A Dishonorable Knight(49)

***

Gareth buried his head deeper into the fragrant pillow. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this comfortable. Inhaling deeply, he flexed his arm muscles and felt them tighten around a soft form. He quickly opened his eyes and discovered Elena nestled against him, her chestnut hair spread underneath him like a silken blanket. Blessed Christ! What had he done? She would kill him if she thought he'd taken advantage of her in her weakened state. Gareth sat up as far as he was able. His right arm was pinned beneath Elena, his legs entangled with hers, the twisted blanket barely covering her from shoulder to thigh. How was he going to free himself without waking her?

Before he could so much as lift his free arm, Elena shifted, her head tilting up, her eyes slowly opening. Gareth's heart stopped. "My lady, I swear--" he began, but Elena silenced him with a warm and drowsy kiss. For several seconds, he froze, unable to believe that she was willingly kissing him. When she did not pull away and continued softly exploring his lips, he tentatively slid his left hand along her waist. Elena responded by pressing closer against him, a soft moan escaping her lips. At that, Gareth took control of the kiss, shaping her lips to his, tracing their soft outline with his tongue. Elena clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric in her grasp as she pulled him even closer.

Gareth's only thoughts were to savor each moment. Feelings he had suppressed for weeks now surfaced and his heart thudded loudly in his chest as the kiss deepened. Without quite realizing what he was doing, Gareth eased Elena onto her back, covering half of her body with. He felt her hands as they tangled in his hair, pulling his lips back to hers when he would have broken the kiss. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood racing hotly through his veins as he tried to reign in his passion. Elena had to be suffering effects of the fever, he thought. She simply wouldn't be accepting--no, responding to--his advances, were she in her right mind. Gareth lifted his head and propped himself up on his right elbow. The last time he had seen her at the abbey in Dinas Mawddwy, she had made it abundantly clear that she held him in utter contempt. He gazed down at her closed eyes as he felt her cheek and forehead. They were cool and dry. Perplexed, he watched as Elena's eyes opened slowly. Their slumberous depths were clear and rational and they told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to kiss her again. Gareth lowered his head but paused just shy of her lips to look into her eyes again, trying to assure himself that this was what she wanted. At his hesitation, Elena lifted her lips to his, continuing in the motion to push him onto his back so that she now lay sprawled across his chest. In their moving about, the blanket had become hopelessly entangled in their legs and when Gareth raised his hand to Elena's back, he found not rough wool but warm and silken skin beneath his fingertips which he traced upwards until his fingers encountered Elena's equally silken tangle of curls.

From there, as if they had a mind of their own. His hands slid back down her back and then around to her midriff. He felt the goose bumps rise on her skin when he lightly brushed the sides of her breasts, which were pressed to the rough fabric of his shirt. Elena's hands slid down his chest to tug at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up around his armpits before leaning on him again, never once breaking their kiss.

All of this proved too much for Gareth. He felt that at any moment he would go insane with wanting her. Amazed at himself that he had been content to let her do so much of the seducing, he smoothly rolled her onto her back and, tearing his mouth from hers, began trailing kisses down her throat, across her collarbone to her breasts. Elena's hands tangled in his hair again, running restlessly through his rumpled locks as her breathing came in quick and unsteady inhalations. She gasped and arched against him when he trailed his tongue along her navel. Gareth was just about to tug his breeches off when Cynan pounded on the door and shouted, "Gareth! Wake up! The rain has stopped and there's a rumor that a troop of English soldiers are headed this way and they've been asking after us!"

Gareth glanced up at Elena who looked disoriented and dazed as she propped herself up on her elbows, her hair a glorious riot of chestnut curls. "Damn!" he said under his breath as he rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands as he tried to slow his breathing. Finally lifting his head he turned to Elena. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to leave right away. I know you've not recovered fully and I'd leave you here if I could, but if the English find you, they may wonder why you're here alone." Standing, Gareth arranged his crumpled clothing, being careful to keep his back turned until the evidence of his passion subsided. When he felt collected enough to turn back, he wished he hadn't. Elena was struggling into her chemise, pulling the bunched yards of ivory material over her head, her slender body creamy in the morning light. Gareth struggled and lifted his hands to help her. He stopped himself inches from touching her, his hands shaking, wondering if she would be insulted by his help. Of course, he thought to himself, considering what they had been doing--what they would have done had they not been interrupted--surely it would not be too forward to simply help her dress...