A Dishonorable Knight (29 page)

When at last they lay back,
exhausted, they snuggled together on the narrow bed as comfortably as if they
had been doing so their whole lives.

Gareth awoke early the next morning
as the sun's first rays made their way into a tiny window, high on the wall. He
was disoriented for several seconds as he stared at the clean wooden walls of
the room. Of late, he had become used to sleeping outdoors, on the ground. As
he tried to stretch and found his arm pinned beneath Elena's head, his mind quickly
cleared and he turned to survey his bedfellow.

Her hair was a soft tangle of
reddish-brown waves and curls spread about the pillow like a silk veil, its
sweet scent filling his nostrils and reminding him of the night before when he
had grabbed double handfuls of the silken strands and buried his face in their
fragrance. Her face nestled against his shoulder was beautiful, peaceful, and,
he thought, content. The last time he had watched her
sleep,
she had been deathly ill, her face flushed with fever, her hair dampened with
sweat. Even when the fever had broken, her eyes had remained slightly glazed
with weakness for days afterwards. Then they had almost made love, stopped only
by Cynan pounding on the door that English soldiers were after them. There had
been no soldiers last night. No Cynan pounding on the door. No illness to
befuddle Elena's mind as to what they were doing.

Gareth brushed a feather-light kiss
against Elena's brow. No, there had been nothing to stand in their way last
night. There had been only love. Gareth swallowed but did not try to deny
himself the emotion. Yes, last night he had succumbed to the feeling that had
been steadily growing since he had seen her standing at the top of the stairs
in Richard's great hall those many weeks ago; the feeling that had grown
despite her haughtiness, despite her complaining, nagging, and bickering as
they rode through Wales; the feeling that grew tenfold that horrible night he
found her huddled in the middle of the road; the feeling that would have to
cease once they returned to England, returned to Richard's court.

Gareth took a deep breath and exhaled
slowly, forcing himself to forget that last thought. They would have almost
another week before he had to hand her back to Richard and to her fiancée,
perhaps a few days more if they were lucky and the roads were bad.

Elena squirmed in his arms and opened
her eyes, smiling lazily at him. He grinned back at her, immensely relieved at
her response. Dipping his head, he kissed her gently, her lips like warm velvet
under his mouth. Of its own will, his free hand slid up the smooth skin of her
torso to caress her breast. His heart began hammering against his ribs as
Elena's hands began their own exploration over his body.

Staring down at her, he was entranced
by the fiery colors ignited in her hair as a shaft of sunlight struck it. Her
eyes also were illuminated, their cinnamon depths pulling him towards her for
another kiss. An inch before his lips were to touch hers, Gareth's love struck
mind finally recognized the significance of the light on Elena's face. Pulling
back abruptly, he saw her scowl.

"'Tis morning, love, and I had
best duck out before the others awaken. There are at least three men in this
house who would sever my head from my body if they were to discover me in your
room."

Elena laughed shakily, and Gareth
wondered if she was just now aware of the implications of their stolen night
together. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she sat up as Gareth climbed from
the bed. As he retrieved his discarded clothing, she studied his supple body
without embarrassment, though her scrutiny made him nervous. Suppose she didn't
like what she saw? Glancing nervously over his shoulder, he saw admiration and
raw desire on her face. He almost returned to her then and there, consequences
be
damned, but forced himself to stay focused.

Once dressed, Gareth turned and bent
to drop a quick kiss on her lips. "I've no plans today. What say we travel
about town and find a seamstress? We've been through enough to have earned at
least one day's play."

Elena's eyes sparkled at his mention
of a seamstress. Grabbing his face before he could straighten, she kissed him
soundly on the mouth before flopping back down on the bed.

"If we have a day to do what we
want, then I want to sleep another hour. I've been up with the sun for so many
days, I feel like a chicken!"

Gareth laughed and said, "Sleep
away, my lady. The day is yours." Carefully opening the door, he peeked
outside before quickly leaving. Once in the hall, he stayed where he was a
moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Gareth!" his father called
out from the other end of the hall. Gareth's heart stopped and his mouth went
dry. He felt like a twelve-year-old who had been caught peeping at the bathing
milkmaids. Full of dread, he turned and watched his father walk down the hall.

"Is she still asleep?"
Morgan asked.

Gareth swallowed to force his heart
back down into his chest
,
then he cleared his throat.
"Yes, I thought I'd check on her, but she's asleep."

"Poor dear, she probably needs
the rest, especially after last night."

Gareth's eyes widened to the point he
was afraid they would tumble out of his head. "Last night?"

"Yes. Cynan said you convinced
Elena to play on the Viking stumps last night in the market."

Gareth's heart resumed beating.
"Oh, yes. She did very well."

"Well, best not to disturb her
then. Let's go sit by the fire and talk about your strategy."

Gareth nodded and allowed
himself
to be pulled down the hall on legs that were rubbery
with reaction to almost being caught, and weak from…other things.

***

After Gareth left, wedging the door
as closed as it would go, Elena stretched lazily, curling her toes and yawning.
This was heaven, she thought.
To simply be able to lay here
in relative comfort and cleanliness for as long as she wanted.
More
sleep was definitely what she wanted, but as she lay on the narrow pallet and
gazed out the tiny square pane of the window, she found that she was not the
least bit sleepy. In fact, she felt as if she could hike across Wales. Elena
laughed at the whimsical thought. Two months ago, she would have thought
something like, "I could dance all night," or, "I could help
Lady Elizabeth change her clothes twelve time today." Still, sleepy or no,
it felt wonderful to lay here and know that the day was hers to do with as she
pleased.
Hers and Gareth's.

She glanced around the room, her gaze
coming to rest on the heap of cranberry-colored wool. A new dress! And the
finest cotton! She had not been so excited about having a new outfit since her
mother had first helped her prepare for moving to Richard's court. The fact
that Gareth had thought enough of her to give
her such
a gift gave her pause.

Sitting up slowly, Elena leaned over
and collected her torn chemise. Her cheeks warmed as she thought of the night
spent in Gareth's arms, his compactly built but strong body pressed against
hers. What would Margaret and Catherine and all the other girls back at court
say if they knew what she had
done.
Not only done, she
corrected herself, but enjoyed! She did not regret for a moment what had
happened last night. In the bright light of day, she forced herself to admit
that she had long found Gareth attractive. But somewhere along their travels,
she had come to desire more than his handsome face or broad shoulders. His
focus, his determination, the way he put her safety above all else; she had
never had someone make her feel as cherished as he did. And this gift…

No, she was not sorry for what
happened last night. In fact, she would do her best to see that it happened
again before she must face the possibility of a wedding night with Brackley.
The wayward thought of the earl this time did not bring an involuntary shudder.
Not because she was resigned to her fate, but because suddenly she saw before
her not Brackley as a bridegroom, but Gareth. She gasped aloud at the thought.
Wed?
To Gareth?
He held no land, no position of honor
or prestige. The blood rushed from Elena’s face and she had to sit down,
because suddenly, she found that she didn’t care that he was a simple knight,
and a Welsh one at that. The realization left her dizzy, as if she’d held onto
her plans and expectations for so long that they’d served as her anchor and she
was now adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Could she truly be happy with a man
such as Gareth? She laughed aloud at herself for such a foolish question. She
knew without a doubt that Gareth could show her
a happiness
far beyond what she had once hoped to achieve. The question was
,
could he be happy with a woman such as herself? The
thought was disconcerting to say the least, for she’d rarely suffered
self-doubt, but she found herself in new territory, stripped bare of her
arsenal of feminine wiles. She glanced again at the pile of fabric. Such a gift
gave her hope that Gareth did in fact return her feelings.

Vowing she would find a way to
discover his feelings for her before they reached Richard’s court, Elena stood
and pulled on her chemise. As she laced herself into her worn cotehardie, she
reveled in her plan to burn it and scatter the ashes at sea as soon as her new
dress was made.

***

"What have you discovered about
Elena's loyalties?" Morgan asked gently as he and Gareth broke their fast
on crusty bread and tangy goat cheese.

Gareth pulled his thoughts from the
previous night's activities and swallowed his mouthful of bread. "Elena
holds no great love for either Richard or Henry, but maintaining her livelihood
is, understandably, utmost in her mind. As a mere lady-in-waiting, she would
hold no importance for
Henry,
hence, she would most
likely lose her position in court. Although she did not say she would oppose
our efforts, neither did she
offer
help or
support."

"Not even if
you
asked for her help?" Morgan
asked, eyeing Gareth speculatively.

Gareth looked sharply at his father,
exasperated with himself for his adolescent fear of discovery. Deciding to
ignore his father's unspoken questions, he shook his head. "I can't do
that, Da. She is here now because of a quirk of fate. Because she rode the
wrong way on that blasted road after Richard's party was attacked. If she'd had
her way, she would have spent these past weeks in the luxury of court, being
pampered and flirting with the courtiers." Gareth felt a twinge of
jealousy at the thought of Elena flirting with the wealthy, handsome men of
Richard's court, but he continued. "We simply can't ask her to make that
sacrifice."

His father gazed steadily at him for
a long moment and Gareth focused his attention on his meal, willing his
expression not to reveal his feelings for Elena.

“You and see seem to get along well.”

Gareth nearly choked on a crust of
bread. Reaching for a tankard, he washed it down and scowled at his father.
“Well enough.”

“Perhaps more than well enough, I’m
inclined to say.”

“More than well enough for what?”
Gareth asked sharply, but God help him, he knew.

“What if you married Lady
Elena.
Your loyalties would be hers and we need not worry
about—“

“No!” Though the idea had sprouted in
the back of his mind since awakening with Elena in his arms, he could not abide
the idea of manipulating her into marriage simply to aid Lord Stanley’s plans.
Not when his own feelings were engaged. Elena would never willingly marry a man
of his station. She had made clear many times what she sought out of life and
that was position, wealth, and security. Security he could give her—with
his life, if need be. Wealth he had enough, at least enough to keep her
well fed
, well clothed, well sheltered, though perhaps not
as lavishly as Elena hoped for. But position was a tenuous thing in Wales, and
soon all of England if Henry Tudor’s plans came to fruition. He knew how
important such a thing was to Elena and he would not risk her compromising her
dreams.

Liar
,
hissed a voice in the back of his
head.
What you would not risk is your heart,
should you lay it before her and have her rejected. Coward!

Gareth shook his head and clenched
his jaw, ignoring the thought. When he spoke, his voice was low and harsh.
“Elena is most enamored of her position at court. She would not give it up for life
as mistress of a Welsh keep.”

"But if we assured her she would
have a place in Henry’s court--"

"No!" Gareth said more
forcefully than he had planned. "Henry won't lose this war without Elena's
help and we both know there's every chance we'll be completely crushed. If that
should happen, I would not have Elena then be termed a traitor and put to
death."

"Alright son, alright. We need
not ask her assistance." Morgan watched his son tear almost savagely into
his bread. "Gareth?"

Much calmer now that his anger was
spent, Gareth smiled apologetically at his father and said, "Yes?"