Page 53 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
He took a cloth and began to wipe the salve off her hands. “I kept winning. Rather than treat me as a competitor, they were frightened of me.”
“Does this happen often?”
“It happens enough.” He tossed the towel on the tray and she pulled back her hand. He looked into her eyes. “It is difficult to earn money to eat when no one will let you do what you’re best at.”
Margery backed away from him. He gripped his hands together to keep from pulling her against his chest. He could almost taste victory and revenge—and he could almost taste the sweet saltiness of her skin against his tongue.
“I should go,” she said awkwardly, turning to straighten up the tray.
“But my legs are grievously wounded, mistress.”
She looked over her shoulder with skeptical amusement. “Then I shall leave the tray for you. Bring it down when you’re through.”
Gareth shook his head. “But I am not as skilled as you.”
“You’ll learn.” She opened the door, looked both ways, and disappeared into the corridor.
~oOo~
The next evening, Gareth blocked Wallace’s way out of the stables. “Margery’s birthday celebration is tomorrow. I need you to teach me how to dance.”
Wallace shot him a surprised look. “You know as much about dancing as I do.” He lit two small lanterns, throwing hazy shadows over the sleeping horses and mounds of straw.
“That cannot be true, for that means you know nothing. A baron’s son, not trained in dancing?”
“A knight, not trained in dancing? When you were fostered, did you not learn with your lord’s daughters?”
“No.” Everyone had been afraid to touch him, let alone dance.
Wallace swore softly and looked around. “What if the grooms come, or worse yet, a soldier?”
Gareth smiled. “Surely you are not worried about being seen dancing with me?”
“Is there not a place more…private?”
“Being discovered someplace private would be worse, do you not think?”
“Oh, very well,” Wallace said with a growl. “You know, I am already quite tired of your smile. Just a week ago, I would have sworn you were incapable of one.”
Gareth shrugged as he leaned back against a stall.
“Let us do this quickly. Really, ’tis nothing difficult—just occasional patterns of steps, and lots of dancing in big circles.”
“Show me.”
They were tromping about in the straw when they heard a woman’s giggle. Margery leaned in the doorway, holding back her laughter with a hand over her mouth.
“Sir Gareth, I grew worried when you disappeared from the hall,” she said. “I asked a squire where you’d gone, but…maybe…you didn’t want to be found.” She erupted into peals of laughter, letting the door post hold her up.
Wallace’s face was red. Gareth had a suspicion that so was his own.
“Then you teach him!” Wallace said, stomping out into the night.
Margery wiped tears from the corners of her eyes with her fingers. “Teach you what?”
Gareth linked his hands behind his back, and struggling with embarrassment. He hated feeling ridiculous. “How to dance.”
“The last place you fostered was negligent in your training,” she said, moving forward into the stables.
