her arm to escort her to her room.
At the door to her small room, Elena turned expectantly to Gareth. She knew he could not join her now, with the other men still awake, but she was determined to have a kiss--something she had been denied all evening. Lifting her head, she pressed her lips against Gareth's, waiting for him to return the kiss. When he did not, she pulled back abruptly.
"I do not wish us to be caught, Elena. My father and the others would assume I was forcing myself upon you and we would be unable to return to England until a 'suitable' escort could join us."
Elena nodded, understanding his concern though still disappointed, and went into her room. She slowly undressed and got into bed, laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. After so much time spent napping in bed today, she was not really tired, just pleasantly drowsy from the fresh air and exercise at the beach. No, she did not wish a "suitable escort" to accompany them to England. She was reveling in the pleasures she and Gareth were sharing. Should she be forced to spend the rest of her life with the Earl of Brackley, she would only have these delicious memories to sustain her. That thought dimmed some of her pleasure and she shoved it from her mind. She must concentrate on the present now, savor every moment. She stretched her arms over her head, curling her toes and flexing every muscle in her legs. When she released her stretch, she felt deliciously relaxed. I'll just close my eyes until Gareth comes, she told herself. Within minutes she was asleep.
***
It proved impossible for Gareth to get away from the other men. His father, realizing that this was the last night he would have his son before sending him into a dangerous assignment was loathe to give up his company, wanting to discuss yet again the plan for Gareth to meet up with the Welsh forces once the battle was imminent. Bryant also seemed determined not to let him out of his sight, even going so far as to follow him outside when Gareth stepped out to relieve himself.
When the four men finally made their way to the weaving room upstairs, Gareth thought he would be able to wait for his father and friends to fall asleep and then sneak downstairs, but Bryant, as if knowing what he had planned, positioned himself right in front of the closed door so there was no way Gareth could open it without waking him. Frustrated, Gareth stretched out on a floor that was not near as comfortable as Elena's bed and wrapped himself in blankets that were not near as soft or warm as her velvety skin. In the utter darkness, he allowed the memories of the day and the previous night fill his head. As a result, though the hour was late, Gareth did not fall asleep for a long time.
***
Early the next morning, Elena awoke, disappointed to find herself alone. Propped up on her elbows, she wondered if Gareth had stepped outside to attend to personal business. Slowly she remembered that Gareth had not joined her at all last night, that they had not made love before sleeping comfortably entwined in the narrow bed.
With a disappointed sigh, Elena lay back down. No wonder she felt groggy. She hadn't slept well at all. As she considered it, she was amazed that she could have grown so accustomed to sleeping with someone else in just two short nights. Back home, she couldn't stand having to share her pallet with two and sometimes three other ladies-in-waiting. She reveled in the emptiness of the bed on those few nights when she had had it all to herself. Now, here she was with not only her own bed, but her own room and what did she long for? A roommate! Well, she corrected herself, not just any roommate. What she truly longed for was Gareth's company. Slowly pushing herself from bed, she began dressing, sending up a brief but heartfelt prayer of thanks that this was the last time she would have to put on her worn blue cotehardie.
She struggled to get it laced up the back, contorting her arms this way and that, and then fastened the tiny buttons up each sleeve from wrist to elbow and tried to smooth some of the wrinkles out of the skirt.
"Hopeless," she mumbled, and turned her attention to her hair which