Page 23 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
He linked his hands across his stomach. “Yes, my lady,” he said, his deep voice deferential.
Margery’s heart sped up with unexpected worry. She and Gareth had never discussed what story they would tell the world. He could create any wild, outlandish tale, and she could not say him wrong.
“So you have met before?” Anne continued.
“We knew one another as children, when I fostered at Wellespring Castle.”
“As children,” Anne repeated, glancing from Margery to Cicely, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.
He nodded. “I was a few years older, and in my youthful foolishness, thought myself quite beyond the childish games she wanted to play with me.”
The twins giggled, while Margery’s gaze was frozen on him. She had never thought he would be capable of banter.
“She followed me everywhere,” he said, glancing at her. “I confess that I often made certain she could not find me.”
She wanted to jump to her feet and defend herself, to swear that he was making up lies. But a deep part of her wondered if it was true. Had she been so annoying? Surely that couldn’t be the only reason he was bitter toward her and her family.
Then Gareth leaned forward and took her hands in his. Though she tried to pull away, he gripped them harder, uncomfortably so. Was this just another contest he needed to win?
“Mistress Margery, I have learned the error of my ways.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. His skin was warm, rough, and callused from hard work. It heated her palms, and the warmth spread up her arms to tingle through her breasts. When those golden eyes captured hers, she had a hard time disbelieving anything he said.
Cicely stopped strumming the lute to openly watch this new entertainment.
Anne said, “Sir Gareth, if you fostered with Margery’s family, why have you not visited her before? Did you think she was still a child?”
His gaze dropped down her body. Margery thought,Please let him not feel my foolish trembling.
“No, not a child,” he said, his eyes returning once more to search her face. “I have lived in Europe for the last four years. I met many women, but always, in the back of my mind, I wondered about my childhood friend.”
Such exaggerations. He hadn’t thought of her at all. “According to you, I was more of a childhood tormentor.”
Everyone laughed, and she forced her own smile.
“But that does not mean I didn’t admire your spirit.”
He finally released her hands and she quickly sat back. She felt the prickle of perspiration on her upper lip, and desperately wished to wipe it—and any trace of her reaction to him—away. How humiliating to be so affected by a man who stayed with her only out of duty. She wished that she hadn’t thrown away her innocence, that she didn’t know where such feelings could lead.
“But why return now?” Cicely asked, setting the lute aside.
Margery could see what they were doing. The twins wanted to know if he returned merely because he’d heard about the king’s bequest. She held her breath, as if she, too, needed to hear the answer.
“I grew restless in France. Battles and tournaments held little allure, so it was time to find my place in life, to look for a good English girl to marry.”
She felt herself blush again. Lies, all lies. As if he would ever trust anyone.
“Please, ladies, do not think I considered myself worthy of Mistress Margery.” Gareth leaned forward in his chair, pitching his voice lower and looking deeply into her eyes. “But I knew I had to see you again.”
Even Anne sighed.
Though it was all an illusion, Margery clung to his words. She wished that a manwouldwant her just for herself—not her money or status or property.
But then, Peter hadn’t wanted any of that, either. He had wanted to conquer her body, to make a fool of her. Even in the spirit of make-believe, she couldn’t let another man think he was seducing her so easily.
“Then how did you find me, Sir Gareth?” she asked, rather amazed at her own cool voice.
He raised one eyebrow, then sat back. “I went to London first and asked about you at court.”
