Page 67 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
She gently pulled him back until his shoulders relaxed into her breasts, and he wanted to groan. She felt so good.
“I can see soap in your hair,” she said softly, her mouth close to his ear. “I’ll have to rinse you.”
“Yes.” Gareth could whisper nothing else. He was pillowed against her breasts while her soapy hands slid down over his chest. Her fingertips flicked against his nipples and he jerked in her arms.
“Margery, don’t do that.” His voice was an awkward imitation of itself.
“Why not?” Her tongue traced his ear. “I want you to do the same thing to me.”
She tilted his head back against her shoulder and covered his mouth with her own. Her teeth nibbled at him; her tongue licked him. He was wrapped in the heat of her passion, so close to surrender. When she tried to open his mouth, he gripped the last of his willpower and held her away.
“You don’t really want this,” he said hoarsely.
He saw fury come over her face an instant before she pushed to her feet. His head fell back against the tub, and he was suddenly alone and cold, his erection painfully hard.
“Why do you keep trying to tell me what I want?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “I can make my own decisions.”
“You’re angry and frightened because of what happened with Townsend,” he said. “This is the only way you think you can regain your authority.”
She flung her arms in the air. “I don’t knowwhatyou’re talking about!” She stalked around the screen.
He heard her flounce back onto the bed. He sat frozen, calling on all the restraint he’d been forced to develop over the years. Rejecting Margery’s advances was insane. How was this going to work in his favor? He might drive her away permanently.
Yet…it felt like the right decision. He reached down for the bucket beside the tub, stood up, and poured it over his head. With a shudder, he let the now-cold water do its work.
Margery sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, crossed her arms over her chest, and fumed. How dare Gareth tell her what she wanted, what she needed! Every man she’d ever met had tried to influence her choices. Now she was the one in charge of her life—and he wouldn’t let her do what she wanted.
“Margery?” he called.
She frowned. “What?”
“I have no garments here.”
Her eyes widened as he came around the screen, wearing just a cloth about his hips, his skin damp, his blond hair tousled.
“I am sure no one will see me if I run down the corridor,” he said.
“You’re leaving?” Margery tried to sound confident, but only succeeded in sounding fearful.
Suddenly the thought of being alone this night brought on a wave of unfamiliar terror. What was wrong with her? In an instant, she’d gone from desire to fright. Sir Wallace had surely searched the grounds and the castle; no one could get to her. In an hour or so, dawn would lighten the sky and she’d be safe for another day.
Gareth set his pile of dirty garments on a chair, then stood beside her bed. “I promise you that from now on I will be ever vigilant. This will never happen to you again.”
Childish words spilled out of her. “I just…cannot be here alone tonight. Please?—”
He sat down beside her and the mattress made her lean toward him.
“Your ladies could come sleep near you,” he said. “I shall post guards right outside your door.”
“No guards! I cannot show that I am afraid. And how could I explain all this to Anne and Cicely? Please, just…stay with me.” She breathed her last words in a soft voice as she gazed into his eyes.
“Margery—”
“Please, Gareth.” She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. His skin was so warm, and smelled like soap. She heard his quick intake of breath. Now he would take her in his arms; now he would give her memories she’d grow old cherishing.
But he held her away. “I’ll stay. Let me tuck you into bed, and I’ll make a pallet before the fire.”
She wanted to groan aloud. What did she have to do, force him back onto her bed and climb atop him?
