A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,37

drop dead on the spot. Gareth returned her scowl

Bronwen watched Elena and Gareth speculatively. "Rhys!" she called trying to distract him from his antics. "Why don't you console your breaking heart by dancing with Elena."

"Oh very well. If that is the most I can--" at the pointed look from his sister, he shut up and gently took Elena's arm.

Chapter 9

When they were gone, Bronwen stared at Gareth, awaiting an explanation. When none was forthcoming, she prodded, "Well, aren't you going to explain that little display of temper?"

Although he and Bronwen had been friends since they were children, the one trait Bronwen had that never ceased to annoy Gareth was her ability to sound like a nosy mother hen. She was doing that exact impression now.

"What display of temper?" Gareth asked, feigning ignorance.

"You're quite taken with her. It's written all over your face."

"What? Oh don't be ridiculous, Bronwen," Gareth started to turn away but Bronwen caught his shoulder.

"You are! You're in love with her, admit it."

Gareth ground his teeth in anger. Lowering his voice he said crudely, "The only thing I'm taken with is her body. I find it quite irresistible. But since I'm sure she would like to go to her marriage bed with her maidenhead intact, I guess I'll just have to--" Bronwen's slap prevented any further words.

Her blue eyes flashing with anger, Bronwen said, "I can still thrash you, Gareth ap Morgan. Don't think I can't. And after what you just said, you soundly deserve it." Bronwen took a deep breath and stared at Gareth's flushed face. "But since I also know that in your heart you didn't mean it, I'll pretend you didn't say it." She turned to leave but paused. "Just don't treat her so again, Gareth. It does you no honor."

Gareth watched Bronwen approach Elena and speak with her for a few moments. The two women then turned and went up the stairs. Gareth took a big swallow of ale.

Where had Bronwen come up with the insane notion that he was in love with Elena? He could barely tolerate her presence; she was always whining about her clothes, the quality of the food, the hardness of her saddle...Gareth paused. Now that he thought of it, he could not recall Elena complaining once since they reached Eyri Keep. And if he was truthful with himself, he had enjoyed her company today until he had tried to kiss her. Gareth cringed inwardly as he relived Elena's outraged rebuffs. Would he never learn? he thought. Taken by her angelic looks and occasional good humor, could he never remember that she was a spiteful, self-centered woman who considered him nothing more than a lackey? That she haunted his dreams nightly; that he could not get her scent out of his mind; that his lips were forever remembering the softness of hers simply meant that he had been too long without a woman--a situation he could and would easily rectify.

And when his father left for Aberystwyth the following week to meet with Henry's supporters, he would take a short detour to drop Elena at the abbey at Dinas Mawddwy and then rejoin his father at the meeting of Welsh lords. She would be safe there and he would be able to get her out of his mind once and for all!

As he reviewed his plan with a self-satisfied smirk, a small voice niggled the back of his brain. Though he tried to ignore it, he could not help but hear its cry that though Elena might not always act a lady, his own actions were not above reproach. Gareth shook his head in confusion as he remembered cruel taunts and boorish behavior. Never had he acted so towards a lady of rank. Toward any lady, for that matter. He had always extended his knightly vows of chivalry and courtesy to all women, servant and noble alike. Why now was he treating Elena so rudely? Could his cousin Bronwen be right? Was he in love with the Englishwoman? If so, how could that be?

“Now that is a face of a man with an empty ale pot!”

Gareth looked up and smiled as his father joined him at the table. Glancing in his mug, he realized it was indeed empty. Thankful for the excuse, he waggled the mug at his father. “Two years I’ve been gone and I can’t get another pint?”

“Well if we’re celebrating your being home, we shouldn’t drink this swill,” Morgan said, pushing his own mug away. Gesturing for a