A Dishonorable Knight(72)
Gareth paused, all thought of his original purpose forgotten for the moment. "Elena, how old are you?"
"What? That is not a very chivalrous question to ask, Sir Knight."
"Twenty?" he guessed.
"I think not," Elena answered indignantly. "I am barely nineteen."
"All in all, that's not very old."
"Why thank you," Elena said drolly.
"No, what I mean is, that is awfully young to be so cynical about the world and it's leaders."
In the pale moonlight, Gareth could see Elena frown, the creases in her forehead the only flaw in her otherwise perfect face. "I don't think of myself as cynical," she responded slowly.
"'One man on the throne or another, there really is no difference between them' isn't cynical?"
"I'm not a cynic. I'm a pragmatist. I merely like to look at situations realistically so I can benefit the most from them. Now before you give me your holier-than-thou lecture, let me remind you that women do not carry a tremendous amount of clout in this world. The most we can hope for out of life is to marry a husband of means who will keep us from starving and provide shelter and clothing. If he does not beat us, we are considered most fortunate. Can you honestly disagree with me?"
"Yes. In Wales--" Gareth began.
"I don't live in Wales, I live in England. Now answer me. Is there a better life for women in England than what I just mentioned?"
Gareth frowned and shook his head. "No, I suppose not."
"Very well. Now, given those circumstances, I don't think you can accuse me of being cynical merely because I try to better my life as I can. King Richard has provided me with many luxuries for very little work in return. My mother had already given birth to two stillborn children and was locked away in my father's manor; completely cut off from the social life she loved by the time she was my age. Can you blame me for wanting something different and doing what I can to get it?"
Gareth felt deflated. "Of course not." Although everything she had said was true, he was disappointed. Disappointed because when they returned to England they would see no more of each other. They would not meet to exchange information, they would not await Henry Tudor's landing and word of the location of the battle, they would not be able to walk along the beaches of southern England. He would not be able to admire the creamy perfection of her skin by moonlight. Once they returned to Richard's court, she would return to her life as a lady-in-waiting and he would be nothing more than a spy trying to sneak information about his sovereign to the enemy. There was no way he could expect her to help him and Henry Tudor, not when it would mean she would lose her position in court, not when it would mean she would lose everything she had worked for, even if he, Gareth, could not understand the appeal of formal feasts and overdressed courtiers. Once Henry took the throne, everyone in Richard's court would be dispensed with. Ladies-in-waiting would be sent back to their parents or the convent they had come from, for surely Henry Tudor would install new ones once he wed. Elena, like her mother, would be cut off from the social life she loved.
"We'd best head back. It's getting late," he said, his voice flat.
Turning, he began walking quickly up the beach to the cobbled street. Elena tried to match his rapid strides, but could not in the gravelly sand. Running lightly to catch up to him, she linked her hand through his arm to slow him down. "Where are we sleeping tonight?" she asked.
Gareth did not hear Elena's question until she squeezed his arm and asked him again. He realized then that she was clinging to his arm and slowed his pace accordingly. "Samuel, the man whose shop we were in earlier will put us up tonight."
"You mean we get to sleep inside? And perhaps have warm water to wash in and clean linen to sleep on?"
Despite his disappointment, Gareth smiled at her tone and her questions. "Yes, my lady, you will have all the finest luxury Aberystwyth has to offer." Trying not to think of how much he would miss their bantering once they reached Richard's court, he guided them back to the center of town.
***
As they walked the moonlit streets back to Samuel's shop and home, Elena couldn't help but wonder if she had said something to anger Gareth. Although he answered any question she asked about this street or that shop, he seemed to forget her existence once he responded. For a woman who was used to being the center of a man's attention--especially if he was lucky enough to be taking a moonlit stroll with her--Gareth's distraction bothered her. Of course, she reminded herself, this is Gareth, the man who could kiss her like she'd never been kissed one night and then throw himself at a coarse serving wench the next. This was the man who had nearly...well, nearly made love to her, and then treated her as nothing more than one of his rough traveling companions. Her life in Richard's court had taught her much about men and their moods, but Gareth belied all she knew. None of her carefully devised "wiles" had worked on him, yet when she least expected it, and was least prepared for it, he would kiss her, with tenderness, or with soul-scorching passion that left her gasping for breath. Gareth seemed most responsive to her when she was completely unconscious of what she was doing or saying. On the other hand, when she acted like a proper lady of the court, he always seemed to grow distant.