My Lady's Guardian by Gayle Callen Page B

battle."
    "But Margery," Anne said tentatively, "what about love?"
    She stared at their innocent faces, then turned her back to look out the window. She hated to disillusion them. "I made that mistake once before," she said sofdy. "From now on, it will not be my first consideration."
    She would never fall in love again. With Peter Fitzwilliam, she had lost all control of herself and lived only to be with him. He'd had all the power in their relationship, and it had almost destroyed her.
    She would have remained a lonely spinster— until she had finally come to her senses and realized that most men were no better than Peter. So now she would negotiate her own marriage. She would be a good wife, and never give her husband cause to regret his choice. But it would really be her choice.
    Gareth stood outside the solar, his back against the wall, disgusted by Margery's words. Her coldblooded plan only proved to him that he had been right all along. She was a woman who thought she could control every aspect of her life—and his, too. She hadn't even told him about this group of visiting suitors, or the king's insistence that she choose a husband by a certain date.
    And for a husband, she wanted a weak-willed eunuch, a man who would dance attendance on her every word. The few times a month she'd let a husband bed her, she'd probably insist on being on top.
    Margery's entire life had taught her that she could have anything she wanted—but not this time.
    During supper, Gareth watched Margery pick at her food. As she spoke with the suitors arrayed across from her, her face was as animated as always, but there was a tension in her eyes.
    His anger was still so strong that he wanted to drag her outside and demand to know why she had lied to him. How could she expect him to be an effective guard if he didn't know everything that was happening to her?
    She stared into the distance, a pensive look on her face, while Gareth struggled to ignore his body's reaction to her. The servants began to clear away the last course. During the confusion of people leaving the table, Margery slipped away from her guests and down a side corridor. Had she already agreed to meet the first of her suitors privately?
    Gareth followed her.
    She led him outside into the fading sunlight of early evening, and disappeared into the chapel. He stepped behind a mound of hay near the stables to wait. No one else entered; what could she be doing?
    The sun had set behind the curtain wall before she emerged again. She walked slowly, her head down, her hands clasped loosely before her. He stepped into view.
    Margery stopped in obvious surprise, her lips parted, her eyes wary. "Gareth, is something wrong? What are you doing here?"
    "Following you." He realized suddenly that he could say nothing to her about her behavior, no matter how she angered him. He had to win her favor.
    She sighed and looked away. "I do not need your protection this night. I was just feeling overwhelmed by having so many guests."
    "And you go to a chapel instead of the peace of your own bedchamber?"
    She shrugged and began to walk again. He kept pace beside her, as the hard earth gave way to the gravel paths of the garden. They entered the gate to the lady's garden, and overhead apple and pear trees closed out the pale pink sky.
    "Believe me, Gareth, I am grateful that these boys show an interest in me."
    "Boys?" he repeated.
    She smiled and shook her head. "Men. Forgive me. 'Tis just that they seem like boys fighdng over a new toy."
    "An accurate description." He took a deep breath and tried to sound relaxed. "I did not know of the king's request that you choose a husband soon."
    Since a shrug was her only answer, her lies and their discovery must mean little to her. He wanted to shake out whatever truths she was still holding back. From her behavior, there had to be more.
    Margery turned away from him and sat down on a small bench in the middle of tall stalks of columbines. She started to move her