A Dishonorable Knight(106)
Elena reflected that Bryant's was certainly the most unusual proposal she had ever received. Suddenly finding she had not the heart to turn him down outright, she quickly thought of how the other girls back at court had refused suitors. She could not remember much, but she improvised and said, "You do me great honor, Bryant, by your words. I thank you for them and hope all goes well for you." Well, it was not exactly a refusal, but neither was it encouragement. She hoped it would do. She doubted--even if she didn't end up married to Brackley--that she would ever see Bryant again. Unless Gareth…well, that was a thought for another time.
Bryant, his cheeks red, suddenly stepped back as Morgan and Cynan came forward to bid her goodbye. Elena smiled warmly at Cynan and warned him to hurry home to Enid. Morgan took her hand and she squeezed it while he looked searchingly into her eyes and said, "God be with you, Elena. Go with my son and be well." Before Elena could say anything in response, Gareth swung up in the saddle behind her and she found herself pleasantly pressed against him. Morgan handed his son the reins to the other horse and Gareth deftly tied them to the saddle. Cynan and Bryant backed away as Gareth gathered his own horse's reins and prepared to urge the well-rested horse on. His father's voice stayed him. "Godspeed, Gareth. I hope it will be in this life that we meet again." Elena craned her neck and saw that Gareth was exchanging a look with his father that spoke volumes beyond the few departing words they had uttered. With a gentle nudge to Isrid, Gareth set them off on the beginning of their journey.
Chapter 21
Gareth studied the shops and the tidy homes of Aberstwyth on the way out of town as he had been unable to three days before when they had first entered its limits. He watched small children run along the street next to Isrid, laughing and yelling to one another. He studied the huge white clouds in the sky for unusual shapes. He concentrated on the brisk clip-clop of Isrid's hooves on the cobbled stones of the road that would lead them out of Aberstwyth, out of Wales. He kept his mind on anything that would prevent its wandering to Elena's soft body pressed against his chest, her hips rocking gently against his in time to the sway of the horse. It was entirely too soon in their journey for him to be thinking of making a rest stop. Besides, now that he was alone with her--really and truly alone, with no chance of his father or Samuel or Cynan or Bryant bursting in--he was suddenly unsure of how to act. He wondered if she wished to continue their highly enjoyable lovemaking now that they were on their way back to England and her fiancée. He wondered if she considered him as a careless affaire that was now over and done with.
Gareth squirmed in the saddle. Isrid was climbing the gradual hill that led out of Aberstwyth and Elena's weight shifted, sliding back just enough that she was pressed even more tantalizingly against him. This was going to be a long ride, he thought.
As he tried to inch further back in the saddle, another thought occurred to him. Elena had made it quite clear that she wished to ride with him. He could picture her face just minutes ago when she had told him she was afraid to ride alone. Gareth knew for a fact that she was afraid of nothing--not even of suffering the consequences of going to her bridal bed without a maidenhead. Furthermore, she had ridden enough in the last month to make her adept at handling any kind of horse, much less one as docile as the one he had chosen for her. Therefore, her claim that she was too frightened to ride alone was simply for the benefit of his father and friends.
Gareth paused a moment, pleased with his deduction and its results. He allowed himself to tilt his head slightly and inhale the sweet perfume of her shimmering hair. In the bright sunlight, it glimmered with fire, changing from chestnut to brilliant red to brown as she moved her head. Several tendrils had come loose from the intricate twists and were caught in a light breeze, dancing about her head like a halo. Gareth smiled at that whimsical thought but his smile slowly faded. All right. So she enjoyed being close to him, feeling his chest and other parts pressed against her back. Perhaps she even intended that they would keep each other warm at night during their journey. That was well and good. What bothered Gareth now, though he was loath to admit it, was this: What in the name of sweet merciful Mary did this woman feel for him?
The dilemma of two nights before came back to haunt him. Despite her many character flaws, and there were many of them, he loved her. It had been creeping up on him since he had first seen her enter the great hall at Middleham and though he had stifled it when she had snubbed him that night and throughout the next two weeks when she had complained about everything, it had budded in the days they had spent together at Eyri Keep, and bloomed that horrible night he had found her huddled in the middle of the road.