Page 54 of To Honor

The twinkle in his eye told Evelina he would be teasing her.

“There is my mother, of course. And I’ve three aunts, all of whom will adore you. And then—”

“Gareth,” she interrupted. “That is not what I meant.”

He took a bite of roasted pork. “I know precisely what you meant, wife. But I will not be speaking of any other woman in that way from this day until the day I die.”

“Sweet words that little answer my question.”

He ignored her. “I have a question for you.”

“Even though you’ve not answered mine? You are a slippery one, Gareth.”

“I take that as a compliment, love.”

“Except, it wasn’t meant as one.”

Gareth smiled. “Tell me something of you I do not know.”

Though he did not answer her, Evelina could admit she perhaps might not want to know. So she allowed herself to be led to a different topic of conversation.

“Something you do not know,” she repeated. “I have a mark on my lower back that appears as if it is a crescent moon.”

Gareth finished chewing. “Do you? I shall verify such information myself this eve.”

The thought of it sent a chill up Evelina’s back. Each morn, and night, Gareth had shown her something new. Together, they continued to explore each other’s bodies, each day Evelina less shy with him. Like the man himself, Gareth’s lovemaking was both strong and gentle. One moment he tossed her on the bed, the muscles in his arms flexing, his strength evident. Then next, he kissed her with all the reverence in the world, making her feel as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Which, of course, was not true.

At times, when a shadow passed across his face, she wished to ask him why. Unfortunately, Evelina thought she knew already.

She took a sip of ale. “I very much look forward to it,” she said.

He winked. Evelina loved when he did that.

“Gareth?” she ventured, unsure how to begin.

“Aye, wife?”

Chuckling, the moniker one she was not yet accustomed to, she tried to find the words.

“Evie, you know there is naught you cannot ask me?”

“I do,” she said. “’Tis just that, at times, I can see the worry on your face. Will you tell me why?”

He pushed his trencher away, finished with the meal. Sitting back, he grabbed the mug in front of him and looked at her.

“I worry most for you. If your father . . . Lord Ashcroft . . . does not accept the marriage, you will have lost everything.”

“Nay.” She shook her head. “I will have lost nothing of importance.”

“You would be the wife of a tourney player, our home not one at all. It is not a life suitable for children, but I know no other. I’d hoped . . .” He stopped.

This was what she most wanted to know. “Go on. What did you hope?”

Gareth took a swig of ale. “I’d hope to redeem my family’s name as one of the Guardians of the Sacred Oak. Without them, I am nothing more than a man who can wield a lance well.”

“If Matilda retakes the throne, surely you and your family will be rewarded for your exploits at Lincoln Castle?”