Page 47 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
The knight shrugged. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Mistress Margery. I never get a moment of your time, and Beaumont always does. How does he manage that, I wonder?”
“This isn’t an abduction?” she asked in shock.
“Of course not. I just needed some time to convince you that I am the perfect husband.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him. “Do you think it is romantic to bring me into thegarderobe? The smell alone—” She broke off, red-faced, trying to look anywhere but at the two holes near the far wall.
Sir Humphrey glanced around and had the decency to seem embarrassed. “I guess this was not the best location.”
“No, it most certainly was not. And themannerin which you brought me here—” She took a deep breath, controlling herself, knowing that she shouldn’t anger him.
Sir Humphrey stepped nearer. He wasn’t very tall, but he was broad and muscular. He gave her a cajoling smile. “Now, Margery, can you not see how much passion I feel for you?”
As he slid his hand along her arm, Margery pressed so close to the wall she could feel the indentations of the mortar. Her panic was returning. Was this his clumsy attempt to compromise her? Clumsy or not, it could actually work.
Just as the knight took another step closer, and she was thinking of making a dash for freedom, the door slammed open.
Gareth stood there, hands on his hips, looking as cold and dangerous as ever. Margery sagged with relief.
“Townsend,” Gareth said, “did you wish to speak with me? I saw you lingering outside the sewing room.”
Sir Humphrey’s face was mottled with red and white splotches. “Beaumont, leave now while you can.”
“Leave? I cannot do that.” Gareth turned to Margery. “Mistress, Ethel would like to speak to you. It seems I am hopeless about the colors to choose for the garments. Remember to let me know the price.”
“Of course. I’ll go now,” she said quickly. She didn’t even look at Sir Humphrey as she escaped. She knew she should run as far away as she could, but she was curious to see how Gareth handled the situation. She had never thought he would be the kind of man who could moderate his reaction, manipulate a situation to his own advantage. She was still impressed that he was able to play the suitor while being her guard. She hid in a doorway, out of their sight.
“Beaumont, you should not have interfered,” Sir Humphrey said. “I was only doing what we all are trying to do—especially you, in your poverty.”
She expected Gareth to defend himself, but he simply laughed. “At least I am doing it more subtly, Townsend. In your ignorance, you frighten Margery and leave the way open for me.”
Gareth’s voice sounded so different, so amused and cold at the same time. She told herself it was all part of his act; if he’d wanted her money in truth, he could have compromised her a half dozen times by now.
“You will regret this, Beaumont,” Sir Humphrey said.
Gareth’s voice grew softer, deadlier. “Will I? You obviously still wish to test your skills on me. Are you asking to name a time?”
Without hesitating, the knight said, “I am. But I’d understand if you thought you weren’t up to the…challenge.”
Margery couldn’t believe what was happening. Gareth had been controlling the situation, but then a line had been crossed, one visible only to men. She held her breath, thinking how foolhardy men could be.
“I am quite ready for you,” Gareth said. “I shall be at the tiltyard, an hour past dawn tomorrow.”
Chills danced along Margery’s arms as she fled down the hall.
~oOo~
That night, Margery was determined to retire early to her bedchamber. Throughout supper she had avoided looking at Sir Humphrey, because just the sight of his sly, knowing gaze made her shudder. It was as if he knew something of her secrets.
Sir Humphrey and Gareth would meet in the morning, perhaps injure each other grievously. It was all she could think about. She told herself that she was worried about her guard being injured, but deep inside, she knew it was more than that. She had begun to count on Gareth, which she knew was ridiculous. When she chose her husband, Gareth would go back to his own life.
It would be better that way. He made her feel reckless, needy, whenever he touched her, and she had promised herself she would never experience those emotions again. She would live a sedate, proper life.
But the danger in his golden eyes called to her. He would gladly pit his strength against an enemy, even if he died in the attempt. Or maybe his arrogance was so great, he didn’t think anyone was capable of defeating him. He was too confident, too self-assured—all the qualities that made her wary.
She said good night to Anne and Cicely, who both gave her concerned looks. She glanced toward the hearth and saw Gareth pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. His big body moved with the usual easy assurance, but he wore an intent frown. He took a step toward her, but she shook her head. If they talked about his duel with Sir Humphrey, Gareth would know that she was concerned for him. She wouldn’t give him that kind of power over her.
The great double doors to the inner ward were suddenly thrown open. “Mistress Margery!” cried a soldier as he skidded to a stop. “The queen’s minstrels have come. I can hear them singin’ outside the gates. Should I let ’em in?”
