A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,101

fashion."

Elena wanted to shriek with laughter. If Bryant only knew that it had been she who had forgotten herself and forced her favors on him in a most unseemly fashion!

"Please know, my lady, that you owe nothing to Gareth, or any of us for that matter. If you should ever feel that anyone is acting the least bit unchivalrously towards you, you have only to call and I will come at once to defend you and your honor."

Elena had heard many a flowery speech from a lovesick man, but Bryant's struck her as being truly sincere and heartfelt. Making a point not to smile, lest he think she was making fun of him, she said as sincerely as she could, "I thank you, Bryant. I will rest assured that you will do everything in your power to see to my well being."

Bryant took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I have only the most honorable intentions toward you, Lady Elena."

"I'm sure you do, Bryant."

To her great relief, Bryant seemed content to drop the subject for the rest of the short journey back to Samuel's shop. Once inside the back living quarters, Elena forgot Bryant's declaration in the noisy cheerfulness of the roomful of men preparing to eat a hearty feast. The kitchen table had been dragged into the main room so everyone could fit around it. Thick wooden plates lined both sides of the table and a huge basket of bread crowned the center. Morgan entered the room with a thick crockery flagon.

"Ah, Lady Elena, Bryant! You're back just in time. Tell me, Lady Elena, have you ever tasted Welsh mead?"

"Never."

"Then you are in for a treat tonight! Sit right here," he said, indicating the cushioned seat at the head of the table. "As our only lady at dinner tonight, you hold the seat of honor. Now sit and relax while we bring in a feast sure to rival any you've had at court."

Oddly at ease with the rough group of men, Elena sat as instructed and watched as they scrambled about bringing stew, roasted meat, and cooked vegetables to the table. Within minutes, the large table was lined with all of the men who had stayed with Samuel for the meeting two days before. A quick blessing on the meal was followed by sheer chaos as hungry men passed around food. Despite their hunger and perhaps uncourtly manners, they made sure Elena was always served first and always received the best of each portion. And true to Morgan's word, the Welsh mead was a treat, just sweet and smooth enough that Elena was on her second mugful before she realized that she was very warm and seemed to find everything highly amusing.

Though she allowed herself only one more mug of the tasty mead, the pleasant mood remained with her all evening as the laughter and conversation grew louder.

"Be honest now, good lady," called out one of the men. "Who are more handsome: Welsh men or English."

Elena pretended to think hard on the subject which made the men laugh, but her response stunned them. "I'd say, English men have the more beautiful faces." Elena smothered a laugh, struggling valiantly not to smile as she said, "But what woman wants a face more beautiful than her own staring back at her over the covers? I'll take a manly Welshman any day!" A small sober part of her brain shrieked when she blatantly looked to Gareth, but she was having too much fun to pay any attention to it.

Much hooting and slamming of mugs against the table followed and the man sitting to her left pounded her encouragingly on the shoulder, nearly sending her out of her chair. This brought on more laughter, which continued over the next hour. When the mead was dispensed and nothing but crumbs remained of the feast, the men slowly and drunkenly made their way to their respective beds. Gareth disappeared outdoors and Elena wished her legs did not feel so wobbly so that she could follow him. She found walking was not as difficult as she had imagined and in fact, she felt better once she had made her way to the cool quiet of her room. A large drink of cool water further helped her regain some of her composure before she struggled out of her gown. She braided her hair and climbed into bed, forgetting to extinguish the candle once again before slipping into slumber.

***

Gareth breathed the cool, ocean-scented night air that smelled so