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

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A lone, Gareth walked toward her, his eyes narrowed, his expression deadly—yet fascinating. Margery should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t, and she didn’t understand why. Though he made her uneasy, she could not forget that he had saved her life a long time ago. Now he was a tall, muscular stranger, rumored to be so dominating in battle that no one would fight him. He was just the man she needed.

In the center of the ward, they both stopped and looked at each other. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed stuck. She had always been able to solve her own problems, and now she felt defeated having to ask Gareth for help.

He didn’t make it any easier. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her, waiting for her to make the first move. The dying sun seemed to light his hair afire. He was as remote and beautiful as the god Apollo. How would she ever make him understand?

She took a deep, fortifying breath. “I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

She looked around and saw that their unusual behavior was already attracting attention.

“Come sit with me.” She led him to a low bench outside the garden, in full view of the ward. They sat down, she with her back straight, he leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs. He turned to look at her, so that their knees almost touched.

“Are you going to tell me the truth now?” Gareth asked.

“Yes.” Well, part of it, she thought, already resenting his superiority. “I told you that the king gave me Hawksbury. I had been spending a lot of time at court this past spring, and the king and queen grew fond of me.” She tried to smile. “Together, Queen Elizabeth and I were less lonely. We spent many an evening side by side, while she talked to me of the joys and sorrows of her life. I don’t think she had had many friends before me. I even kept her company through a long illness.” She felt herself blushing. “Though they didn’t need to, their majesties insisted on giving me a gift. Not just a pretty box for my jewelry or a new ribbon; they gave me wealth—manors and land.”

Gareth stared down at his hands clasped between his knees. What must he be thinking? She was given easy gifts, while he risked injury and death just to earn his food. Embarrassment burned inside her.

“There is more, is there not?” he asked.

She glanced quickly away, knowing all her choices were gone. “In many ways, my life would be much easier had they not given me a second gift to complement the first. They gave me the freedom to choose my own husband.”

He said nothing for a moment, then he sighed. “Margery, this does not sound like a terrible thing.”

“Think on my words, Gareth. Most women are told whom they shall marry by their parents or their guardians. But since I alone control my choice, every eligible man in England has decided to petition me. Worse yet, the men try to—convince me.”

She saw the exact moment he understood her dilemma. His head came up and he regarded her intensely, the depths of his eyes hinting at a danger that made her shiver.

“Fogge was trying to compromise you for his own purposes?”

She shrugged. “I know not. I only know that lately, men are resisting the word ‘no.’”

They remained silent, listening to the warbling of birds, and the barking of the dogs racing through the inner ward. Margery tried not to think of all the things she wasn’t telling him. And yet?—

He had sought her out, claiming he wanted to help her. There was no one in her household she could confide in. Always, there was the worry that something would get back to the king.

But after all these years, could she trust Gareth to help her?

“Where are your brothers?” he asked.

“They are with the king’s army in the north.”

“Do they know of your problems?”

“How could I tell them? They would not be free to come to my aid, and that would only make them feel worse.” Taking a deep breath, she blurted, “Gareth, you say you’ve come to help me. Would you stay and be my personal guard, at least until I’ve given the king my decision?”

This was just a temporary situation. She couldn’t allow herself to depend on any man. For the rest of her life, she would have only herself.

The silence stretched out, and still he said nothing. He wouldn’t refuse—would he?

“I know I am being forward, but Gareth, I am desperate. I promise that you would enjoy a stay at Hawksbury Castle.”

“And how would you make this task easier?” he asked in a low voice. “There isn’t much about you or your family that I have ever found enjoyable.”

She was stunned by the bitterness in his voice, and the shock of pain that squeezed her chest. What had happened to him? And how could he blame her?

But she would deal with his problems later, if only he’d stay.

“Gareth, will you help me?”

He frowned. “A personal guard? ’Tis an interesting idea. I’ve done more than my share of such work.”

“Then is your answer yes?”

“Where would a personal guard sleep?”

“You don’t wish to sleep in the barracks?” she asked, attempting to smile. Surely he was trying to lighten the tension of their discussion.

He didn’t smile back. “No.”

She wanted to wilt at his seriousness. “I shall give you a bedchamber just down the hall from mine. I assume you are not going to sleep in front of my door; that would be a bit obvious.”

“If I’m not to be obvious, then what do you expect of me? Why do you not want anyone to know that you have hired protection?”

“It is…complicated,” she said, looking down at her clenched fingers. “The king must not know his gift is causing me problems.”

“Do you fear he’ll take the gifts back?” He didn’t even look at her as he said such cold words.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll make me come to court, where he could watch over me personally. Then all of my freedom would be gone.”

Margery forced herself to look into his penetrating eyes. “Will you do it, Gareth? It will only be for a few months’ time. I can begin your payment now.”

“No, at the end you can pay me what you think I’ve earned.” He hesitated. “Or maybe your husband can pay me.”

“Fine,” she said crisply, holding out her hand. “Then we have an agreement?”

He looked down at her hand, but didn’t touch it. “Not yet. As a guard, I would be with you at all times. Yet you complicate matters by insisting this be kept private between us. What reason will you give your servants and guests for my presence at your side?”

Gareth couldn’t miss the panic in Margery’s eyes. She was a desperate woman, and hadn’t thought through this plan. He had a hard time believing that all she was frightened of were suitors pressing their courtship a bit too far. Glancing down her body, he reluctantly thought that he couldn’t blame the men.

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can you come up with a reason, Gareth? Let me know what you feel would be best.”

“Very well. I have another suggestion to protect you. Wallace Desmond will become your new captain of the guard.”

She stiffened. “I already have a captain.”

“A youngster, is he not?” he asked.

“Well—”

“I’m sure he will be honored to train under Wallace.”

She hesitated, and he could almost read her thoughts. He could tell she agreed with his assessment, but she didn’t like being told what to do. That would have to change.

“Very well, Gareth. I accept the offer—if you’re certain Sir Wallace doesn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

“But please allow me to introduce him to the soldiers tomorrow. Then he and I can discuss his payment with my steward.”

He nodded. She got to her feet and he leaned back on his hands to look up at her. He kept his pose relaxed, casual, though he felt anything but. He told himself this was just another task he was being paid to do. So why did some deep part of him relish looking up at her in the sunlight? He flustered her, perturbed her, and the feeling was not unpleasant.

“Come inside when you like,” Margery said. “A juggling troupe arrived today.”

“I’ll be inside soon enough. You will no longer be alone much, remember?”

He deliberately reminded her of the consequences of her request. Her face stiffened as she gave him a polite nod and walked away.

Gareth told himself he was beyond the anger that had consumed him for years after Margery’s family had dispensed with him. He was at Hawksbury to do a task, then leave. Yet he took such grim pleasure in annoying her.

He sat in the stillness of the early evening and came up with the perfect way to stay near her. She would not like it, but she would learn soon enough that he would rule this business between them.

~oOo~

While the jugglers were performing, Margery bit her lip and stared into the distance. What had she done by inviting Gareth into her life? She could barely get him to speak to her, and now he would be following her about indefinitely, a large, unsettling shadow at her back.

He entered the great hall, and though he was dressed as the plainest of knights, his good looks attracted every eye. But beneath that was a cold man, warped by whatever experiences he’d had.

When he approached the head table she was sitting across from her two suitors, who were desperately trying to win her attention on this last night of their visit.

Gareth sat down beside her, so close her skirts were caught beneath him. Before she could ask him to move, he suddenly slid his hand over hers. She gaped at their fingers, then looked up into his face. His hot eyes were rife with intimate promises. A more fainted-hearted woman would surely swoon from his beauty, but all she could do was let her mouth fall open, fishlike.

“Mistress Margery,” he said, in a voice low and smooth as honey.

He leaned forward, and she leaned away, wide-eyed.

“I was thinking about your gift room. I hope you will never have cause to relegate my gifts to such a place. They are given in homage to your beauty.”

Her two suitors crossed their arms over their chests and glared. At the same moment, they said, “Mistress Margery?—”

She held up her hand, never taking her gaze from Gareth, who raised her other hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. A shock of astonishment surged through her. What was he doing? Had he planned all along to court her, and be paid as a bodyguard at the same time?

Her disappointment grew until she could no longer look into his face. Had she trusted the wrong man?

Margery pulled her hand away, struggling to remember every rumor she’d ever heard. Her brother James had once tried to tell her about Gareth’s disgrace and his flight from the country. She hadn’t believed James, but now she wished she’d paid more attention.

She looked into Gareth’s golden eyes. They were narrowed, and seemed to be studying her intently. Was he looking for weaknesses?

He would find none. He was just one more man in a long parade of suitors she could never marry.

Grief threatened to overwhelm her at the futility of her life. But in these last trying months, she had learned to be strong—or at least to pretend she was. She called on that strength now and met his intensity with a smile.

“How sweet of you to promise gifts, Sir Gareth. But it is most certainly not the way to my heart. You would only be one of many.”

The twins glanced away, their smiles bolder. Her two suitors looked baffled, uneasy.

Gareth said, “I promise you, mistress, that you shall not put aside my gifts. They will be humble, yet from my heart.”

For the first time since childhood, Margery experienced the blinding power of his smile. But she saw it now for what it had become: an imitation of an emotion he could not begin to grasp.

When the jugglers were finished, she had Gareth shown to a bedchamber. A few moments later she said her own good-nights and went to her room, but Gareth’s behavior would not leave her mind. She waited for a brief time, pacing before the hearth, then peeked down the corridor. There were no servants in sight.

She tiptoed past Anne’s and Cicely’s closed doors until she reached the chamber she had assigned Gareth. She put her ear against the wood, heard no sounds, then burst in and leaned back to close the door.

Gareth already had his sword drawn. When he saw her, he slammed it back into the scabbard. “Margery, never do something so foolish again. You will need protection for the rest of your life if you continue to make such thoughtless mistakes.” He threw his saddle bag on the bed and leaned over to open it.

“So now it is protection again?” She strode toward him, hands on her hips. “Make up your mind. After all, if you’re my suitor, I shall need protection from you!”

He straightened, and he seemed suddenly as tall and wild as the Viking ancestors he resembled. And she’d come in here alone?

“Protection from me?” he said. “You have already hired me as your guard. Did you think?—”

He broke off and studied her for an uncomfortable moment, while she began to suspect she’d miscalculated.

“I was worried my acting would not be skilled enough.” He looked down her body. “I’ve never had to make an effort to court a woman before.”

Acting? A blush of mortification swept from her chest to her forehead. When he’d kissed her fingers, when he’d spoken of her beauty, he’d been acting ?

“You asked me to come up with something to hide my true purpose here,” he said calmly. “I’m going to pretend to be another of your suitors. What better way can I be near you, keeping you from any danger?”

Margery remembered the heat of his gaze, the touch of his lips on her hand. Of course it was all an act. She donned a grudging smile, and buried the tiny pain that touched her heart. “I did suggest we keep your position a secret, but I never thought of—of this.”

“Then you approve?”

She hesitated. “I can think of nothing better.” She slowly frowned as she watched him remove garments from his bag. “Gareth, are you planning to court me wearing those clothes?”

He stilled, and the gaze he lifted to her was even colder. She’d made a mistake.

“I work hard for everything I have.”

“I know that,” she quickly said. “But you’re in disguise now. I could have my brother Reynold send along some clothes. They might be a bit large for you, but James would certainly never part with any garments.”

Gareth shook his head. “Sounds like the man I remember.”

“Be easy on him. He has changed for the better since his marriage. He just…likes his clothes.”

He leaned against the bedpost, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t think your brothers would be suspicious as to why you’re sending for good quality male garments?”

She winced. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I shall just tell everyone I lost most of my goods in a storm off the coast.”

“You were never very good at telling stories.”

“When I chose to, I could be.” His voice was suddenly low and gruff, not quite so cold. “The marshall once bribed me with gingerbread to keep you out of the stables so they could get some work done. How else do you think I amused you?”

She didn’t remember that. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. Life was so uncomplicated then. She had spent her days following Gareth around, trying to capture his attention.

But everything had changed. He would be following her—and he was angry about it.

“Regardless of how you feel, you still need some new clothes,” she said awkwardly as she moved toward the door. “I’ll talk to my seamstresses.”

“Hold!”

Anger overwhelmed her sadness. “I am not one of your soldiers!”

“One of my soldiers would make sure the corridor was empty if he didn’t want to be seen leaving a certain room.”

She felt a momentary weakness at her stupidity. She had almost walked out of a man’s bedchamber, regardless of who might be watching. Gareth opened the door, looked outside, then closed it again.

“ ’Tis clear.”

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

He leaned against the door, too close to her, studying her face with the coolness that unnerved her. “Perhaps you need a keeper more than a guard.”

She controlled the hurt that suffused her. “I’m not paying you for insults. Move away from the door.”