Enough with cowardice, she told herself, and raised her gaze to his. She expected to feel the anguish of love lost. Instead she felt…tired.
His smile, once full of promise, was now only patronizing. “My dear girl, it is so good to see you.”
She nodded once and said nothing.
“Did you receive my letter?”
“What do you want, Peter?”
“Want?” He lowered his voice, then looked about to see if anyone was near. “Margery, you already gave me everything I could want.”
Her worst fears were about to become reality. He would tell everyone what she had done. She braced herself to feel terror and anxiety, but she could barely work up the strength to be nervous.
Gareth was watching them, his beautiful face inscrutable as he waved away one eager serving maid after another. He didn’t want her himself, yet was he making sure no one else could have her?
She knew such thoughts were unfair. He was her personal guard, trying to see his task to completion. He had not asked her to throw herself at him. He had given her exactly what she wanted.
It was not his fault that sexual intimacy was no longer enough for her.
“Margery!” Peter sounded annoyed. His brown eyes, which had once seemed so warm, now regarded her with calculating intent.
She gave him a weary smile. “Yes?”
“I have been thinking of our last parting.”
She tensed, but refused to look away.
“Perhaps it was a bit…abrupt.”
“What do you mean?”
“That I have changed my mind.” He took her hand and this time squeezed enough so that she couldn’t pull away. “Margery, I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Once she had lived to hear those words from him. Now all she could think was—liar.
“Peter, do you need money?” she asked. “Does my enlarged dowry draw you more than before?”
His eyes glittered and his smile faded just a bit. “So we are being blunt, are we?”
“I prefer it that way.”
He reached up and caressed her cheek. “Money does increase your desirability—and it makes up for your barrenness. Who knows, you might even yet have children. Or maybe I will give you children we can raise together.”
Margery felt ill. It was as she suspected: he only told her she was barren to be rid of her. And like every other man, it seemed he would have his dalliances outside their marriage, and she would be the one to live with the results. She would have slapped him if he hadn’t chosen their meeting place so well.
She said, “I no longer want to marry you.”
He grinned. “We are already married before God. Should I tell your brothers that?”
She could stand up and walk away; she could argue—if only he didn’t make sense. She had no illusions that a marriage between Peter and her would ever be a love match. Maybe he’d even spend most of his time in London, and leave her in peace.
Margery glanced at Gareth. He looked as fierce as his Viking ancestors, as if he had a personal stake in his duty as her guard.
But he didn’t.
She glanced once more at Peter.
He was looking at Gareth speculatively. “And who is that, my dear?”
