A Dishonorable Knight(21)



"How's that?"

"It will do." Elena hesitated, then said, "Thank you." Marared beamed.

When Marared was finished, she took Elena's chemise to wash while Elena slipped on the borrowed gown. It was coarser than her own clothes, but loose fitting and considerably lighter and cooler. Plaiting her hair in a long braid over one shoulder, she dumped the rocks and dirt out of her boots and put them back on. She stepped into the larger room, surprised to find it empty. Marared was scrubbing her chemise in a pail on the large rough-hewn table.

"They're all outside," explained Marared. "It gets too hot in here with eleven people eating dinner. Fifteen would make it unbearable. There," she said as she rang the water out of the chemise. "I'll just hang it outside and 'twill be dry before you leave tomorrow."

Elena followed the girl outside and saw everyone gathered around a long table under a huge tree. There were two spots open on the benches that flanked the table. Marared scurried into the one next to Bryant, leaving Elena to sit next to Gareth.

As she sat, Gareth glanced at her and away and then turned back to her. She ignored him until he continued to stare. "Are you staring because I sprouted wings and a halo?" she asked sarcastically.

Gareth laughed and the sound blended with the noisy chatter and giggling of the children surrounding them. "No. I would die of shock if you did that. Now hooves and a forked tail would not surprise me..." Elena pointedly turned her attention to the wooden plate in front of her.

"We've the first berries of the season as a special treat this eve," said Catrin when they had devoured the simple meal of mutton, carrots, leeks, and barley.

"I'll fetch them, Mama," said Marared. "Elena can help me prepare them."

Elena stared at the girl in disbelief.

"Go on," said Gareth. "It won't kill you, I promise." Elena turned her stare to Gareth. She was about to utter a brusque retort when she was suddenly distracted by the color of his eyes. In the fading twilight, they were a smoky gray, full of warmth and a curious sparkle. His gaze roved over her face and to Elena, it felt like a caress, lightly touching her eyebrows, skimming along her cheekbones, and settling on her lips, light as a feather’s kiss. Her heart pounded within her breast. Her cheeks warmed and an unfamiliar warmth spread through the rest of her body as well. Without quite knowing why, she rose and without so much as a sarcastic comment, followed Marared into the cottage.

"If you'll take this bowl out, I'll clean up our mess," Marared said, indicating the pile of stems and inedible berries on the table when they were done.

Next they'll be having me empty their chamberpots, Elena thought. Except, of course, that they don't have any! As she approached the table outside, she noticed that the younger children had dispersed, but Gareth, Cynan, and Bryant were still talking with the village adults. They had lit several torches and Elena paused to study Gareth's face by the soft glow. She knew that she was invisible to them as she stood outside of the ring of light and she could observe her brusque escort unnoticed.

He was utterly handsome, she realized with a start. She had not noticed the squareness of his jaw before or the straightness of his nose, the full curve of his lips. Her gaze lingered on that full curve and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. He raked his dark hair off his forehead with a hand that was strong, but not coarse. Elena fancied that such a hand could grasp her tightly to him even as it gently caressed her hair and neck.

It was several moments before Elena realized that the people around the table were speaking in a strange mixture of English and Welsh. It had been years since she'd spoken Welsh, taught as she was by her Welsh grandmother. In Richard’s court, she’d hidden her Welsh background as it was even less desirable than her family’s Lancastrian ties. The garbled words slowly began to unfurl in her mind. As she concentrated, she was able to decipher many of the words.

"'Twill be before Michaelmas, I can assure you. He'll land in South Wales, but will travel north to gather soldiers. I would have us ready to greet him when he lands. Parod ac awyddus." Elena did not recognize the speaker's voice--it must be Gruffydd, she thought.

"Cymreig ar y gorsedd," said Bryant. A Cymreig is a Welsh person, Elena thought. Something about a Welshman on the throne?

"But what of his claim to the crown? Does it meet the laws of inheritance?" asked Gareth.

"Had he no ties to the royal family, I would support him over one who murders children."

Morrison, Michelle's Books