A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,38
servant, he asked for something Gareth couldn’t quite hear before turning back to his son.
“What think you of the new fields we’ve plowed? I’m thinking the drainage will be better for the barley.”
Gareth grinned. There was nothing more important to his father than the land and even with a possible war on the horizon; his crops would always take precedence in Morgan’s life. “They look well thought out. I’d wager you can’t wait for colder weather to plant.”
Morgan chuckled. “All in good time, all in good time.”
The servant arrived with a bottle of golden liquid and two clean mugs.
“Don’t say you’re going to share your mead with me. You only ever save that important guests.”
“And who’s more important than my prodigal son, I say?” his father asked as he carefully peeled the wax from the cork and opened the bottle. The fragrant scent of honey reached Gareth’s nose as his father poured a generous mugful. He had only ever had his father’s rather famous mead twice before—and those on momentous occasions such as funerals or grand assemblies. He let the fumes fill his nose before taking a sip. The mead was smooth and rich, slipping past his tongue sensuously. The bite of liquor came after he swallowed, letting him know that if he drank more than a cup or two, he might find himself waking up under a table or in some maid’s bed. He took another sip and considered the second option would not be so bad, especially as it would help distract his mind from Elena.
His father spent several minutes inspecting the color of his wine, assessing it’s bouquet and rolling it about on his tongue before declaring, “Not a bad batch, if I do say so myself.”
Morgan went on to bring Gareth up to date on the changes he’d make to the breeding stock, the walls he’d had repaired around the fields and any number of other grounds keeping details he could remember (and he remembered them all). Gareth knew it was pointless to remind his father that he had chosen his path as a knight, not a land steward. Morgan believed that once Gareth had exorcised his obsession with “swordplay and jousts,” he would return to his birthright as a minor Welsh lord. In truth, Gareth knew he could not spend all of his days as another man’s knight—the body could only withstand so many years of that abuse. He just anticipated that his permanent return to Eyri Keep would be much further off than Morgan was counting on.
By the time Gareth reached the bottom of his mug, his head was pleasantly fuzzy and his father was just finishing his description of the last quarter’s Rent Day.
“How did you and Mother meet?” Gareth had no idea where the question had come from. The last sip of mead, he suspected.
Morgan stopped speaking abruptly, glancing at his son in surprise. “Where on God’s earth did that question come from?”
Gareth felt his neck warm. He affected a nonchalant shrug. “Just curious. I don’t think I ever heard you say.”
Morgan took a deep pull of his mead and stared off into the distance, a wry grin on his face. “We knew each other since we were young. She lived just the other side of yon hill,” he said with a jerk of his chin to the north.
Gareth nodded his head. Of course they’d known each other for years. Probably grew up loving each other and knowing what their future held.
“Hated me on first sight, she did.”
“What?” Gareth asked.
Morgan smiled and refilled both their mugs. “Oh yes. Found me insufferable, I don’t doubt. I was very full of myself, especially as I became a young man. I was convinced I was the best thing to happen to Eyri Keep and the lucky ladies of Wales. She, of course, would have nothing to do with such a conceited ass. At first, it didn’t bother me for there were so many other accommodating lasses about, you know?”
Gareth smiled and shook his head in mock reproach.
“But after a while, it irked me that she didn’t think I was as wonderful as I thought I was. I decided to change her mind.”
“Won her over, did you?”
“Tcha! No. She hated me even worse then. Told me she wouldn’t have aught to do with me was I the last man in Wales. Two years her abuse went on. Why, she even went and betrothed herself to another man!”
“Truly?” Gareth was amazed. He’d never heard the story and