Page 89 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
“Me? My arrogance protects me from madness. I’m so foolish that even when the visions warned me you’d be riding away with a man, I thought it was I!” His laugh held no amusement. “I let you get kidnapped. Do you not see, Margery? You don’t deserve this.”
She tried to kiss him, but he wouldn’t lower his head. She leaned against his chest and pressed her lips to his throat. “But you found me. ’Tis all that matters.”
“Fitzwilliam wants you back,” he said coldly. “You should marry him.”
She looked up into his remote face. “You want me with a man likehim? Last spring, he told me he wouldn’t marry me because I hadn’t conceived his child. He told me that I was barren, worthless.” The words tumbled from her lips like the tears from her eyes.
Gareth stared at her, wide-eyed. “You had only lain with him twice. Surely you know his words meant nothing.”
“I had no one to ask,” she whispered. “I know you think I’m a fool. But I had not only dishonored myself with him; I hadn’t conceived.”
“Margery,” he whispered, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Some women take a long time to have children.”
“But you would not care, would you?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course not. If I was your husband, I would love you no matter—” He stumbled over his words as he saw the trap. “But I will never be your husband.”
“Gareth, please?—”
He disentangled himself and stepped back. “If you cannot choose Fitzwilliam, choose Wallace Desmond. He’s a good man. Now go back to your bed before someone discovers you here.”
For a moment she wanted to melt into his arms and press kisses to his face. He loved her, he had almost admitted it. And she loved him.
“This isn’t finished between us, Gareth,” she said fervently.
He turned away.
Somehow, Margery would convince him that they were meant to be together. She was too close to happiness to accept less.
~oOo~
For the trip to Greenwich Gareth packed all his belongings, since he wouldn’t be coming back to Hawksbury. At dawn he loaded his saddlebags, and as he stuffed the garments down as far as he could, his fingers encountered a small bulge. He pulled out a balled piece of leather.
Slowly, he unwrapped it and found his half of Margery’s crystal stone, which reflected the lantern light in a scattered pattern across the wall. He almost threw it away—then closed his fist around it tightly. It was all he would have left of her.
Someone entered the stables behind him, and he quickly shoved the stone into the pouch hanging from his belt. He tightened the saddle, then turned and found Wallace watching him.
“Is something wrong?” Wallace asked softly.
Gareth shrugged.
“You haven’t seemed yourself these past few weeks. In fact, you have stopped your pursuit of our fair mistress.”
“I’ll be leaving as soon as she chooses a husband.”
Wallace put a hand on his shoulder and Gareth stared at it in surprise.
“What made you change your mind about Margery?” Wallace asked.
“You were right. I couldn’t lie to her anymore.”
“I think there’s more to it than that.” Wallace lowered his voice. “That knight who came here accusing you of wizardry—tell me about him.”
Gareth knew he should keep lying; Margery had preserved his secrets with her laughter. But as he looked into Wallace’s face, he couldn’t break the trust they had begun to build between them.
“Some of it is true. I see things other people don’t see, though I wish I didn’t. In my mind, I saw Lord Warfield’s son taking ill. Then I simply forgot it hadn’t happened yet, and asked after his health.”
Wallace watched him solemnly. “That is how you knew Margery was in danger.”
