Gayle Callen

by My Lady’s Guardian

  Gareth almost sat at a lower table to give Margery and her brothers privacy, but he caught himself in time. What was the point of revenge if Welles and Bolton knew nothing of it?

  He approached the head table. Margery’s smile softened as she looked at him. “Gareth, come sit with us. You remember my brothers.”

  Gareth could tell that at first the younger brother did not remember who he was. Welles wore a polite smile as he rose to his feet. But Bolton had been a man when he’d forced Gareth to leave his home. He remembered. His smile died, and his eyes narrowed as he looked between Gareth and Margery.

  “Gareth Beaumont?” Bolton said to Margery.

  “Yes. Do you not remember? He fostered with us.”

  Gareth saw Welles’s quick frown, and he knew how their minds were working. They were remembering his family curse, the tournaments where he had crushed every opponent, how he’d been driven from England. They took in his plain jerkin and simple boots.

  When Margery gave Gareth the place beside her, Welles’s eyebrows rose, and Bolton frowned. It was a good, satisfying moment.

  Margery could barely contain her excitement. Her brothers were whole and well, and their service to King Henry was temporarily over. She knew their wives must be missing them terribly. And imagine, they each had a child to return to! Sometimes it was incredible how things had changed.

  She suddenly felt Gareth’s thigh along the length of hers, and she struggled not to blush. Things had changed for her, as well. She passed him a loaf of bread and he smiled that devilish smile at her.

  “So, Margery,” began her brother James, “how goes the husband hunt?”

  She sighed, regretting that James was ever to the point. Every young man they’d traveled with turned his curious gaze on her. With a sinking feeling, she realized her brothers had brought these men for her to look over, like sheep at the market. She rescued her faltering smile when Gareth rested his hand on her thigh.

  “James,” she said, “that is hardly polite dinner conversation. I am meeting men, I am not ‘hunting.’”

  Everyone laughed, but she had to force her laughter. How dare her brothers assume she needed their help? They had each made a few foolish choices, and somehow each had come out happy. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?

  “If we cannot discuss your life, Margery,” Reynold said, “then what kind of brothers are we? We are only concerned for you.”

  She smiled sweetly through gritted teeth. “Then let us discuss this later in private.”

  James arched an eyebrow as he looked at her. “We go away for a few months, and you’ve become your own woman.”

  “I’ve always been my own woman. And how is your new daughter?”

  Throughout the meal, she kept the conversation away from herself. She knew James and Reynold watched her with concern—and watched Gareth with suspicion. Let them look. She wanted Gareth beside her, and she took strength from the comfort of his hand touching her. He was a reminder that she could live her own life, make her own decisions, even where he was concerned.

  As the maidservants were carrying out tarts and pies and puddings for dessert, James pushed back his bench and looked thoughtfully at her. She braced herself; then his gaze turned on Gareth.

  “Beaumont,” he began, “I heard you’ve been out of the country these past few years.”

  Chapter 21

  Margery held her breath as she turned to look at Gareth.

  “I have most recently lived in France,” he said.

  James rested his elbow on the table. “What did you do there?”

  It was her turn to lay her hand on Gareth’s thigh.

  “Mostly tournaments and mercenary work,” he said.

  “You could not do that here?”

  Margery saw her brothers’ friends eyeing Gareth, whispering to one another and frowning. She could not imagine what it must be like to be treated this way. She used to fear it, and lived her life with the worry of it, but now it only angered her. She opened her mouth to defend him, but he squeezed her hand in warning.

  “I couldn’t earn my living here,” he said calmly, his gaze intent on James.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because every tournament I entered, I won. My opponents were upset by that. In fact, I am sure I remember some of your friends here.” He glanced around the table pointedly, and Margery wanted to cheer.

  Reynold gave James a warning look. “’Tis good to see you in England again,” Reynold said.

  Margery thought even Reynold’s politeness sounded forced. What was wrong with her brothers? They were usually never rude.

  “So why have you come to see Margery?” James asked.

  She wanted to groan. There, it was out: the question she had been dreading. She could hardly tell them she’d felt the need to hire a personal guard. “He was traveling through, and I asked him to visit for a while.”

  “Let Beaumont answer,” James said in a low, tense voice.

  Margery’s fury rose to new heights. How dare James question Gareth, a man who’d saved her life and helped her whenever she needed it! As if James should even talk, considering that he used to treat his own wife with disrespect.

  Again she felt Gareth stroking her hand, calming her.

  “Margery,” Gareth said, “it is not necessary for you to speak for me. I am not hiding the fact that I came back from France specifically to see you. Lord Bolton, do you have trouble with that?”

  James got to his feet, and Reynold grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back down.

  Reynold said calmly, “Margery, we are both tired from travel and fighting, and being away from home. If we are overprotective, it is because we love and care for you. At least judge us knowing that.”

  Margery forced herself to calm down. She motioned for the jugglers and musicians to begin their entertainment—anything to get the table’s focus off her and Gareth. She felt her brothers’ disapproval as a palpable thing. Did even James and Reynold put stock in something as foolish as the Beaumont Curse?

  Margery spent the afternoon preparing for the hunt, talking to her brothers about their families, and getting to know some of the friends they’d brought to meet her. She was meeting so many new men that soon she’d have to create a list. However was she to keep track of which men fit her standards?

  For she was certainly not going to let the king choose one for her.

  After supper, while the musicians played and couples danced, James sat alone with Reynold at the head table, watching his sister be courted by the men he’d brought for her. He’d thought it would make him happy to be helping her—but it didn’t.

  He sighed and swallowed more ale. He felt Reynold’s amused gaze.

  “Doesn’t this make you feel ill?” James asked.

  Reynold smiled. “Uncomfortable, perhaps.”

  “I always knew she would marry. I’ve met many a man who’s asked to court her, but I never actually watched them do it.”

  He glowered as Margery was swept from one dancing partner to another.

  “It almost makes me want to draw my sword,” Reynold said in bemusement.

  “Exactly.” James gazed about the room until he found Gareth Beaumont. The man was dressed in the plainest brown tunic, as if he were a soldier instead of a knight. He sat alone at a table and watched the festivities. One after another, pretty serving girls approached his table, and one after another he sent them away distractedly. James knew damned well whom Beaumont watched. But Margery did not dance with him.

  “You do see whom Margery is avoiding,” James said as he slammed his tankard down a bit too hard.

  “Gareth Beaumont.”

  James eyed his amused brother. “This is not funny. He never takes his eyes off her, the big ox.”

  Reynold glanced at him. “I think I object to that.”

  “Well, you’re not an ox—a giant maybe, but that is off the subject.”

  “Which is Gareth Beaumont.”

  “Yes.”
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br />   “Margery may be avoiding him, but she watches him.”

  “She does not,” James quickly said.

  “Oh yes. Do you not remember them as children? I know you were not around as much as I, but—”

  “I was there enough. But I don’t want to remember.”

  “He was good to her,” Reynold said quietly. “He saved her life. And then we sent him away. Maybe we made a mistake.”

  “We had to protect her,” James insisted. “I am her guardian; I will not second guess my every decision where Beaumont is concerned. His family, his lack of wealth or lands—hell, have you ever seen him fight? He can be vicious.”

  “But it is her choice now,” Reynold said, “thanks to your friend the king.”

  James only grunted his response. He watched as Margery went to Beaumont’s table and leaned down to speak to him. Their heads were close together, and James didn’t like the way they smiled at each other. Beaumont stood up and they walked to the center of the floor.

  Reynold caught James’s arm. “Leave them be. We have raised her well, and she shall make the right decision.”

  “But he has nothing to offer her!” James said, watching with distaste as Beaumont put his hands on Margery’s waist to lift her during a dance. They didn’t take their eyes off each other. “I can’t look anymore.”

  “Just sit there. It will get easier.”

  “Are they still watching us?” Margery asked, as she and Gareth linked hands for the dance.

  “Of course they are. What did you expect?”

  She sighed. “That they would realize that I’m an adult, and can make my own decisions.”

  “They’re simply protective,” he said, and she thought he sounded reluctant.

  “You are my protector now.”

  “But you won’t tell them that.”

  “If they thought I was in danger, they would make me return to one of their homes. I cannot live under that kind of scrutiny.”

  The dance separated them, and Margery watched Gareth move from woman to woman. She had never thought she’d be this angry, this disappointed with her brothers. She had so looked forward to their visit; now they were judging her friendship with Gareth, and finding it lacking.

  Each of her brothers had lived his own life, and made some really foolish mistakes. So had she. But she’d be damned if she would always suffer for it.

  When Gareth returned to her, Margery whispered, “You are still coming to my chamber tonight.”

  His eyes widened. “But your brothers—”

  “I do not care. I feel safe with you there, and I will not let them change my decisions.”

  “I think you’ll regret this,” he said quietly.

  “I don’t regret anything I do with you. And if you try to refuse me again, guard, I will kiss you right now before all of them.”

  He smiled. “Then I would have to fight them.”

  “Just say you’ll come.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and his smile died. “I will not disappoint you.”

  When Gareth slipped into her bedchamber at midnight, Margery was waiting for him. Before he could say anything, she pressed him against the wall and pulled his head down for a kiss. She’d wanted this all evening. When she should have been scrutinizing potential husbands, she’d only dreamed about having his arms around her. She tasted the inside of his mouth with her tongue and he groaned.

  “Margery,” he whispered her name against her lips, “this is dangerous.”

  She pressed kisses to his cheek and chin and neck. “I know. Isn’t it fun?”

  He lifted his head and held her away. “But as I left the corridor, I thought I heard—”

  There was a brisk knock at the door. She stared at it, wide-eyed.

  “—your brothers,” Gareth whispered.

  She nodded frantically toward the window, then followed him to make sure he couldn’t be seen behind the draperies. She took a deep breath, pulled her dressing gown tighter, and marched to the door.

  When she opened it up, Reynold and James stood there. They weren’t smiling.

  “Might we come in, baby?” Reynold asked.

  “Of course, though it is rather late.” She winced at his old nickname for her, and stepped back as they walked past her. She longed to run down the empty corridor, as far away as she could.

  But she was stronger now. She was a woman who wanted to play the game of life by a man’s rules—and she was doing it. She found herself wondering how often her brothers had had women in their chambers.

  Margery shut the door, then gestured to the chairs before the hearth. As they sat down, she pulled up another chair from the corner of the room.

  James cleared his throat. “Do you know Beaumont’s true purpose for being at Hawksbury?”

  She stiffened and thought of poor Gareth listening to this. “You can’t even be civil before you start in with your questions? No ‘how are you, how was your evening?’”

  “How are you? How was your evening?” James repeated with a smile.

  “Fine and fine.” She got to her feet. “You may both go now.”

  Reynold stood up and put his arm around her shoulder. “Baby—”

  “Do not call me that!” she said, pulling away from him. “You’re trying to remind me that I am still your little sister. But I’m a woman now, and have been given the freedom to make my own decisions.”

  “We know that,” Reynold said quietly. “And I only call you that name because it has good memories for me.”

  “It does for me as well, but I am no longer the same person.”

  “We can see that,” James said, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. “But that doesn’t negate our concern. Do you know of Beaumont’s past? If you did, you wouldn’t have him here.”

  “I know everything. He is my friend, he has always been my friend. And if he wants to court me, like every other man I meet, then who are you to stop him?”

  “But he is so unsuitable!” James said with obvious frustration.

  “Did you ever think that might be one of the reasons I like him?” Margery demanded, knowing she only said it to be shocking.

  Why did they have to keep insisting that they knew better than she did? For a wild moment, she wanted to rip open the draperies and reveal her forbidden dalliance with Gareth. But it would only be spite on her part, and she couldn’t use Gareth just to make a point.

  She longed to have this whole “husband hunt” over with. Yet then she thought of Gareth, and the pleasure of looking forward to her evenings with him. He would leave her after she married, and her nights would be lonely.

  The idea of him not being in her life was beginning to hurt.

  Reynold stepped between them. “I am sorry we disturbed you, sweetheart,” he said, and hauled James out of his seat. “Maybe we interfere too much. Maybe we should have trusted you all those years ago, instead of sending Gareth to another foster home.”

  Margery stared at him, trying to remember to breathe. “You sent him away?” She couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the window in horror. Gareth had saved her life and her brothers had sent him away. This was why Gareth was so bitter toward her family. My God, did he think even she was involved?

  “It was my decision,” James said. “Do not blame Reynold.”

  “We made it together,” Reynold insisted. “Father had just died, and you were our responsibility.”

  James tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “Margery, please, we had never been fathers. We wanted to protect you from anything unsavory, anything that could hurt you.”

  She turned her back on them, tears stinging her eyes, and looked at the draperies where Gareth hid. “You yourselves hurt me. I cried for weeks, thinking that Gareth didn’t want to be my friend. And can you imagine how he felt? He rescued me, and you punished him—a mere child himself.”

  “We cannot change our mistakes,” Reynold said softly. “All we can ask is that you forgive us.”

/>   Margery turned to stare at them. They looked serious and uncertain and worried. But she still thought of Gareth, thrust out into the world at twelve years of age, with no family, no home—betrayed. “I don’t know that I can,” she said softly. “I have to think on it.”

  Reynold nodded. James opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. They walked to the door, but she didn’t follow them. When they both turned back toward her, she looked away. The door closed.

  Gareth didn’t move.

  Margery hadn’t sent him away. She hadn’t known. They’d both been victimized by her brothers—men who thought nothing of manipulating other people’s lives on a whim.

  Margery pulled the draperies back, tears running down her face. “I didn’t know what they’d done,” she cried.

  He looked into her clear eyes and thought of all the cruel things he’d said to her. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “’Tis all right,” he whispered. “You must not blame yourself.”

  She shook with sobs. “You…must have felt…so alone. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

  “I survived.” He took her face in his hands and kissed the tears she shed for his pain. Her lips were salty with them. She slid her arms up his back and held him tight against her. Her body sheltered him, comforted him. With a groan, he slanted his head and took her open mouth in a deep, desperate kiss.

  Never had his emotions swamped him like this. Margery was the only sane thing in his world, and he clung to her now. He suckled her throat, whispered into her ear of her incredible beauty.

  Then she stepped back, and Gareth’s eyes widened as she shrugged her nightclothes off one shoulder, revealing the soft perfection of her breast. His mouth went dry when she shrugged again and the garments dropped to her waist. He stared helplessly at her body, his mind flooding with the shock of fierce arousal. With a final fluid movement, she sent the nightclothes sliding to the floor.