A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,117

his feelings for her, now that they were on the way to that destiny, he questioned his resolve. If Elena were to go ahead with her betrothal, it would mean she felt nothing for him: nothing but desire. The raised another question for Gareth: Would she, if she did care for him, would she tell him? Pride was only one of her character flaws and Gareth was dreadfully worried that pride would prevent her from declaring feelings for a mere Welsh knight who might have been, and still might yet end up, a humble shepherd.

There was only one thing to be done, he decided, his mind returning to the feel of her shoulders leaning comfortably on his chest. He would have to come right out and ask her what she felt for him. He would have to declare his love for her and suffer the consequences of her rejection if it came. Better that than to forever wonder if they might not have made a life together. That decided, there was only one thing left to plan: When would he tell her? Gareth knew himself well enough to know that once he set his mind on something, he would follow through with that course of action, no matter how difficult, but when? One thing was certain. Now was not the time. He considered his decision for a moment. No, now was not the right time at all.

***

Three hours later when they stopped to eat lunch was not the right time either. It was too soon into their trip, Gareth decided. In fact, the whole first day was too soon into their trip. He figured they would be traveling anywhere from a week to ten days depending on where Richard was. Though Richard's party had been on its way to Nottingham when it had been attacked on that seemingly long-ago day, the king could be at any one of his castles by this time. It would be their first stop, nonetheless. Regardless of how long they would be on the road, it was clear he had plenty of time to tell Elena that he--Gareth swallowed his bite of sausage and bread before he was quite done chewing--loved her. Therefore, he did not need to worry about it today. Or tomorrow either, for that matter.

After lunch, they mounted up, Elena resuming her seat in front of Gareth on Isrid. Gareth neither asked Elena if she wanted to ride her own horse, nor did she offer. As soon as they were comfortably pressed together, they were off.

By midafternoon, the huge white clouds Gareth had noticed that morning in Aberystwyth had turned an ugly grey and now hung considerably lower in the sky, blocking any glimpse of blue heavens or late summer's sun. The first big drops hit them as they were entering a small grove of trees.

"Oh!" Elena exclaimed as a cold wet drop hit her in the face. "It would have to rain as I'm wearing my new dress. I will look like a shapeless sack of grain once this wool is wet."

Gareth studied the gown. "It will hold a good deal of water and keep you cold through the night as well."

"Wonderful," Elena said, her tone belying her exclamation.

"Perhaps you'd best change into your old gown. That way if we do get wet, your new one will still be dry and unharmed."

"I can't."

"Oh come Elena. You look beautiful no matter what you're wearing." Had he really said that? It was true of course, but...

Elena twisted her body so she could see his face. "Thank you," she said softly, a strange look crossing her face.

Gareth reined Isrid to a stop and dismounted. With both horses' reins in hand, he pulled them off the narrow road into the trees. Once under the protection of the leaves, few raindrops hit them, but the storm appeared to be increasing. Thunder rang out every few minutes and Gareth had the bad feeling that they were going to be drenched no matter what they were wearing. He helped Elena down and began unlacing the satchel on the packhorse. "In which bag did you pack your other gown."

"I didn't," she said meekly.

Gareth grinned at her. So she was finally embarrassed over making everyone wait on her hand and foot, eh? Well, perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Alright, where did Cynan pack your dress?"

Elena's manicure called her attention and she refused to meet Gareth's eyes.

"Elena? Where is your other dress, love?" The endearment had slipped out, but it