A Dishonorable Knight

Chapter 21

Gareth studied the shops and the tidy homes of Aberstwyth on the way out of town as he had been unable to three days before when they had first entered its limits. He watched small children run along the street next to Isrid, laughing and yelling to one another. He studied the huge white clouds in the sky for unusual shapes. He concentrated on the brisk clip-clop of Isrid's hooves on the cobbled stones of the road that would lead them out of Aberstwyth, out of Wales. He kept his mind on anything that would prevent its wandering to Elena's soft body pressed against his chest, her hips rocking gently against his in time to the sway of the horse. It was entirely too soon in their journey for him to be thinking of making a rest stop. Besides, now that he was alone with her--really and truly alone, with no chance of his father or Samuel or Cynan or Bryant bursting in--he was suddenly unsure of how to act. He wondered if she wished to continue their highly enjoyable lovemaking now that they were on their way back to England and her fiancée. He wondered if she considered him as a careless affaire that was now over and done with.

Gareth squirmed in the saddle. Isrid was climbing the gradual hill that led out of Aberstwyth and Elena's weight shifted, sliding back just enough that she was pressed even more tantalizingly against him. This was going to be a long ride, he thought.

As he tried to inch further back in the saddle, another thought occurred to him. Elena had made it quite clear that she wished to ride with him. He could picture her face just minutes ago when she had told him she was afraid to ride alone. Gareth knew for a fact that she was afraid of nothing--not even of suffering the consequences of going to her bridal bed without a maidenhead. Furthermore, she had ridden enough in the last month to make her adept at handling any kind of horse, much less one as docile as the one he had chosen for her. Therefore, her claim that she was too frightened to ride alone was simply for the benefit of his father and friends.

Gareth paused a moment, pleased with his deduction and its results. He allowed himself to tilt his head slightly and inhale the sweet perfume of her shimmering hair. In the bright sunlight, it glimmered with fire, changing from chestnut to brilliant red to brown as she moved her head. Several tendrils had come loose from the intricate twists and were caught in a light breeze, dancing about her head like a halo. Gareth smiled at that whimsical thought but his smile slowly faded. All right. So she enjoyed being close to him, feeling his chest and other parts pressed against her back. Perhaps she even intended that they would keep each other warm at night during their journey. That was well and good. What bothered Gareth now, though he was loath to admit it, was this: What in the name of sweet merciful Mary did this woman feel for him?

The dilemma of two nights before came back to haunt him. Despite her many character flaws, and there were many of them, he loved her. It had been creeping up on him since he had first seen her enter the great hall at Middleham and though he had stifled it when she had snubbed him that night and throughout the next two weeks when she had complained about everything, it had budded in the days they had spent together at Eyri Keep, and bloomed that horrible night he had found her huddled in the middle of the road.

Now that they had shared such passion as they had, she was even more deeply ingrained in his body and soul. He thought of her constantly, even when he was supposed to be devoting his full attention to Henry Tudor's plans. Though he had told himself two nights before that he would be able to watch her wed Brackley despite his feelings for her, now that they were on the way to that destiny, he questioned his resolve. If Elena were to go ahead with her betrothal, it would mean she felt nothing for him: nothing but desire. The raised another question for Gareth: Would she, if she did care for him, would she tell him? Pride was only one of her character flaws and Gareth was dreadfully worried that pride would prevent her from declaring feelings for a mere Welsh knight who might have been, and still might yet end up, a humble shepherd.

There was only one thing to be done, he decided, his mind returning to the feel of her shoulders leaning comfortably on his chest. He would have to come right out and ask her what she felt for him. He would have to declare his love for her and suffer the consequences of her rejection if it came. Better that than to forever wonder if they might not have made a life together. That decided, there was only one thing left to plan: When would he tell her? Gareth knew himself well enough to know that once he set his mind on something, he would follow through with that course of action, no matter how difficult, but when? One thing was certain. Now was not the time. He considered his decision for a moment. No, now was not the right time at all.

***

Three hours later when they stopped to eat lunch was not the right time either. It was too soon into their trip, Gareth decided. In fact, the whole first day was too soon into their trip. He figured they would be traveling anywhere from a week to ten days depending on where Richard was. Though Richard's party had been on its way to Nottingham when it had been attacked on that seemingly long-ago day, the king could be at any one of his castles by this time. It would be their first stop, nonetheless. Regardless of how long they would be on the road, it was clear he had plenty of time to tell Elena that he--Gareth swallowed his bite of sausage and bread before he was quite done chewing--loved her. Therefore, he did not need to worry about it today. Or tomorrow either, for that matter.

After lunch, they mounted up, Elena resuming her seat in front of Gareth on Isrid. Gareth neither asked Elena if she wanted to ride her own horse, nor did she offer. As soon as they were comfortably pressed together, they were off.

By midafternoon, the huge white clouds Gareth had noticed that morning in Aberystwyth had turned an ugly grey and now hung considerably lower in the sky, blocking any glimpse of blue heavens or late summer's sun. The first big drops hit them as they were entering a small grove of trees.

"Oh!" Elena exclaimed as a cold wet drop hit her in the face. "It would have to rain as I'm wearing my new dress. I will look like a shapeless sack of grain once this wool is wet."

Gareth studied the gown. "It will hold a good deal of water and keep you cold through the night as well."

"Wonderful," Elena said, her tone belying her exclamation.

"Perhaps you'd best change into your old gown. That way if we do get wet, your new one will still be dry and unharmed."

"I can't."

"Oh come Elena. You look beautiful no matter what you're wearing." Had he really said that? It was true of course, but...

Elena twisted her body so she could see his face. "Thank you," she said softly, a strange look crossing her face.

Gareth reined Isrid to a stop and dismounted. With both horses' reins in hand, he pulled them off the narrow road into the trees. Once under the protection of the leaves, few raindrops hit them, but the storm appeared to be increasing. Thunder rang out every few minutes and Gareth had the bad feeling that they were going to be drenched no matter what they were wearing. He helped Elena down and began unlacing the satchel on the packhorse. "In which bag did you pack your other gown."

"I didn't," she said meekly.

Gareth grinned at her. So she was finally embarrassed over making everyone wait on her hand and foot, eh? Well, perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Alright, where did Cynan pack your dress?"

Elena's manicure called her attention and she refused to meet Gareth's eyes.

"Elena? Where is your other dress, love?" The endearment had slipped out, but it had obviously grabbed her attention, for Elena looked up at him, her eyes searching his before she said, "I gave it to Annie."

Gareth was stumped. "Who's Annie? Never mind, where did Annie pack it?"

"Probably in her trunk."

Gareth felt like he had awoken in the middle of a conversation of which he was not a part. "Elena, we have no trunks."

"Annie is the seamstress who made this gown. I gave her that old blue rag because she liked it and I couldn't stand the sight of it. So I gave it to her."

Gareth stared at Elena without comprehension. It finally dawned on him what she meant. "So in other words, you have nothing else to wear?"

"Well of course not. If you will remember, my luggage was separated from me a sennight ago when we were first attacked. I've been wearing that blue gown since. Surely you are not surprised I got rid of it?"

Gareth shook his head as another raindrop penetrated their meager shelter and landed on his head. "What were you planning to do should that gown become wet?" he asked.

Elena shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I didn't think about it raining."

The realization that they were wasting precious daylight in this inane conversation finally penetrated Gareth's baffled brain and he made a rapid decision. Opening the satchel that held his few articles of clothing, Gareth pulled out a thick pair of blue wool hose and his one clean shirt. "Here," he said. "Wear these. At least you'll be able to ride astride and then when we're drenched, you can change into your dry gown."

"But what about you?"

Gareth was suddenly weary of the delay and the reason for it. "Just put these on. I've traveled in wet clothing more times than I can remember. One more time won't kill me."

Elena looked like she was about to say something and then closed her mouth and took the clothes from his outstretched hand. The rain began to come down heavier now and the overhead leaves, drenched themselves, began to drip water down as fast as it fell from the sky. Elena set the shirt and hose on Isrid's saddle and turned so Gareth could unlace her gown. Then, as the wool grew damp, she quickly pulled both it and chemise over her head, rolling them into a compact, if untidy, ball that she stuffed in the protective satchel.

"I've never been good at putting clothes away neatly," she confessed, apparently unconcerned that she was wearing only her boots in front of Gareth. He wondered if she was too concerned about her new dress to worry that she was allowing him to enjoy a full vantage of her body, or if she were simply so comfortable with him seeing her body that she gave it no thought. He incorrectly chose the latter.

As she picked up the shirt, she clearly became aware that Gareth was staring at her nudity. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes before turning slightly so that her back faced him. Gareth did not complain, enjoying her from this angle as well. When she had the concealing shirt over her head, she pulled her boots off and began to pull on the thick hose. Gareth steadied her as she wobbled on one foot, wondering if he should offer a hand but she soon had the leggings on and was tying the drawstring about her narrow waist.

Judging from her actions and the flustered way she smoothed her hair and tied the cuffs of the rough shirt, Gareth decided that she was, perhaps, a little self-conscious about his being there while she had changed. To make her feel more at ease, he said, "You see? I told you you look beautiful in anything." As he said it, he discovered it was true. The blue hose, which he had yet to wear and stretch since Enid had given them to him back at Eyri Keep, fit her legs and hips snugly, showing curves women's full skirts never allowed. His rough linen shirt was too large on her, but it made her appear all the more fragile and appealing for it. Unable to stop himself, Gareth grasped her shoulders gently and kissed her full on the mouth. Elena responded instantly, her arms snaking up around his neck, her lips parting willingly for his mouth.

With a groan, Gareth broke the kiss, though he still held her pressed tightly against him. "We must move on."

"Can't we wait here until the rain lets up?" Elena asked, her gaze firmly on his mouth.

Gareth considered the idea longer than he should have. It was tempting...

Shaking his head, he said, "There will be light for a few more hours despite the rain and I would have us make up for our late start this morning." Seeing her lower lip pout out, he laughed and said, "Elena, don't make this harder for me than it already is. Had I my way, we would never return to England but would spend the rest of our lives here in this grove."

Elena's pout disappeared. "Truly?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

The voice in his head told Gareth that this was the perfect opportunity for him to declare himself. Judging from the look on her face, the voice said, she might very well welcome your proposal. But Gareth hesitated and in the end, said, "With lips as soft as yours, of course. But we must move on. Come now, climb back up." Elena stared at him a moment before swinging up into Isrid's saddle, sitting astride this time.

"Very well, let's go," she said.

Before climbing up behind her, Gareth pulled out one of their blankets, a thick, scratchy wool affair that smelled faintly musty from having been put away all summer. Once on Isrid, he wrapped the blanket around himself and Elena.

"Phew," she said. "It's too hot to have a cloak on--especially one that smells like a sheep."

"It's not for warmth, it's to keep us dry. Besides, after a while, you may be glad for the warmth. The rain has already cooled the air."

Elena grumbled to herself a while longer and then fell silent. As they made their way east, each remained locked in his thoughts. Gareth's inner voice was chiding him for not speaking his heart when given the perfect opportunity. He argued back that it did not matter when he told her as there was nothing she could do about it until she broke her engagement to Brackley. The inner voice remarked that they could very well change their course and head straight for Eyri Keep where they could enjoy an extended honeymoon until Henry Tudor landed in Britain. And just what would Richard think for never seeing Elena again? he wondered. Come now, the voice replied. She's been gone so long already, he has probably already written her off for dead. Besides, he continued to argue silently, despite what she thinks, ladies-in-waiting are not crucial members of the court. Richard no doubt has three other women filling in for whatever small tasks Elena accomplished. Gareth grew sorely tired of his inner discussion and ended it by telling himself, I've a job to do in Nottingham and that's all there is to it. I'll tell Elena how I feel about her when I'm good and ready and not a minute before. Forcing his mind to consider where they would camp for the evening, he resolutely ignored any other arguments the voice may have offered.

Elena, not troubled by such a persistent inner voice, was content to study the landscape they were crossing. Even in the rain, she thought, Wales is a beautiful place. The dark grey sky, rather than draining the landscape of color, seemed to merely enhance the rich tapestry of silver-green grasses, bright yellow flowers, and lush green trees. The narrow road they traveled had been so worn by years of feet and hooves traipsing over it that it was hard as rock and the rain simply puddled in the low spots rather than turning the path to mud and muck. On either side of the road, brilliant yellow flowers with black centers competed for attention with tall strands of grass that bowed gracefully under the weight of the raindrops. Just ahead, a tall willow tree, its base thicker than a man could stretch his arms, dangled its branches over the road. As they rode beneath it, Elena reached out from under the heavy blanket to pluck a long silvery leaf. Feeling decidedly childish and a bit wicked in her manly garb, she twisted around and tickled Gareth's nose with the end of the leaf.

Gareth welcomed the distraction of Elena's teasing and lowered his eyes from the gloomy horizon to her warm cinnamon-brown eyes, which were alight with mischievous sparkle. He shook his head and grinned. "If someone had told me, two months ago, that the right noble Lady Elena, handmaiden to the King of England, would be sitting astride a horse in hose and a tunic, tickling my nose with a leaf, I would have though they were mad."

"Why? Don't you think ladies-in-waiting have fun?"

"Perhaps. But not with men they consider beneath them. And I would certainly doubt they would do it dressed as you are now."

"You will simply not forget that I apparently snubbed you when first we met, will you?"

Gareth's bark of laughter startled a bird that had taken shelter in the roadside grass. The bird squeaked as it arced up and out into the rain. "I can handle being snubbed. But outright rudeness is a bit uncommon, especially when it comes from one the king has set forth as an example for womanly gentleness."

Looking back to that long-ago night, Elena could scarce remember what she had said to Gareth. Something about him being a farmer or going back to his sheep. Whatever it was, it was no doubt derogatory and Elena wondered, were she in a similar situation now, if she would behave the same. For some reason, she thought that she wouldn't, though she was at a loss to determine why. "I had many other things on my mind that night," she said, feeling awkward.

Gareth stared at the back of her head for a moment and then said, "I accept."

Startled, Elena looked over her shoulder. "You accept what?"

"Your apology."

"Apology? I wasn't making an apology. I was simply explaining that there was a great deal going on that night and if my actions were not what they normally are, then that was the reason."

"Uh huh," Gareth hummed, not the least bit convinced.

"What do you mean, 'Uh huh'?" Elena worked her right leg over Isrid's head until she was sitting sideways in the saddle and could better scowl at Gareth.

"I mean how you treated me that night at Middleham was your usual temperament showing through. I was not a prospective suitor, I didn't dress in the latest mode, and I certainly was not in King Richard's circle of important people. Therefore, you decided that I wasn't worth the time or effort it would take to be polite."

Elena frowned and studied her left thumbnail. Though her initial expression seemed to be anger, his words apparently struck a chord for she looked as if she were ashamed at her behavior.

Gareth watched the play of emotions on her face, thankful that she was not throwing his own rudeness back in his face, amazed that she seemed to be taking to heart his words. Not wishing to hurt her feelings, he said, "It's alright, though."

She raised her head and stared at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're different now."

"Different? How?"

Gareth pushed the hair out of his eyes. Luckily, it was just damp enough that it stayed put and did not fall right back into his face. "Well, you just are. You seem--I don't know--kinder somehow. You seem to notice other people's feelings more and people in return like you."

"They liked me before," she said indignantly.

Gareth quickly backtracked. "What I meant to say was they are better able to see your kind side. As a result, they like you more."

Elena was silent for a moment. Then, "Do you like me more?"

Now! the voice in his head shouted. Tell her now!

No! he shouted back silently. Not 'till I'm ready!

"I like you much more," he said with feeling.

"Perhaps I have changed a little bit. Nobody is perfect, you know."

"Certainly not," he agreed.

"It's very difficult to be close to the king. People are forever trying to use you to gain information or favor with the king. In return, they offer you nothing, so maybe I tended to concentrate on my own needs first. And perhaps," Gareth could tell how difficult all this was for her to admit. "Perhaps I have always been a bit," she cleared her throat, "spoiled. Though that really isn't my fault," she rushed to add. "I was an only child and my parents doted on my many accomplishments and I received nearly everything I wanted, so it's understandable if I may have grown accustomed to that."

"Of course it is," Gareth agreed, trying to contain his smile. He wanted to make this easier for her and was amazed that he was hearing those words come out of her mouth. "And you deserve to have everything you want."

Elena suddenly shook off her maudlin feelings and gave him a cocky smile. "I quite agree."

Amazed at her quicksilver change of emotions, Gareth stared openmouthed at her for a moment. Then he laughed, a loud and hearty laugh. "Nonetheless, you're still not perfect," he said.

"Perhaps not, but you must admit I am pretty good."

"You are very good," he agreed, dropping his gaze to her lips. He grinned when he was rewarded with an honest blush.

The rain had lessened by the time they stopped to set up camp, though a fine mist still blurred the woods with a faerie-like quality, making even ordinary looking trees seem ethereal and enchanted. Gareth led the horses deep into the woods where the drizzle barely reached the ground. He helped Elena down from Isrid and began unsaddling both horses.

"Well, it's not completely dry in here, but we should be warm enough," he said as he scooped away the top layer of wet leaves from the well-mulched ground. Finding the leaves underneath relatively dry, he spread out their bedrolls next to each other. Elena stood watching, thinking that she should probably help in some way. Unfortunately, never having worried herself with such details, she knew not the first thing to do. Hesitant about asking Gareth for direction, she remained by the horses, petting Isrid's velvety nose. When Gareth had arranged the small camp to his liking, he stood and said, "I doubt I'll find any, but I think I'll look around a bit for some dry wood. A campfire would definitely take the chill off our evening."

"I'll go with you," Elena volunteered.

Gareth looked at her in surprise but wisely made not one joking remark. Instead he said, "Thank you," and moved to tie the horses to a nearby tree.

Elena scrambled through the underbrush with Gareth, trying to move as quietly as he did, but it was proved to be very difficult when branches were forever catching in her hair and snagging at her hose. Although, she reflected as Gareth helped her climb over a moss-encrusted log, these clothes make traveling, and firewood hunting, much easier than they would be in a gown, no matter how pretty or new that gown was. Elena felt so unrestrained in her borrowed garb. Her hands were free from holding hems off the ground, her legs were able to take long bounding strides unencumbered by yards of fabric, and, though these were no doubt Gareth's good clothes, she did not have to constantly worry about grinding dirt into the knees or tearing the sleeve on a tree branch. Yes, Elena decided, this mode of dress certainly had its advantages.

Elena followed Gareth's lead in looking for dry wood, burrowing under bushes and pulling apart rotten logs. Though she could not keep her lip from curling in disgust, she managed to keep quiet as Gareth loaded her arms with crumbling logs off of which ants and spiders scurried. When they finally made their way back to camp, the light was nearly gone from the overcast sky. Elena quickly dumped her armload of sticks and began vigorously brushing the dirt and twigs off her shirt. She could not suppress an, "Ugh," when her hand came away from her shirt covered with a slimy moss. With a distinctly queasy feeling in her stomach, she quickly knelt and wiped her hand in the damp grass that carpeted the forest floor. Still kneeling, she glanced up to see if Gareth had noticed her discomfiture. Though he had what looked like a suppressed grin on his face, his focus was fixed intently on building a fire from the smoldering logs. Relieved, Elena stood and made her way to the bedrolls. They offered little cushioning from the ground but they were dry and still warm from the body heat of the horses on which they'd been carried. She lay back on the ground and stretched, glad to send blood to the muscles that were weary of riding all day. Especially her inner thighs, she thought, flexing the muscles in her legs. She was not accustomed to riding astride and it seemed to require the use of a whole separate set of muscles.

Settling into a comfortable position on her side, she was content to watch Gareth stoke the now burning logs and open the satchel containing their food.

Gareth worked steadily, breaking off a chunk of the heavy bread and taking his knife to the slabs of hard sausage and cheese. Standing, he fetched the boiled leather wine flask and uncorked it. Though he worked diligently preparing their dinner, feeding the horses, and keeping the fire going, his mind was on other things; specifically, his beautiful traveling companion. He wondered what had possessed her to offer to help and marveled at her uncomplaining attitude when he had handed her the damp and dirty branches. Of course, she had not offered to lift a finger to help prepare the food, but, he rationalized, how much work was there in tearing bread and slicing cheese? She was, he thought charitably, acting less and less overindulged every day. As he sat down next to her, he again wondered if she would ever consider marriage to a poor Welsh knight.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, handing a hunk of bread to her.

"Yes," she said without enthusiasm and took a small nibble.

Gareth laughed. "Well don't gorge yourself all at once on this feast."

Elena smiled. "It's good enough, I just wish traveling didn't mean cold food."

Gareth thought a moment and then scrambled to his feet, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He searched around in the underbrush for several seconds before he said, "Aha!"

Elena sat up from her reclining position. "What are you doing?"

"You want hot food, Sir Gareth will deliver hot food." He held up a long stick proudly.

"I don't mean to offend you, good Sir Gareth, but that does not look like roasted venison to me."

"Patience, sweet, patience." He retrieved his knife and began whittling the end of the stick to a point. When he was finished, the stick was bare of bark and sharply pointed. He then skewered Elena's piece of bread, her cheese, and her slab of hard sausage. "There we go," he said as he thrust the stick out over the fire.

Elena watched, fascinated, as the cheese began to bubble and turn a delicious golden color. The smell of the roasting sausage made her mouth water as drops of grease sizzled into the fire. Gareth carefully turned the stick, wary that the cheese did not melt off, and when he deemed it finished, he carefully removed all three items, stacking the meat and cheese artfully on top of the toasted bread.

"Fit for a queen," he declared as he handed it to her.

Elena shifted her meal from hand to hand until the bread had cooled enough not to burn her skin. She then took a huge bite, scalding the roof of her mouth on the sizzling meat, but enjoying the taste of the gooey cheese and spicy sausage nonetheless. When she had managed to chew and swallow her unladylike mouthful, she looked to Gareth who was expectantly awaiting her response.

"It's delicious," she said. "I think I will recommend you to King Richard for the position of Chef Extraordinaire when we return."

Gareth's grin of pleasure at her initial response faded when she mentioned Richard. It only reminded him that she would be out of his reach once they arrived at the king's court, and that he was lying to her even now about his plans.

"What's wrong?" Elena asked, worry evident in her voice.

Gareth shook his head. "Nothing."

"Something is bothering you. Is it what I said about making you a chef? I promise I won't tell anyone about your cooking talents if it would make you seem less of a knight." When her teasing evinced no response, she took another approach. "Are you having doubts about returning to Richard?"

Startled, Gareth shook his head. "Oh no, I was just thinking that if Cynan and Bryant found out I could actually make something edible, they'd make me cook every night instead of the three of us taking turns when we're out in the woods. As it is, I have to struggle to make my meals taste bad so they'll offer to cook for me!"

Elena smiled at his response, but Gareth sensed she did not entirely believe him. To his great relief, however, she did not press him further and he vowed to himself to make her forget his temporary lapse into melancholy.

With as much animation as he could muster, he told her of his first night spent in the woods when he was a boy. "Cynan and Bryant and I were finally allowed to go out alone all night. I think we were about eleven years old. As we were preparing to leave the keep, Cynan's father told us to watch out for the bog ghoul who might come steal us away to the underworld. We all laughed, of course, because we were much too grown up to believe in such silly monsters that used to frighten us as children.

"As we made our way into the forest for our grand adventure, I came up with the brilliant idea of sneaking away in the middle of the night and pretending to be this ghoul to scare the wits out of Cynan and Bryant."

"You Gareth? No!" Elena exclaimed, teasing.

Gareth grinned and continued his story. "The start of the plan worked perfectly: I snuck away as soon as they fell asleep, I ran to the stream we were camped near and smeared my entire head with mud. I then stuck leaves and twigs in my hair and practiced my most ferocious growling. As I made my way back to camp, I made sure to crash about, raising all sorts of noise sure to wake the sleeping innocents." Gareth paused and took a swallow of wine.

"You said the start of the plan worked. When did things go awry? Did they realize right away that it was you?"

"Oh no, in fact, they were just coming awake as I crashed through the bushes circling our camp. In the dying light of the fire, I must have appeared quite ghoulish indeed. Cynan and Bryant began screaming most pitifully." Gareth started laughing and Elena poked him in the ribs.

"And?" she asked imperiously. "What happened next?"

Still chuckling, Gareth continued. "I was growling and waving my arms about while they tried to free themselves of their blankets when I noticed something entering camp from the opposite direction."

"What?"

"Coming into the ring of firelight was a creature which made my pitiful attempt at a ghoul seem like child's play. It hobbled into camp and I could see it had a huge hump on it's back, its hair stood straight on end and foamy slobber dribbled down its chin. It was growling horribly and reaching for Cynan who was nearest it. I swear my eyes felt like they were going to pop right out of my head. I forgot all about snarling and sounding demonic and instead began to scream myself. Cynan and Bryant stopped screaming only long enough to turn around and then they joined my chorus. We all took off in different directions into the forest, though we somehow all managed to arrive back at the keep about the same time. We were all blubbering like babes as we told my father our story and I remember wondering why he didn't send out a contingent of armed men."

Gareth leaned back on the bedroll, propping his head up on his hands. Elena curled up next to him. "And? Why didn't he send one out?"

"As we were to discover later, the creature who tried to attack us was actually Cynan's father."

"No! " Elena exclaimed, disbelieving. "Was he mad?"

Gareth laughed. "Oh, no. He was simply an incurable prankster. He was forever dressing up and fooling—well, scaring, actually--the children at Eyri Keep. As soon as we discovered that he had tricked us, we vowed to get even."

"What did you do?" she asked, expecting a tale of humorous revenge.

Gareth sobered. "Actually nothing. A few weeks later, Cynan's father fell from the parapets where he had been working. He died within minutes."

"Oh," Elena said, feeling sorry for the absent Cynan.

Gareth looked at her and smiled. "'Tis no matter. It happened near twelve years ago and I'm sure he went to his grave content that he got the last laugh on us."

Unable to stop herself, Elena yawned.

Gareth stood and banked the fire. "Are you tired? Perhaps we should go to sleep. We have many a mile to travel tomorrow."

"I'm not so very tired," Elena said.

Gareth paused in the act of putting another log on the fire and looked at her. Though she seemed to be intently concentrating on braiding her hair, he was certain her words meant something.

"No? Well, what should we do? Shall I tell you of another of my childhood escapades?"

Elena flicked her braid behind her back and looked boldly up at Gareth. "No."

Though no more words left her lips, her eyes spoke volumes and Gareth obediently joined her in the warm bedding.