Knights of the Round Table: Geraint Page 3

SIDE by side, Geraint and Enid rode their horses down a dirt road on the way to Camelot. Enid could not remember enjoying a day more. Geraint had a quick mind and a ready laugh. Though he knew much about the world that she was ignorant of, he never made her feel unintelligent. He freely shared his knowledge, and it was obvious he had an adventurer’s love of the unusual.

  Which was probably why he’d kissed her.

  Often throughout the day, her mind wandered to that kiss. It had aroused in her a hunger she’d never experienced before. She knew of the ways of the flesh from experience, but only in the application thereof. Not the immersion, not the sensual experience of giving her heart and soul to a man.

  For the first time, she wanted to share more than her body. The thought held no fright for her; she was not forbidden by custom from enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.

  But she sensed that this sudden, intense relationship with Geraint of Cornwall could hold hidden dangers. Already he had mentioned marriage to her. Though spoken in jest, it seemed a strange thing to mention to a woman one had known for a day.

  So she steered their conversations away from anything about her personal feelings for him. This wasn’t difficult, since she wanted to hear all about what it was like to be a trained knight. She had so many questions, and he answered them all freely. In return, he questioned her about her own training, but never asked why she’d learned it. She was grateful and curious at the same time.

  That night, they found a few trees to camp beneath in the middle of an endless field of grass. As fox roasted on a spit over the fire, they sat side by side in awkward silence. Once the sun had set, the same intimacy rose up all around them, and she found she could think of little else but his kiss. She tried to concentrate on the moon, felt its pull, knew she had another night before she had to renew her gifts of magic.

  But always there was Geraint, watching her. When she reached to add another log to the fire, he took her hand in his and looked into her face.

  “Such beauty, you have,” he whispered.

  A blush seared its way across her cheeks. “But I am not like your women, Geraint.”

  “You will be at ease with them, Enid, I know you will. You will be the envy of many. Your eyes are like stars, winking in the night at me.”

  In confusion, she found herself blinking at him, which made her feel foolish. She tried to turn away, but he caught her arms, slid his rough palms down until he held her hands.

  “Your skin seems bathed in the moisture of dawn, so soft.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth and no longer fought him. He seemed so sincere that she found her heart caught in his words. Was this love? Could she already be losing herself to him?

  He rubbed her hands between his, then turned her palms up.

  “My hands are rough as leather?” she finished for him.

  He whispered her name, then bent his head and pressed his mouth to her palm.

  Her insides seared with an ache that this gentle man treated her so tenderly.

  “I would take away all your pain if I could,” he murmured against her skin.

  For the first time, she wished she had no urgent mission, nothing to stop her from reveling in her enjoyment of Geraint. And then she realized that as long as she learned of his people’s training methods over the next few weeks, what was to stop her from enjoying him as well?

  She lifted his hand and brought it to her face, kissing the palm as he’d done to her. With her eyes closed, she smoothed his hand down her face and neck, then even lower, over her breast. All of her garments separated them, but she didn’t care. She held his hand to her, then opened her eyes to find him staring at her in shock. Were the women so shy where he came from? For a moment, she regretted her boldness, but then she reminded herself that it was her he was drawn to.

  He suddenly pulled her to him, and she found herself seated on his lap, straddling him. His thighs were hard beneath her; she could feel the warmth of his stomach at the juncture of her thighs.

  They stared at each other, both breathing raggedly.

  “You have bewitched me,” he whispered. His hands trembled at her waist, but went no farther.

  Helplessly, she answered, “I did not mean to.” But had she? Was this part of the Lady’s gifts? No, the enhancement of her beauty only made her pleasing; surely it could not change the feelings that existed between her and Geraint.

  “Your innocence is part of your power, part of your allure.”

  Innocence? She felt a pang of regret that she could not offer him that, when it seemed purity was something his people worshiped.

  Geraint licked his lips. “I have never enjoyed myself more than I have with you. I don’t want this to end.”

  She touched his face, savored the rough feel of a day’s growth of beard. “Geraint, every day has an ending. You cannot change that. But we can make tonight last.” She slid against him, used her woman’s body to pillow the hardness of his erection. Though he inhaled sharply, she hurried on. “We can—”

  “We can make all of this last,” he said earnestly. He held himself so still, trembling against her. “My words of this morn seemed foolish at first,” he rushed on, “but they’ve grown on me all day. Be my wife, Enid.”

  In the dark of the night, laughter did not even occur to her. She knew he was serious. She was flattered and intrigued and touched.

  “Geraint, our worlds are so very different.”

  “Then let us make a new world together. That is what a marriage is, is it not?”

  After loosening the laces at her neck, she pulled her jerkin off over her head. “Let us explore this world, Geraint. I don’t want you to feel that you have to offer marriage to me. I freely offer to share myself with you.” She brought his hands to her breasts, now with only thin linen separating them.

  He stared at what he held, unmoving, then with a groan he touched her, letting his thumbs brush her nipples. With a cry she arched back, pressing their hips even harder together. She pulled at the leather skirts of his jerkin, lifting up until she could settle against him even deeper. Only their undergarments separated them now. He was hot and hard against her. With his hands he brought her closer, lowered his head, and pressed his open mouth to her breast. When his tongue touched her, she shuddered even harder against him.

  This was desire; this was passion. No wonder she could only teach the basics of lovemaking, not this riotous emotion. How could one explain this? How could one even counter this?

  “Marry me,” he murmured against her breast.

  With her last reasoning, she told herself that she could not imagine how their worlds would fit together. And how she could hold back secrets from a man she called husband.

  “I cannot!” Then she cried out his name, pressed and rocked herself against him.

  But he pushed her hips away from his until she was perched on his knees. “I cannot in good conscience continue,” he whispered raggedly. “It would be a dishonor to you and my feelings for you. I have fallen in love with you, Enid.”

  She gaped at him. “How can you love me?”

  He leaned back on his hands, eyes closed. “Ask me how I know the sun will rise? That might be easier to explain. But it is a truth I know deep within me, Enid. I will not use you as a concubine.”

  “Does what I want not matter?”

  “We want the same thing—each other.”

  She crawled off his lap and knelt before the fire, hugging herself in the sudden cold. When he tried to put his arms around her from behind, she stiffened, but he didn’t relent, just held her to the warmth of his chest.

  “Is there someone else, Enid?” he whispered against her hair, close to her ear.

  “Nay, no one. I have never had such feelings for a man.”

  “Then perhaps you love me, too.”

  She said nothing—what could she say? Did she love him?

  He lay a blanket on the ground, then drew her back against him to lie behind her. He covered them both with another blanke
t, using his body to warm her.

  Was this love?

  Chapter 3

  IN the morning, Geraint came awake with Enid in his arms. At first he remembered nothing of the previous evening; it was only the rightness of her with him, and how he would be content to awaken like this for the rest of his life.

  But she didn’t want to marry him. She could not trust that something that had sprung up so quickly between them could be real.

  He understood her mistrust. She was obviously used to being alone. Perhaps she was running from the cruel family who’d misused her. He would make her see that she belonged with him, that what they shared was a rare, precious gift to be savored, not thrown away.

  She stiffened, and he knew that she was awake. He would not pressure her. She rolled onto her back and looked up at him tentatively, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

  He smiled at her. “A good morning to you.”

  Her look was wary. “And to you.”

  “Today is the day you shall see the wonders of Camelot. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  She slowly sat up, never taking her eyes from him.

  He grinned and shook his head. “Nay, I have not forgotten what happened between us last night.”

  “What almost happened,” she said in a low voice. “You did not wish to continue.”

  He glanced down her body, and with just a look he was ready for her. “Believe me, I wished to continue. But I love you, and I want more than that for us. I vow that I’ll convince you of that.”

  A little tension seemed to go out of her shoulders, and a half smile hovered on her lips. “You are very certain of yourself, Sir Geraint, prince of Cornwall.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You could be a princess.”

  With a laugh, she said, “And such a responsibility is supposed to tempt me?”

  “It would tempt most women.”

  She rose to her feet and stood above him, hands on hips, letting the breeze flutter her shirt against her body. “I am not most women.”

  “I am counting on that.”

  DURING their morning ride, they were joined by more and more travelers on their way to King Arthur’s court. Geraint saw the many wide-eyed looks Enid received, and she handled it all with an equanimity that he was proud of. She was a strong woman; he would do well to rule with her at his side someday.

  But he wanted her to know the joys of being a part of a community of people, something she must know little about. Just before they were to take a turn in the road that would reveal the majesty of Camelot, he drew her aside, away from the other travelers.

  “Enid, I have a request of you.”

  She smiled at him, and he saw her excitement, the way her eyes followed the people passing them on their journey, especially a troop of knights in armor.

  “Anything, Geraint,” she said.

  He told himself it was natural she be so distracted on this great adventure. But he wanted her attention.

  “Enid, please.”

  Her smile faded as she looked him in the eyes. “I am listening.”

  “These people at court will not understand about your skill in battle.”

  She stiffened. “I will not lie.”

  “I am not asking you to. It is obvious by your garments alone that you have been raised differently than most. I am only asking if you would withhold from training while you’re here. I want all—especially the women—to be at ease with you, to get to know you.”

  “And the fact that I have the ability of a warrior will stop them?” she asked coolly.

  This was going badly. He reached for her hand, glad she let him take it. “I want you to have the chance to make friends, to see what kind of life I can offer you.”

  Her expression softened, and she gripped his hand harder. “I will not fault you should your people reject me, Geraint. We cannot control others. I appreciate the fact that you care enough to try to protect me.”

  “I love you.”

  She didn’t flinch; her smile only deepened and grew more intimate. “Thank you. I give you my word that I will not train while I’m at Camelot.”

  He grinned and kissed her hand before letting her go. “You have my gratitude, Enid—and my heart.”

  As they rode beneath two gatehouses and into the inner ward of Camelot, Geraint watched the awe on Enid’s expressive face. Surely she had never been among so many people, from lowborn peasants and dairymaids to foreign princesses and ladies-in-waiting to Queen Guinevere. He tried to ignore the looks of shock and open curiosity that Enid constantly received. It was only natural.

  But when she made her entrance into the great hall of Camelot itself, it became silent as a tomb at the mere sight of her. Little children pointed, ladies gaped open-mouthed, and men stared with hostile curiosity.

  He had wanted Enid to marvel at the wonders of the stained glass window cut high into the wall, or at the rich tapestries that chronicled the high king’s reign. But instead he saw her face redden as she stared around her. She drew herself up, calm amid the frozen speculation. And he was never more proud of anyone in his life. He held his arm out to her, and she set her hand on his forearm. He led her forward as if she were a princess in truth, instead of the one he wanted to create by joining with her before God.

  “Sir Geraint?”

  The crowd parted at the sound of King Arthur’s voice as he walked forward, away from his raised dais. The high king was a man at ease in the position of power he’d held since boyhood. He wore a simple tunic, not the royal robes of the kingdom. But his bearing marked him as a king.

  Enid sank to her knees before him, and King Arthur gave her an interested glance before smiling at Geraint.

  “Sir Geraint, I did not know that when I sent you on a simple mission, you would find a way to complicate it.”

  Geraint bowed to the king and handed over the roll of parchment from Sir Albern. “Sire, the missive you requested. And may I introduce the lady Enid, a traveler in need of your protection.”

  “I assume you have done a decent job of protecting her so far,” the king said dryly.

  Laughter circled the room, and Geraint made himself relax. He’d barely protected Enid from his baser self the past night, but King Arthur didn’t need to know the details.

  “Lady Enid, be welcome at Camelot,” the king said solemnly, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Enid rose to her feet, and King Arthur studied her. “I think you’ve probably done well protecting yourself before you met Sir Geraint.”

  “I did, sire,” she said in a clear voice. “But it was not nearly so enjoyable.”

  As the crowd roared with laughter, Geraint felt his face redden as if he were a youth. Enid looked about her in confusion.

  King Arthur raised a hand. “Go in peace, Sir Geraint. There is nothing more you need to hear from me. I think you have things well in hand.”

  WHEN Enid descended to the great hall before supper, not many people noticed her except Geraint, and that was how it should be. It was amazing how a change of clothing rendered one just another person in a crowd. Geraint was speaking to a man she did not recognize, yet when he caught sight of her, his face lit with a grin that warmed her clear to her heart. She wanted to see that grin every day of her life.

  She must be in love. She could think of little else but him while they were parted.

  But what was she to do about it?

  Geraint met her at the bottom of the stairs, and took her hand to kiss it. “Enid, you look stunning.”

  She fingered the skirt of the blue gown she wore and blushed. “The queen’s ladies said it was far too short. It will take time to make garments to fit me.”

  “I love seeing your ankles.” He put her hand on his arm and drew her through the crowds to a remote corner with a cushioned bench.

  She laughed as she sat down. “You would not care if I were naked.”

  “Oh, I’d care, believe me. I would have to fight every man here for the privilege of kneeling at your fee
t.” He smiled at her and leaned close. “So how did it go today?”

  “The ladies were very kind, but they did not know what to make of me. I am so much taller. And though I am skilled on a field of battle, I kept tripping over their spinning wheels.” She smiled. “Do you think there is hope for me?”

  His amusement faded, and he looked at her with sincerity. “If you are willing to try.”

  “I am,” she breathed, watching his lips, wanting his kiss.

  He squeezed her hands gently.

  She was very willing to try anything just to be with him. While she’d been with the ladies, she had considered their plight. Just like her, each would eventually marry and live in her husband’s household. She had always assumed the same thing for herself—why should marrying Geraint be any different? And Cornwall was so close to Donella that she’d be able to see her family regularly.

  As for her magic, it would be gone soon, and she would be like other women. Well, other women with military skills. But if Geraint loved her knowing that she was a warrior, all would be well. Her mission would be over soon. He was a soldier; he would understand.

  Geraint was watching her now, and by her very silence she knew that she encouraged his hopes.

  “Enid?” he whispered her name. “Have you considered my request? Will you marry me?”

  Her whole life was balanced precariously on this decision. But how could she leave him? How could she go back to a world he wasn’t in?

  “Geraint.” She said his name softly, simply. “Know that I love you.”

  He smiled. “Your heart already told me that, my sweet. But what is your answer?”

  She closed her eyes on a sigh of pleasure at his endearment, but she could not put off the inevitable. “Geraint, you must understand that there are things I cannot tell you right now concerning my family and my tribe. In a few months, I will want to return home to visit them. Can you accept that?”

  His face darkened. “No one deserves all you’ve done for them, the heavy burden you bear alone.”

  “Regardless, I have sworn an oath. Can you accept these mysteries that are a part of me, and trust that I will tell you when I can?”