Page 24 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
She thought she detected the first hint of wariness in his voice, and warmed to this game they played with the truth. “And what did they tell you?”
“That you had come here, to one of your new holdings.”
“And what else?”
He looked away with uneasiness. Was this another act? Why did she sense a deep mystery about him?
“Mistress Margery, I?—”
“The truth, Sir Gareth.” She wanted to laugh aloud at that.
“I heard that you are free to choose a husband.”
He suddenly dropped forward on his knees, practically in her lap. Cicely and Anne shrieked and started to giggle. He took her hands, pressing his lips against her knuckles.
“Mistress Margery,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into her face, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, “I freely admit I rejoiced on hearing that you are looking for a husband. Can you blame me? I am looking for a wife. I knew what kind of girl you were, and I thought I would see what kind of woman you had become.” He looked down her body, then back up. “A magnificent woman.”
“And very rich,” she said, her cynical smile unforced.
Gareth stiffened. She pulled her hands from his, then watched as he got to his feet. He towered above her, and the twins no longer giggled as they, too, looked up at him in awe.
“You believe the worst of me?” he asked softly.
“I do not know what to believe.”
“Even after everything that happened when we were children?”
“Men change.” She knew that from experience. Men lied, too.
He took a step backward, and his chair almost toppled to the floor. “I shall prove to you that my intentions are honorable. What would you have me do, mistress?”
“Sir Gareth, only time will tell if you are honorable.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Gareth seemed a big man too uncivilized for lutes and singing and embroidery. When she looked up at him, she saw bonfires in the wilderness, the howl of wild animals kept at bay, the protection and warmth of a man’s body through the night.
Anne cleared her throat. “Margery, would you like to play a game with me?”
She shook away such dangerous, forbidden dreams, and quickly agreed. A contest was just the thing to distract her. Anne brought out the Tables board and playing pieces, and began to set them up at the head table.
Gareth remained still, looking down on Margery, who stared at the fire, not at him. He reluctantly admired her quick wit and intelligent responses. To his surprise, he had almost enjoyed saying just enough of the truth to make her uneasy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a conversation with a woman.
Or the last time he had become so easily lost in a woman’s eyes. When she had stared up at him, he’d felt…strange, remote, as if there was more beneath the surface of their shared glance.
He told himself he had simply missed the company of gentlewomen for too long.
Margery stood up without warning. Her shoulder brushed his chest; her skirts surrounded his legs. As he caught her elbow, he noticed that the twins’ backs were turned.
“I taught you this game,” he whispered.
She was silent. He tried not to breathe, so as not to inhale the scent of roses that was a part of her.
“Do you remember?”
“Did we play before a hearth?” she asked, and he could hear the hesitation in her voice. She slowly turned to look up at him.
“We lay on our stomachs.”
She shook her head. “I did not remember that.”
