Page 20 of To Honor

“Evie?”

Evelina spun toward the sound.

His hair damp, Sir Gareth wore a different surcoat than she’d seen before. Instead of the golden thorned rose she assumed was the Claymore emblem, this one was plain black. It was the symbol of the Guardians of the Sacred Oak. No heraldry marked them, and on missions this was how the knights appeared. To see him as such . . .

“You wear the mark of the Order.”

He seemed proud of the fact. “I do.”

“I know so little of the happenings at Castle Blackwood, as you know. But I do know they”—she indicated his tunic and surcoat—“are not given lightly.”

“We were told as much. I am honored to wear it.”

“As you should be.”

Greetings out of the way, neither said anything for a moment. Instead, he seemed to be taking in her appearance as she did his. Evelina had worn a gown of deep green, her favorite color. As was the custom, Evelina’s hair hung loose around her shoulders.

“You look beautiful, as always.”

“Thank you. And you, as well.”

“I look beautiful?”

She giggled. “Handsome, more like.”

There. ’Twas in the open, their admiration for each other. As if it were not already, given the fact that each of them risked so much to be here.

“Shall we sit?”

One of the stone benches, overgrown with moss, looked out to the lake. She always thought it curious none seemed to know of this spot.

“Aye,” she said, about to do so when he stopped her. Unclasping the ornate metal pin at his throat, Gareth removed his cloak and laid it down across the bench.

“You will ruin it,” she said, afraid to sit. He did not seem to have the same reservations.

“The laundress may curse me,” he said, “but she will ensure ’tis not ruined.”

Satisfied, she did sit beside him then. It was the closest they had been to each other, aside from their initial greeting, and Evelina’s body responded. A quickening in her stomach and rapidly beating heart made her quite unable to form words.

His hand moved to hers. Taking it, he looked into her eyes as if waiting for her admonishment. One that would not be forthcoming.

“Neither is it my desire to ruin you, Evie. I know as well as you that this, us meeting, is not advisable.”

“Neither is holding the hand of a man I’m not promised to, and yet . . .” She lifted their joined hands and then brought them back down to her lap. “I’ve not held a man’s hand before,” she admitted.

He squeezed hers then, a gentle, reassuring gesture. Continuing to look into her eyes, Gareth smiled. “I can assure you, I do not take the fact lightly and am honored you allow me to do so.”

“You were able to get away easily enough?”

“This morn we trained with Sir Adrian, and I had worried about getting here. Both of the men who I’d trust to send to you were with me.”

“Sir Adrian. So you trained with horses, then?”

“The joust.”

She laughed. “You know something of that, aye?”

“Aye. He did splinter his lance against me, though we did not engage in multiple rounds.”