Page 27 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold (Secrets and Vows #4)

26

A t the end of September, the palace at Greenwich came alive to celebrate the return of the king from the battle of Stoke. Hundreds of candles blazed throughout the presence chamber, where the golden thrones of King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth were elevated. Tapestries and multihued banners of cloth were strung from the walls.

Margery stood beside her brothers, dressed in a pale blue brocade gown that shimmered with cut glass and pearls, wearing a decorated cap with the sheerest veil covering her long hair.

She knew she should be nervous, but a calm determination had come over her. Both James and Reynold eyed her with suspicion, but she merely continued to smile with confidence—and answered none of their questions.

Instead she looked over her shoulder, searching for Gareth. She had made Wallace promise to keep him in the presence chamber. She spied Gareth in the second row of the large crowd, looking grim. Their gazes caught and held until he looked away. He shone with that savage, bright beauty that almost hurt her eyes. In his royal blue doublet, he glimmered as a jewel among common stones. She offered a silent prayer that she could make everything work out.

The king and queen had not yet entered. The musicians played, and the smells of a feast wafted through the air. Margery left her brothers and moved through the crowd, searching for Peter Fitzwilliam.

She spotted him leaning close to a blushing young woman, though he straightened when he saw Margery coming.

“Mistress Margery!” he called, with the joviality of true confidence.

“Lord Fitzwilliam,” she said, smiling coolly, “I would like to speak to you.”

“By all means.”

He walked away from the poor girl without even a farewell. His conceit sickened her, but she wouldn’t have to bear it for much longer.

She led him to a window alcove hung with gold draperies and flowers. They were in sight of the hall, yet their voices would not carry far. Margery saw her brothers watching with concern. Perfect.

“You do not need to prepare me,” Peter said conspiratorially. “I’ll look quite pleased and surprised when you call my name.”

She gave him a polite smile. “I won’t be calling your name.”

His smile faded. “Pardon me?”

“I won’t be calling your name, Peter. You will not be my choice for husband.”

He looked almost petulant, like a little boy who wouldn’t be getting a new pony. “But Margery, I don’t wish to tell your brothers what you and I did together. It would be such a shame to anger them.”

“I won’t stop you,” she said, staring calmly into his face. “Go ahead and tell them what you did to me.”

He hesitated, and she held her breath. “They’ll name you a harlot.”

“But they’ll blame you .” Margery felt suddenly liberated in the face of his unease. She had been such a fool to allow this man to almost ruin her life. “Go ahead, they’re already watching us. Tell them.”

Peter glanced toward her brothers, and bless them, they were frowning darkly. And she hadn’t even prompted them. If only they’d put their hands on their sword hilts…but it was too much to hope for.

Peter sighed and shook his head. “We could have had an interesting marriage, you know.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so just continued to smile politely. In a moment he left, chasing the girl she’d taken him from.

Margery closed her eyes and tried to absorb her victory. She had nothing left to fear from Peter. She could now put her mistakes with him in the past, where they belonged. It was time to turn her attention to the next challenge.

“Margery!”

She recognized Anne’s breathless voice as the twins came to take her hands. Margery kissed each of their cheeks, and smiled. How she would miss them when they returned to their parents.

“Oh, Margery,” Cicely said, her face a study in worry, “will you not tell us whom you have chosen?”

“How can you keep us this anxious?” Anne added, her gaze still following Peter. “Is Lord Fitzwilliam the one? What about Lord Chadwick, or?—”

Margery raised both her hands, laughing. “How can I tell you and not my brothers?”

“Then tell us all!” Anne cried with exasperation.

“In a few moments, I will,” Margery said. “Trust me.”

Cicely looked around the hall with shining eyes. “This is so exciting. Perhaps I, too, will get to choose my husband.”

Margery took her hands, and grew serious. “It is a great responsibility. I still don’t know if it will all work out in the end. Pray for me.”

She returned to her brothers in time to curtsy as the king and queen and their courtiers paraded into the room. The light reflected from their glittering garments like the sun off a rippling brook. Margery returned the queen’s pleased smile, then watched as they sat on their thrones.

James leaned closer to her. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“I hope so.” She gave him an excited, happy smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who you have chosen?”

“It has to be a surprise.”

James playfully scowled, and Reynold winked at her. How she adored her brothers, she thought, as silly tears once again pricked her eyes. Even if they’d made mistakes along the way, she was truly blessed.

King Henry rose from his throne, and as if on cue, the music and the conversations stopped. A ripple of excitement and curiosity made people surge forward. Margery saw the king search the crowd until he found her, then he motioned for her.

The courtiers parted and she forced herself to walk slowly, smiling at the people on both sides. This was the moment, and she was nervous and excited and breathless.

Gareth watched Margery walk through the king’s noble guests, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of her. She looked radiant, composed, confident—how had he ever thought her spoiled or selfish? She would make her family proud.

And she had been right about him. He’d spent his whole life afraid to trust people, had pushed away any who sought his friendship. He didn’t know if he would ever become used to the loneliness again, now that he’d spent so many nights in her company.

“Mistress Margery Welles,” the king said, gesturing to her as she came to a stop below him. “Come stand next to me, my dear. You have provided our court with months of speculation, gossip, and true enjoyment. But it is now time for you to reveal your choice in husband.”

Gareth watched Margery and the queen share a smile, before Margery turned and faced the multitude of people in the hall. Flames from hundreds of candles and torches gleamed in her eyes. The skin above her neckline glowed with a mellow, creamy light that set off her rich, dark hair. She was a stunning beauty who could have any man she wished. She deserved only the best, and he could trust her choice.

“My dear friends,” she began in a clear, strong voice, “earlier this year, I was given a great honor by their royal majesties: the freedom to choose my own husband. I met many worthy men in the following months, and I hope I have gained several new friends. But alas, I could choose only one man.”

Gareth’s chest ached. He could not witness Fitzwilliam’s smug victory. Besides, Margery no longer needed him—she had her brothers, and soon her betrothed. Saying good-bye would only prolong both their pain. He eased his way backward through the crowd, toward the entrance. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet face, couldn’t block out her melodic voice.

“I have chosen a worthy man,” she said, her face alight with pleasure. “He is gracious, and always kind to me, yet strong enough to defend my lands and my people. We have loved each other for a long while.”

Gareth nodded to the soldiers guarding the doors, and reached for the door latch.

“Although he is not of noble lineage, he will always be my only lord. I choose Sir Gareth Beaumont.”

He froze with his fingers clutching the latch. What had she done? Why had she embarrassed herself like this?

He heard the shocked murmurs, then the rustle of garments as the crowd parted. He looked over his shoulder to find Margery’s brothers walking toward him stiffly.

Giving him no choice, they escorted him towards the royal dais. He wanted to protest, to say it was all a mistake, but they drew him forward with a combined strength he could not hope to overcome.

Bolton leaned near and whispered, “We have some talking to do.”

When they stopped before Margery, her two brothers backed away and left Gareth standing there alone, beneath the frown of the king and the scandalized whispers of the court.

She smiled at him with a radiance that was breathtaking. Then she knelt down before him and bowed her head.

“My lord,” she murmured.

He stared down at her in shock. “Do not do this to yourself, Margery,” he whispered.

“But I love you,” she said in a clear voice that could be heard to the back of the hall.

Gareth didn’t know where to turn, whom to appeal to. The king’s frown was starting to fade, and the queen wiped a tear from her cheek. No help there. He would go to her brothers, tell them?—

What could he tell them? Margery had just proclaimed her choice before the entire land. She had destroyed her chances with any other man—all for him.

“You should not have done this,” he said with a shaky voice.

Margery took his hands in hers and pressed her lips to his knuckles. “You’re everything to me, Gareth. I want only you.”

He pulled her to her feet. He had to find a private place to talk some sense into her, to make her see that she’d be ruining the rest of her life.

She drew his head down and kissed him. He had never thought to feel her lips again, and for a moment he was caught up in the incredible magic of her kiss. From somewhere far away he heard cheers and applause. By the saints, what was he doing?

He gripped her shoulders and held her away. “We have to talk,” he said in an urgent voice.

King Henry raised his arms for silence. “Sir Gareth, what is your answer?”

There wasn’t a sound as Gareth swept his gaze over the crowd and saw Wallace grinning. This was all too overwhelming.

“Why are you doing this?” Gareth demanded of Margery, regardless of the waiting king.

“Because I love you and I can’t be happy with anyone else.”

“I have no land, no lineage that isn’t tainted.” Even his pride fled as he looked into her hopeful eyes.

She cupped his cheek. “I am not marrying your lineage. Do you not trust my feelings? I will not abandon you, as so many others have done. Do you love me?”

He closed his eyes. “Margery, please.”

“Do you love me?” she repeated.

“God help me—yes.”

With a glad cry, she threw her arms around him. “That is all I’ve ever wanted. We will make each other so happy!”

Gareth held Margery tight against him, amazed that he’d somehow won her love, despite his sins and his foolish mistakes. They would spend their days together, their nights in each other’s arms. And if God didn’t bless them with their own babes, they would find other children in need of a home. Margery had enough love for dozens of children.

“Silence!” The king’s voice echoed through the noisy hall. “Mistress Margery has not had her answer yet.”

Margery stepped away from him. Holding her hands, Gareth looked deep into her eyes, then dropped to his knees. He kissed her hands as she had done to him, then said in a loud voice, “I will take this woman as my bride, and I pledge that I will make myself worthy of her.”

King Henry sighed. “Very well. The queen tells me we’ll find some sort of title for you.”

Margery laughed and fell into Gareth’s arms, spreading kisses over his face as he stood up. “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t refuse me.”

“I couldn’t—especially after I found this.” From the pouch at his belt, he removed the crystal stone and held it up to the light. “I feared I’d lost it. You’d think it was the most precious jewel, the way my heart grieved for it.”

Margery closed her eyes and a tear escaped. She smiled and would have wiped it away, but he grasped her hands and leaned in to kiss her tears.

“My lady, I promise you’ll never have cause to shed these again.”

“Except in joy,” she said, fumbling in her purse. “Be warned, I cry very easily when I’m happy.” She held up her own half of the crystal stone. “I’ve kept this with me since childhood, and never have you been far from my thoughts.”

With their lips together he murmured, “You’ve been in my dreams. We shall never be parted again.”

They shared a deeper, more joyous kiss, oblivious to the cheers resounding through the hall.