A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,137

up in Wales, their loyalties would be reversed. But fate had decided they would soon fight for different kings and no amount of guilt on Gareth's part would change that. With an invigorating sense of freedom and relief, Gareth strode forward and picked up a wooden sword from the pile of practice weapons and joined the practicing men.

Chapter 25

Elena spent her next few days enjoying the comforts of velvet gowns, down-stuffed pillows, hot meals, sweet deserts, music in the background, and hours spent embroidering with the other ladies. After she had entertained them with a carefully constructed story of her adventures, they had returned to the normal court gossip of flirtatious intrigue and fashion faux pas--or so it seemed. Elena could not help but suspect that the old rumors surrounding her virtue were resurfacing. Though she seemed to have resumed her position as cherished handmaiden, there was something different about the entire court's attitude toward her, especially the other ladies-in-waiting. As Elena worked on embroidering a tapestry one afternoon, she wondered if perhaps it was her attitude towards them that had changed. Mayhap both. Certainly she tired more rapidly of the inane banter the women often indulged in. The political machinations of court seemed somehow more vulgar and blatant than she remembered them. And lately, when she had been attending Richard, she seemed to feel an odd repugnance. He was constantly in a foul mood, yelling at his advisors, attendants, and serfs alike. At one time or another during his daylong meetings with advisors, he accused everyone in his court of conspiring to dethrone him. Whenever Elena brought refreshments into the map-strewn study where he spent hours each day planning his defense against Henry Tudor, Richard regarded her warily, as if he suspected her of eavesdropping or snooping through his papers. No more did he have flattering words for her. Not once did he ask after her family, bidding her send his regards to her mother when next she wrote as he had before they left Middleham castle all those weeks ago.

Elena paused to rethread her needle, judging the effect of the tapestry. Its base was of heavy gold fabric and onto it she was working an intricate design of pomegranates, vines, and lions in rich jewel-colored silk threads. Returning to her work, her reflection of her present life resumed.

More and more she seemed to be spending time alone, sewing or staring out the window at the men practicing for war. During those times, like now, she did not have to decipher the veiled hostility of the other women of the court and she was free to let her mind wander. More often than not, her mind led her willingly to thoughts of Gareth and his last-minute declaration of love. Over and over she replayed that scene in the bailey. She saw the intense look on his face as he realized they were about to be separated. She could hear his voice, low and hoarse as he said, "I love you!" In her mind she stared at his face as her skittish horse was dragged away and she was lifted from its saddle. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly alienated from the other members of court, she would rearrange that last scene. She would have Gareth proclaim his love right before they reached Nottingham castle. Then, instead of entering the great gates, they would turn and ride as fast as they could across the landscape and not stop until they reached Eyri Keep where they would marry.

Other times--times that made her cheeks flame with embarrassment and excitement--she would imagine the words escaping him in the heat of passion. Or in the tender quiet afterwards when they lay in each other's arms. Regardless of how the scenario began, it always ended the same: with their return to Eyri Keep. Eyri Keep had become an ideal in her mind where she was cherished without having to manipulate others, where she was admired without hostility, where Enid and Elen had proven themselves to be true friends who did not pretend to like her one moment and disdain her the next. And Eyri Keep was the place where she would look forward to her husband's return. As it stood now, she was dreading word of Brackley's return to Nottingham.

Catherine, the previously timid kitten, had somehow grown claws in the intervening weeks and had informed Elena that her fianc茅e had not been overly dismayed to learn of her disappearance and that he had, in fact,