A Dishonorable Knight(33)
Now she was dreadfully confused. Gareth was none of these things, could give her none of these things. Why, then, did her mind constantly replay their kiss of the night they had escaped the mercenaries? Why did she wake up in the morning with her face pressed to a pillow, disappointed that it was not Gareth's warm throat, disappointed that the covers smelled like linen and not leather and sweat, disappointed that a rough blanket had kept her warm instead of his arms? Nothing could come of it. Nothing should come of it, she told herself sharply, but Elena could still not get him out of her mind.
When they returned, the small bailey of the keep was full of people. Women were chattering, children were running about screaming and laughing while a motley assortment of hounds chased them, and men were talking animatedly.
"What's going on?" Elena asked, breaking their strained silence for the first time since the mountaintop.
Gareth stood up in his stirrups to get a better view. "'Tis my kinsmen Owain and Rhys! They live on Anglesey. Seems they've come for a visit and brought three large deer with them. There will be fresh venison tonight," he said with a laugh. Quickly dismounting, he waded through the throng of people. Elena leaned sideways to see him heartily embracing his cousins. She was about to try to slide off her horse when she heard Gareth cry "Bronwen!" She sought him out, only to see him enthusiastically kissing a woman with the blackest hair Elena had ever seen. Seething jealousy poured unexpectedly through Elena's veins. Had he called for her so she could see this vulgar display? Twisting in the saddle, she lowered herself ungracefully to the ground and stalked toward the main door.
She had just reached the lower step when someone touched her elbow. Turning Elena looked up into deep blue eyes heavily fringed with thick black lashes that matched the shock of silky hair and trim beard of one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.
"Hello. What have we here, Gareth?" the man said in a deep voice tinged with humor.
Gareth’s good humor seemed to evaporate, as he stiffly obliged with introductions. "Rhys, may I present the Lady Elena de Vignon a visitor from England. Lady Elena, my cousin, Rhys Thomas, and his brother, Owain."
Elena smiled beguilingly when Rhys bent low over her hand and murmured, "I am enchanted, my lady. May I say how fortunate Wales is to have you in its borders." Rhys's older brother, Owain, simply nodded a brief greeting before turning back to his conversation with Morgan. Gareth was aware that Rhys had not relinquished her hand as he turned and pulled the dark-haired woman forward. "Lady Elena, this is my sister Bronwen."
The black hair and blue eyes that were so striking on Rhys were equally attractive on his sister who was looking at her brother with a look of mock disgust. Turning to Elena she smiled. "Please forgive my brother, Lady Elena, I fear the sun has been too much for him and his brain is a bit addled." Elena appeared to be translating the rapid Welsh in her head. As soon as she did, she realized that Bronwen was joking.
With a laugh, she said, "Would that more Englishmen were as addled!"
Everyone but Gareth laughed. Taking Bronwen's arm, he said, "You're not married yet, are you Bronwen? You've not forgotten you vowed to wed me should I remain single by my twenty-fifth year. As I recall, that should be coming up in a few months, is that not right, father?" Laughing, he and Bronwen entered the main hall behind Morgan.
***
The feast was a merry one, rivaling that of the night of Gareth's return. Musicians played rollicking dances, wine and ale flowed freely, and Elena was reveling in the attention paid by the handsome Rhys. In spite of herself, she also found she truly like Rhys's sister Bronwen. Though they had spent little time talking, Elena felt a kinship for the Welshwoman she had scarce felt for any of her friends in Richard's court.
As she waited for Rhys to bring her a goblet of spiced wine, Elena let her eyes roam around the crowded hall. When she spotted Gareth whispering in Bronwen's ear she frowned. The man was making a fool of himself, she thought. In their few minutes of conversation, Brownen had told her that she was hoping to wed a man from Beaumaris in Anglesey. Now Gareth was undoubtedly annoying the poor woman and acting, Elena felt, most unchivalrously toward a nearly betrothed woman. That she could think of nothing but the "unchivalrous" way he had acted towards her, a legally betrothed woman did not strike her as odd. When Rhys returned and presented the goblet with a flourish, Elena could not help but asking, "Should we rescue your sister? She looks to be tediously bored with Sir Gareth's attention." At Rhys's enigmatic smile, she hurriedly added, "Having been subjected to conversation with him, I can well sympathize."