A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,119

her gaze firmly on his mouth.

Gareth considered the idea longer than he should have. It was tempting...

Shaking his head, he said, "There will be light for a few more hours despite the rain and I would have us make up for our late start this morning." Seeing her lower lip pout out, he laughed and said, "Elena, don't make this harder for me than it already is. Had I my way, we would never return to England but would spend the rest of our lives here in this grove."

Elena's pout disappeared. "Truly?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

The voice in his head told Gareth that this was the perfect opportunity for him to declare himself. Judging from the look on her face, the voice said, she might very well welcome your proposal. But Gareth hesitated and in the end, said, "With lips as soft as yours, of course. But we must move on. Come now, climb back up." Elena stared at him a moment before swinging up into Isrid's saddle, sitting astride this time.

"Very well, let's go," she said.

Before climbing up behind her, Gareth pulled out one of their blankets, a thick, scratchy wool affair that smelled faintly musty from having been put away all summer. Once on Isrid, he wrapped the blanket around himself and Elena.

"Phew," she said. "It's too hot to have a cloak on--especially one that smells like a sheep."

"It's not for warmth, it's to keep us dry. Besides, after a while, you may be glad for the warmth. The rain has already cooled the air."

Elena grumbled to herself a while longer and then fell silent. As they made their way east, each remained locked in his thoughts. Gareth's inner voice was chiding him for not speaking his heart when given the perfect opportunity. He argued back that it did not matter when he told her as there was nothing she could do about it until she broke her engagement to Brackley. The inner voice remarked that they could very well change their course and head straight for Eyri Keep where they could enjoy an extended honeymoon until Henry Tudor landed in Britain. And just what would Richard think for never seeing Elena again? he wondered. Come now, the voice replied. She's been gone so long already, he has probably already written her off for dead. Besides, he continued to argue silently, despite what she thinks, ladies-in-waiting are not crucial members of the court. Richard no doubt has three other women filling in for whatever small tasks Elena accomplished. Gareth grew sorely tired of his inner discussion and ended it by telling himself, I've a job to do in Nottingham and that's all there is to it. I'll tell Elena how I feel about her when I'm good and ready and not a minute before. Forcing his mind to consider where they would camp for the evening, he resolutely ignored any other arguments the voice may have offered.

Elena, not troubled by such a persistent inner voice, was content to study the landscape they were crossing. Even in the rain, she thought, Wales is a beautiful place. The dark grey sky, rather than draining the landscape of color, seemed to merely enhance the rich tapestry of silver-green grasses, bright yellow flowers, and lush green trees. The narrow road they traveled had been so worn by years of feet and hooves traipsing over it that it was hard as rock and the rain simply puddled in the low spots rather than turning the path to mud and muck. On either side of the road, brilliant yellow flowers with black centers competed for attention with tall strands of grass that bowed gracefully under the weight of the raindrops. Just ahead, a tall willow tree, its base thicker than a man could stretch his arms, dangled its branches over the road. As they rode beneath it, Elena reached out from under the heavy blanket to pluck a long silvery leaf. Feeling decidedly childish and a bit wicked in her manly garb, she twisted around and tickled Gareth's nose with the end of the leaf.

Gareth welcomed the distraction of Elena's teasing and lowered his eyes from the gloomy horizon to her warm cinnamon-brown eyes, which were alight with mischievous sparkle. He shook his head and grinned. "If someone had told me, two months ago, that the right noble Lady Elena, handmaiden to the King of England, would be sitting astride a horse in hose and a tunic, tickling my nose with a