A Dishonorable Knight (27 page)

"I've never seen such a
sight," Elena whispered, coming to a stop on the edge of the sand.

"I'd have thought you'd seen
everything in Britain, traveling with King Richard."

"All I ever get to see traveling
with Richard is the inside of musty hunting castles and the filthy streets of
London."

"Likes to hunt, does he?"
Gareth asked, struggling to direct the conversation towards the current
politics as they walked along the beach.

"I think he just uses hunting as
a way to make himself look strong and powerful in front of his nobles. You'd
think his success at achieving the throne would have made him confident enough
in his power, but he seems to be constantly trying to prove himself."

"Maybe that's because he knows
he doesn't belong there." Gareth said.

"His claim is a strong as any
others. I think he's just nervous by nature. He's always fiddling with his
dagger or his cuffs. Always smoothing his hair. It's too bad his wife died. She
always had a calming influence on him." Elena bent to pick up a shell.
"If it hadn't been for Anne, I don't think Richard would have ever
succeeded in his bid for the throne."

"Perhaps that would have been
for the best." Gareth felt as if he were walking on the rocky beach
barefooted, so carefully was he trying to tread.

"Why? One man on the throne is
as good as another. There is really very little difference between kings."

"How can you say that?"
Gareth burst out.

Elena laughed at the outraged look on
his face. "Come now, Gareth. How is Richard really any different from all
of the previous kings?"

"Well, he ignores the rest of
England while he lavishes attention and money on the northern part of the
country where his cronies live."

"And that is worse than Henry
VI's lunacy or his father's outrageous justifications for laying siege on
France?"

Gareth paused, all thought of his
original purpose forgotten for the moment. "Elena, how old
are
you?"

"What? That is not a very
chivalrous question to ask, Sir Knight."

"Twenty?" he guessed.

"I think not," Elena
answered indignantly. "I am barely nineteen."

"All in all, that's not very
old."

"Why thank you," Elena said
drolly.

"No, what I mean is, that is
awfully young to be so cynical about the world and it's leaders."

In the pale moonlight, Gareth could
see Elena frown, the creases in her forehead the only flaw in her otherwise
perfect face. "I don't think of myself as cynical," she responded
slowly.

"'One man on the throne or
another, there really is no difference between them' isn't cynical?"

"I'm not a cynic. I'm a
pragmatist. I merely like to look at situations realistically so I can benefit
the most from them. Now before you give me your holier-than-thou lecture, let
me remind you that women do not carry a tremendous amount of clout in this
world. The most we can hope for out of life is to marry a husband of means who
will keep us from starving and provide shelter and clothing. If he does not
beat us, we are considered most fortunate. Can you honestly disagree with
me?"

"Yes. In Wales--" Gareth
began.

"I don't live in Wales, I live
in England. Now answer me. Is there a better life for women in England than
what I just mentioned?"

Gareth frowned and shook his head.
"No, I suppose not."

"Very well. Now, given those
circumstances, I don't think you can accuse me of being cynical merely because
I try to better my life as I can. King Richard has provided me with many
luxuries for very little work in return. My mother had already given birth to
two stillborn children and was locked away in my father's manor; completely cut
off from the social life she loved by the time she was my age. Can you blame me
for wanting something different and doing what I can to get it?"

Gareth felt deflated. "Of course
not." Although everything she had said was true, he was disappointed.
Disappointed because when they returned to England they would see no more of
each other. They would not meet to exchange information, they would not await
Henry Tudor's landing and word of the location of the battle,
they
would not be able to walk along the beaches of southern
England. He would not be able to admire the creamy perfection of her skin by
moonlight. Once they returned to Richard's court, she would return to her life
as a lady-in-waiting and he would be nothing more than a spy trying to sneak
information about his sovereign to the enemy. There was no way he could expect
her to help him and Henry Tudor, not when it would mean she would lose her
position in court, not when it would mean she would lose everything she had
worked for, even if he, Gareth, could not understand the appeal of formal
feasts and overdressed courtiers. Once Henry took the throne, everyone in
Richard's court would be dispensed with. Ladies-in-waiting would be sent back
to their parents or the convent they had come from, for surely Henry Tudor
would install new ones once he wed. Elena, like her mother, would be cut off
from the social life she loved.

"We'd best head back. It's
getting late," he said, his voice flat.

Turning, he began walking quickly up
the beach to the cobbled street. Elena tried to match his rapid strides, but
could not in the gravelly sand. Running lightly to catch up to him, she linked
her hand through his arm to slow him down. "Where are we sleeping
tonight?" she asked.

Gareth did not hear Elena's question
until she squeezed his arm and asked him again. He realized then that she was
clinging to his arm and slowed his pace accordingly. "Samuel, the man
whose shop we were in earlier will put us up tonight."

"You mean we get to sleep
inside? And perhaps have warm water to wash in and clean linen to sleep
on?"

Despite his disappointment, Gareth
smiled at her tone and her questions. "Yes, my lady, you will have all the
finest luxury Aberystwyth has to offer." Trying not to think of how much
he would miss their bantering once they reached Richard's court, he guided them
back to the center of town.

***

As they walked the moonlit streets
back to Samuel's shop and home, Elena couldn't help but wonder if she had said
something to anger Gareth. Although he answered any question she asked about
this street or that shop, he seemed to forget her existence once he responded.
For a woman who was used to being the center of a man's attention--especially
if he was lucky enough to be taking a moonlit stroll with her--Gareth's
distraction bothered her. Of course, she reminded herself, this is Gareth, the
man who could kiss her like she'd never been kissed one night and then throw
himself at a coarse serving wench the next. This was the man who had
nearly...well, nearly made love to her, and then treated her as nothing more
than one of his rough traveling companions. Her life in Richard's court had
taught her much about men and their moods, but Gareth belied all she knew. None
of her carefully devised "wiles" had worked on him, yet when she
least expected it, and was least prepared for it, he would kiss her, with
tenderness, or with soul-scorching passion that left her gasping for breath.
Gareth seemed most responsive to her when she was completely unconscious of what
she was doing or saying. On the other hand, when she acted like a proper lady
of the court, he always seemed to grow distant.

So why should he be sullen now?
she
asked herself. Hadn't she just tossed over every dignity
by climbing onto that stump and playing tug-of-war until she was as sweaty as a
horse? Elena gazed up at the stars, wishing she could read their supposed
messages. Would she never understand this man?

Gareth tugged on her arm, startling
her. She hadn't realized she had stopped when she was studying the stars.

"We're almost there," he
said politely as she ran lightly to match his quickening pace.

When they reached the shop, it, like
every other shop on the street, was dark.

"Have they forgotten us?"
Elena asked worriedly. She did
not
want
to sleep outside one more night, especially when their blankets, which offered
meager comfort, were inside!

"No, I'm sure someone is awake
in the back rooms," Gareth assured as he knocked on the door, although
Elena didn't think he sounded very convinced.

Gareth tried the handle, but it was
locked. He knocked again more loudly, but there was still no answer. He was
just about to pound on the door when it swung open.

The sleepy countenance of Samuel
greeted them, with voluminous white night shirt billowing, and nightcap askew.
He was holding a candle up to inspect their faces. "Saints preserve us,
young man, have you no consideration for the hours of an honest working
man?" he asked as he opened the door wider for them to enter.

"I'm sorry, Samuel. We were in
the market and we lost all track of time," Gareth apologized.

"Humph," Samuel replied as
he led them through the shop and down the hall. He stopped in the middle of the
hall and opened a door Elena had not even noticed earlier. "The lady may
sleep in here. It's not large, but it is clean and comfortable. You,
impertinent boy, are upstairs with all of the other men, on the floor." He
placed the candle down and disappeared down the hall. Gareth stepped forward
and gestured Elena into the room.

As she walked through the doorway,
Elena judged that Samuel had been generous when he said the room was not large.
It was more of a closet, with a low bed pushed into one corner and just enough
room left for a small table. He was accurate on the clean and comfortable part,
however, Elena thought. There was not a speck of dust to be seen and the bed
was made up with a bright quilt and a small pillow. There was even an ewer of
water on the table.

"Do you need aught else?"

For some reason, his
question made Elena think
of Gareth's passionate kisses.
Hastily dismissing that thought from her mind, she said, "No. This should
do." She felt like she should say something else, something to make the
lighthearted Gareth of earlier this evening return, but she could think of
nothing.

Gareth bade her good night and gently
closed the door.

The door swayed open slightly after
Gareth left and Elena tried to pull it closed again, but there was no latch to
keep it tight. Elena shook her head. At least everyone was already asleep.
Turning, she began struggling out of her worn and travel-stained gown. She
pulled the faded cotehardie over her head, laying it on the foot of the bed and
then leaned over to pull off her boots. Pulling off her chemise, she glanced in
the pitcher of water. Thank heavens it was full. There was nothing she wanted
more than to wash the sweat and dust of travel off her skin. The water was cool
and refreshing. She had just put her chemise back on when she heard a light
knock on the door.

Elena whirled around at the noise,
clutching her gown to her breast, as the door swung open. A red-faced Gareth
met her gaze.

"I--I'm sorry, Elena, I knocked,
but the door…"

"Yes, I couldn't get it to
latch."

Gareth glanced at her thin covering
before focusing on a point somewhere around her forehead. I just wanted to, uh,
give you this," he said as he thrust a large bundle at her. "Da
thinks we'll have enough time to have it made up before we leave."

"Have what made up?" Elena
asked as she tucked her gown under her arms and began untying the cloth
wrapper. A folded length of the wool she had been looking at earlier fell onto
the bed. She sucked in her breath.

"I thought you would like a new
dress to return to England in."

Elena looked from the cloth to Gareth
who stood uncertainly just inside the doorway. How many men realized the
importance of a new gown or took the time to see to its creation? Heedless of
her state of undress and the impropriety of her action, Elena threw her arms
around his neck. "It's wonderful! I don't know what to say."

She felt Gareth's hands slide around
her waist. "How about 'thank you'?"

Though she was not used to saying the
words, she laughed and said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you,
Gareth." She sobered slightly when she realized that her arms were still
around his neck and his hands were now caressing her through her thin chemise.
Without quite realizing what she was doing, she leaned up and pressed her lips
to his. He responded slowly, tentatively, only opening his lips when she
pressed hers against them more insistently. An abstract part of Elena's brain
bellowed that this was not included in the conduct befitting a noble lady, but
she quickly silenced it as she concentrated on the rush of sensations that were
coursing through her body.

Gareth's gentle grip on her waist was
now crushing her against him. One of his hands slid up her back to tangle in
her hair and cradle her head. Elena moaned softly as she gave herself over
completely to his kiss, opening her mouth and allowing his tongue to explore
its soft recesses. Elena felt his muscles shudder through his worn shirt as she
ran her fingertips over his shoulders and up into his unruly hair. Unable to
control herself, she grabbed fistfuls of his thick hair and pulled his head
closer to hers so she could return his kiss.