Page 42 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
Someday Wallace would learn that a man could only trust himself. “Are you going to stand in my way? Margery is looking for a husband, and you cannot be unaware of her charms.”
Wallace shook his head. “Have no fear, Gareth. I would not go against a friend. But be careful; it is a dangerous game to ask a woman to trust you while you lie to her.”
Gareth opened his mouth, then closed it. Wallace was heir to a barony and a decent inheritance. How could he possibly understand what it felt like to be desperate, to know that one family had stolen his only chance at happiness?
~oOo~
After a sleepless night, Margery was angry with herself. Over and over she replayed her actions with Gareth. How had an argument led to being held in his arms? Yes, he had begun the embrace, but she had let herself sink against his body as if starved for a man’s attention.
None of this was part of her plan. Gareth was certainly not the perfect man for her. He could be kind when he wanted to, but contentment would never be one of his virtues. He was strong-willed—and he was dangerous. She could not control her feelings when she looked into those golden eyes. She would find a man who didn’t make her feel wild, reckless; a man whom she wouldn’t mind lying to.
She imagined Gareth’s face when she told him her sins, told him she couldn’t bear children. She felt ill just imagining the contempt and disappointment he would try to hide.
So why did she keep allowing him to touch her? She could still feel his thighs against hers, his chest a solid wall of strength.
Margery reminded herself that she had employed him for his strength and skill. Of course she admired those qualities—but from now on, she had better admire them from a distance.
~oOo~
When Gareth faced Wallace at the tiltyard the next morning, he wondered what to expect. Would the man now feel free to intrude on Gareth’s private concerns, to discuss his pursuit of Margery as if he were entitled?
The day was hot and damp, and Gareth needed to battle out his frustrations, not talk about Margery. His training partner merely grinned, hefted his sword, and began the attack. Gareth wanted peaceful silence, but Wallace could easily talk and fight at the same time. Gareth sighed as he listened to Wallace discuss the castle defenses, Margery’s suitors, anything that seemed to surface in his cluttered mind between grunts of exertion. Gareth attacked harder and harder, but still Wallace had enough wind to prattle on.
He suddenly realized that Wallace had mentioned Margery’s plans for the day. “What?” Gareth said, ducking away as the sword arced past his head.
Wallace laughed. “I knew you were not listening.”
“If I listened to everything you said, my mind would explode.” Gareth parried away Wallace’s sword. “Did you say that Margery wants to eat a meal in the glen?” He crashed his sword down toward Wallace’s head, and watched him use his shield to parry it. “You just want to get rid of me so you don’t have to fight.”
Wallace gasped for breath and slashed with his own blunt sword. “Not…true. Remember, I train…all day, while you…pick flowers.”
Gareth drove him back, until Wallace came up flat against the curtain wall. He heard a whistle of wind only a moment before he had time to knock Wallace’s sword aside.
“You’re good,” Gareth said, stumbling toward Wallace’s right.
Wallace crouched and held his sword before him. “You are too easily distracted these days.”
Wallace was right, and it was all because of Margery. Gareth straightened and let his sword dangle. He looked toward the castle, wondering what she was doing. They hadn’t spoken since the previous afternoon. He’d pushed too hard about her secrets, even though he knew she didn’t yet trust him. In penance, he’d left flowers by her plate again this morn.
Wallace came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “My friend, I’ve been thinking.”
“Instead of talking?” Gareth asked dryly. “I am amazed.”
Wallace laughed. “Why do you not declare yourself her true suitor? I think she would welcome it, and you would not have to lie anymore.”
Gareth shook his head. “We discussed this yesterday. Nothing has changed.”
“I heard what they’ve been saying about this family curse of yours. Why didn’t you tell me before? It explains why you came to France, why you’re lying to Margery. If I don’t hold your ancestors’ deeds against you, she won’t.”
“You don’t have to marry me,” Gareth said coldly. “Nor do you have to convince your brothers to accept me with all my poverty.” He shrugged Wallace’s hand off his shoulder and forced a smile. “I have an outing to prepare for.”
~oOo~
Late in the morning the servants set off for the glen, driving carts loaded with provisions, even pavilions in case of rainfall. Gareth, mounted on his stallion, looked up at the bright sky and hazy sun. Perfect courting weather.
Squires dressed in the colors of their lords stood ready with the horses. Margery and her ladies and suitors descended from the great hall in a boisterous group. Gareth watched them take up their reins, saw who bothered to thank his servant. Already he knew how well each man fought. Now he just had to talk to them. Surely he could find a good reason for Margery to dismiss every one of these men as unsuitable.
He settled on Rutherford Norton, the Earl of Chadwick, as his first target. The man seemed quiet and easygoing, which perfectly matched Margery’s definition of a husband. Perhaps he hated court politics, and would never leave Margery’s side. Then she’d be burdened with Chadwick every day of her life.
