A Dishonorable Knight (37 page)

"I believe I enjoy baiting you
almost as much as Cynan loves to rile me," he said with a wicked grin.

Elena's eyes narrowed and her lips
pursed. She concentrated on giving Gareth her most thorough look of supreme
displeasure, waiting for him to squirm and apologize for taunting her. To her
utter chagrin, Gareth's smile only broadened. Afraid her facial muscles could
not hold the grimace one
more minute
, she allowed
Gareth to kiss her back into a good mood.

"Just a warning, Gareth
ap
Morgan: I detest merely arguing for the sake of arguing.
Don't play the devil's advocate with me."

"You have my word. I shall only
provoke you when I truly disagree with you."

Elena shook her head as she snuggled
against the curve of Gareth's chest. "For some reason, that does not comfort
me."

Late that afternoon, their lungs
crying out for fresh air, their muscles longing for a position other than
supine, Gareth and Elena dressed and snuck out of the house, Elena going first
to determine if anyone would be about to see Gareth leaving her room. Like a
couple of children, they ducked out the shop's front door and ran down the
street towards the rocky beach they had briefly visited their first night in
Aberystwyth. Once there, they continued their child-like behavior, chasing
seagulls down the shore, skipping stones across the water, and dispelling the
slumberous clouds that had filled their heads during their lazy day in bed.

The day was bright and sunny with
high white clouds dotting an otherwise flawless blue sky. Despite the vigor of
the sun, a stiff breeze off the ocean gave the air a tangible briskness that
tingled in Elena's cheeks and occasionally brought the sting of tears to her
eyes. The beach was deserted and Elena gave no thought to hiking her skirts to
her knees as she ran the length of the shallow cove in which the ships docked
at Aberystwyth. The coarse sand and smooth rocks went unnoticed beneath her
thin-soled boots as she ran. Her blood sang in her veins and she inhaled the
crisp air in great, heaving breaths, feeling totally and completely alive.
   Glancing over her shoulder, Elena was delighted to see Gareth
giving chase behind her, his own cheeks
ruddy,
his
unruly hair for once completely off his forehead as the wind caught it and
tugged it behind him. Though he could have easily caught her, he remained at
her heels, playfully grabbing at her skirts and her hair, which had come,
unbound and now streamed out behind her. Long before she reached the end of the
cove, she slowed to a stop and flung herself down on a patch of coarse grass,
winded and warm, despite the cool breeze. Gareth joined her on the earthen bed,
stretching out beside her, his hands behind his head, his breathing only
slightly labored.

Elena cushioned her head on his
shoulder and stared up at the brilliant sky. More clouds had gathered, though
they were innocently white, devoid of any threat of rain as they sailed across
the blue expanse behind them.

"Do you see that cloud over
there?" Gareth asked, pointing to a large formation on the northern
horizon.

"Yes."

"Don't you think it looks like a
running horse?"

"A what? It just looks
white." Elena squinted, trying to decipher a horse in the huge blob of
cloud.

"No, look carefully. See? Right
there is his head with a mane flowing out behind it. You can't really see his
forelegs, but his hindquarters and tail are easy to see."

Slowly the image took shape for Elena
and she gasped in amazement. "You're right."

Gareth turned his head and looked at
her. "Haven't you ever watched the clouds before?"

"Never."

"Truly?" he asked, amazed.

"When would I have lain on the
ground staring at the sky? Perchance while Lady Elizabeth was sleeping?"

"What about as a child? I used
to have to tend my father's flock and every afternoon I would spend hours
imagining stories around the things I saw in the clouds."

Feeling defensive, Elena said,
"I was learning to read real stories as a child, remember?"

"Ah yes. Well, it's never too
late to learn. Let's look for something else. There," he said, pointing at
a cloud directly over them. "That one looks like a huge tree. If I were a
child back in Gwynedd, I would imagine that was a magical tree inhabited by
fairies."

"Fairies?" Elena asked.
"There's no such thing as fairies."

"How do you know?" Gareth
asked incredulously.

"There just aren't. I would have
read about them if there were."

"You can't learn everything from
books, Elena."

She was about to retort when she
thought of the past month spent in Gareth's company. Truly she could never have
learned what she did from him in a book! Deciding to hold her tongue and watch
the clouds, she felt a relaxing sense of peace. The pulse of the surf on the
beach, the sun warming her face, the wind caressing her hair lulled her into a
state in which she began to pick out shapes and patterns. Amazing how I never
understood until now the pastime of cloud watching, she thought. Her
inexperienced imagination took a while to actually see the vivid images Gareth
had described, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

After their bodies had cooled from
their run, Elena began to grow chilly in the constant breeze and she moved
closer to Gareth, plastering herself to his warm side. He brought his left arm
out from behind his head to caress her shoulders and back. When she continued
to shiver, he sat up. "Let's move around some more. That will warm
you."

Elena nodded and allowed him to help
her to her feet. She stood patiently, enjoying his attentions, while he brushed
the sand and grass off her back and plucked it out of her hair. When she was
properly groomed, Gareth took her hand and led her further south along the
coast, stopping now and again to show her a shell polished by the pounding surf
or point out a sand crab as it made its way across the rough beach. They
explored for the remainder of the afternoon, finally making their way back to
Samuel's shop when the sun began to dip into the fathomless blue of the ocean.

The instant they stepped into the
back room, Bryant accosted them. "Where have you been?" he asked
Gareth in a voice uncharacteristic in its sharpness. Morgan and Cynan glanced
up from their conversation, clearly surprised.

"I went down to the docks. I
thought I might spend the day sailing. It's been years since I've been on the
water. But those fishermen who were going out didn't have room for stowaways so
I just roamed the beach. It was a beautiful day. You should have been
there."

"I would have had I or anyone
else here known you were leaving. You must have arisen quite early,"
Bryant said skeptically.

"I thought I'd better. Those fishermen
usually leave before dawn."

To Elena, it was clear that Bryant
was extremely jealous. Though she was well aware he was taken with her, she had
given him no intimation that she favored him above friendship. As he turned to
her, his hostility was quickly smothered and he asked her, "Where did you
disappear to, Lady Elena? I knocked at your door several times this afternoon
to see if you were feeling all right but there was no answer. Had I known you
desired fresh air, I would have been more than happy to provide an
escort."

"I didn't want to trouble
anyone. I remembered my way to the beach from the other night. It's not that
far so I just walked by myself. I met Gareth down there and he escorted me
home."

Before Bryant could say anything
else, Elena pointedly turned away and joined Morgan and Cynan at the fireplace.
Bryant made sure to fill the empty seat next to her before Gareth had a chance
to. He repeated the performance again at dinner, much to Gareth's annoyance.
The meal was more subdued than the previous night's, partly due to the absence
of the mead, partly due to their reduced numbers. Many of the men from the
night before had returned home.

The mood lightened a bit after dinner
as they sat round the fire. Samuel and Morgan took turns telling the old
stories of Wales. Like the great bards who visited the king's castles, each man
wove intricate stories, each trying to outdo the other.

"Well spoken, Samuel,"
Morgan said when the other man finished an intricate tale of Welsh history.
"That is a different version than I have heard before."

"My grandfather taught it me and
he was always meticulous about details," Samuel said, a bit defensively.

Elena yawned widely and loudly. Then
men in the room laughed aloud but
their
good natured
laughter did not prevent her from being mortified at her unladlylike behavior.
Deciding that she need not be so concerned--this was, after all, Wales, far
from court life--she stood and excused herself from the men's company.
"Thank you for the enjoyable entertainment."

Gareth quickly stood before Bryant
could and took her arm to escort her to her room.

At the door to her small room, Elena
turned expectantly to Gareth. She knew he could not join her now, with the
other men still awake, but she was determined to have a kiss--something she had
been denied all evening. Lifting her head, she pressed her lips against
Gareth's, waiting for him to return the kiss. When he did not, she pulled back
abruptly.

"I do not wish us to be caught,
Elena. My father and the others would assume I was forcing myself upon you and
we would be unable to return to England until a 'suitable' escort could join
us."

Elena
nodded,
understanding his concern though still disappointed, and went into her room.
She slowly undressed and got into bed, laying on her back and staring at the
ceiling. After so much time spent napping in bed today, she was not really
tired, just pleasantly drowsy from the fresh air and exercise at the beach. No,
she did not wish a "suitable escort" to accompany them to England.
She was reveling in the pleasures she and Gareth were sharing. Should she be
forced to spend the rest of her life with the Earl of Brackley, she would only
have these delicious memories to sustain her. That thought dimmed some of her
pleasure and she shoved it from her mind. She must
concentrate
on the present now
,
savor every moment
. She
stretched her arms over her head, curling her toes and flexing every muscle in
her legs. When she released her stretch, she felt deliciously relaxed. I'll
just close my eyes until Gareth comes, she told herself. Within minutes she was
asleep.

***

It proved impossible for Gareth to
get away from the other men. His father, realizing that this was the last night
he would have his son before sending him into a dangerous assignment was loathe
to give up his company, wanting to discuss yet again the plan for Gareth to
meet up with the Welsh forces once the battle was imminent. Bryant also seemed
determined not to let him out of his sight, even going so far as to follow him
outside when Gareth stepped out to relieve himself.

When the four men finally made their
way to the weaving room upstairs, Gareth thought he would be able to wait for
his father and friends to fall asleep and then sneak downstairs, but Bryant, as
if knowing what he had planned, positioned himself right in front of the closed
door so there was no way Gareth could open it without waking him. Frustrated,
Gareth stretched out on a floor that was not near as comfortable as Elena's bed
and wrapped
himself
in blankets that were not near as
soft or warm as her velvety skin. In the utter darkness, he allowed the
memories of the day and the previous night fill his head. As a result, though
the hour was late, Gareth did not fall asleep for a long time.

***

Early the next morning, Elena awoke,
disappointed to find herself alone. Propped up on her elbows, she wondered if
Gareth had stepped outside to attend to personal business. Slowly she
remembered that Gareth had not joined her at all last night, that they had not
made love before sleeping comfortably entwined in the narrow bed.

With a disappointed sigh, Elena lay
back down. No wonder she felt groggy. She hadn't slept well at all. As she
considered it, she was amazed that she could have grown so accustomed to
sleeping with someone else in just two short nights. Back home, she couldn't
stand having to share her pallet with two and sometimes three other
ladies-in-waiting. She reveled in the emptiness of the bed on those few nights
when she had had it all to herself. Now, here she was with not only her own
bed,
but
her own room and what did she long for? A
roommate! Well, she corrected herself, not just any roommate. What she truly
longed for was Gareth's company. Slowly pushing herself from bed, she began
dressing, sending up a brief but heartfelt prayer of thanks that this was the
last time she would have to put on her worn blue cotehardie.

She struggled to get it laced up the
back, contorting her arms this way and that, and then fastened the tiny buttons
up each sleeve from wrist to elbow and tried to smooth some of the wrinkles out
of the skirt.

"Hopeless," she mumbled,
and turned her attention to her hair which she combed out and wound in a braid.
A knock at the door made her drop her comb and rush to answer it.