A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,125

remembered the spontaneous festivals that were held for things as common as the birth of a new child or the successful harvest of a field of barley. On days when such an event had occurred, the good news spread like wildfire throughout the small keep, culminating in the kitchen where the three women who cooked for Morgan's household tried to outdo each other with culinary specialties. As they drew nearer to Nottingham and Richard's court, it became easier to imagine herself ensconced there permanently. Cynan had told her that she could have her pick of husbands should she chose to return to Wales, but Elena didn't want her pick; she wanted Gareth. Had he uttered one word of love or one tentative proposal of marriage, they would now be heading away from Nottingham, not toward it. But he remained silent, despite their most intimate exchanges. She felt she had changed and grown much since becoming separated from Richard's entourage all those weeks ago, but her pride would not permit her to fish for avowals of love from him, though she had much experience doing so.

And so they continued, each day drawing nearer to Nottingham. By the time they were on the outskirts of the city, a day's ride from the king's wartime residence, their conversation had become stilted, each submerged in his thoughts and worries for the future, each wishing the other would speak.

Chapter 23

"You shall have a pillow for your head tonight, sweet lady," Gareth said as they rode through the southernmost streets of Nottingham.

Elena roused herself from her thoughts and turned in the saddle. "We're not continuing on?" It was only mid-afternoon and she had grown accustomed to riding until dusk allowed just enough light to set up camp.

"No," Gareth answered. "We'll have a short day of riding tomorrow as it is. There is no need to exhaust ourselves today especially when I have money enough for a rich meal and a soft bed," he said, jingling the coins in their leather pouch which hung from his belt.

"I want fish for supper," Elena said, sitting up a little straighter in the saddle.

"Fish?" Gareth asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes, it's the meal most different from dried beef!"

Gareth laughed. "You've been eating dried mutton."

Elena turned her head and lifted an eyebrow. "Do not even attempt to convince me that there is a difference between the two."

Elena looked around at the small shops and houses they were passing. As they made their way further into the city, the small buildings grew closer and closer together until they were stacked nearly on top of each other. Though she could sense Gareth growing unease with the crowds and the shops, she was familiar with this city. She had spent many hours attending Lady Elizabeth as they shopped for fabrics and furs. Though she had previously been attended by numerous guardsmen and attendants, Elena still felt comfortable as they entered the teeming city.

"I suppose we will have to find an inn soon," Gareth said, more to himself than Elena.

Taking charge, Elena said, "That will be simple. There are several reputable inns very near each other."

Gareth sighed, obviously relieved that he would not have to try to decide on their accommodations. "Very good. Which way do we go?" He had reined in Isrid at a central marketplace into which dumped at least five crooked streets.

"I have no idea."

"Then how do you know there are several reputable inns in the same area?"

"I have spent much time in Nottingham. When I was attending Lady Elizabeth, we would oftentimes rest in the inns in between shopping bouts instead of returning to the castle."

"Well if you spent so much time here doing what you do best, then how is it you have no idea where we should go?"

"I will recognize the street once we are on it," Elena said defensively.

"That doesn't do us much good now, does it?"

Incredulous, Elena turned as much as she could in the saddle. "Well then perhaps you'd like to find us a place to stay, Sir I-don't-need-to-ask-for-directions!" Though it had been a while since Elena had used one of her well-honed imperious looks, she managed to execute it flawlessly and Gareth was squirming uncomfortably within seconds.

"Alright, I'll stop and ask where this mythical street you remember is. Do you at least know the name of the street?"

"Of course I do. Ask for West Dover Street."

Gareth swung off of Isrid and handed Elena the reins to both horses. He entered the shop nearest them, a solicitor's