"Oengus, take this gentleman downstairs until I call for you."
The child, obviously remembering the game from yesterday, immediately took Bryant's hand in his own and pulled him down the stairs. As soon as Annie closed the door, Elena began working herself out of her dusty cotehardie. "I will be glad when I can see the end of this gown."
"Tis beautifully made, my lady," Annie said.
"That may be, but I cannot stand the sight of it after wearing it for the last month straight!" Elena pulled the new dress over her head and held her hair out of the way while Annie quickly laced it up the back. "Oh it fits wonderfully!" Elena exclaimed. She craned her neck to see the dress from every angle. "Leave the hem long in the back." Spinning around crazily like a child, she laughed in delight. "I can't believe I'm so excited over such a simple dress!"
Annie's smile disappeared. "Should I change it, milady?"
Elena stared at Annie, perplexed. Why in the world should Annie want to change the dress? Belatedly, she realized that Annie may have taken her exclamation over the simple dress in the wrong light. "No, of course not, it's perfect. What I meant was, I'm so used to having beautiful dresses..." That wasn't helping, Elena thought. Oh curse Gareth for making her worry what miserable servants thought! "What I meant was," Elena began again, "I'm used to wearing beautiful dresses and this one is the most beautiful I've ever worn."
Annie's eyes widened. "Oh, do you mean it, my lady?" She clasped Elena's hands in her own work-roughened ones.
"Well of course I do. You have done an admirable job on this gown. I can't wait until it's finished."
"Oh it will be finished tomorrow, my lady. Even if I have to stay up all night working on it!" Annie vowed.
Elena smiled and disengaged herself from Annie's grip. "I'm sure you will." Turning so the seamstress could unlace her, Elena said, "Sir Gareth and I will be by in the afternoon to pick it up. Will that be late enough."
"Oh yes, my lady."
Downstairs, Elena found a distressed-looking Bryant holding a sleeping Oengus. With obvious relief, he relinquished his armload to its mother and took Elena's arm. Once outside, Elena had to figure out which direction they needed to travel. After a false start down a dead end, she remembered where they needed to go in order to reach Samuel's shop. Consumed in her thoughts of her new dress and new book, not to mention Gareth, Elena did not hear Bryant when he first spoke to her.
"My lady?" he repeated.
"Oh, yes?"
Bryant cleared his throat and tugged on the neck of his brown tunic. "About Gareth..."
"Yes? What about him?"
"Please do not misunderstand. Gareth is one of my best friends, along with Cynan. We grew up together and I think of him as a brother."
Elena waited for him to continue, but when he merely looked uncomfortable, she prodded him. "And?"
"Well, for all that I care for him and admire him, sometimes he forgets himself."
"Forgets himself? What do you mean, Bryant?" Elena was quickly growing weary of Bryant's meanderings, but since he always treated her with the utmost respect, she tried to be patient.
Bryant must have sensed her impatience, however, because he said in one quick rush, "Sometimes he forgets who he is and where he comes from. Sometimes he forgets what his father taught him and what he should know as a knight about treating ladies with respect."
"I agree completely," Elena said, ruefully thinking of Gareth's mockery of her position in court. "Wait until we return to England and he tries to call me 'Elena' or speak to me like I'm his horse. Richard will have his head!" She finished with a laugh.
"That wasn't exactly what I meant."
Elena looked at Bryant, surprised to see him flushing furiously.
"What I meant was that he seems to forget sometimes that there are...women...with whom a man may be more—uh--forward. But a lady such as yourself should never be treated in the same manner."
Elena quickly looked back to their path, wondering uncomfortably how much Bryant knew of Gareth's and her new relationship.
"You certainly deserve to have a beautiful new dress, my lady, don't misunderstand me. But I would caution you that Gareth may have forgotten himself when he purchased the fabric and he may forget himself even more when it is finished and you are thankful to him for his generosity."
"What exactly are you saying, Bryant?"
From the corner of her eye, Elena could see Bryant flush more brilliantly red than he had been moments before.
Bryant came to a stop and Elena turned to face him. "I'm afraid he may put undue pressure on you to share your favors with him in an unseemly fashion."
Elena wanted to shriek with laughter. If Bryant only knew that it had been she who had forgotten herself and forced her favors on him in a most unseemly fashion!
"Please know, my lady, that you owe nothing to Gareth, or any of us for that matter. If you should ever feel that anyone is acting the least bit unchivalrously towards you, you have only to call and I will come at once to defend you and your honor."
Elena had heard many a flowery speech from a lovesick man, but Bryant's struck her as being truly sincere and heartfelt. Making a point not to smile, lest he think she was making fun of him, she said as sincerely as she could, "I thank you, Bryant. I will rest assured that you will do everything in your power to see to my well being."
Bryant took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I have only the most honorable intentions toward you, Lady Elena."
"I'm sure you do, Bryant."
To her great relief, Bryant seemed content to drop the subject for the rest of the short journey back to Samuel's shop. Once inside the back living quarters, Elena forgot Bryant's declaration in the noisy cheerfulness of the roomful of men preparing to eat a hearty feast. The kitchen table had been dragged into the main room so everyone could fit around it. Thick wooden plates lined both sides of the table and a huge basket of bread crowned the center. Morgan entered the room with a thick crockery flagon.
"Ah, Lady Elena, Bryant! You're back just in time. Tell me, Lady Elena, have you ever tasted Welsh mead?"
"Never."
"Then you are in for a treat tonight! Sit right here," he said, indicating the cushioned seat at the head of the table. "As our only lady at dinner tonight, you hold the seat of honor. Now sit and relax while we bring in a feast sure to rival any you've had at court."
Oddly at ease with the rough group of men, Elena sat as instructed and watched as they scrambled about bringing stew, roasted meat, and cooked vegetables to the table. Within minutes, the large table was lined with all of the men who had stayed with Samuel for the meeting two days before. A quick blessing on the meal was followed by sheer chaos as hungry men passed around food. Despite their hunger and perhaps uncourtly manners, they made sure Elena was always served first and always received the best of each portion. And true to Morgan's word, the Welsh mead was a treat, just sweet and smooth enough that Elena was on her second mugful before she realized that she was very warm and seemed to find everything highly amusing.
Though she allowed herself only one more mug of the tasty mead, the pleasant mood remained with her all evening as the laughter and conversation grew louder.
"Be honest now, good lady," called out one of the men. "Who are more handsome: Welsh men or English."
Elena pretended to think hard on the subject which made the men laugh, but her response stunned them. "I'd say, English men have the more beautiful faces." Elena smothered a laugh, struggling valiantly not to smile as she said, "But what woman wants a face more beautiful than her own staring back at her over the covers? I'll take a manly Welshman any day!" A small sober part of her brain shrieked when she blatantly looked to Gareth, but she was having too much fun to pay any attention to it.
Much hooting and slamming of mugs against the table followed and the man sitting to her left pounded her encouragingly on the shoulder, nearly sending her out of her chair. This brought on more laughter, which continued over the next hour. When
the mead was dispensed and nothing but crumbs remained of the feast, the men slowly and drunkenly made their way to their respective beds. Gareth disappeared outdoors and Elena wished her legs did not feel so wobbly so that she could follow him. She found walking was not as difficult as she had imagined and in fact, she felt better once she had made her way to the cool quiet of her room. A large drink of cool water further helped her regain some of her composure before she struggled out of her gown. She braided her hair and climbed into bed, forgetting to extinguish the candle once again before slipping into slumber.
***
Gareth breathed the cool, ocean-scented night air that smelled so differently from the mountain air of Eyri Keep. He had missed Elena sorely this day, finding it difficult to keep his mind on his father's words, so consumed was he with wondering where Elena was and what she must be doing. He smiled as he thought of her quip earlier about taking a Welshman but that smile faded with wonder as he thought of how she had looked straight at him. What had she meant by that look? Surely she would not have made such a bold statement had she not intended for him to derive some meaning from it. Surely it could not have been merely the mead speaking. Gareth allowed his mind to wander to their passionate night together. Never had he known such pleasure with a woman. And that pleasure had continued out of bed, he realized.
Adjusting his breeches, Gareth took another deep breath and entered the warm room. All the candles had been extinguished and he realized he must have been outside longer than he thought--everyone else seemed to have gone to bed. He forced himself to head for the stairs leading to the big room above but paused with his foot on the first step. Perhaps he should check on Elena and make sure the mead had not made her ill. As he quietly made his way down the narrow hall to her room, his conscience hollered that he was fooling himself if he thought he was just going to be able to say goodnight and leave her.
He knocked softly on her closed door and waited. When there was no answer, he knocked more loudly, hoping no one else would hear and come investigate the pounding. After an agonizing several moments, the door opened. Elena was standing in the doorway, her hair coming out of her braid, spilling over her shoulder. The candlelight behind her shone through her thin chemise, clearly outlining her ripe curves beneath.
"I just came to see if you were alright," Gareth whispered. Elena said nothing, her face hidden in shadows. He was feeling singularly embarrassed when she took a step closer to him, her breasts grazing his chest. Despite the several layers of cloth separating their skins, Gareth felt as if a hot brand had touched his chest. With aching slowness he bent his head. Elena raised hers and their lips came together in a slow, sensuous kiss unlike any of their past kisses. The spark, which was constantly present between them, steadily grew as their kiss deepened and Gareth slid his hands around her waist to clasp her tightly to him. Her hands tangled in his hair and she kept his mouth on hers when he would have ended the kiss.
Gareth groaned with disappointment when Elena pulled back and stepped away from him. Without a word, she took his hand and pulled him into the room, closing the door behind him. Turning, she gazed at him steadily and Gareth caught his breath at her beauty in the soft glow of the candle. With shaking hands, he cupped her face, tracing the silkiness of her eyebrows, the smoothness of her skin, the fullness of her lips. Without warning, the words "I love you" sprang to his lips, but instead of uttering them, he pressed them onto her mouth, rubbed them into her neck, nibbled them into her earlobe. His heart pounded at the confession he had nearly made and he forced himself to focus on each inch of smooth skin before him rather than wonder at his thoughts.
In contrast to their first night together, their lovemaking that night was achingly slow and hypnotic in its tenderness. When they were sated, their limbs lay tangled together, Elena's face nestled under Gareth's chin, his arms holding her pressed tightly to his chest.
Though drowsy from mead and their lovemaking, Gareth stayed awake long after Elena fell asleep. He had felt responsible for their first night together and had worried that he had coerced her into doing something she otherwise would not have done. But there was no denying that she had initiated tonight's passions. Gareth smiled and pressed a kiss to Elena's forehead as a thought occurred to him. Why had he worried so about their first night together? When had he ever been able to convince--much less coerce--Elena into doing something she did not want to do? That led to a greater question: Why had Elena given herself to him?
For his part, he was not complaining. He would drink in her scent, the feel of her skin, the curve of her body. He would absorb every nuance of her expression and memorize every feature of her face as well as every word she uttered because he was dreadfully sure that he loved her. He loved her in spite of, and perhaps because of, her stubborn willfulness and her blatant self-centeredness. He loved her because she had risked her life to warn him of the abbess; because she had refused to grant him quarter in any of their arguments; because he had never felt so comfortable in another person's company than he had yesterday while roaming the streets of Aberystwyth. He loved her even though once they returned to England she would disappear into the untouchable realm of the ladies-in-waiting; even though he would be forced to watch her marry the despicable earl; even though he would then participate in the destruction of her comfortable world. Another stone settled on Gareth's shoulders and he pulled Elena even closer to him, wishing there was a way he could take her back to Eyri Keep. He would marry her in an instant if he thought she would be content to be the wife of a mere knight, but while she had made expressly clear that she wanted him in her bed tonight, she had never even intimated that she wanted him to wed.
Gareth swallowed his disappointment as best he could and bent his head to kiss Elena's parted lips. Within seconds, she stirred and sleepily returned his kiss. Gareth's body, unburdened by the weight on his soul, immediately leapt into a state of arousal. As he moved on top of her, the covers they would not need to stay warm slipped to the floor.
Chapter 19
Elena opened her eyes to the late morning sun pouring in the small, high window. She stretched lazily, feeling like a cat full of cream and napping in the sunlight, so content was she. Gareth's warm back was pressed against her side and she rolled over, sliding her arm around his waist and pressing her breasts to his warm skin as images of the past night flashed through her mind. A smile warmed her lips as she thought of the heretofore unguessed-at pleasures Gareth had treated her body to. Never again would she be able to hear a young bride warned against the unpleasantness of the wedding night without laughing. Unpleasantness indeed!
The thought of a wedding night dimmed Elena's smile. Once again she worried she would not be able to convince Richard to break her betrothal to Brackley. She had thought to beg him to betroth her to Lord Edgeford, but the thought of marriage to the pasty young lord was suddenly as distasteful as that to Brackley had been.
Elena's hand eased itself down along Gareth's hip, her nails absently scratching the muscled thigh. She inhaled sharply, a vision of herself as the lady of Eyri Keep filling her mind, and this time she did not fight it. Unbidden, a series of images paraded through her head: the keys of Eyri Keep at her belt as she instructed servants on the renovations of the stone lodging; Enid and she laughing at the antics of Gareth and Cynan as they played with children (Children? a disbelieving voice in her head asked); Gareth coaxing the peasants at her parent's estate into producing more than her father had ever been able to wheedle; endless nights spent just like the previous one.
Elena sighed. She had never in her life experienced uncertainty. Fear, yes--had not the last month taught her that emotion well?--but never uncertainty. She had no idea how she would even go about making those visions reality. From his derision of her engagement, she was most certain Gareth would insist on loving his wife and she really had no idea if he cared for her in that way at all. She had been making men fall in love with her since she was barely a woman with a smile here, a look there, but Ga
reth was different from all those men. Had she not had that very thought a hundred times before? He was different and she wasn't sure she could make him love her as she had all those others. She was beginning to realize that what she had heretofore thought of as love was in fact nothing more than empty infatuation.
Elena pressed her lips to Gareth’s warm, smooth back. The wild thought that she should simply admit her feelings to him and propose marriage made her heart pound so that she feared he would feel it beating against his back. No, she could do that! Perhaps if she implied that since he had taken her virginity, he was not obligated to marry her.
With a newfound maturity, Elena realized that she would not coax Gareth into marriage simply based on their two nights spent together. She had given herself to him freely and to backtrack and say that he now owed her something was not honorable. Besides, she wanted a man who felt obligated to wed her even less than one who saw her as a witless prize to be won.
Wishing her problems would simply solve themselves and determined not to spoil the present by worrying over them, Elena pushed herself to her elbow and began nibbling on Gareth's ear. He swatted lazily in the general vicinity of his ear before slipping back into a deep slumber. Elena giggled as she wiggled up further on the bed to gain a better position. Taking a strand of her long hair, she tickled his nose with the end of it, straining not to laugh as he wiggled and rubbed it. Finally unable to stand it any longer, Elena rolled Gareth onto his back and climbed on top of him, tickling him and poking him playfully.
Gareth squinted at the bright light and groggily raised his head.
"Wake up, you slug-a-bed, wake up! Or I shall tickle you until you do!"
"You think so, do you?" he grumbled, his voice deliciously deep and raspy with sleep.
"Aye, that I do!" she said with a laugh.
So quickly that she did not even realize what was happening, Gareth bucked her off of him and rolled over to smother her with his weight, his fingers tickling her ribs, her ears, and the tender skin behind her knees. Elena's short scream of laughter was swallowed by Gareth's mouth. Immediately, Elena's mirth subsided as she gave herself over to the languorous pleasure of his kiss.
A Dishonorable Knight Page 24
