A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,35
to kiss the future wife of so threatening a man as the earl of Brackley. Heaven knows who he'd blame or what his punishment would be. Thank you for reminding me." Turning abruptly, he quickly gathered their horses. Elena remained rooted in the same spot, staring at an eagle as it circled the sky. After a few moments, he fetched their horses and lifted her to the saddle.
While the ride up had been accompanied by a comfortable, friendly silence, the trip back down the mountain might have been that of a condemned man's march to his execution.
Elena sat limply in the saddle, once again thinking of her fiancée, though in truth, her fear of her betrothed's fists occupied her thoughts for a short time only. The majority of the return trip, her mind was plagued with thoughts of Gareth. Though she'd pushed him away two times, her lips had burned for his kisses. But how could this be? she asked herself. He was the exact opposite of everything she looked for in a man. She doubted he had not a sheep to his name, much less property or a title. Years before when she had accompanied her mother to Edward IV's court, she had been amazed at the beauty of a formal court. The elegant men and women, the beautiful clothes, the courtly manners. In particular, she was taken with a beautiful woman with rich brown hair and sparkling jewels. Elena never learned who she was, but for two days, she watched as the woman enchanted every man in Edward's court. Elena saw her receive a ruby ring, a handkerchief of fine Venetian linen, a precious crystal bottle of cologne, and more attention than anyone else. Still a child, Elena had decided that she would someday lead that very life. She wanted the prestige, the glamour. An only child, she had never lacked for attention, but doting parents could hardly compare to gallant lords.
Now she was dreadfully confused. Gareth was none of these things, could give her none of these things. Why, then, did her mind constantly replay their kiss of the night they had escaped the mercenaries? Why did she wake up in the morning with her face pressed to a pillow, disappointed that it was not Gareth's warm throat, disappointed that the covers smelled like linen and not leather and sweat, disappointed that a rough blanket had kept her warm instead of his arms? Nothing could come of it. Nothing should come of it, she told herself sharply, but Elena could still not get him out of her mind.
When they returned, the small bailey of the keep was full of people. Women were chattering, children were running about screaming and laughing while a motley assortment of hounds chased them, and men were talking animatedly.
"What's going on?" Elena asked, breaking their strained silence for the first time since the mountaintop.
Gareth stood up in his stirrups to get a better view. "'Tis my kinsmen Owain and Rhys! They live on Anglesey. Seems they've come for a visit and brought three large deer with them. There will be fresh venison tonight," he said with a laugh. Quickly dismounting, he waded through the throng of people. Elena leaned sideways to see him heartily embracing his cousins. She was about to try to slide off her horse when she heard Gareth cry "Bronwen!" She sought him out, only to see him enthusiastically kissing a woman with the blackest hair Elena had ever seen. Seething jealousy poured unexpectedly through Elena's veins. Had he called for her so she could see this vulgar display? Twisting in the saddle, she lowered herself ungracefully to the ground and stalked toward the main door.
She had just reached the lower step when someone touched her elbow. Turning Elena looked up into deep blue eyes heavily fringed with thick black lashes that matched the shock of silky hair and trim beard of one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.
"Hello. What have we here, Gareth?" the man said in a deep voice tinged with humor.
Gareth’s good humor seemed to evaporate, as he stiffly obliged with introductions. "Rhys, may I present the Lady Elena de Vignon a visitor from England. Lady Elena, my cousin, Rhys Thomas, and his brother, Owain."
Elena smiled beguilingly when Rhys bent low over her hand and murmured, "I am enchanted, my lady. May I say how fortunate Wales is to have you in its borders." Rhys's older brother, Owain, simply nodded a brief greeting before turning