A Dishonorable Knight (10 page)

Gareth cleared his throat. "I
think I fell asleep and Isrid stopped. Cynan must have kept riding thinking I
was still behind him."

"How could you do something as
stupid as that?" Elena demanded.

"Perhaps I was exhausted as I've
had to guide the horse for five days since you're too frightened to do
it!" he shot back.

"And I suppose if I hadn't been
here you would be any less exhausted?"

"No, but--" Gareth closed
his mouth abruptly and quickly jumped down from the horse.

"Where are you going? Don't you
dare leave me stranded on this horse alone!
"

Pulling the reins over Isrid's head,
Gareth glared at Elena. "Not another word do I want to hear out of you, do
you understand? Not a complaint, not a whine, not even a loud breath. In fact,
why don't you go back to sleep? 'Tis the only time I can be sure you won't be
hollering about your comfort."

Elena silently ran through the litany
of foul names she had assigned to Gareth over the past week. When Gareth pulled
Isrid forward sharply, Elena quickly grabbed the horse's mane to keep from
falling off. Realizing she would have an easier time riding the horse astride
rather than sideways, she threw her right leg over Isrid's neck and rearranged
her skirts.

Gareth led Isrid through the thick
fog, trying to stay true to the direction he hoped would lead him to Cynan's
uncle's small keep. In the eerie silence of the fog-shrouded woods, Elena lost
all track of time. She was just about to doze off when Isrid came to an abrupt
halt.

"What is it?" she
whispered.

"Straight ahead, do you see it?
A fire. Cynan must have realized we'd fallen behind and lit a fire hoping I'd
see it. 'Tis a wonder he was able to find wood dry enough to burn."

"How can you be sure it's Cynan
and Bryant?"

Gareth laughed. "How many other
travelers do you think would be out on a night like this in the middle of
Wales?"

Elena shrugged and held on tightly to
the saddle, eagerly anticipating the warmth of a fire on her chilled fingers.
In a few minutes, they entered the small clearing.

"Damn," Gareth muttered
under his breath. It was not Cynan and Bryant they had stumbled upon, but four
large, vile looking men sprawled around the fire. Mercenaries, Gareth thought
as he spotted the motley array of armor and weapons piled haphazardly about.
And
drunk too, no doubt, judging from the empty wine skins
lying about
.

"Hoohoo, laddies! Did I not tell
you, "Ask and ye shall receive?' Now we were just wishing we had a woman
and here one comes to us. Led by a servant, no less."

The other three men pushed themselves
us. "And a comely wench, she is."

"I've not had one that clean
since I was a boy," said a third as he stood. "Come'ere, lass. Come
and enjoy our hospitality."

Turning, Gareth pushed hard against
Isrid. "Back! Get back!" Isrid backed a few paces but stopped when he
ran into a tree. "Come on you--" A large hand on Gareth's shoulder
spun him about.

"You wouldn't be meanin' to keep
her all to yourself, now would you, whelp?"

Gareth looked over his shoulder at
Elena. "Run!" he yelled as he swung with all his might at the man in
front of him, landing a cracking blow to the man's nose. "Go on!" he
yelled again as Elena stayed where she was.

Spurred to action by the urgency in
his voice, Elena reached for the reins that were dangling in the mud. She
screamed as one of the men grabbed them first. Twining her hands in Isrid's
mane, she kicked the horse as hard as she could. Isrid reared up, nearly
throwing her. Holding on to him with all the strength in her legs, Elena pulled
on his head to turn him around, but a second man was grabbing for her from the
right. She kicked as hard as she could, aiming at the drunken man's face and
then swung Isrid back toward Gareth. He was battling the other two men, who,
despite their drunkenness were moving swiftly. Though Gareth was smaller than
either brute, he landed blow after blow on chin, nose, and stomach. Elena
stifled a scream as the men finally organized enough to circle Gareth. One of
them grabbed Gareth from behind and the other moved to deliver a crippling
blow, but in a flash of movement, Gareth twisted from his captor's embrace and,
as if from nowhere, a knife flashed in his hand. The meaty fist that had been
aimed at Gareth now glanced off the other man's shoulder. Before the man had a
chance to recover from throwing the punch, Gareth brought the knife down to
land between his attacker's shoulder blades. The stabbed man fell onto his
partner and the two landed on the ground. Spinning quickly, looking for other
adversaries, his gaze met Elena's. Without urging, she moved Isrid around the
fire. As the stunned mercenaries regained their senses and groped their way to
their feet, Gareth swung up behind her. Applying his spurs harder than he ever
had to Isrid's flanks, he sent the powerful horse into an immediate gallop.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut as the horse easily cleared the fire and crashed
through the brush on the other side.

Although he knew not which direction
they were headed, Gareth kept Isrid at a full run until the horse began to
tire. When he dismounted and began leading his horse, he realized that Isrid
had been running up hill for the last half mile. Pausing to pat the gallant
animal on the neck, Gareth looked around, noticing that the fog was almost gone
at this higher elevation, replaced by bright moonlight. He continued leading
Isrid, being careful to avoid rocky spots over which the tired horse might
trip. Halfway up the mountain in front of them, Gareth spotted a huge cluster
of rocks.

"You'll have to walk a
bit," Gareth said quickly to Elena who, despite her weariness, could not
close her eyes. "This mountain is very steep and I would have us get to
those boulders lest your suitors decide to follow us."

Elena nodded and threw her leg over
the saddle. Gareth grabbed her waist as she slid off the horse and held her up
when her knees went out from under her. "I'm afraid we must hurry,"
he said apologetically. "Though they were drunk, those men were trained
mercenaries and I fear they may still have wits enough for a chase. Do you have
the strength?"

No, Elena almost said. But
remembering the look on the man's face that had grabbed for her sent a burst of
adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Let's go," she said.

They scrambled up the steep face of
the mountain. Elena clenched her skirts above her knees with one hand as she
sought for rocks to pull
herself
along with the other.
The blood began to ring in her ears and she felt herself growing dizzy when
Gareth finally stopped. He thrust Isrid into a shallow cave concealed behind
several boulders and reached for Elena. In the pale moonlight that leaked
through the rocks, they clung to one another, thankful to be alive, thankful to
find some small comfort after their harrowing escape. After several long
moments, Elena's breathing slowed, but her heart kept racing. As the fear of
danger faded, she became more aware of Gareth's strong arms around her, his
hard chest warm under her cheek. A shiver that was not from cold and which she
had never before felt ran through her body and she slowly raised her head.

Gareth rested his cheek on Elena's
wind-strewn hair. He clutched her tightly to him as harrowing thoughts of her
near fate flashed through his mind. When he felt her stir, he instinctively
bent his head lower and when she raised her face toward his, his lips
tentatively claimed hers. Elena offered no protest, merely a soft sigh which
Gareth quickly swallowed as his mouth pressed more firmly against hers.

Elena's lips parted, as if of their
own accord, seeking more of Gareth's kiss. When his tongue softly traced the
sensitive skin just inside her lip, Elena leaned closer to him, a low moan
escaping her throat. Gareth's sensual exploration of Elena's mouth grew bolder
at that sound and his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer still until
their bodies were touching from head to toe.

When the kiss finally ended, Elena
experienced an entirely new sensation: shyness. Gareth, too, seemed not to know
how to act, and clumsily turned away and began unbuckling Isrid's saddle.

"We'd best get some rest,"
he said after several moments of strained silence.

"Yes," Elena said shakily.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Do you have any idea where we are."

Gareth grinned ruefully. In the dim
light, Elena could only see the flash of his white teeth and unwillingly
hungered for another kiss. "To tell the truth, I haven't the faintest idea
where we might be. I'll have to take a look tomorrow morning."

As Gareth shook out his blanket, he
said, "I'm sorry, we'll have to share. Cynan and Bryant have your
blanket."

Elena tried to keep her voice steady
as she said, "That's alright." She did not know how she was going to
sleep so close to Gareth. She silently said a prayer of thanks that it was too
dark for him to see her shaking hands as she took an edge of the blanket and
lowered herself onto the ground near him. As he drew close against her, trying
to fit under the narrow strip of wool, all thoughts of comfort, of beautiful
dresses, of his rudeness over the past weeks, of her anger at a lady of her
station caught in such circumstances, all of those thoughts faded away as her
lips tingled with remembrances of his kiss and recollections of his valiant
fight to save her. Before she could follow those thoughts, Elena was asleep.

She awoke slowly the next morning,
aware even before she opened her eyes of Gareth's arms around her, cushioning
her from the hard ground and keeping her warm. When she did open her eyes, she
found herself snuggled against him, her head nestled beneath his chin, her lips
pressed against his skin. The musky smell of worn leather and warm skin clung
to his neck and was oddly appealing. Gently lifting her head, she saw that he
was still asleep, the lines of his face softened by slumber. Before she had a
chance to study him, though, his eyes slowly opened and Elena stared,
fascinated. She had never thought grey could be such a warm, interesting color.

"Good morning," he said,
startling her out of her reverie. She quickly drew back and sat up.

"I don't suppose there's
anything to eat but dried meat, again, is there?" she said, trying to
sound annoyed.

Gareth smiled and rolled over to his
saddlebag. "As a matter of fact, I was saving these just for such an
occasion," he said as he pulled out a small package and handed it to
Elena.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see."

Elena untied the string and gasped in
delight. "Dried figs! " She quickly took a bite of one and closed her
eyes in ecstasy. When she finished the fig and licked her fingers, she started
laughing. Gareth looked at her askance as she fell back on the blanket laughing
still harder. When Elena finally caught her breath, she wiped her eyes and
said, "I don't even like figs!" Gareth shared her mirth for a moment
until the urge to kiss her was too great. Leaning over, he silenced her laughter
with a languid kiss.

She began to kiss him back, but in
the light of day, she was suddenly reminded of her position, of the
inappropriateness of how they had spent the night. "Don't!" she said
as she pushed him away.

Embarrassed, Gareth rolled to his
feet and stalked out of the small cave. What had he been thinking?
he
wondered as he looked into the sparse woods on the
mountain, looking for any sign that they had been followed. She was still the
same spoiled wretch who had tormented him for the past fortnight. Last night's
kiss was simply born of relief to be alive and—

"I'll be damned,"
Gareth
said, thoughts of Elena immediately evaporating as he
looked around at the mountain range they were in. Quickly scurrying back to the
cave, he said, "Gather everything up! We're not but a day's ride from my
father's keep."

Elena finished her fig and slowly
stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her gown. Although Gareth seemed to have
forgotten what had transpired between them the night before and just moments
ago, Elena could not help but remember and the memories made her feel
embarrassed and awkward.

"Come on! Pack up the bag while
I saddle Isrid."

Taking refuge from her embarrassment
in haughtiness, Elena snapped, "I am not a stable hand and I refuse to be
treated like one."

Gareth laughed. He was so glad he
would be home by nightfall even Elena couldn't dampen his spirits. "Then
pray, sit ye down, my lady whilst I, the noble and gallant Sir Gareth do attend
your every need." With a cheerful, if tuneless, whistle, Gareth quickly
packed their few belongings and saddled Isrid. Leading the horse outside he
began to walk north, across the broad mountain. Elena followed several paces
behind, scolding herself for being so flustered by a silly kiss. She'd been
kissed before, had she not?
And by far better men than lowly
Sir Gareth ap-something or another.
Of course, a small voice whispered
in her head, not by a better kisser than Sir Gareth. The very skin behind her
knees tingled when she remembered their passionate kiss of the night before.
Elena watched Gareth's broad shoulders as he picked a careful path across the
rocky mountainside. He was unlike any of the men she had ever been attracted
to. Whereas Lord Edgeford was tall and slender, Gareth was just a few inches taller
than her, and compactly built, his arms and chest bound in hard muscles.
Edgeford had golden blond hair that fell in carefully placed waves: Gareth’s
thick unruly dark brown hair forever seemed to be curling in the wrong
direction. Edgeford's pale blue eyes gazed with tranquility on life while
nothing escaped Gareth’s multi-faceted grey eyes, taking in every detail of the
world around him, sparkling with curiosity. In truth Elena was not sure if she
liked or scorned Gareth for those very differences.