A Dishonorable Knight(117)

Since the first night they made love, Elena had not experienced embarrassment or awkwardness in Gareth's presence. Now, for some reason, she felt shy and at a distinct disadvantage as she stood knee-deep in water while Gareth watched her, his eyes dark with something deeper than passion. She reached for the thin piece of linen that was to serve as a towel. Rather, she thought about covering herself. Her arms refused to move. In fact, her whole body seemed to have turned to marble. It was as if she had just laid eyes on Gareth, and he her.

Slowly, Gareth rose and time seemed to slow as he crossed the few steps that lay between them. The pale blue light of encroaching dusk from the small dirty window was the room's only illumination. It made everything in the room, including Gareth, seem ethereal and not of this world. As he grew closer, all Elena could see of him were his eyes, their grey depths nearly black in the dim light. When they grew too close to focus on, she closed her eyes and awaited his kiss. When it came, it was feather-light as it skimmed her lips, her damp cheeks, her warm neck. With each meeting between his lips and her skin, his kisses grew bolder and when they returned to her own mouth, they nearly seared her.

Without a word spoken between them, Gareth scooped Elena up into his arms and crossed to the low bed that was the room's only furnishing. As if his reminder that this was their last evening together was foremost in his mind, he made love to her with an intensity and boldness that left Elena senseless. In their previous bouts of lovemaking, they had given and taken equally. But tonight, Elena felt as if Gareth were another man. He was clearly in charge of her passion and her body. Gone tonight were any of his endearing boyish qualities like when he had asked her approval of this kiss or that caress. Tonight he was a man confident in his abilities, confident that he would wring out of her passions and emotions she would feel with no one else.

They still had not spoken near an hour later when they finally arose in the near total darkness of a summer's eve. Gareth quickly bathed while Elena struggled into her gown unaided. She combed her hair with her fingers, wishing she at least had the hairpins necessary for the simplest of fashion's coiffures. She would have to settle for a plain braid down her back. As she began plaiting her still-damp tresses, Gareth's voice stopped her. "Don't. Leave it loose."

Elena turned to him, surprised. "But I don't even have a veil to cover it."

"I don't want it covered." When she still hesitated, he continued, "Please, Elena. Let me enjoy your beauty one last evening. Surely word will not reach Richard's court that you went to supper with unbound hair."

Elena shook her hair loose and raised her eyebrows at Gareth. "Better?"

He pulled his shirt over his head and smiled. "Perfect," he said softly.

As they made their way down the narrow front staircase, Gareth took Elena's hand in his own and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

***

Supper in the Henry Billingsley pub was more than adequate to make up for their week's worth of eating camp food. Glad that in the noisy and crowded pub no one seemed to notice her, for women generally did not eat in public rooms. She ordered a second portion of the savory stew and helped herself to a large slice of Gareth's meat pie. The thick mug of ale placed in front of her was delicious and she drained it not once, but twice that evening. And when Henry Billingsley himself placed a plate of hot and crusty currant tarts in front of her, she felt it would be churlish in the least to turn them down. By the time they left the boisterous crowd in the pub, Elena felt as though she would burst from food and her head was pleasantly fuzzy from the strong ale. In fact, so pleasantly fuzzy was her mind that she did not notice that Gareth remained glumly silent as they made their way up the darkened street to their inn. Once in the small upstairs room, Elena giggled helplessly as she tried unsuccessfully to unlace her houppeland. Throwing her hands up in mock despair, she gave up and flopped face down on the bed.

Gareth tossed his shirt onto the small pile of luggage in the corner and said, "Come Elena. You can't sleep in your gown. Stand up and let me help you remove it."

"No," said Elena, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"You will be much more comfortable once you do."

"No."

Gareth sighed. "Why won't you stand up Elena?"

"Because I can't find my arms," she said with a giggle.

"That's probably because you're laying on top of them. Here," he said, grabbing her shoulders and rolling her over. "Now can you find them?"