Page 20 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
“I am your guard,” he insisted. “I swore an oath to you—and to your father long ago. I will follow you wherever I deem necessary.”
She was just an oath to him, a duty—not a real flesh and blood woman or long-ago friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to change him so. Did he not even want to be near her?
Then why was he standing so close, his breath the faintest breeze across her cheek? She was not a short woman, but he was above her, surrounding her. She couldn’t make out much of his face in the windowless hall, but his intense gaze held her captive. He was nothing like the men at court, who pranced for her favor.
Why couldn’t she look away from those searing eyes? A shot of heat through her middle made her gasp. What was wrong with her?
She stumbled back a step to break this sudden, unwanted connection between them.
“Margery,” he said, his voice low, husky, “if I allow you out of my sight, you must promise that you will not leave the castle without telling me.”
“Very well,” she murmured. “I shall be fine. These are all my people.”
“You’ve known them but a few short months. You cannot afford to trust them.”
~oOo~
After seeing Margery to the kitchens, Gareth returned to the great hall, where even summer could not touch the cool dampness. He sat in a chair before the hearth and absently accepted a tankard of ale from one blushing maidservant, then refused an offer of food from another. When they finally left him alone, he surveyed the room, seeing merely a few women cleaning.
He tried to tell himself that he was angry, but what he really felt was—stunned. He could no longer deny that since the moment he’d arrived, he’d felt an undercurrent of attraction to Margery. When she had put her hand on his chest, it was a fire he had to thrust away before he was burned.
There had been other unsuitable women he’d been attracted to. He’d always overcome such a dangerous weakness, and this time would be no exception. He only bedded experienced women who expected nothing from him, not maidens with marriage on their minds.
Another serving maid interrupted Gareth’s thoughts, holding a shaking pitcher in her hands.
“More ale, milord?” she asked timidly.
The awe in her eyes as she filled his tankard made him wary, and he told himself it was only his face which caused her reaction. He didn’t know how much longer his anonymity would last, especially when he was not hiding his name. He could only hope the story of Warfield’s Wizard had not spread from the southern coast of England. Then every girl here would flee from him, and men would fear him.
But why was he having visions at all? Before he’d found Margery, he’d often gone months feeling normal, with no clue of the future. Now in a span of weeks, he’d felt and seen too many things that made no sense.
He could tell she was in danger, but what could he make of the vision today? His frustration mounted.
As another maidservant began to make her approach, Gareth quickly left the hall. There was only one place to go when he felt his emotions ready to erupt.
The tiltyard took up half of one side of the inner ward. Dust rose in hazy clouds as the packed earth was trampled by horses and men. Troops of soldiers practiced archery and sword-fighting, or took turns riding low over their mounts, trying to jab the quintain with their lance. Overall, he thought they showed much promise, especially with someone as skilled as Wallace Desmond to guide them.
Wallace himself sauntered over a few minutes later. He was coated in sweat and dust, but looked quite pleased with himself. He waved at the dairymaids who’d gathered to gawk and giggle.
Gareth linked his hands behind his back, finding his frown hard to keep. “ ’Tis a good thing I don’t feel any guilt for making you take this position.”
“You should feel guilty,” Wallace said. “While you have a private chamber, I’m sleeping in the barracks.”
A young man wearing an overlarge plated brigantine ran toward them. “Excuse me, Sir Wallace, but we could use your help with the archers.”
“In a moment, lad.” Wallace watched the man bow and walk away. “Thatwas the captain of the guard just yesterday.”
“ ’Tis rather amazing their mistress hasn’t been hurt before now.”
“Did you know a man tried to capture her and her ladies in the woods just a month ago?”
Gareth felt his stomach clench with anger—at Margery, he told himself. “She never told me.”
“Probably because before the man could do more than struggle with her, she kicked him between the legs and they escaped.”
Wallace grinned, but Gareth saw nothing amusing. “Are the defenses secure now?”
“Yes. The gatehouse is never unguarded. But has she told you her troubles yet?”
