A Dishonorable Knight(48)

***

The rain continued until midday when a dim sun broke through the clouds and began to coax steam from the sodden ground. The Abbess of Dinas Mawddwy had long since given up hope of finding her ward alive. The river Dovey was still a rushing torrent and the English captain and his men were encamped next to the flooded ford, unable to cross and bitterly cursing the abbess who had forced them from their dry quarters to march in the accursed bogs of Welsh roads.

***

Gareth stood and stretched, tightening and releasing his leg muscles, reaching his arms over his head. He walked over to the small window and pushed the shutter open. The cool evening air that wafted in was scented with the invigorating smell of wet pine needles and aromatic heather. Gareth breathed deeply before turning back to Elena. Her fever had broken but an hour ago and after a day of tossing about and mumbling, she was finally sleeping peacefully. He smoothed the tangle of curls that was spread across the lumpy pillow, wrapping the silken strands around his finger. In the tranquil silence of the evening, he wondered about the pulling emotions that had kept him tied to Elena's side since he had found her in the middle of the road. Since she had rudely insulted him at Middleham over a month before, they had been like cats and dogs, always at odds with one another. Now Gareth wondered how much of that was his wounded pride rebelling at her rejection. In all fairness, his pride demanded from the back of his mind, she had acted like a petulant child, complaining about every discomfort as if it were life threatening. Good lord he had never heard one person whine about the state of her clothes in all his life!

And yet, somewhere during the journey through Wales and the stay at Eyri Keep, she had matured. Or perhaps he had finally seen the real Elena. Gareth sighed and moved over to the hard chair he had inhabited when he hadn't been sitting on the edge of the bed tending his beautiful patient.

Whatever the cause behind it, she had managed to ingrain her very essence into his soul so that he could never fully forget her. Gareth thought of his father's serving girl he had spent an athletic night in bed with. Sweet Christ, he could not even remember her name. All he could remember was running his hands through hair that wasn't a coppery chestnut and kissing lips that weren't petal soft under the pressure of his kiss; a touch that did not stir his blood as Elena's did. Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his legs out, kicking over dishes from their supper. No matter how he turned or positioned himself, there was simply no comfortable position and his body rebelled at having to spend one more minute in the uncomfortable contraption. Abruptly standing, he surveyed the empty half of the bed. Elena was sleeping soundly and peacefully. Surely she would not even notice if he curled up in a small corner of the bed. Before his common sense could present any arguments, his weary body had collapsed on the straw pallet. Straw? he thought. It feels like feathers. He promptly closed his eyes.

But before he fell into a deep slumber, his heart inexplicably called to mind the intense emotion he had felt when he had found Elena in the road. Beneath the fear and worry had been another feeling: exhilaration. Exhilaration that he did not have to give her up so soon. That he would have a few more days, perhaps a week with her. Exhilaration and...love...

***

Elena frowned in her sleep.

They had just stumbled onto the band of mercenaries.

"Go Elena, run!" Gareth shouted, thrusting Isrid away. Elena whirled the horse around and kicked as hard as she could. Instantly, it seemed, she was on the far side of the clearing. Reining in as hard as she could, she turned to see a huge claymore begin its decent toward Gareth's unprotected head.

"Gareth!" she tried to scream, but no sound came out of her throat. She tried to make Isrid turn and go back toward his master but the animal would not budge. "Gareth," she whimpered as she pounded on the horse's shoulders. And suddenly Gareth was free. They had escaped and he held her in his warm embrace, chasing away her fears, running his hands comfortingly up and down her back. She nestled her face in the base of his throat, inhaling his warm masculine scent.

Elena opened her eyes. The languorous feeling her dream had wrapped her in stayed with her and she quickly closed her eyes, trying to recapture the feel of Gareth's lips on hers. It was no use. She opened her eyes again and stared at a stubbled chin. Trying to roll over she discovered a heavy arm pinning her against a firm chest. Following the chest to a broad shoulder, she was disturbingly pleased to discover Gareth asleep next to her, his face boyishly innocent in slumber, his breathing slow and even. Trying not to disturb him, not to awaken him, she inched closer to him, until her lips lightly pressed against his throat. Closing her eyes, she dozed.