Page 6 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
“Yes.”
She had heard that he had not left the country willingly. She had so many questions, but how to ask without inviting his scrutiny of her life?
“Then why did you come here?” Margery finally said.
“You are in danger.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise and she sat down heavily on the bench. Her hands started to tremble, but she forced herself to calm down. He could know nothing.
He remained standing, his hands joined behind his back, staring at her with his chilly gaze. He didn’t look like he wanted to help her, or even be there at all.
“How do you know such a thing?” she whispered. She remembered the fateful night of her father’s death. Gareth had come to her room when she’d been in danger then.
“I heard things in London.”
She felt the doubts creeping into her mind. Where had he been? What had he been doing? He might have saved her life once, but she could hardly trust him now—she could trust no one.
She sighed. “Yes, I am much the talk at court.”
“Why?”
“It is complicated. But I assure you, I am not in any danger.” She tried to give him a bright smile, but knew it looked forced.
“Then why was that man chasing you?” he asked dryly.
“For a simple kiss.” She laughed. “Surely you have tried to steal a kiss or two from a pretty maiden yourself.”
She thought he would smile. Instead, he raised one eyebrow. “I’ve never had to.”
Her smile died. Of course he’d never had to. He was as beautiful as a statue of an angel.
In her brittle voice, Gareth could hear the truth: Margery was lying. She avoided looking at him for too long. Why was part of him disappointed? He knew what kind of family she came from: a family that rewarded kindness with banishment. What lessons had she learned from brothers such as hers?
She jumped up from the bench, and the sun slanting through the trees painted flickering patterns across her face and dress. Her steps were not delicate and ladylike; she paced like a woman with much on her mind. She was clearly trying to keep something hidden.
But still he was a man, and as she walked before him, he reluctantly noticed the grace of her movements. Her strides kicked her pale yellow skirts out before her, leading him to imagine the length of her legs. He broke into a sweat. This was not the way he meant to think of Margery.
Her waist was long and slender, cinched in fabric that molded upward to cup her breasts. Her collarbones arced out like the wings of a bird, and her neck had the unbending grace of a tall woman at ease with her height. Her long hair, dark brown, was pulled back from her face by a yellow ribbon.
And what a striking face Margery had. Her deep blue eyes flashed with intelligence above fine cheekbones. He stared at her mouth and told himself he was unaffected. But the little girl she’d been in his mind was gone, replaced by a woman—and she was as yet unmarried.
He suddenly realized she’d been talking. “What did you say?”
“I asked you to stop staring at me.” She put her fists on her waist and leaned toward him.
He kept his eyes on her face and not her gaping bodice. “You have changed.”
Her face blanched. She stepped backward, and her arms slid up to hug herself. She was frightened, and that made him even more suspicious.
“I have not changed much,” she said coldly. “And neither have you. I recognized you immediately.”
He pointedly glanced down her body before saying, “I have changed a great deal—do not forget that. But one thing that hasn’t changed is the oath I swore to your father. You need protection, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Gareth, I am fine,” Margery said between gritted teeth. “But please come stay at Hawksbury and rest before you travel on.”
He said nothing.
She looked over her shoulder. “My horse is beyond those trees. Ride with me back to the castle; you must be hungry.”
