My Lady's Guardian (28 page)

The cheers were deafening as Fitzwilliam approached the royal stand. The king brought Margery to Fitzwilliam and put their hands together, and Gareth turned and went back to his tent—alone.

Margery had been home at Hawksbury for a sennight. No matter what task she was performing, the image of Gareth falling from his horse constantly flashed in her mind. The terror had lodged so deeply in her throat that she thought she'd never breathe again. She had barely noticed Peter or the king or the cheering celebration. Only when Gareth had gotten stiffly to his feet had life returned to her heart and soul with a wave of relief.

As she lay in bed late one night, she still didn't understand why Gareth had done it. Only she seemed to realize he had fallen deliberately. It was as if he was releasing her back to Peter. What did it matter to Gareth who she chose?

Something wasn't making sense, but she couldn't figure it out.

There was only a week remaining until she met again with the king. Margery had gone over her list of potential husbands, and realized with dismay that she could either choose a man she was uncertain

about, or she could choose Peter—who held no illusions for her.

There was really only one choice. Peter had threatened to tell everyone her sins, knowing that she couldn't embarrass her family that way. She was trapped.

Everything was made worse by the fact that Gareth was avoiding her. At night he assigned a guard to her door, and came no more to protect her himself.

Her bedchamber was no longer a haven. In her mind she saw Gareth before the hearth, behind the draperies, above her in bed. None of it could ever again be real.

The loneliness of her life was overwhelming—all because she loved Gareth.

With bittersweet irony, she could finally admit it to herself. Her marriage proposal hadn't been about helping each other; she had been desperate not to lose the one person in life who made her happy, made her feel whole.

Gareth.

Even his name made her bury her face in her pillow and cry. How would she get through her days without him? He was drawing farther away from her, and she didn't know what to do to stop it.

As the days sped by Margery abandoned her list of suitors. She had no choice but to marry Peter, or cause a huge scandal.

Other men still continued to appear at the castle to court her, but she didn't turn them away. What did it matter anymore?

She sat before the hearth in the great hall, her embroidery untouched in her lap. Gareth sat at a nearby table, a book opened before him. She tried not to look at him, for the pain was nearly unbearable. Yet she glanced at him occasionally, and he never seemed to turn the page. What thoughts moved through his mind? Was he anxious to leave? Even glad that the king's celebration was almost upon them?

Her latest suitor, Sir Bradley Palmer, had arrived just that afternoon. He must have barely twenty years, and seemed so young to her. Sir Bradley was eager to face life, while she felt only old and tired.

Sir Bradley came into the hall, walking by Gareth, who looked up. When their gazes met, Margery watched in amazement as Sir Bradley stumbled back, fear widening his eyes. Gareth calmly closed the book, waiting in what seemed like resignation.

Was this yet another man Gareth had defeated in tournaments?

Sir Bradley approached her with haste, looking over his shoulder repeatedly at Gareth. "Mistress Margery, I am sorry to be so bold, but do you not realize what man lies hidden here?"

"Hidden?" she asked with incomprehension.

"That man!" He turned and pointed at Gareth. His voice was loud, and soon he had the attention of the endre hall. "Surely you do not know his true identity."

Gareth watched Sir Bradley with an impassive gaze.

"He is Sir Gareth Beaumont," she said, knowing she'd done all this before.

The man's eyebrows rose. "He does not even change his name. His gall astounds me. I am from Sussex, mistress, and there we all know who he is. Beaumont acquired another name when we squired together—Warfield's Wizard."

Chapter 25

All eyes turned to Gareth, and Margery felt panic take hold of her." Warfield's Wizard? Surely you must have the wrong—"

"No!" The young man's voice rose through the hall. "I worked my way from page to squire at his side—always, he was different. He knew things others didn't. Beaumont made Lord Warfield's son ill, and foretold it with a vision. We knew to run in fear when his eyes would look far away, and his face darkened with a frown."

A chill of recognition moved through Margery. She met Gareth's calm eyes, remembering his blank gaze, his frown of pain. Always, he knew when she needed help, even knew where she'd been taken by Sir Humphrey. She wanted Gareth to deny it all, but

he said nothing, just watched her with grim resignation.

She suddenly understood everything: from his unexplained knowledge of events to his belief in the Beaumont Curse. He thought himself some kind of monster, and by his silence, he invited the crowd's condemnation. In fact, he seemed to want it.

Margery felt suddenly as if a great weight had been lifted from her soul. Gareth didn't think he deserved her hand in marriage! She closed her eyes to hide her tears of relief. She hadn't been wrong about him—the way they enjoyed each other's nearness, his gentleness and passion in lovemaking. He had been hiding a secret he thought too terrible for her to hear.

Instead, it only made her love him more. How horrible to feel so different from everyone, to be condemned and hated for something he had no control over. Yet he had gone on with his life, and kept his burden private.

She couldn't look at him, for worry that her admiration and love would shine from her eyes. Now was the moment she had trained her whole life for; to keep her people calm and secure in the knowledge that she was the ultimate authority at Hawksbury Castle.

The hall buzzed with whispered voices and a dangerous undercurrent. Everywhere Margery looked, servants and soldiers moved away, as if they'd never seen Gareth before. She had to stop this now, before the cry of "witch" ruined his life forever.

She did the first thing she could think of: she laughed. It was so easy to let peals of her laughter ring through the hall. She laughed at her mistakes, at her foolish pride, at the ignorance that allowed her to believe Gareth's words instead of his heart.

"Oh, Sir Bradley, please forgive me. Do not think I mock you, but I have known Sir Gareth since we were children. Never could I believe such things of him. He has cared for me and protected me. If he was a wizard, do you not think I would have seen the signs?"

"Mistress, men such as he are too cunning for a mere woman," Sir Bradley said.

Margery's smile lessened at his stupidity. "Just a few weeks ago, Sir Gareth was gored by a charging boar. Do you not think if he was a wizard, he would have stopped the animal?" she scoffed.

The voices were dying down, and one or two of her knights were starting to smile. "At the Cabots' tournament, I watched Sir Gareth get knocked to the ground in the final jousting match. He could have

won a fortune. Do you not think a wizard would have stayed in the saddle?"

Sir Bradley's face was growing red. He looked about, trying to marshal any supporters. "But, mistress—"

"I must admit, it saddens me to think you would believe such nonsense. His family has had a tragic history, but that is all." She turned away from Sir Bradley, as if she had already dismissed him from her suitors.

She glanced casually at her servants and friends, who had been near Gareth for months now. Surely they wouldn't think ill of him.

Her knights laughed together and turned away, resuming their game of dice. Anne and Cicely bent over their embroidery. A serving maid shyly approached Gareth with an offer of ale, and soon his usual parade of admiring maidservants fell into line.

Margery gave a shaky sigh—it had worked. She signaled for her minstrels to begin a dance, then walked over to Gareth. He slowly looked up at her, his face unreadable.

"Sir Gareth, I believe I still owe you a dance."

She knew she had left him no choice. He rose to his feet, his golden eyes gazing deeply into hers. What did he see in her, what did he know? The possibilides were endless, and she suddenly wanted

to explore everything with him. She put her hands in his, and his warmth flowed through her. Though he didn't smile, he studied her with an intensity that left her flustered and yearning. As they whirled past Sir Bradley, she made sure to show a happy, joyous face. It wasn't difficult; she was in Gareth's arms.

Gareth held Margery's hand through the dance, grief and gratitude waging war in his mind. She knew everything about the curse. He'd been able to tell from her face that she believed Bradley Palmer.

Yet instead of sending him from her in fear, she was saving him from certain banishment, perhaps even death. Her unselfishness humbled him, but it only made him resolve to leave her the moment he could. She did not deserve the scandal of having him in her home.

That night, Gareth sat alone in his bedchamber before his bare hearth. He felt relieved that the truth was out, and that Margery had accepted it gracefully. Now she would understand why he had to leave.

In his mind he saw the grounds of Hawksbury Castle. Not since his fostering had he stayed in one place long enough to know people. He would miss the soldiers and knights; he would even miss

Wallace's friendship. He'd never thought he'd learn to trust a man, but Wallace had changed his skepticism. Wallace could have courted Margery himself, but he would never betray their friendship.

Yet he would be a much better husband than Gareth.

The door suddenly opened and Margery slipped in. She leaned back against the wall and gave him a speculative look. "I had to come. I think you need protection from Sir Bradley."

She smiled, but he couldn't smile back. He just looked at her across the room, and felt that they were farther apart than ever.

"You know what I am now," he said simply.

She walked toward him, her gown swaying with the motion of her hips. The heat of unfulfilled desire was almost painful. As he remembered all he'd done to her, he knew he deserved every pain and more.

"I've always known what kind of man you are." Her voice was low, sultry.

She was so naive.

"You only think you do," he countered angrily. "You don't know why I came here; you don't know the things I'd planned."

She stood above him, her hands on her hips. He leaned back in the chair and gripped the arm rests.

"Gareth, you came here to protect me. Is that a lie?"

He looked away. "That was only part of it."

"How did you know I needed protection?" she asked softly.

He clenched his jaw. How could he answer? How could he prove once and for all the sick things that went on in his mind? "I just knew."

"How did you know?"

He stood up to tower above her. He needed her fear, needed to drive her away. "Do you want to hear it all, how I see things before they happen? How I saw your face in my dreams and visions after all these years?"

"You swore an oath to my father," she said calmly. "When you.. .saw me, was it me you came for, or my father?"

He wanted to say "your father," but the lie wouldn't leave his mouth. "I came for you both." He gripped her arms when a pleased smile curved her mouth. "I did not lie to you about that. I lied about everything else."

"Everything?" she asked in a weak voice.

If this was the only way to drive her from the chaos of his world, back to the privilege and safety of hers, then he would tell her every ugly truth and be damned in her eyes. "Since I was twelve years

old, I have spent every moment of my life hating your family. I rescued you, and you banished me."

"But I didn't know!" she cried.

She tried to wrap her arms about his shoulders, to press against him. It took everything in Gareth to keep from holding her, to remain as cold and remote as a statue.

He pushed her away. "I understand that now. But back then, since you didn't try to stop it, I thought you were just as guilty. And when I arrived here and saw how good your life was, I was furious."

"You had a right to be."

By the saints, nothing was getting through to her! Must he spell out his every sin and watch the pain in her eyes? "Did I have a right to get close to you, to try to persuade you that I was more than your friend?"

Her eyes glistened. "What do you mean?"

"While pretending to be your suitor, I was seducing you in truth. I was lying to you, and I set out to use you."

"But why?"

"Because it would have been my final revenge on your family. I wanted to make you fall in love with me, to choose me as your husband."

"And I did." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He whirled away from her and covered his face against her anguish. "You would have chosen me— a man cursed through life, Warfield's Wizard, a poverty-stricken knight. I wanted all that for you." He turned back toward her. "Now do you see what kind of man I am?"

Margery hugged herself as tears ran down her face. No matter how he'd come to Hawksbury, no matter his motives, he wasn't the same man now. The pain in his eyes and in his voice told her that.

And she loved him. But she didn't think he was ready to hear that.

"You have never trusted anyone," she said slowly. "Life—and my family—has taught you that. You were right not to trust me. I was using you, too. Every moment I pursued you, every time I tried to bring you to my bed, do you think I had marriage on my mind?"

He looked at the floor, not at her. She wanted to put her arms around him, to take all his pain away and bury it inside her.

" 'Tis not the same thing," he said in a low voice.

"Is it not? I wanted you as my last good memory before an awful marriage. Did I care that I might hurt you? At least you wanted to marry me. I just wanted to selfishly use your body for my own pleasure."

"Do you not see?" Gareth said, obviously scoffing at her sins. "It worked right into my plans!"

She stalked into his line of sight, then held his arms when he would have turned away. "Listen to me! Even my marriage proposal to you was selfish. You were the solution to my plans. I was not thinking about love, or even your feelings. I just selfishly assumed that I was the answer to all your prayers. But of the two of us, who was the one to do the noble thing?"