Standing, she stretched her stiff muscles and hearing the faint sound of trickling water, foraged through the edge of the forest until she found a small spring. There was barely enough water to splash in, but Elena managed to wash her face and arms and drank the cool sweet water until her thirst abated.
She sat on the rocky bank and stripped off her shoes and threadbare stockings. Though the chill of the water made her inhale sharply, she soaked her feet in the cold water, relishing the quiet beauty of the forest. How odd, she considered, that she should feel so at peace here, in this glen, in this country. It was as if the fever she had suffered had burned away her earlier life, freeing her from the angst of living in the king’s court: the constant scheming and manipulating—and that just for the chance to wait on someone of higher rank, or to gain a more prestigious seat at the next feast. The relief of not trying to live down a disgrace, not worrying what others thought of her, was so great, she wondered if she could ever return to Richard’s court.
Elena drew her cold feet out of the water and stared unseeing at them. Had she changed so much in such a short amount of time? she wondered. Well had she played the calculated games of court life. She’d been proud of her knowledge, her ability to read people and manipulate them to better her own position. Would she not miss the stimulation of such daily calculation and risk? She searched her heart and mind. No. She would not.
True, there was the dreaded betrothal to the Earl of Brackley. Elena might have been able to wheedle her way out of it, but it had opened her eyes at just how little control over her own life she had had as a member of the king’s court. Here in Wales, she had seized her destiny, chosen her path. She had saved the lives of Gareth and his friends. She was no pawn in a larger game. The feeling was as frightening as it was invigorating.
Then, too, there was Gareth. Her feelings for him had rapidly evolved from scorn and hatred to…to…well something far more unsettling. Waking up in his arms, sharing powerful, drugging kisses with him had set her blood on fire, something she’d never encountered with her other, more “noble” suitors. And the thought of someone like Lord Edgeford risking his life for her was preposterous. Elena knew without a doubt that Gareth would die before allowing harm to come to her. It was a heady, utterly unfamiliar feeling to be so protected.
She had no idea what the future held, where she would end up after they reached Aberystwyth, but she would trust—at least for the time being—in the powerful attraction between her and Gareth.
Standing, Elena debated taking off her travel-stained gown and having a proper bath when a step behind her made her realize Gareth must be awake. Looking over her shoulder, her smile nearly turned to a scream. Behind her stood not Gareth but four men, soldiers no doubt, judging from their leather armor and weapons.
"What is your name?" asked one in English. Elena assumed he must be the leader. He was short and stocky, his iron-grey hair clipped unfashionably close against his head, his face furrowed with lines of wear and as tanned as old leather. Dear God, she thought. This is the man the abbess sent to find Gareth! Elena bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall over her face, pretending to humbly grovel to the captain. She glanced up at him to see if he recognized her.
His eyes were black and glittered sharply under bushy grey brows, but they gave no hints that he’d seen her before. "Where do you live?" he asked more harshly.
Elena said nothing, frantically trying to think of what to do, what explanation she could give for being here. Had they come across Gareth yet? No, they couldn't have. They had obviously approached her from the opposite direction.
The man barked his questions at her again, this time in hesitant Welsh.
Elena's thoughts raced through her mind frantically. If he thought she was Welsh, perhaps she could convince him that she and Gareth were not the people he was looking for. Assuming, of course, they even knew Gareth and his friends had an Englishwoman with them.
"Marared," Elena said improvising quickly. "I live in Gwynedd."
The captain stared at her keenly. Behind him the other two began making suggestive remarks under their breath, chuckling lewdly. Sweet Mary! Elena thought. What if this man is accustomed to turning prisoners over to his men?
That worry was cut short when the captain's head snapped around and he glared at his men for a long moment. The men sobered abruptly and he turned his attention back to her.
"What are you doing so far from Gwynedd alone and in the middle of nowhere?"
His stumbling Welsh gave Elena time to frantically think of a response. While he waited for her answer, he nodded to his men, instructing them to search the area. As soon as Elena saw one head in Gareth's direction, she knew what she must say.
"My husband and I are traveling to visit my family in South Wales."
The captain lifted a thick eyebrow. "Where is your husband?"
"He is napping just over there," she said pointing.
The captain called his men back. "I don't trust a woman and especially not a Welsh woman," he snapped. "Stick together in case they're armed."
Elena led the way back through the trees, making as much noise as possible to hopefully wake Gareth. When she finally reached him, she realized he must be more exhausted than she had thought. He had not moved an inch since she had laid him on the ground. Crossing to him, she gently shook him.
"Gruffydd," she called softly as he awoke with a start. "It's alright, it's only me, your wife Marared," she said, staring hard into his eyes hoping he would understand what she was trying to do. Gareth glanced over her shoulder and pushed himself hurriedly to his feet.
"Gruffydd," she said more loudly as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it meaningfully. "They mean no harm. They found me over at the stream and were worried that I was alone, I am sure. I explained that we were only resting on our way to--"
"Hush woman!" the captain shouted in English.
Elena ignored him long enough to say, "--Cardiff."
Gareth stared at Elena in confusion but snapped to attention when the captain said, "I suppose it's too much to hope you speak English."
"I--I speak a little, my lord."
"How nice," the captain said snidely. "Now suppose you tell me where you came from."
Elena stared at Gareth, willing him to give the answers she had already given, but he resisted the urge to look at her for confirmation.
"We live in Gwynedd."
"Yes, I know that. Your charming wife managed to babble that much to me," he said in a tone whose politeness was belied by the razor sharpness below it.
Elena could feel the relief course through Gareth. "We live in Bjaeneau Ffestiniog. We are traveling to--" Gareth paused and Elena prayed he would remember. "Cardiff in South Glamorgan."
"You wouldn't happen to be going by way of Aberystwyth, would you?"
"Aberystwyth? That's nowhere near Cardiff."
"I realize that. But--"
"Aberystwyth?" Elena asked, tugging on Gareth's arm. In rapid Welsh she continued, "Is there a fair on at Aberystwyth? You promised we would go, husband. Remember? When you made me miss the last one?"
Behind him, one of the soldiers laughed until the captain glared at him sharply. The soldier sobered instantly. The captain did not laugh or even smile. He merely scowled harder.
"There are a pack of traitors on the loose in these woods. Have you seen anyone in the last few days?"
"No, my lord. Although we did hear something in the brush last night. Weren't sure if it was man or beast, but it didn't bother us so we let it be."
"And where were you last night?"
"About two miles due north," Gareth lied.
The captain studied Gareth and Elena for several moments before turning away. He took a step and then turned back. "Gruffydd, was it?"
"Yes, my lord," Gareth said hesitantly.
"And your wife's name was...?"
Elena tugged impatiently on his sleeve and said in Welsh, "Are we going to stop and see Bryant's betrothed on our
way, husband?"
"Another word from you and I'll have you bound and gagged," the captain shouted at Elena.
"My wife's name is Marared. I believe in English it is Margaret."
"Of course," said the captain. "Gruffydd, you and Marared had best watch yourselves. Traitors are at work in your country and they care not who they kill or maim. Why in Machynlleth, they murdered an honest innkeeper and his wife who had given them food and shelter during the rains." The captain turned away and Elena felt her stomach clench. Beneath her fingertips, she felt Gareth’s arm muscles tighten in rage as the soldiers mounted their horses and rode west.
When they were out of sight, Elena spoke. "They," she began. “They killed those people, didn't they? Those people who helped us."
Gareth nodded and because he didn't know what else to do, took her in his arms and held her tightly.
"But how could they have found out?"
"One of the villagers probably told them."
"But...I thought the Welsh always stood with each other against the English."
"Not always. As in any country, there are those who seek to gain the most from whoever is in power." And then, trying to distract her from the deaths of the innkeeper and his wife, "That was fast thinking, telling them we were wed and traveling to Cardiff. I doubt I could have done so well on such short notice."
"I was sure we wouldn't live to see another sunset," Elena said suddenly shaking uncontrollably from a belated case of nerves.
Remorse and guilt swamped Gareth. "I'm sorry my lady. Ever since you've been under my care, you've been in more danger than if you had tried to walk alone back to Middleham. I have needlessly risked your life time and again. You must think Wales the most bloodthirsty country on God's planet."
Elena lifted her head from his chest and stared at him perplexedly, her fear forgotten. With a small shake of her head she said, "On the contrary, I have never felt such a sense of home and belonging. I would not trade the last six weeks for the rest of my life."
"But sleeping on the road...you nearly died trying to warn us about the soldiers--"
"Do you jest? Compared to waiting on Lady Elizabeth hand and foot, I've had it easy."
Gareth smiled and peered closely at her face, "I say, what have you done with Lady de Vignon? Surely you are not the woman who said 'I cannot be expected to sleep rolled up in a blanket with three servants'."
The smile faded from Elena's face and she pulled out of Gareth's warm embrace.
"We had better continue to Aberystwyth."
Gareth stared at her back pensively before turning to gather up their belongings.
Chapter 14
They approached Aberystwyth in late afternoon, after having detoured to make sure they were not being followed by the English soldiers. The sky was a brilliant azure, and as they crested a hill just outside of the city, they could see the waters of Cardigan bay, a deeper, tempestuous blue. The breeze coming off the water was fresh and clean and cooled Gareth and Elena as they rode into the city. Elena bent to shake her skirts. As she tried to smooth her hair, Gareth chuckled behind her, amused that she should be worried about her appearance when he was just glad they were alive.
"Worry not, Elena. Though large for Wales, Aberystwyth is too small to scorn you for your appearance. Besides, you look fine," he said reassuringly. He meant it: her windblown chestnut hair glinted like fire in the sunlight and spread about her shoulders enticingly. From over her shoulder he could see her left cheek and it was smooth, like velvet, and rosy from her days in the sun. Glancing a little farther down, he could just make out the soft swell of her creamy breasts.
Elena craned her neck to see the expression on his face and determine if he were joking. He realized she could tell where he’d been looking and smiled guiltily, but she merely shook her head and turned back around. "I did not realize my illness was catching. Surely you must be suffering from a fever if you think I look 'fine.' I have never worn a dress as much as I've had to wear this one," she said, nodding at her travel-stained skirts. "I doubt I could even recognize a fashionable gown if one landed in my lap."
Gareth grinned at Elena's lighthearted tone. Never had he heard her speak with the least bit of self-deprecation. He could not believe this was the same woman who had imperiously ordered him to make her breakfast all those weeks ago. Hoping that her good mood would last, he risked asking her about her change of heart.
"Lady Elena?"
She turned again, her eyebrows lifted at the solicitous note in his voice. "You've never called me that before."
Gareth was momentarily throne off balance. "What? Of course I have."
"No you haven't," she insisted. "You've called me 'Elena' and 'my lady,' and a few less complimentary phrases, but never 'Lady Elena.'"
Gareth didn't see what her point was and the confused look on his face made Elena laugh. "I wasn't criticizing you, merely commenting on the discovery that you do actually have manners." Gareth scowled at her remark, but she quickly distracted him. "Now what were you going to ask me?"
Gareth considered saying something about her not actually having manners, but decided that might cause her to turn into the woman of stone she had been so often in the past. Carefully phrasing his question, he said, "I was just wondering."
"Yes?"
"When we first met, weeks ago, you detested me—all of us for that matter—but now you seem different."
"How so?" Elena asked quietly.
"You seem more at ease. More, well, like one of us."
"But I told you, I have a Welsh grandmother."
"That's not what I mean. I mean, before you were so haughty, treating everyone around you—us--like they were servants. You seemed to think that anyone who was not important in the king's court was simply not important." When Elena remained quiet, he hastily continued. "But since we left Eyri Keep, you escaped the relative comfort of an abbey to reach us, risked your life to warn us of danger, shared your food uncomplainingly, and lied through your teeth to protect me from those English soldiers. Would you care to enlighten me as to why, or how, you have changed so much?"
Clearly stalling for time, Elena said, "If you think that abbey at Dinas Mawddwy was comfortable, you must have been raised in a barn. I doubt they had a down pillow in the whole musty building."
Gareth stared at her patiently. He knew she would find it difficult to answer for such a change of character. He knew he would be hard pressed to explain why he had treated her so poorly when she first travelled with them. Even now, he could hear the disdain in her voice when he had asked her to dance that long ago night in Middleham. But the bitterness of that encounter was overlaid with the sweetness of her kisses, the softness of her skin as he had caressed it…
"At court," she began hesitantly, interrupting his thoughts, "nothing ever happens. I mean really happens." She paused clearly searching for words. "We change clothes a lot. We whisper about newcomers, we gossip about those we don't like, we try to become the king or queen's favorite and we--everyone, men and women--try to marry to better our position at court. There is no substance to what we do or how we live. We do not build anything, we only tear down. We do not help the king run the country. He has a small group of advisors who do that and the rest of us simply exist. I think ‘tis why, when you take us out of that world, we treat you like you are nothing--to make ourselves seem important, seem necessary.
"And then, the more I was away from that world, the more time I spent in your world, the more I realized that what you were doing really counted. Whether Henry Tudor be wrong or right for England and Wales is beside the point. At least you are doing something to affect your world. Even those people we first stayed with--Gruffydd and Catrin--they make things, they produce wool, food--"
"And many, many children," Gareth cut in, trying to lighten her expression.
Elena smiled, but the flow of words did not lessen. "They don't live off the work of other people, they support themselves. And Enid. No one has ever been nice to
me like she was. I know your father told her to wait on me, but she went beyond that. I felt like she was my friend."
"I'm sure she thinks the same of you."
"And finally at the abbey, when I heard that old crow telling the English soldiers to go after you, and I decided to ride and warn you, I felt alive! I felt that I was finally doing something that would mean something!" Elena looked at her hands as if embarrassed at what she had just said. "I--I mean, I knew it wasn't much, but it felt important. Really important, not pretend important." Her words exhausted, Elena fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve, refusing to meet his eyes.
For himself, Gareth was overwhelmed. Elena had never spoken in such depth about her feelings. Neither had she ever spoken critically of her life at court. But what affected him most was her glowing commendation that he was working for a better country. Realizing that the silence between them had continued, and that she might be feeling awkward at having revealed so much, he quickly said, "In the first place, what you did was more than 'not much.' You saved three lives and since mine was one of those three, I think what you did was very important." He paused and smoothed the hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "I also apologize for not being more understanding in those first few days. I should have realized that it would take a while for you to get used to sleeping on the ground and bathing in a stream."
"Mistake me not!" Elena said, some of her old spunk returning, "I'm still not used to waking up with bugs in my chemise, and I would take having my luncheon served to me in bed any day over that disgusting stuff you call dried beef."
Gareth smiled and succumbed to the temptation he had been feeling since she started talking. Turning her head gently with his thumb and forefinger, he leaned forward and placed a warm, soft kiss on her lips. When she did not pull away, he intensified the kiss, slanting his lips across hers as her mouth opened. Slowly, Elena began responding to the kiss, matching his firm pressure with sweet movements of her own. With a groan, Gareth pulled away, conscious that they were only moments away from the city walls.
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