A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,75

of meat right out of her hand and began devouring it. Although she was outraged, Elena couldn't bring herself to dress him down for his impertinence. She was still too fascinated at seeing him in such a good mood. It made his entire countenance change; the lines of worry disappeared and his infections grin made his face look boyish and innocent. The shock of hair which was constantly in his eyes now seemed appropriate, giving him a reckless air that was further enhanced by his next words.

"Ho ho! Viking stumps!" Looking down at Elena, he said, "Did I ever tell you I was an expert at this game?" Elena shook her head as Gareth bolted up to the recently vacated stump opposite the blond sailor. Surely for all his strength he could not defeat the much larger man. Her eyes darted back and forth from the tall, well-muscled man to Gareth, compact and sinewy. Although the sailor was even more appealing now that his face, neck and V of his chest were glistening with exertion, for some reason, Elena found herself watching Gareth. His knees bent, he was crouched down, his feet planted firmly on the stump, the ornery shock of hair temporarily pushed off his forehead. His eyes narrowed in concentration as the count was called and a wicked grin touched his lips.

The smile never left his face as he tugged on the rope. He was not strong enough to gain rope from his adversary, but neither did he give any up. After several minutes of gaining not an inch, the sailor grew impatient and gave a tremendous heave. At the same time, Gareth let his excess rope slide easily through his hands. The sailor tottered on the edge of the stump before losing his balance and hopping to the ground. The crowd went wild, hooting and clapping and Elena joined in. She felt a strange sense of pride that Gareth had won, but did not stop to wonder why. The crowd grew even rowdier as man after man stepped forward to challenge Gareth only to be forced off his stump. Gareth grew sweaty and began breathing hard, but the devilish grin never left his mouth. Finally, he straightened and tossed down the rope. The crowd roared and clapped as he executed a mock bow. Returning to his friends, he threw himself down on the bench.

"I would give my horse for a mug of ale," he said, wiping the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Then consider Isrid mine," Cynan said. Elena turned and saw him approaching with two heavy pewter mugs in one hand and an enormous roasted goose leg in the other.

"You are a saint, Cynan," Gareth said, relieving his friend of one of the mugs.

"Flattery won't get you out of giving me your horse."

Gareth gestured to the stumps with his chin. "You pull me off an he's yours."

Cynan looked apprehensively at the Viking stumps. " It would be too cruel for me to battle a winded man."

Gareth took a large swallow of ale and leaned close to Elena. "Cynan's never been able to best me on Viking stumps." Looking past her, he said, "Ho, Bryant! Be you ill?"

Elena turned to her forgotten dinner companion who was staring moodily out into the crowd. When Gareth called him, he glanced up and shrugged. "I was only marveling at some people's rudeness." Elena looked out into the crowd to see whom he was referring to, but she saw nothing unusual. Turning back to Gareth, she saw him exchange confused glances with Cynan.

Bryant suddenly stood and said, "I am retiring. Shall I walk you back to the house, Lady Elena?"

"So soon? It isn't even dark yet."

"No, but it will be in minutes."

Elena looked to Gareth who said, "Cynan and I are staying to see the sights. You can remain with us if you like." Elena turned back to Bryant in time to see his mouth tighten. Glancing at Elena, he gave her a weak smile and bent to kiss her hand. "Very well, my lady, I bid you good night." Elena nodded graciously and gave him one of her best smiles. Bryant was the only one who had ever shown respect to her rank. As he disappeared into the throng of people, Elena noticed two young children--a boy and a girl--playing on the Viking stumps.

"Gareth," she said, smoothing her voice to make it appear as if the question she was about to ask was completely ladylike and