Page 31 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
She held her breath as Gareth’s eyes darkened to the yellow of the skies before the fiercest storm. He rammed his sword into the scabbard at his waist.
She saw the exact moment Lord George gave a start of recognition. He backed away and almost tripped. What did he know about Gareth?
“Sir Gareth!” Margery said quickly. “You will of course be joining us at dinner.”
“Certainly, mistress,” Gareth said. She watched the storm recede from his eyes as he looked up at her. “But please do not wait for me. I have to wash and change.”
“We will wait, Sir Gareth. I’ll have hot water sent up to your bedchamber.”
Lord George almost raced past her, not meeting her eyes. She told herself Gareth’s reputation only made him an even better protector. But still, she could not hide her curiosity.
The meal itself was a disaster. Margery tried to keep six bickering men from elbowing one another aside to sit near her. Anne and Cicely were constantly whispering into her ears, telling her which man was a duke’s younger son, and which was but a simple knight.
Margery was alone in a room full of people who seemed desperate to see her married, but none of their opinions mattered. She felt stronger, better, than she had in weeks. No longer would she trudge through each day, waiting passively for a fate decreed by the king. She would find a husband on her own terms.
After the awkward meal was over, she spent the afternoon embroidering, introducing herself to some of the men, reacquainting herself with others. The men played cards and gambled at dice. They seemed to have every intention of uselessly whiling the day away.Herhusband would definitely have to be busy—no idle amusement for him. That only encouraged a man to think he should be waited on.
Yet she had to think of Anne and Cicely, too, both of whom would soon be looking for husbands. They were basking in the attentions of so many men. Anne played cards, and even shy Cicely carried on an occasional gentle conversation.
Margery would use such afternoons to further study her suitors. She had to give thought to exactly what kind of man she was looking for.
She smiled absently at Sir Humphrey Townsend, the boldest of them all, who was recounting another of his deeds in service to King Henry. Her gaze often strayed to Gareth, who sat at his own table, a book opened before him. He didn’t gamble with the other men; in fact, he ignored them. She had promised to have the seamstresses make him new clothing, but she had yet to do so. It made her feel ungrateful, considering all that he was doing for her.
Sir Humphrey suddenly said, “And who is that poor fellow, the one who’s made such bold use of your library, mistress?”
“Do you mean Sir Gareth? He is here for the same reasons you are, sir. I gave him permission to use my library.”
Gareth lifted his head and looked at them.
Sir Humphrey’s voice grew even louder. “Mistress Margery, what is his full name?”
Something was wrong. Some wariness that she didn’t understand moved through the room. Everyone was looking at Gareth, who closed his book and sat back, arms folded across his chest. He gazed at Sir Humphrey calmly, yet danger simmered beneath the surface, like a pot about to boil. Sir Humphrey must be a fool not to see it.
“He is Sir Gareth Beaumont,” she said.
Looks passed between the knight and his companions, and their frowns made her even more nervous. She didn’t know what was happening, what knowledge had been loosed through her great hall.
“Gareth Beaumont,” Sir Humphrey said in a loud voice. “Why, Mistress Margery, do you know what kind of man dares to court you?”
Gareth studied Sir Humphrey coldly. “I have nothing to hide. Say what you will.”
Margery set down her embroidery frame and tried not to panic at the animosity between the two knights. “Any good man is welcome in my castle.”
“Even ones who carry with them a curse?” Sir Humphrey said with a smirk.
Her various suitors looked either triumphant or uneasy. Her brother James had used that same word in connection with Gareth. Why had she put off asking Gareth what it meant?
“What superstition is this, Sir Humphrey?” she said coolly. “Do you enjoy judging another man so unfairly?”
Sir Humphrey shook his head. “I am only concerned for your safety, mistress. You do not know?—”
“For a man so concerned with my safety, you seem gleeful.”
The knight paled for a moment before he smiled. “Did you not ask Sir Gareth about his family?”
“He and I are just renewing our acquaintance,” she said, forcing herself not to look at Gareth. “Am I questioning you about your ancestors?”
“Mayhap you should, mistress. I thought for certain your brothers would have told you about the Beaumont Curse.”
