A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,89

neck and suffused his face. "Why Gareth, I do believe you're actually flirting with me!" Before he could stammer an excuse, she said, "You really should have tried it before."

This caught Gareth off guard, she could tell, and with more curiosity than embarrassment, he asked why.

Elena schooled herself not to laugh with delight as she responded, "Well, it's a much more effective method for getting into a lady's good graces than is telling her how rude, demanding, and self-centered she is."

Gareth tried to look abashed, but when Elena herself burst out laughing, he quickly joined her. They continued laughing and teasing one another until they came to the first of the seamstress shops. Gareth hadn't even begun to explain their business when the seamstress curtly informed them that she was entirely too busy to take on any new work. She quickly ushered them out of her shop without so much as a "Good day." Rather than being put off by the woman's rudeness, Gareth and Elena mimicked the dour old woman as they made their way to the next shop, halfway down the street, only to discover it closed.

"We will be successful, Elena, fear not," Gareth said grandly as he shifted the bulk of fabric in his arms.

"Of course we will," she responded, studying his clear grey eyes beneath the mop of dark hair. He really is handsome, she thought. Not in the same way that Lord Edgeford was, for Gareth's features were not as fine, his hair not as perfectly groomed, his hands not as soft, but there was no denying that Gareth was attractive. His squarely cut jaw and sculptured face bespoke a strength that Edgeford utterly lacked. And his hands, while rough and deeply tanned, made her feel things she'd never experienced as they had roamed her body. Though he was not as tall as Edgeford, nor as burly as, say, the blond sailor from the market, he had a confidence about him, a way of carrying himself that made him completely fill her vision, eclipsing all others. As Elena remembered how he rescued her from the band of ruffians, how he carried her across the swollen river, and nursed her back to health, her thoughts returned to their earlier ruminations.

How could she get him to confess how he felt about her? Certainly not with the shallow games she used to entice suitors in court. She was at a loss as to how to proceed.

"I'm sure it’s around here somewhere." Elena's thoughts were interrupted and she realized the street had curved and narrowed. "Da said there were three shops right on this street."

"Maybe it has closed down."

"I think not. He asked Samuel just this morning." They had slowed to a stop and Gareth looked up and down the row of shops. The buildings rose to several stories on the left, the shop owner no doubt living above their stores. There were a variety of crudely made signs indicating cobblers, bakers, and even a scribner. But not a hint to indicate a seamstress. To their right, Gareth and Elena were hemmed in by a tall stone wall, the original town wall which had in most parts, been removed to allow Aberstwyth to grow. There were no people on the street and despite the fact there could be no chance of it, Gareth decided this was one place he would not like to meet up with an enemy.

"Why don't you ask in here," Elena suggested, gesturing to the bakery they had stopped in front of. "Then you can buy me a sweet bun."

"You just ate."

"A bit of dry bread and a lump of cheese is not enough to break my fast."

"Would you have preferred some dried beef?"

Elena leveled her sourest glare at him to no effect. "Are you going to ask where it is or not?"

"Why? We'll find it. Maybe it's down a little farther."

"Oh Gareth! Here, give me some money and I'll go ask."

"You're going to pay someone for directions?"

"No, I'm going to ask for directions and then buy something to eat."

Gareth rolled his eyes but pulled out the small pouch of coins. "Here. Gorge yourself."

"Hmph."

Elena disappeared into the dim recess of the bakery and Gareth leaned against the shadowed wall. He looked up and down the narrow street, unable to quell the feeling that this was a dangerous spot. Shifting the heavy bulk of fabric to his other arm, he decided that a little dust would not harm the heavy wool and he carefully set the load