A Dishonorable Knight (28 page)

Finally, the kiss ended and Elena
buried her face weakly in Gareth's neck where she could feel his pulse race
underneath her lips. His grip on her had relaxed and his hands had resumed
their gentle caress up and down her back. Despite the excitement of their kiss,
Elena could not help but wish she could just go to sleep, here in his arms, so
comfortable was she. As she relaxed still further against him, her mind
wandered to the cloth he had bought her and his promise of a new dress.
Suddenly, she remembered the rest of his words and she straightened.

"Did you say we were returning
to England?"

Gareth's face was still flushed, but
his eyes were now wary as he slowly nodded. "Aye, in a few days."

"What about the meeting today?
Did you get everything worked out?"

Gareth paused before he answered.
"Not quite. You see, I," he paused to clear his throat. "I'm not
convinced that this whole thing is going to work."

"What? What do you mean?"
Elena was thoroughly confused. Had they chased over half of Britain for naught?

"I don't think Henry Tudor will
be successful. Actually, I don't think he's even going to try to land in
Wales."

"Then this whole trip was a
waste?"

Gareth looked decidedly
uncomfortable. "No, of course not. I learned some valuable information
that helped me decide that the best thing for me to do it return to Richard's
court and act like nothing untoward occurred here in Wales."

Elena stared at Gareth, amazed.
"What kind of information?"

Dropping his hands from her waist, he
pushed past her and sat on the bed. "I'm much too tired to go into now.
Besides, I thought you'd be happy to be returning to court. Especially in a new
dress."

Elena looked at Gareth skeptically.
She was no hen wit who did not understand politics. True, she had little interest
in them, but she knew that for Gareth to suddenly change his mind--and his
allegiance--must mean that something serious had occurred. Studying his face,
she forbore from questioning him further. He did look
tired,
weary even, as he slouched against the wall.

Unmindful of her scant attire, Elena
sat next to him on the bed, deciding to drop the subject for the time being.
"What made you choose this color of fabric?" she asked, smoothing the
pile of wool.

"I thought it would flatter your
complexion and hair coloring. Is it all right? Do you like it?"

"Truthfully?" she asked
with a smile.

Gareth frowned. "You hate
it?"

Elena laughed. "Truthfully, I
was admiring this exact color only this morning, wishing I could make a new
dress out of it." She laughed again as relief crossed his face and without
thought; she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Thank you,
Gareth." Her gaze trapped by his, she remained in her bent over position.
Slowly, he raised his hand and caressed her cheek with his calloused
fingertips.

"No, Elena, thank you."

"For what?" she whispered,
confused.

Gareth shook his head and drew her
down on top of him, kissing her slowly, endlessly. When he pulled back, he
brushed the hair off her face and smoothed it down her back. "I have a
favor to ask of you," he said.

Elena raised her eyebrows in
question.

"Once we return to England, I
would rather Richard not know I ever had thoughts of joining Henry Tudor's
fight. I feel guilty enough knowing I have broken my knightly vows these past
weeks. If I had to face Richard, I would lose his trust, not to mention my
life."

Elena nodded, the thought of Gareth
dying over a simple misunderstanding creasing her brow with worry and fear.
"Of course. Richard need not know anything that has gone on these weeks
since we were separated from his ranks."

"Thank you," Gareth said
softly, seemingly relieved. And yet, Elena could tell he was still greatly
bothered by something.

"Are you sure this is the right
decision, Gareth?"

He stared at the flame of the candle
on the small table, studying its flicker before answering. "It's what I
must do."

It's what he must do, Elena thought
as she followed his gaze to the hypnotic flame. How cryptic he could be. She
thought of returning to England and court life. How she had longed for the
luxury and beauty, how--Elena paused in mid-thought. Returning to England meant
returning to her fiancé, the Earl of Brackley. Sweet Jesu, she had near
forgotten about the horrid man these past few weeks. How would she face him and
their forthcoming marriage? Well, she told herself firmly, she would simply
have to convince King Richard to call off the marriage. She was one of his
favorite ladies-in-waiting and she had served him diligently. Still, a nagging
doubt whispered. Suppose the earl has offered him something Richard needs.
Monarchs were forever searching for more money, more troops, more promises of
support. What if she could not convince the king? What if he forced her to
marry that corpulent ogre? Elena shivered and turned back to Gareth. His face
was hidden in half-shadows, the meager light sculpting his face, masking all
hints of the boyishness she had seen earlier this evening in harsh lines. And
yet, she still found him incredibly appealing. There was an intensity about him
that radiated strength and ability. He was even more handsome than she had
thought. The
bald pate
and bushy brows of her intended
flashed before her eyes. Was she doomed to living her life with an ugly old
man, not knowing the joys of love in a young man's strong arms, the sweetness
of passion she so often heard of in minstrel's songs?

Without a thought to the
consequences, she made her decision. She would know love, she would know it
this very night, and be damned with her fiancée!

Her decision made, Elena was suddenly
overcome with an unfamiliar sensation: shyness. How should she approach Gareth?
What should she say? What if he were to refuse? Deciding to simply follow her
instincts, she gently grasped Gareth's chin in her hand and turned it toward
her.

"I should go," he began.
"You must be exhausted."

Her heart pounding, Elena leaned
slowly toward Gareth. She stared at the light bristling of stubble that covered
his chin and upper lip. Unlike his dark hair, his beard had gold and copper
highlights that glistened in the glow of the candle. As she drew nearer, she
caught his faint scent and inhaled deeply. Sweat, leather, the outdoors, and
something deliciously musky and spicy that she sensed was just
him
: these were the smells that she had grown to associate
with all that was masculine and attractive in the past weeks.

Gareth shivered when she moved her
hand from his chin to brush his stubborn lock of hair from his face. Elena
could not bring herself to meet his grey eyes, so she ran her fingers through
his thick wavy hair, caressing her way down his neck to his shoulders. She
could feel the warmth of his skin through his rough shirt as she took a shaky
breath. Leaning forward even more, she closed her eyes lazily as she pressed
her lips to his warm mouth. She felt a moment's panic when Gareth did not
immediately respond, but all thought quickly left her mind when, in a rush,
Gareth dragged her body flush against his. Once again, she had only to initiate
the kiss to have him meet her more than half way. Without even realizing she
had done so, Elena moaned as Gareth ran his hands up and down her back, the
thin chemise heightening the friction rather than diminishing it. He devoured
her mouth hungrily, stealing the very breath from her body, before sliding his
lips over her smooth cheek to explore the delicate folds of her ear.

Elena dug her nails into his
shoulders as she let her head drop back, her neck suddenly too weak to hold the
weight of it, although the rest of her body felt light as a feather. Her skin
glowed with warmth as if the candle on the table were instead a bonfire,
threatening to consume her. Gareth took advantage of her exposed neck to leave
a new trail of burning kisses. Elena brought her head up sharply when Gareth's
hands swept around her waist and up her midriff to cup her breasts. The
sensations his touch sent through her body caused her breathing to come in
quick, shallow pants. The rapidly diminishing logical part of her brain
realized that Gareth's breathing was just as labored.

Gareth's kisses returned to her mouth
as their bodies sank lower on the bed. Without consciously planning to, Elena
ran her hands down to Gareth's waist and tugged on his shirt, pulling it out of
his breeches and up over his torso and shoulders. Their lips parted for a mere
second as Gareth impatiently tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it to
the floor. The pressure of his renewed kisses pushed her fully back on the bed
and as he followed her down, he pulled off his chausses.

He kissed the silkiness of her eyebrows,
the smoothness of her skin, the fullness of her lips.

The rest of their clothing quickly
followed, though later Elena could never remember how the sleeve of her chemise
came to be ripped nearly off, or how Gareth's breeches had come to land on the
candle where they had smoldered for a few seconds before plunging the room in
darkness.

The moon sent pale beams through the
tiny window, bathing the lovers in its silvery light, hiding the flush of
Elena’s cheek when Gareth kissed the peak of her breast. His face was lost in
shadow as he rolled atop her, but she saw the rugged contours of his visage
with first her fingertips and then her mouth. She learned the sculpting of his
muscled back, the firm roundness of his buttocks. She drank in his scent as if
it were life-giving air and she a drowning woman. She was nearly overcome with
so many sensations. One moment, she reveled in the silkiness of his hair, the
next, in the saltiness of his skin, the rasp of his whiskers against her neck,
the grip of his callused hand on her hip, her breast. Elena barely recognized
the delight of one part of him before she discovered a new one. I could spend a
lifetime learning his body, she thought, and in the slumberous heat of passion,
the thought did not scare her. It enticed her.

Without fear or hesitation, she gave
herself to him and he worshiped her for it, kissing and caressing her with a
gentleness that touched her soul. His hands roamed her body, memorizing the
soft curves that so perfectly fit his hard hollows. Her skin was sweet to the
taste, the scent of her hair intoxicating. He buried his face in it before he
was distracted by a velvet ear lobe. He was acutely aware of her womanly
softness, the vulnerability of her body—strong though it may be with
long, lean muscles and taut abdomen. He wanted to cradle her in his arms
protectively at the same time he wanted to crush her to him and sink into her
body. It was a disturbing and overwhelming feeling, how completely he was in
her thrall. He felt his blood pounding, his breath coming faster.

Gareth forced himself to slow down,
to make this experience good for Elena. He knew not why she had initiated their
lovemaking, nor what the future held for them, but for this one night, he would
show her just what she meant to him.

Focused now, he spent endless moments
savoring the soft skin of each breast before dragging his lips across her
stomach. He heard her breath hitch as his lips brushed soft curls and he
grinned wickedly up at her before parting her legs and dropping his mouth to
her core.

Elena’s back arched off the bed and
she grasped a handful of his hair in her hand, mumbling incoherently, “What…you
can’t…that’s…” before falling back and succumbing to the pleasure he wrought.
Gareth focused his long-building desire for Elena into that one intimate kiss,
wringing sobs of pleasure from her, branding her with his tongue and lips,
marking her as his own. He felt the tension in her body build, and while one
part of him wanted to bring her to completion, another part—the more primal
and ruthless side—needed to posses her. Now.

He dragged his lips back up along her
ribcage, not with soft kisses as before, but with nips of his teeth and
scratching of his night beard. Elena opened her eyes and in the cold glitter of
the moonlight, they were dark and smoldering. She dug her hands into his hair
and pulled his mouth to her own, biting gently at his lips, licking his teeth,
tangling his tongue with hers. She dug her nails into his buttocks, urging him
closer and he complied, sliding his shaft along her tender wetness. He heard
her suck in a shaky breath and he repeated the motion again and again until she
hissed, “Now!”

He smiled at her imperious tone, but
for once was more than happy to comply with her demands. He positioned himself
at her entrance and slowly slid home, gritting his teeth with the effort it
took to take his time and make it right for her. He heard Elena take a sharp
breath and he searched her face, seeing a slight frown mar her forehead.

“Is it…does it hurt? Should I—“

“No!” she interrupted. “For God’s
sake, keep going!”

Gareth grinned and pressed a hard
kiss to her lips as he sank the final crucial bit. His carefully slow pace
drove him to the brink of his self-control, but he held back, adjusting his
angle, tilting her hips, and caressing her at that delicate juncture. He was
rewarded with murmured words of endearment and encouragement; little sighs and
moans that stoked his desire to an inferno. His lovemaking took on an urgency
that must have translated to Elena for she responded by lifting her hips,
tossing her head until finally, the storm racked her body, convulsions of
pleasure involuntarily pulling his own release from his body. She cried out and
Gareth kissed her hard, swallowing her cry as he smothered his own.