A Dishonorable Knight (7 page)

Several hours later, Elena was too
tired to complain anymore. She wearily dismounted with Bryant's help and made
her way into the nearby bushes. When she returned minutes later, she found the
men already mounted again and waiting to leave.

"You can not mean that is all
the rest we get!"

"We have much distance to cover
before nightfall. We can ill afford to waste the daylight while you idle the
time away," said Gareth.

Elena glared at the man who had not
said one polite word to her since she'd laid eyes on him. When they met up with
Richard again...

"Perhaps we could at least let
her stretch her legs, Gareth," Bryant ventured.

Gareth, Elena thought. She would remember
that name to tell Richard.

"No. She's holding us up as it
is. We continue until dusk."

Bryant looked at Elena apologetically
as he helped her back on her horse, but Elena was too furious to notice. She
clenched her teeth so hard her jaws began to hurt and she slapped the reins on
her delicate palfrey.

***

"What be the reason the normally
chivalrous Sir Gareth is treating the Lady Elena so?" Cynan asked Gareth
as they made their way through the forest. “Is she not the one whose looks you
were so taken with the other night in the great hall?"

"That was until she opened her
mouth. That woman makes an adder seem a pleasant conversationalist."

"I don't know. She seems merely
high spirited to me."

Gareth laughed harshly. Cynan studied
the back of his friend's head while a thought began to take shape in his head.

"She'd make a winsome wife.
But not for a blundering Englishman.
She needs a Welshman to
appreciate her spirit."

Gareth looked over his shoulder.
"Lest my memory fails me, you already have a wife, Cynan. I'm sure Enid
would not be particularly amused by such talk."

"I was not thinking for myself,
you fool."

"I'd not have her if she were
the last woman in all of Wales, England, or Scotland. Or Ireland, for that
matter."

Cynan chomped down on his lower lip
to keep from laughing. Baiting Gareth had always been his favorite pastime.
"Aren't you the conceited ass today," he remarked. "I was not
thinking of you, either. I think Bryant has taken a fancy to her."

Gareth glared at Bryant who was
walking several paces ahead of them, leading Elena's horse. Cynan saw Gareth’s
eyes narrow and his hands clench convulsively on the reins.

"Don't you dare put such
thoughts into his head,
Cynan.
That woman would make
his life miserable and I'd sooner see him dead than married to her."

Cynan shook his head and smiled. Enid
would be proud of him, he thought. She was a master at reading people's hidden
emotions and he looked forward to telling her of Gareth's reaction to the
haughty English lady.

***

By the time they did stop in the
shadow of a monolithic boulder, it was dusk and Elena was weaving in the saddle
from exhaustion. As Cynan and Bryant immediately began gathering wood for a
fire and pulled out food for dinner, Gareth helped Elena down from her horse.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she felt her knees buckle. Gareth
caught her by the waist and held her until she steadied herself, trying to
ignore the way her body felt pressed against him, concentrating instead on the
texture of the fine linen of her dress under his fingers. He could not keep the
fresh, sun-warmed scent of her hair out of his nose, however, nor could he
ignore the way her breath tickled his left ear.

He could tell when her head stopped
spinning, when she realized she was pressed against him, his hands on her
waist, her head on his shoulder. She quickly raised her head and her weary eyes
glared imperatively at him.

"Take your hands off of
me," she said as she pushed him away. Gareth immediately let her go and
she had to clutch at her horse's mane to keep from falling.

As he stalked to his horse and began
unsaddling it, he was disgusted with himself for his body's reaction to Elena's
nearness. His hands still tingled from holding
her,
his chest could still feel her soft form pressed against it. He pulled Isrid's
saddle off and began rubbing the powerful horse down. Glancing over his
shoulder, he saw Elena still standing, clinging to her horse's mane.

More sharply than he intended, he
said, "Unbuckle that saddle and groom your horse."

Elena jumped and opened her eyes. She
glared at him before turning and fumbling with the
straps
which
held the saddle on. Several minutes later, she had only managed to
undo one buckle and was leaning wearily against her patient horse when Gareth
approached.

"Watch carefully. Next time you
do this yourself."

Elena clenched her teeth in anger,
but said nothing, watching as he deftly undid the straps and slid the saddle
off the horse. He walked back to his horse and picked up the rag he had used.
Returning, he handed it to Elena. "Rub her down well so she'll not catch a
chill."

When Elena just stared at the rag, he
took her hand roughly and showed her what to do. She rubbed her horse until her
arms ached and Gareth said, "Now wipe your saddle down and then you may go
wash up at the stream. ‘Tis through those trees over there."

As Elena stumbled to the stream,
Bryant and Cynan exchanged surprised glances. Never had Gareth treated a lady
so. He took every part of his knight's oath seriously and chivalry towards the
fairer sex he had, until this lady, meticulously obeyed.

When Elena returned, Gareth handed
her a bowl of watery soup. Elena stared at the contents of the bowl and said,
"Might it be to much to ask what this substance is floating in the
gruel?"

"Say, there's nothing floating
in mine," Cynan complained.

Ignoring Cynan's attempts to lighten
the mood, Gareth started to answer Elena, but Bryant broke in, "'Tis the
meat you ate earlier today, my lady. When we boil it up with some barley, it
gets a little more palatable."

Elena took a sip. "There is
nothing on this earth that could make this 'meat' taste better. Could not one
of you hunt a rabbit or some venison? 'Tis not as if we hadn't been in the
forest all day, and since it's clear I'll be sleeping on the ground again tonight,
is it too much to ask for a decent meal?" she finished imperiously.

Taking one look at the wrathful
expression on Gareth's face, Cynan and Bryant hastily swallowed the last of
their soup and quickly escaped to the stream.

"You are lucky to have a blanket
to lay on the ground. Is it too much to ask that you might be grateful to have
anything to eat at all?"

"Perhaps the serving wenches you
are used to are content with your miserable hospitality, but ladies of rank
expect more consideration from those who serve them."

"Serve them? If you think we are
your servants, you are sadly mistaken. Tell me, is it customary for future
countesses to belittle everyone and everything. Would you be more gracious if
you were wedding Edgeford rather than Brackley come Michaelmas? On second
thought, I met Edgeford. He seemed entirely too pleasant to meet your demanding
expectations. 'Tis just as well you're marrying Earl Brackley. However, I must
warn you to watch your temper around him. I understand his treatment of his wives
makes them grateful for the smallest scrap of warmth and comfort. Why--"
Gareth stopped at the look of terror on Elena's face. She stared at him, her
warm brown eyes open wide with fright, something Gareth never expected to see
in the gaze of someone as dictatorial as Lady Elena. The bowl of soup tumbled
from her grasp unnoticed.

Despite her earlier whining and
complaining, Gareth was instantly contrite. No woman who knew of Brackley's
treatment of his wives-and what woman in England did not
?-
-could
possibly look forward to marriage to him, despite his immense wealth and power.

"My lady, you must not pay
attention to me when I get angry. I say foolish, meaningless things. I--"

"How did you know of Lord
Edgeford?" she asked in a much-subdued voice.

Gareth was caught off guard by her
question. "What?"

"None but a few of my friends
knew I wished to wed Edgeford."

"We danced the night your
betrothal was announced. I saw how you chose our places in line so that when we
traded partners, you would be with him."

"We danced?"

"Aye, my lady. The
Gavotte."

Elena nodded. She remembered the
dance, but not her partner.

Rising, Gareth handed her his bowl of
soup. "I am accustomed to not eating. You'd best take this. You will need
your strength
tomorrow
as the woods will be thicker.
There are no trails for horses and we may be walking most of the day."

Recognizing her expression as one of
a battle-shocked novice soldier, Gareth knew that Elena did not even taste the
bland broth, but she finished every drop and obediently curled up on her
blanket when he said, "Get as much sleep as you can. We'll be leaving at
sun up."

He watched her for a long while, long
after Cynan and Bryant fell asleep. Although the summer evening was warm, he
knew when Elena started shivering, knew its cause, and knew he could do nothing
to alleviate it.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for
her. No woman deserved the treatment she would receive at the hands of
Brackley. His own cousin had suffered beatings for three years before her
husband died of a fever. Gareth remembered at the man's funeral, when he found
out about the beatings. Gwenllian had not shed a single tear for her husband
and when Gareth called her to task for not mourning, she flew into a rage,
describing the times he had hit her for no reason at all.

Gareth felt the anger growing inside
him as he thought of his cousin's husband, but he now transferred that anger to
Brackley. Though he was tired, he lay awake for several hours after Cynan and
Bryant dozed off, planning a horrible and fitting death for the vicious earl.

The hideous knight, Gareth, awoke
late the next morning. Elena was up and trying to warm her cold muscles by
hopping from foot to foot. He stretched before rising and gave her a smile. But
if Gareth seemed friendlier to her after their talk of the night before, she
was angrier. Mad at herself for letting this boor know that she was frightened
of her impending marriage, she stared at him coldly and turned away. She
attempted to smooth her hair into some semblance of order, though she didn't
know why she should worry how she looked in front of these three, especially
Sir Gareth.

Gareth's smile faded as he observed
Elena's glare and she felt a moment of satisfaction as he rose and helped Cynan
and Bryant pack up their few things. She would teach him to speculate on her
personal life. For the next two days, she complained about the heat, the dust,
the bugs, the quality of the food (still dried beef), the shortness of their
breaks, and finally, Gareth's horse.

"Would you kindly get your horse
out of my face?" she asked when they were stopped for lunch the next day
beside a stream. Isrid had taken a fondness to Elena and was nuzzling her neck
as she sat on a fallen log. Cynan who had been drinking water from the stream
choked on what was either a laugh or a swallowed rock.

"Are you suddenly unable to
walk?" Gareth asked.

When she stared, uncomprehending, he
snapped, "If you like it not you can move."

Elena shot her meanest look at Gareth
before leveling it on his horse. Isrid proved as oblivious to it as his master
and began nibbling on her long braid. "Stop that!" she shouted.

"Here my lady, I'll get rid of
him for you," said Bryant as he grabbed Isrid's halter. "Come on,
you."

"My thanks," said Elena.
She was not about to have Gareth lecture her again on manners.

Cynan leaned toward her. "You
will be happy to know, my lady, that you shall sleep under a roof tonight.
We'll be staying with distant kin of Bryant. Although," he leaned forward
in a conspiratorial manner, but spoke loudly enough for Bryant to hear him,
"although I hear they're hoping he won't be too distant much longer. Seems
they've a lass who has set her cap for Bryant. The fool just won't settle
down."

Elena stared at Cynan. What did she
care of the marrying tendencies of the Welsh? But glancing at Bryant, who was
turning five shades of red, she forbore from saying so. Bryant had at least
treated her with some measure of respect and consideration for her station.

"Are you married?" she
asked Cynan, amazed that she was reduced to making small talk with a
man-at-arms.

"Is he ever!
"
Bryant burst out, clearly thankful that Elena had nipped Cynan's gossiping in
the bud. "I believe he's anxious to get me married so he won't be the only
one who has to answer for his whereabouts."

"Enid worries a might too
much," Cynan explained.

"Either that or she knows you
well enough not to trust you!" Gareth said with a laugh. "How many
skirts did you chase in your first year of marriage?"