My Lady's Guardian Read Free

his horse danced to a halt. He cocked his head, eyeing the woods all around them.
    "Desmond, you go on ahead. Hawksbury Castle is not far."
    Desmond leaned on his pommel and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "What is going on, Beaumont?"
    "Nothing." Desmond was ignorant of his visions, and Gareth planned to keep it that way as long as possible. Not for the first time, he wondered why generations of a family had been cursed for one ancestor's crime. "I just need a moment to think on what I will say to Margery."
    Desmond grinned. "Nervous about a mere woman?"
    Gareth said nothing. The longer he traveled with Desmond, the more talkative the man had become, as if it was ever possible for them to be friends. Gareth didn't need friends.
    "Very well," Desmond said. "I'll leave you to your peace. Who knows, the fair Margery might take a liking to me."
    Margery Welles circled the clearing, keeping the stone bench between herself and a grinning Thomas Fogge. For the third time this day, she cursed her foolishness. Why ever had she thought he was different from all the others—different from Peter Fitzwilliam? Taking him to one of her favorite peaceful places had been the height of stupidity. Now she was forced to fend off his advances, when all she'd wanted to do was talk.
    "Lord Fogge, I insist we go back to the castle."
    "Mistress Welles—Margery," he said, with an ingratiating smile that showed his blackened teeth, "I am so enjoying our private visit. How else can you come to know me?"
    "Then seat yourself, my lord, and we will converse."
    Lord Fogge leaned one way. Margery went the opposite way, and found herself against his chest.
    "Margery, I ache for one of your kisses. Just one."
    She leaned back in his embrace and turned her face away, but felt his hot breath on her neck. She had been in this situation one too many times this last month. Why hadn't she learned by now that every eligible man in England considered her fair game? And yet, what choice did she have? The days were flying by at too fast a pace, and soon the king would need an answer.
    Margery felt his mouth on her cheek and grimaced. Just as she was about to bring up her knee and end His Lordship's kiss with pain, Fogge abruptly released her. As she stumbled back against the bench, she realized that Fogge had not willingly let her go. He was caught in the grip of a stranger— a much larger, broader man, who punched him hard in the stomach.
    With a groan, Fogge doubled over and staggered against a tree trunk. The stranger grabbed him again, and Fogge covered his head and whimpered.
    "Let him go!" Margery said.
    The stranger ignored her. His fist connecting with Fogge's chin snapped the man's head back.
    "That is enough!" she cried, grasping the stranger's arm. She stumbled as his arm came forward again, but hung on grimly. "You've disabled him. He will not be so foolish again."
    The stranger abruptly released Lord Fogge, who reeled sideways, blood dripping from his lower lip. Without a glance at Margery, His Lordship darted through the trees toward where they'd left the horses. But she soon forgot him when the stranger turned and looked at her.
    She felt a shiver of fear. Her rescuer would have continued to pummel her assailant if she had not intervened. She could trust him even less than Lord Fogge. The man was tall and well-muscled, wearing a leather jerkin over a dark shirt. His bright blond hair was long and shaggy, as if he'd been traveling for some time. Then their gazes met, and Margery forgot to breathe.
    She would recognize those intense eyes anywhere.
    He was Gareth Beaumont, the boy from her childhood.
    Shock and disbelief made her freeze. Not a week went by that she didn't wonder what had become of him. Almost without thinking, she reached for the
    purse hung from her belt, and touched the crystal stone through the fabric.
    She'd never been able to forget the way his golden eyes seemed to glow with a light of their own. But now a coldness lurking behind