Page 75 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
James tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “Margery, please, we had never been fathers. We wanted to protect you from anything unsavory, anything that could hurt you.”
She turned her back on them, tears stinging her eyes, and looked at the draperies where Gareth hid. “You yourselves hurt me. I cried for weeks, thinking that Gareth didn’t want to be my friend. And can you imagine how he felt? He rescued me, and you punished him—a mere child himself.”
“We cannot change our mistakes,” Reynold said softly. “All we can ask is that you forgive us.”
Margery turned to stare at them. They looked serious and uncertain and worried. But she still thought of Gareth, thrust out into the world at twelve years of age, with no family, no home—betrayed. “I don’t know that I can,” she said softly. “I have to think on it.”
Reynold nodded. James opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. They walked to the door, but she didn’t follow them. When they both turned back toward her, she looked away. The door closed.
Gareth didn’t move. Margery hadn’t known he’d been sent away. They’dbothbeen victimized by her brothers—men who thought nothing of manipulating other people’s lives on a whim.
Margery pulled the draperies back, tears running down her face. “I didn’t know what they’d done,” she cried.
He looked into her clear eyes and thought of all the cruel things he’d said to her. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “ ’Tis all right,” he whispered. “You must not blame yourself.”
She shook with sobs. “You…must have felt…so alone. I can’t imagine what you went through.”
“I survived.” He took her face in his hands and kissed the tears she shed for his pain. Her lips were salty with them. She slid her arms up his back and held him tight against her. Her body sheltered him, comforted him. With a groan, he slanted his head and took her open mouth in a deep, desperate kiss.
Never had his emotions swamped him like this. Margery was the only sane thing in his world, and he clung to her now. He suckled her throat, whispered into her ear of her incredible beauty.
Then she stepped back, and Gareth’s eyes widened as she shrugged her nightclothes off one shoulder, revealing the soft perfection of her breast. His mouth went dry when she shrugged again and the garments dropped to her waist. He stared helplessly at her body, his mind flooding with the shock of fierce arousal. With a final fluid movement, she sent the nightclothes sliding to the floor.
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With a feeling of incredible joy, Margery watched Gareth fall to his knees before her. He pulled her against him, bringing her nipple into his mouth. She gasped and arched her back, and he held her tight to keep her from falling. He sucked and licked at her nipple, then worshipped her other breast with his mouth.
She put her arms around his head and held him to her. He moved between her breasts, and his tongue against her made her feel as if she’d never known her own body before.
He sat back on his heels to look at her, his hands sliding lightly from her hips to curve around her buttocks. She didn’t feel embarrassed, only proud as he looked at her with such desire, such aching need in his beautiful, golden eyes. She wanted to be everything for him.
He pulled her toward him again, his mouth against her stomach now. His hands traced light, erotic paths to the front of her thighs, and his thumbs stroked the hair between her legs. She gasped and shivered, and would have collapsed had he not held her up. His fingers slid deeper and deeper, until the unbearable tension and pleasure made her shudder and brace herself against his shoulders.
Gareth stopped moving, and she gave a little cry of disappointment. He couldn’t stop now! He wouldn’t?—
He stood, swung her up into his arms, then kissed her passionately as he strode to the bed. She moaned when he laid her down because she didn’t want to be separated from him. He stepped back and swiftly pulled at the laces of his tunic and shirt. She slid his hands aside, then separated his laces, feeling his skin beneath her fingers.
He dropped his head back, eyes closed, and stood tensely beneath her explorations. She pulled his tunic over his head, then her hands glided over his upraised arms to meet at his chest. She touched him through his shirt, then slid her hands beneath to caress his flat stomach.
“Margery, please,” he whispered, pulling her face up for a kiss. “This is torture. I have to?—”
“Shh,” she said against his mouth, moving her hands up over his chest. “I have wanted to look at you, touch you, for so long.” She took his shirt off, then bent and kissed his nipples as he had done to hers.
With a shudder, he pulled their hips together. She rubbed herself against him as she untied his hose and codpiece, then stepped back to let them slide to the floor.
Gareth was so wonderfully made. She explored his chest, his arms, his stomach with her mouth and hands, touching each scar and fading bruise. She let her fingers tease him, never quite touching his erection, but tickling the curling hair surrounding it. He was trembling, and she felt the wonder and power of what they could do to each other. She walked behind him, kissing his back, gently massaging his buttocks, before sliding her hands around his hips—and took his penis in her hands.
Before she could do more than stroke him lightly, he turned around and lifted her off the floor.
“But Gareth—” she began, laughing. He dropped her back on the bed and came down beside her.
He shushed her with a kiss. “I refuse to spill my seed anywhere but inside your body.”
“You were in danger of that?” she whispered, trying not to smile.
“I want to bring you pleasure.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest.
She moaned softly as he slid his mouth down to one breast, and his fingers teased the other.
