care too much about, Davies takes Arthur’s hand, shaking it. Davies may be miffed that they’re leaving early, but in Arthur’s mind, the man’s lucky they came at all; jousting or no, Arthur would have been more than content to stay away from anything involving Brandon Davies.
“Glad you could make it,” Davies replies. “And thanks for bringing Wolff.”
At the mention of the actor’s name, Arthur realizes he should say his goodbyes to him also. With a nod to Davies, he heads down the stairs and onto the vast lawn. Now that darkness has completely fallen, the area is lit by trees filled with faerie lights, lending a magical quality to the atmosphere. After making a round of the yard without seeing the actor, Arthur’s about to give up when he collides with Wolff while rounding the house at the edge of the woods.
“Arthur!” Wolff smiles, reaching out to steady him. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“I was looking for you in order to say goodnight. Merlin and I are headed home.”
“So early? It’s barely ten.” Wolff looks disappointed, and Arthur feels a pang of guilt, since he essentially invited him there. Still, Wolff and his date drove in their own car and are free to leave at will.
“The jousting wore me out,” Arthur replies, not untruthfully. It has been a long time since he’s worked those particular muscles. A very long time.
“I understand,” Wolff wraps a companionable arm about Arthur’s shoulders and begins walking with him into the darkness at the side of the house toward where the cars are parked at the front.
“Where’s your date?” Arthur asks. The sounds of the party grow faint as they traverse the considerable amount of grounds at the edge of the woods.
“She’s around here somewhere,” Wolff replies. “I left her to relieve myself in the woods. I suppose we’ll go soon, too. I appreciate the invitation, Arthur, it’s been quite fun. Don’t be surprised if you hear from an agent concerning your skills.”
Arthur stops. “Won’t you be at class anymore?”
“I meant to tell you before… Filming has begun early, and I’m flying to New Zealand tomorrow night.” They stand facing one another at the corner of the house. A faint burst of laughter from the party, followed by a couple dashing around the house and into the woods, the woman’s skirts held high as she laughs and the man eagerly reaching for her, distracts Arthur a moment so that when he turns, he is completely unprepared for Wolff’s warm mouth meeting his own.
Wolff’s hands tighten at the nape of Arthur’s neck, the kiss hard and thorough, and it takes Arthur several unprepared seconds to fully process what is happening before he can push Wolff off.
“What was that?” he demands, wiping at his mouth with his hand.
“Something to remember me by,” Wolff smiles, eyes alight. “You’re a gorgeous man, Arthur. You can’t have failed to notice my interest.”
He can’t? But he hadn’t…
“You like women!” Arthur accuses, confused and still stunned. “And I’m involved…thoroughly…”
“I like men as well as women, and I just want you to know what your options are. You’ve got my number.” Wolff winks and disappears into the darkness in the direction of the party, leaving Arthur standing with his mouth open.