My Lady's Guardian by Gayle Callen

and entered, waving to her waiting ladies. Gareth stood still, caught by the overwhelming fragrance of roses. He was reminded sharply of woman, of Margery.
    He refused to think of her like that. She was just a problem he had to conquer before moving on, back to the solitary life he preferred.
    "Sir Gareth?"
    Margery stared at him with a bemused expression. Her two ladies, the twins he hadn't bothered to notice much yet, were openly smiling at him as they flanked her.
    "Sir Gareth," she continued, "do you have an unusual fear of gardens?"
    He bowed his head and gritted his teeth. "No, mistress, I was just enjoying the day."
    She turned away and started down a path. He opened the gate and found the twins waiting for him.
    "You might need our guidance in such a maze," said one of them.
    The young women, both reddish blonds, took his arms to draw him forward.
    "Are you wondering how to tell us apart?" the other one asked.
    He wasn't, but saw no point in telling her that.
    The lady on his left slanted her green-eyed gaze up at him, showing the sparkle of wit and good humor. "I am Lady Anne, Sir Gareth, but I fear you will never be able to tell us apart. Many a good man has tried."
    The twin on his right gave a shocked gasp, clearly a more demure, responsible young woman.
    "I am Lady Cicely," she said, and gave her sister a scolding look. "Please excuse Anne for her lack of manners, Sir Gareth. I don't think she quite knows how words can be misunderstood."
    Lady Anne stuck out her tongue at her sister.
    "Ladies, you have given me all I need to know to tell you apart," he said dryly.
    A few rows away, Margery, now wearing an apron that covered her from bodice to toes, was kneeling in the dirt, plucking out weeds like any kitchen maid. Gareth guided the giggling twins to a bench in the shade of the lady's garden, then returned to Margery. Damn, it would have to be weeding.
    He stood over her, deliberately casting his shadow across her body.
    She looked up and shaded her eyes. "Yes, Sir Gareth? Wouldn't you rather keep Anne and Cicely amused?"
    "You are the lesser of evils," he said, sitting down beside her.
    "Should I be flattered by that?" she asked sweetly.
    For a moment he almost smiled, but caught himself in time.
    She went back to her task.
    He tried not to show his distaste as he braced himself with one hand and plucked a weed.
    "That's parsley," Margery said, laughter in her voice.
    "Oh." He buried the roots, telling himself that the warmth in his face was from the sun, not a blush.
    "This is harder than it looks. You don't weed much, do you?"
    "I buy or am served the food I need. It is not my task to grow it."
    "Ah, then farming is beneath you."
    Anger flared within him at such hypocrisy from her mouth. "Nothing is beneath me." He gritted his teeth and controlled himself. "Why do you do such menial tasks? Surely your maidservants are competent."
    "I can already tell that, by the beautiful care they've taken with the gardens. But I am trying to meet all of the castle folk. I thought that if I joined them in their work, even if only for a few hours, they might grow to accept me sooner."
    He looked at her bent head. He told himself there had to be a selfish reason behind all this.
    For a time they worked in silence, Gareth following her lead as to which were weeds. The sun beat warmly down on their backs, and the gende buzz of bees mixed with the murmuring of the twins' voices. His mind drifted lazily, thinking of nothing in particular, and he almost forgot his purposes here.
    Then a sour twist of nausea struck him without warning, and Gareth barely resisted the urge to gasp. When he closed his eyes, he didn't see blackness, but a swirling maelstrom of colors trying to form a picture. Not now; not with Margery so
    close. He put a hand to his head, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and tried as always to force the coming vision away.
    His head began to ache, and suddenly the colors in his mind coalesced into Margery riding a horse, a