A Dishonorable Knight (40 page)

After lunch, they mounted up, Elena
resuming her seat in front of Gareth on Isrid. Gareth neither asked Elena if
she wanted to ride her own horse, nor did she offer. As soon as they were
comfortably pressed together, they were off.

By midafternoon, the huge white
clouds Gareth had noticed that morning in Aberystwyth had turned an ugly grey
and now hung considerably lower in the sky, blocking any glimpse of blue
heavens or late summer's sun. The first big drops hit them as they were
entering a small grove of trees.

"Oh!" Elena exclaimed as a
cold wet drop hit her in the face. "It would have to rain as I'm wearing
my new dress. I will look like a shapeless sack of grain once this wool is
wet."

Gareth studied the gown. "It
will hold a good deal of water and keep you cold through the night as
well."

"Wonderful," Elena said,
her tone belying her exclamation.

"Perhaps you'd best change into
your old gown. That way if we do get wet, your new one will still be dry and
unharmed."

"I can't."

"Oh come Elena. You look
beautiful no matter what you're wearing." Had he really said that? It was
true of course, but...

Elena twisted her body so she could
see his face. "Thank you," she said softly, a strange look crossing
her face.

Gareth reined Isrid to a stop and
dismounted. With both horses' reins in hand, he pulled them off the narrow road
into the trees. Once under the protection of the leaves, few raindrops hit
them, but the storm appeared to be increasing. Thunder rang out every few
minutes and Gareth had the bad feeling that they were going to be drenched no
matter what they were wearing. He helped Elena down and began unlacing the
satchel on the packhorse. "In which bag did you pack your other gown.
"

"I didn't," she said
meekly.

Gareth grinned at her. So she was
finally embarrassed over making everyone wait on her hand and foot, eh? Well,
perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Alright, where did Cynan pack
your dress?"

Elena's manicure called her attention
and she refused to meet Gareth's eyes.

"Elena? Where is your other
dress, love?" The endearment had slipped out, but it had obviously grabbed
her attention, for Elena looked up at him, her eyes searching his before she
said, "I gave it to Annie."

Gareth was stumped. "Who's
Annie? Never mind, where did Annie pack it?"

"Probably in her trunk."

Gareth felt like he had awoken in the
middle of a conversation of which he was not a part. "Elena, we have no
trunks."

"Annie is the seamstress who
made this gown. I gave her that old blue rag because she liked it and I
couldn't stand the sight of it. So I gave it to her."

Gareth stared at Elena without
comprehension. It finally dawned on him what she meant. "So in other
words, you have nothing else to wear?"

"Well of course not. If you will
remember, my luggage was separated from me a sennight ago when we were first
attacked. I've been wearing that blue gown since. Surely you are not surprised
I got rid of it?"

Gareth shook his head as another
raindrop penetrated their meager shelter and landed on his head. "What
were you planning to do should that gown become wet?" he asked.

Elena shrugged her shoulders. "I
guess I didn't think about it raining."

The realization that they were
wasting precious daylight in this inane conversation finally penetrated
Gareth's baffled brain and he made a rapid decision. Opening the satchel that
held his few articles of clothing, Gareth pulled out a thick pair of blue wool
hose and his one clean shirt. "Here," he said. "Wear these. At
least you'll be able to ride astride and then when we're drenched, you can
change into your dry gown."

"But what about you?"

Gareth was suddenly weary of the
delay and the reason for it. "Just put these on. I've traveled in wet
clothing more times than I can remember. One more time won't kill me."

Elena looked like she was about to
say something and then closed her mouth and took the clothes from his
outstretched hand. The rain began to come down heavier now and the overhead
leaves, drenched
themselves
, began to drip water down
as fast as it fell from the sky. Elena set the shirt and hose on Isrid's saddle
and turned so Gareth could unlace her gown. Then, as the wool grew damp, she
quickly pulled both it and chemise over her head, rolling them into a compact,
if untidy, ball that she stuffed in the protective satchel.

"I've never been good at putting
clothes away neatly," she confessed, apparently unconcerned that she was
wearing only her boots in front of Gareth. He wondered if she was too concerned
about her new dress to worry that she was allowing him to enjoy a full vantage
of her body, or if she were simply so comfortable with him seeing her body that
she gave it no thought. He incorrectly chose the latter.

As she picked up the shirt, she
clearly became aware that Gareth was staring at her nudity. She glanced at him
from the corner of her eyes before turning slightly so that her back faced him.
Gareth did not complain, enjoying her from this angle as well. When she had the
concealing shirt over her head, she pulled her boots off and began to pull on
the thick hose. Gareth steadied her as she wobbled on one foot, wondering if he
should offer a hand but she soon had the leggings on and was tying the
drawstring about her narrow waist.

Judging from her actions and the
flustered way she smoothed her hair and tied the cuffs of the rough shirt,
Gareth decided that she was, perhaps, a little self-conscious about his being
there while she had changed. To make her feel more at ease, he said, "You
see? I told you you look beautiful in anything." As he said it, he
discovered it was true. The blue hose, which he had yet to wear and stretch since
Enid had given them to him back at Eyri Keep, fit her legs and hips snugly,
showing curves women's full skirts never allowed. His rough linen shirt was too
large on her, but it made her appear all the more fragile and appealing for it.
Unable to stop himself, Gareth grasped her shoulders gently and kissed her full
on the mouth. Elena responded instantly, her arms snaking up around his neck,
her lips parting willingly for his mouth.

With a groan, Gareth broke the kiss,
though he still held her pressed tightly against him. "We must move
on."

"Can't we wait here until the
rain lets up?" Elena asked, her gaze firmly on his mouth.

Gareth considered the idea longer
than he should have. It was tempting...

Shaking his head, he said,
"There will be light for a few more hours despite the rain and I would
have us make up for our late start this morning." Seeing her lower lip
pout out, he laughed and said, "Elena, don't make this harder for me than
it already is. Had I my way, we would never return to England but would spend
the rest of our lives here in this grove."

Elena's pout disappeared.
"Truly?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

The voice in his head told Gareth
that this was the perfect opportunity for him to declare himself. Judging from
the look on her face, the voice said, she might very well welcome your
proposal. But Gareth hesitated and in the end, said, "With lips as soft as
yours, of course. But we must move on. Come now, climb back up." Elena
stared at him a moment before swinging up into Isrid's saddle, sitting astride
this time.

"Very well, let's go," she
said.

Before climbing up behind her, Gareth
pulled out one of their blankets, a thick, scratchy wool affair that smelled
faintly musty from having been put away all summer. Once on Isrid, he wrapped the
blanket around himself and Elena.

"Phew," she said.
"It's too hot to have a cloak on--especially one that smells like a
sheep."

"It's not for warmth, it's to
keep us dry. Besides, after a while, you may be glad for the warmth. The rain
has already cooled the air."

Elena grumbled to herself a while
longer and then fell silent. As they made
their
way
east, each remained locked in his thoughts. Gareth's inner voice was chiding
him for not speaking his heart when given the perfect opportunity. He argued back
that it did not matter when he told her as there was nothing she could do about
it until she broke her engagement to Brackley. The inner voice remarked that
they could very well change their course and head straight for Eyri Keep where
they could enjoy an extended honeymoon until Henry Tudor landed in Britain. And
just what would Richard think for never seeing Elena again?
he
wondered. Come now, the voice replied. She's been gone so long already, he has
probably already written her off for dead. Besides, he continued to argue
silently, despite what she
thinks,
ladies-in-waiting
are not crucial members of the court. Richard no doubt has three other women
filling in for whatever small tasks Elena accomplished. Gareth grew sorely
tired of his inner discussion and ended it by telling himself, I've a job to do
in Nottingham and that's all there is to it. I'll tell Elena how I feel about
her when I'm good and ready and not a minute before. Forcing his mind to
consider where they would camp for the evening, he resolutely ignored any other
arguments the voice may have offered.

Elena, not troubled by such a
persistent inner voice, was content to study the landscape they were crossing.
Even in the rain, she thought, Wales is a beautiful place. The dark grey sky,
rather than draining the landscape of color, seemed to merely enhance the rich
tapestry of silver-green grasses, bright yellow flowers, and lush green trees.
The narrow road they traveled had been so worn by years of feet and hooves
traipsing over it that it was hard as rock and the rain simply puddled in the
low spots rather than turning the path to mud and muck. On either side of the
road, brilliant yellow flowers with black centers competed for attention with
tall strands of grass that bowed gracefully under the weight of the raindrops.
Just ahead, a tall willow tree, its base thicker than a man could stretch his
arms, dangled its branches over the road. As they rode beneath it, Elena
reached out from under the heavy blanket to pluck a long silvery leaf. Feeling
decidedly childish and a bit wicked in her manly garb, she twisted around and
tickled Gareth's nose with the end of the leaf.

Gareth welcomed the distraction of
Elena's teasing and lowered his eyes from the gloomy horizon to her warm
cinnamon-brown eyes, which were alight with mischievous sparkle. He shook his
head and grinned. "If someone had told me, two months ago, that the right
noble Lady Elena, handmaiden to the King of England, would be sitting astride a
horse in hose and a tunic, tickling my nose with a leaf, I would have though
they were mad."

"Why? Don't you think
ladies-in-waiting have fun?"

"Perhaps. But not with men they
consider beneath them. And I would certainly doubt they would do it dressed as
you are now."

"You will simply not forget that
I apparently snubbed you when first we met, will you?"

Gareth's bark of laughter startled a
bird that had taken shelter in the roadside grass. The bird squeaked as it
arced up and out into the rain. "I can handle being snubbed. But outright
rudeness is a bit uncommon, especially when it comes from one the king has set
forth as an example for womanly gentleness."

Looking back to that long-ago night,
Elena could scarce remember what she had said to Gareth. Something about him
being a farmer or going back to his sheep. Whatever it was, it was no doubt
derogatory and Elena wondered
,
were she in a similar
situation now, if she would behave the same. For some reason, she thought that
she wouldn't, though she was at a loss to determine why. "I had many other
things on my mind that night," she said, feeling awkward.

Gareth stared at the back of her head
for a moment and then said, "I accept."

Startled, Elena looked over her
shoulder. "You accept what?"

"Your apology."

"Apology? I wasn't making an
apology. I was simply explaining that there was a great deal going on that
night and if my actions were not what they normally are, then that was the
reason."

"Uh huh," Gareth hummed,
not the least bit convinced.

"What do you mean, 'Uh
huh'?" Elena worked her right leg over Isrid's head until she was sitting
sideways in the saddle and could better scowl at Gareth.

"I mean how you treated me that
night at Middleham was your usual temperament showing through. I was not a
prospective suitor, I didn't dress in the latest mode, and I certainly was not
in King Richard's circle of important people. Therefore, you decided that I
wasn't worth the time or effort it would take to be polite."

Elena frowned and studied her left
thumbnail. Though her initial expression seemed to be anger, his words
apparently struck a chord for she looked as if she were ashamed at her
behavior.

Gareth watched the play of emotions
on her face, thankful that she was not throwing his own rudeness back in his
face, amazed that she seemed to be taking to heart his words. Not wishing to
hurt her feelings, he said, "It's alright, though."