Knights by Linda Lael Miller Page B

I wish to, and make them protect me. As for propriety—I simply don’t care about that.”
    “Who, then, shall protect you from your bodyguards?”Gareth inquired. “Gloriana, as strong and brilliant as you are, you are a woman.” He gestured with one hand in the direction of the hall, where noise erupted even then, in scattered and boisterous bursts. “Do you hear those brutes in there, lining my tables? Half of them have no better manners than my hounds. They would never obey you. Indeed, they would themselves present a very real danger.” He paused again while Gloriana digested his unsettling words, then went on. “I swore to your father that I would preserve your reputation and your virtue in the event that your husband failed in those duties. I shall keep my word, Gloriana—I always do. And if you try to impede me in this aim, I will take appropriate steps.”
    Gloriana’s hands became fists among the folds of her kirtle. “Your promise was just while I was yet a child,” she said, as calmly as she could. She loved Gareth, after all; he had ever been kind and generous. “Now I am a woman. I have lands and a fortune to command. I may go where I wish and do what I want.”
    “Where do you get these ideas?” Gareth muttered, his abundant patience wearing thin at last.
    Gloriana thought of that other world, the one she had left behind when she was just five years old, and supposed that was the answer to Gareth’s question. She did not say so, of course. “You are no different than your brother,” she accused. “Kenbrook would send me to a nunnery, lest I prick his conscience by my presence, and you—
you,
Gareth, who have ever been my friend—hint that you will make me a prisoner if I do not obey your dictates.”
    Gareth had the good grace to look ashamed, but only for an instant. A moment later, he was flushed with righteous conviction. He did not need to say thatany number of intractable women had lived out their lives in tower chambers, watching the seasons change from their narrow windows and never touching the earth again until they were buried.
    When at last he broke the protracted silence that stretched between them, he spoke with the voice of a stranger. “I love you as if you were my sister—nay, my own daughter—but you will pay heed to my wishes, Gloriana St. Gregory, or live to regret your lapse.”
    She rose, with what dignity she could manage, to face the lord of Hadleigh Castle and all the lands, excepting those of Kenbrook of course, for miles around. Not trusting herself to speak, Gloriana executed a deep, mocking curtsy, then turned on her heel and hurried back into the hall.
    Mariette was leaving, accompanied by her maid, as Gloriana entered. Dane stood in the center of a knot of rowdy men, engaged in a drinking contest with the Welshman and a ruddy-faced Hamilton Eigg. All around them, men and wenches alike perched on benches and tabletops, watching, cheering on one contender and then another.
    Gloriana was patently digusted and sought Edward, only to find him making his way through the throng to reach his brother’s side. Only Friar Cradoc was still on the dais when Gloriana climbed the steps, seeking a better view. Edward, she thought virtuously, would put an end to this indecorous nonsense. He was, after all, nearly a knight.
    “A sad spectacle,” commented the friar from his solitary place at the family table. “Sin has come to Hadleigh Castle, milady.”
    Gloriana hadn’t the heart to tell her teacher and priest that sin had taken up residence sometime previously.“Don’t worry,” she counseled distractedly. “Edward will put a finish to this.”
    Edward had at last reached the heart of the melee. There, he spoke to Dane and was answered with a booming gust of laughter, a slap on the back that nearly sent him sprawling, and a mug filled to overflowing with what appeared to be stout. To Gloriana’s stunned disbelief, Edward raised the tankard to his lips, tilted back