Читать книгу Bedding the Enemy - Mary Wine - Страница 6

“Did the queen invite you back?”

Helena jumped, her mind foggy from slumber. Fear shot through her for a brief moment until she forced her eyes to focus on the yellow glow illuminating the doorframe of her tiny room. Edmund stood there, a sneer of impatience on his lips.

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

There was little point in berating him for waking her so rudely. Her brother might take that as a compliment to his ability to ruffle her feathers. His gaze wondered over her, lingering on her face for a long moment before moving down her body. Her fingers curled around the top of the blanket, clutching it closer. Disgust raked across her.

Edmund snickered at her revulsion. “Don’t flatter yourself, sister dear. I am merely trying to gauge just what manner of body you’ve managed to grow. You’re certainly not pretty enough to have the marriage offers piling up on my secretary’s desk.”

Helena pulled the blanket up anyway, his words giving her little reassurance. It bothered her to have him in her chamber during the night. Her skin itched with distaste.

“I’ve done what you asked, Edmund. Go on and let me rest.”

His face changed, his lips thinning into something quite ugly. She was accustomed to his schemes but this was deeper somehow. Greed shimmered in his eyes.

“I haven’t even begun to tell you what I want you to do. But I’m not surprised that you can’t understand what needs to be done for our family to succeed.” His eyes traveled down her length once more, his lips curling back in disgust. “You’re just a female, nothing but a bitch that can speak. It falls to me to give you direction.”

He left her doorway, the light of the candle fading down the hallway. It left her in darkness because her shutters were closed. Rolling over and reaching up, Helena found the inch-wide metal rod that secured them. She did it easily from hundreds of repetitions. Pulling it loose, she allowed it to hang by its chain, and propped herself up on one shoulder so that she might open the shutter.

Edmund would have a fit if he knew she opened the shutters at all. Her room wasn’t really a room but an attic. He’d had a set of steep stairs built when her parents sent her to join him in the London town house. Residences near the palace were costly and in great demand but she slept in the attic for another reason.

Edmund was selfish.

She smothered a giggle and pulled one shutter open. The night sky was magical. Well, only if one admitted to believing in magic. That wasn’t very wise. James didn’t seem to have the same zeal for witch hunting as some did, but there were men on his privy council who did.

She pulled the blanket up to her nose to hide any reflections of the moonlight off her plain nightshift. Keeping absolutely still, she could look out over the rooftops of London. She only did it when the moonlight wasn’t pointing toward her window. The night was beautiful. Searching the heavens, she located constellations she had first seen in books. Peace settled over her. This was the time that was solely hers. She treasured it.

The corners of her mouth twitched up just thinking about what Edmund might do if he knew how much she adored the tiny attic room.

She hoped nothing. He was her brother, after all. It was sad to think they would never like each other. She still held out hope that they might find some topics that they agreed upon, possibly even enjoy conversing on.

To date it had not happened. The moment she arrived in London, Edmund had begun telling her what he planned for her to do. What use he had for her. It was disheartening, to say the least. They were blood but honestly they were little more than strangers. Edmund had left their family estate at the age of six and she had been barely out of swaddling at the time. He returned from time to time but never for long. Her memory held brief recollections of him at different ages, but it was likely that she held those memories due to the paintings her parents commissioned of their only son. They were huge oil canvases, ones that hung proudly in the dining hall of their estate. She hadn’t really known what to expect upon her arrival. What she’d found was a man who was a stranger to her.

Edmund wore lace and ribbons set with gold tips. Pearls adorned his doublet and his slops were full and round. His boots were always polished and freshly blacked. Lace edged the ruffles of his shirt. The thing that looked the most out of place on him was the sword he had strapped to his hip. The hilt was gilded and polished. Edmund had a habit of resting one hand on it, almost lovingly. He was every inch the courtier. His life revolved around the gossip. The first few days she had attended with him, she had stared in wonder while he made his rounds. He wasn’t alone in that. Hundreds of people were crowded into court. They competed for appointments with the king. Bribes were frequent and high. Seating at banquets cost you a good amount of silver if you wanted to be seated next to the person of your choice. Edmund dictated every move she made. No one danced with her without his permission. She did not go where he did not bid her to go.

Just like today with the queen…

Raelin and the other girls who served as maids of honor came to mind. Even their dresses were uniform. In spite of having known her so short a time, Helena found herself liking the Scots girl. A desire to return to the queen’s private chambers was growing stronger, but not due to any direction from her brother.

Poor Edmund. How would he deal with such devastating news?

She laughed at her own jest. It wasn’t too terrible to tease her brother in her thoughts. Well, the church would argue about that. Still she didn’t feel guilt chewing on her conscience. After all, Edmund made no attempt at all to be pleasant. A few ill thoughts were the least of his due. But she would not linger on them. The only person who would be upset was herself.

Reaching up, she closed the shutter. Dawn would arrive promptly, so best to rest while she might. Edmund would likely have her dressed and in the carriage at daybreak. But she didn’t mind, for it meant she might see Raelin again, and the idea of having a friend sent her off to slumber with happy thoughts.

“Welcome back, Mistress Knyvett.” One of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting waved the guards out of the doorway. Helena lowered herself before entering.

“Her Majesty is unwell this morning.”

“I am sorry to hear such news.”

The lady offered a small smile that confused Helena. The queen’s illness was no reason for smiles, she would think.

“’Tis the babe making her ill. It will pass in a few more weeks.”

Helena’s face reflected her surprise. She had heard no rumors of the queen being with child.

“And you shall keep that knowledge to yourself, madam. Her Majesty does not need to be bothered with the endless congratulations and chattering of every soul who wants to advance themselves by wiggling into her good graces. Now is the time for quiet so that her body may adjust.”

“Of course. I understand.”

The lady waved her off, toward the circle of maids of honor. They smiled at her, Raelin patting a bench next to her.

“I’m so glad ye came.”

Raelin kept her voice a whisper. “Dinnae ye worry, things will be right as rain by noon. Until then, we will have to behave.”

There was a soft round of laughter from all the girls that they covered up quickly, and lowered their heads to peer at their sewing. Helena felt her eyes widen when she beheld what was sitting on the table in the center of their group. A small chest, banded with iron to make it secure, was there with its top open. Pearls in more colors than she had ever seen sat nestled inside it—cream, white, pink, gold, and even blue ones. They were sorted into different sizes and held in small silk bags that were all carefully untied so that you might see into each bag.

“Can you stitch?”

“Of course.”

Raelin shook her head. “There is no ‘of course’ about it. The pearls are counted and recounted when removed. Make sure your stitches and knots are secure.”

Raelin handed her a silk sleeve that was edged in velvet. Tiny chalk marks showed the design where the pearls were intended to sit. She also handed her a golden needle.

Helena marveled at the little needle. It was so smooth, no rough burrs to catch on the fabric. She rolled it between her fingers, simply enjoying holding such a fine item. The sleeve itself was beautiful and working on it was a pure delight for the senses. The girls whispered all the time they attached pearls. Helena felt Raelin watching her first few stitches but she did not become flustered. Her skills were very good and she knotted the thread with a practiced hand.

The queen finally emerged from her sleeping chamber, her face pale. Her ladies fluttered around her but she waved them away.

“A bit of fresh air. That is all I need.”

She was wearing only a dressing gown and that was untied, allowing her chemise to be seen. Her hair was braided into one thick length that trailed down her back. But she still looked so regal. It was in the way she moved, commanding everyone around her.

“Helena, play something sweet.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Carefully setting her work aside, Helena rose and curtsied to her queen before sitting at the virginals. The queen looked out over the garden but her face lost some of its pinched look when Helena began to play.

“I heard ye were feeling poorly again.”

Helena missed a note as the king strode into the chamber. The queen turned and lowered herself. But the king reached for her hand, raising her.

“I am very well.”

James Stuart didn’t appear to believe her. His face was darkened with concern. Anne laughed at him.

“This is not our first babe. I will be strong and well.”

The king kissed her hand, lingering over it. He suddenly noticed Helena, looking straight at her.

“A new maid of honor, my dear?”

The queen smiled. “This is Helena Knyvett. I enjoy her command of the virginals quite a bit.”

“Then I am in her debt.”

Helena felt a smile brightening her face. There was no way to ignore the rise of satisfaction inside her. But it wasn’t due to some sense of family duty. The king might command the best musicians in the country to play for him. Pleasing his ear was an accomplishment, to be sure. She inclined her head to acknowledge his words, not wanting to lose the melody.

Servants entered with large serving platters that had silver domes over them. They set a table right in the middle of the chamber. The scent of fresh bread and newly cut cheese drifted to her nose when they lifted the domes. The king and queen began dining. Helena watched them from beneath her lowered lashes. It was a fascinating sight because, in spite of their positions, they appeared quite normal.

Not that she might ever dare to call them normal. Many still believed in the divine right of the monarchy. But it was almost an intimate setting, so far removed from the other times she had viewed the royal couple. At banquets, there were horns that announced the couple every time they entered the room. Each tempting and lavish tray was presented to them before anyone else. Earls and countesses served them, doing even the most basic of table chores, such as holding a bowl of wash water for the queen to rinse her hands in before she supped. The ladies of the chamber served the royal couple but it lacked the abundance of lowering and curtsies that was displayed by these very same women in the great hall. There was no lack of respect, simply a lack of pretense.

Helena was suddenly more content than she had been since leaving home. Behind all the polished manners and expected duties, there were people here. She enjoyed that.

Even Edmund and his schemes couldn’t tarnish her joy.

London…

Keir McQuade looked down on the town with a frown. He’d honestly never thought to travel so far into England. He liked Scotland and was quite content to run his estates.

There was yet another thing that had changed with his father’s recent behavior. James might just leave him standing in the outer chamber for months, considering the last McQuade he’d had in his presence had needed running through by the royal guard. The only thing his monarch might be interested in seeing him about was the inheritance taxes due the crown. But the secretary of the privy council could collect that.

Yet it was his duty to wait for his king’s attention.

Every new laird swore an oath to his monarch. It was a tradition that needed to be observed even more because of the way his father had disgraced the name of McQuade. Keir looked down on London and tightened his resolve. He wasna afraid of anything that would befall his own person. He was more worried about nae being able to restore his clan to good standing with his king. Being the McQuade laird, that was now his burden. Every soul wearing McQuade colors looked to him to maintain their honor. The men riding with him all wanted to be proud of the name they’d been born with, to wear their kilts with chins held high. His father had made that difficult with raids that cast a shadow over the honor of the entire clan.

He tightened his hand around the reins.

He’d make sure their sons could be proud of being McQuades.

“You’re more clever than I thought.”

Edmund was drunk, although her brother handled it expertly. There was only a slight slurring to his words and a pinch at the corner of his eyes that she had learned to recognize.

“Don’t plan on getting married. I need you.”

She bit her lip to retain the harsh words that bubbled up in response. What an arrogant fool her brother was. He mocked himself with his own words. One day he was ready to get rid of her, and the next he was warning her against thinking of marrying. The only thing his warning did was illuminate how little say she had over her own fate. Such knowledge was beginning to chafe, and being told that it was a woman’s position to accept it, very old.

Her brother’s hunting hounds appeared to have more choice than she.

“Lure Raelin McKorey out tonight.”

“That isn’t necessary. I am making my own place with the queen.” She knew better but just couldn’t stand idle while her brother threatened Raelin. The Scots girl was her only friend.

And she was a kindhearted soul as well. She deserved better than to be lured to her ruin. Especially by someone that she had been kind to. Maybe many at court considered that acceptable in the game of getting ahead, but it stuck in Helena’s throat, refusing to be swallowed.

Edmund’s eyes narrowed. He was an expert at concealing his true feelings, but she had learned some of his expressions, mostly the ones that promised her the harsh side of his temper.

“A position of your own?” He snickered softly at her. “Any player with a bit of skill can do what you have done, sister.”

Edmund moved toward her, his gait as refined as ever, and stopped within reach of her.

“I will not repeat my instructions. Do it—once the king retires and his nobles have a chance to leave for the night.”

Or suffer his displeasure. She heard that clearly enough. But she refused to aid him in this scheme. Or any others, for that matter. For all his fine clothing, she suddenly noticed just how pathetic he was. Her parents might have spent endless hours drilling her duty into her but they had also taught her honor.

Edmund didn’t even seem to know such a trait existed.

“I will not assist you, Edmund. Raelin is not dishonorable.”

His hand struck her quick and sharply, her head turning with the blow. When she returned her gaze to his face, she clearly saw the flush discoloring his skin. Her temper itched to retaliate, but acting on such impulses had never turned out well for her in the past. She clasped her hands together to keep them from returning the blow.

“You shall do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Greed shone from his eyes, sickening her.

“I will not do anything to hurt Raelin. Or dishonor her.”

Edmund suddenly laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, but one filled with mockery.

“Do you somehow believe she is sincere? A true friend of the heart, perhaps?” He pressed his lips closed but she could still hear him chuckling. “She’s like everyone else. Don’t think for a moment that her family didn’t send her here with the very same expectations that you have been given.”

He backed away from her, raking her with cold eyes. “You will do it or I will have to find a means of influencing you.”

Helena didn’t answer. A chill shot down her spine, warning her to let Edmund believe her bent to his will. She didn’t want to see the cruelty in his eyes, but it sat there glimmering with hot intensity. It sickened her. Sickened her even more to think they shared the same blood. Her throat felt as if there was a noose around it, tightening every day. But she refused to do what was necessary to be free. The only thing she had was her honor. It was the sole item she counted as her possession alone. Even her body would one day be bartered and used at the whim of Edmund. She could not betray the only kind person she had met. But she wasn’t sure how to keep her brother from hurting Raelin in spite of her refusals to assist him.

Being born female was a curse.

“A pleasure doing business with you, my lord.”

Keir folded his arms across his chest. The fop in front of him scooted back a step, his eyes watching the way Keir’s biceps bulged.

“I’ll be leaving you to your accommodations then.”

The man fled in a swish of his overpuffed pants. Keir snarled softly.

“Och now, that’s sure to get us tossed out in the gutter.” Farrell McQuade clicked his tongue along with the reprimand.

“After that amount of gold he just stole from me for this wretched place?”

“It’s a step up from the gutter.”

“For a child’s legs, maybe.” Keir looked around the tiny town home. It was ancient. The wood around the doorframes was splintering because it was so dry. Considering the rain pouring down off the edge of the roof, that was an amazing thing. “Personally, I was hoping for a wee bit bigger step. Tell the men I’ll keep looking for something more hospitable.” His retainers wouldn’t complain, but they had the right. The dozen McQuade clansmen who followed him would be crammed into three rooms and that was only because he planned to share the upper room with Farrell and his captain. But no laird went anywhere without retainers. It was foolish to travel alone, a death wish. The road had plenty of danger for the unprepared man.

“Why doesn’t Jamie move the English court to Edinburgh?”

Keir shook his head at Farrell. “He’d no wear that crown long if he tried that one.”

England’s noblemen were powerful and a king that was not in sight could very easily be undermined, which left Scotland’s nobles paying inflated prices for lodging in London. Most noble families maintained residences near the palace. The McQuades had one in Edinburgh for the times they were summoned to court. But now that James was king of both countries, the Edinburgh house stood empty while Keir was putting out coin for a hovel in London. The house pickings were slim, with ambassadors flooding into the city with the news of Elizabeth Tudor’s death making its way across Europe.

“Let’s hope Jamie doesna keep us waiting too long.” Farrell tried to sound hopeful but Keir shot him a glance. The burly McQuade retainer shrugged.

“Och well, it was a thought.”

“Aye. I suppose we’d best get our doublets out. It looks like we’re to court, you and I.”

Keir’s voice lacked enthusiasm but not determination. Better to begin; that way they’d finish their business all the sooner. He did not have much to unpack, as he’d not even bothered with a trunk. He would not know what to do with one. His best doublet was a sturdy wool one. He was a Scottish laird and did not have any plans to join the flock of young men wearing lace and silk. He’d wear his kilt proudly. After all, that was the reason he was here. To restore honor to that kilt. Let the court stare at him and know that he was different. He was Scots and here to do his duty.

He was not going home until he’d accomplished it.

“I’ve never seen such women in me life.” Farrell frowned at the court. Keir elbowed him and shot him a reprimanding look.

“Stop scowling at them, Farrell. We’ve nae the best reputation.”

“Good. Maybe that will keep these females from flirting with us.”

Farrell shuddered. Keir fought his own battle to hide his surprise, or horror, as it were. Never in his life had he ever thought that he’d find boys more pleasing to his eye than women. But the ladies of the court looked so far removed from anything he’d ever seen, he couldn’t help but look at the men for a bit of relief.

The women’s dresses plunged down in the front with naught but scraps of fabric holding their titties in. The points of the stomachers extended a full forearm’s length below their waists. The dresses came out at the hips, straight out for over a foot. It gave them the shape of a cylinder. There was not a feminine curve in sight. The view only got worse when he look up to their faces. Most of them were white with red spots over their cheeks. Their hair stood up several inches above their heads and it was stiff, not one single, flowing bounce in sight.

What confounded him were the extremes in the court. Plenty of women in London wore smaller versions of both hair and dress styles while maintaining a bit of feminine allure. Of course, there was also the need to be able to move that accounted for those abbreviations, but Keir admitted that he liked a more practical-looking woman, as opposed to the ones he was looking at.

Keir suddenly froze, his eyes settling on a woman that he’d not noticed before. It might have been due to her lack of garish face paint or just due to the overwhelming horror he found himself facing.

But she was charming.

He’d never been a man to chase a woman because she had a pretty face. He always needed something more to snare his interest. The stark contrast in her dress drew his attention. The garment did not look like it was a cage laced around her. Instead the skirt flowed simply from her waist over a modest set of underpinnings. The men she walked past did not give her any attention. In fact, a few of them looked down their powdered noses at her modest neckline. Only the very tops of her breasts peeked over the top of her bodice. Among so many bulging mounds it was quite captivating. But what kept his eyes on her was her height. She was slender and too thin for his taste, but her head rose high enough to look several of the men in the eye.

He’d be able to kiss her without bending over.

The sides of his mouth twitched up. Och now, he was being a rakehell with that idea. He did not even know the lass’s name and here he was imagining what her lips tasted like. His smile grew broader. At least it was a far better thing to be thinking about than how much he detested the current fashion of court ladies. A fair bit better indeed. Whoever she was, she became blocked from his sight, leaving only her memory.

He did not care for waiting.

His face returned to its pensive expression. He’d never been an idle man. Running Red Stone took all of his time but it was a labor he enjoyed. Awaiting Jamie’s pleasure was something that tore at his gut.

He was staring at her.

Helena looked through her lowered eyelashes at him. He was a Scot and no mistake about it. Held in place around his waist was a great kilt. Folded into pleats that fell longer in the back, his plaid was made up in heather, tan and green. She knew little of the different clans and their tartans but she could see how proud he was. The nobles she passed among scoffed at him but she didn’t think he would even cringe if he were to hear their mutters. She didn’t think the gossip would make an impact. He looked impenetrable. Strength radiated from him. There was nothing pompous about him, only pure brawn.

Her attention was captivated by him. She had seen other Scots wearing their kilts but there was something more about him. A warm ripple moved across her skin. His doublet had sleeves that were closed, making him look formal, in truth more formal than the brocade-clad men standing near her brother. There wasn’t a single gold or silver bead sewn to that doublet, but he looked ready to meet his king. It was the slant of his chin, the way he stood.

“You appear to have an admirer, Helena.”

Edmund sounded conceited and his friends chuckled. Her brother’s words surfaced in her mind and she shifted her gaze to the men standing near her brother. They were poised in perfect poses that showed off their new clothing. One even had a lace-edged handkerchief dangling from one hand.

She suddenly noticed how much of a fiction it was. Edmund didn’t believe them to be his friends but he stood jesting with them. Each one of them would sell the other out for the right amount. It was so very sad—like a sickness you knew would claim their lives but could do nothing about.

“A Scot, no less.”

Edmund eyed her. She stared back, unwilling to allow him to see into her thoughts. Annoyance flickered in his eyes when she remained calm. He waved his hands, dismissing her.

She turned quickly before he heard the soft sound of a gasp. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. It was such a curious reaction. Peeking back across the hall, she found the man responsible for invading her thoughts completely. He had a rugged look to him, his cheekbones high and defined. No paint decorated his face. His skin was a healthy tone she hadn’t realized she missed so much. He was clean-shaven, in contrast to the rumors she’d heard of Scotland’s men. Of course, many Englishmen wore beards. But his hair was longer, touching his shoulders and full of curl. It was dark as midnight and she found it quite rakish.

He caught her staring at him. She froze, her heartbeat accelerating. His dark eyes seemed alive even from across the room. His lips twitched up, flashing her a glimpse of strong teeth. He reached up to tug lightly on the corner of his knitted bonnet. She felt connected to him, her body strangely aware of his—even from so great a distance. Sensations rippled down her spine and into her belly. She sank into a tiny curtsy without thought or consideration. It was a response, pure and simple. Her heart was thumping against her chest and she felt every beat as if time had slowed down.

A woman crossed between them, interrupting her staring. It was enough time for her mind to begin questioning what she was doing. Fluttering her eyelashes, she lowered her gaze, forcing herself to move through the court with slow steps. She ordered herself not to look back. She was warm, warmer than the day warranted. The reaction fascinated her but it also struck a warning bell inside her mind. She should not look back.

But a part of her didn’t care for that. It clamored for her to turn and find him again. His eyes were as dark as his hair but lit with some manner of flame. She wanted to know if he was still watching her, wanted to know if she glimpsed the same flames in his eyes that she felt in her cheeks.

Ah yes, but fire burns…

Helena smiled. She enjoyed the way she felt, a silly little sort of enjoyment that made her want to giggle. The reason was actually quite simple. The way he looked at her made her feel pretty. Court was full of poetry and lavish compliments, but none of it had touched her. His eyes did. The flicker of appreciation was genuine.

She had never felt such before.

“Good day to ye.”

She froze. The man must be half specter to move so quickly. But she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite. Her gaze sought his, curious to see if his eyes continued to fascinate her up close.

She was not disappointed. Her breath froze in her lungs, excitement twisting her belly. His gaze roamed over her face and a pleased expression entered his eyes. In fact, it looked a bit like relief.

She was suddenly grateful to Raelin all over again for having freed her of the heavy makeup. The way he looked at her made her feel pretty for the first time in her life.

“Good evening.”

He offered his hand to her and more excitement raced through her. She lifted her hand to place it in his but Edmund gripped her wrist before she touched the Scot. Her brother’s grip was cold and harsh. He didn’t have a care for his strength, crushing the smaller bones of her wrists. She didn’t feel the pain because lament burned through her for the contact she was being denied.

“My sister is on her way to play for the queen.”

She didn’t want to see the Scot bend in front of her brother’s arrogance. That idea flashed through her mind and she did not tear her attention from his face, watching to see if he allowed Edmund’s name to impress him. For some odd reason, she needed to know. She actually wanted him to stand tall, even if that was unwise. But it would be gallant and noble.

Whoever he was, Edmund did not impress him. One dark eyebrow rose mockingly. Helena felt warmth spread through her heart. It was not that she enjoyed seeing her brother disrespected, but it was endearing to watch a man refuse to swallow Edmund’s arrogance.

“And she has no time for dawdling.” Edmund glared at her. “Go on with you, Helena.”

She couldn’t disobey a direct order, not in public. The scandal would taint the entire Knyvett family.

Oh, but she wanted to.

Her gaze returned to the Scot. His eyes were dark as ink and just as solid as the written word. His lips curved slightly for her. The soft skin of her own tingled in response. Her cheeks burned hotter but a grumble from her brother sent her feet to moving.

Damn Edmund and his ambition….

Edmund waited until his sister complied before scoffing at Keir once more. It was almost too amusing to hold inside. But the way the man spoke to his sister was not entertaining. It reminded him of the way his own sister had lived under his father’s rule.

“My sister is a noblewoman of blue blood. Our family is one of the oldest in England, sir. You will keep your hands away from her.”

Keir grinned. It was a full curving of his lips that flashed his teeth at the whelp trying to impress him. He took one long step toward the man and was rewarded with a whitening of his pallor.

“Strange thing is, I do believe ye might have just been discussing a hunting bitch instead of yer own sister. It sounded that cold-blooded. If she’s the lady you proclaim her to be, why are ye talking to her like a dockside hussy?”

“How dare you…Scot! Do you know who I am?”

“Nay, but so far I’m nae impressed with the way ye treat yer sister. Titles are nothing but old words without honor.”

Keir turned and left. He did not need one of England’s nobles wrought with him, but he could not stomach the man without speaking his mind, either. He was drunk on his own power, exactly like his older brothers had been when his father was still laird of the McQuades. They did whatever pleased them and the suffering caused by that selfishness bothered them naught at all.

But that was not what he wanted to think about. He scanned the court, searching for her. Something in her eyes had drawn a response that baffled him. The moment that her hand had been moving toward his own was etched into his memory. It was as tantalizing as it was frustrating. The only thing he felt certain of was the fact that he wanted to see her again.

Without her scheming brother. He was not the first pompous man who had tried to step on him, but Keir was not planning on letting the man interfere with discovering if the lass could snare more of his attention.

“There’s nae a great deal of affection between yer brother and ye.”

Helena froze only halfway around the corner. For a moment she thought she imagined the Scottish brogue. It was the truth that she was dwelling on the man. But he stood in the hallway as large and real as might be.

“Do you often appear in front of ladies?”

He shrugged, drawing her eyes to his shoulders. For some unknown reason his body fascinated her. She simply enjoyed looking at him, tracing the bulges that pushed on his doublet, running her gaze along his arms and wondering what his skin looked like beneath the sleeves of his doublet. She had never been so interested in a man before, which made her curious.

“’Twas the best way to get back to the conversation yer brother interrupted.”

“I see.” She didn’t care for how soft her voice was. Lifting her chin, she stared straight at his face. Indeed, the man was large, but that was no reason to simper. “There was no need. My brother was truthful; I am expected by the queen. Yet I apologize for how rude he was.”

There was no disguising the lament in her tone.

“I’ll be the judge of whether or no I needed to find a way to place that kiss on the back of yer hand.”

He was a proud man; she heard it in his voice. But his words irritated her. He was quite sure of himself indeed.

“Nay sir, I shall be the keeper of my own hand.”

She wasn’t sure why she spoke so heatedly to him. Her heart was beating faster, making it hard to remain poised and in place. It was almost as if she needed to prove that she would not surrender to his will without due consideration.

“Good day, sir. I must be on my way now.”

She brushed by him, her knees feeling wobbly. Her eyes widened but he couldn’t see her face.

“Och well, I’ll be happy to meet yer challenge, lass.”

Helena spun around in spite of knowing that it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Allowing anyone to view her emotions would only lead to misfortune on her part. Even this man who fascinated her so. There could be no good end to it.

“I did not issue you a challenge. You really shouldn’t believe that I have.”

He was very close behind her and she gasped when she realized that they were only one step from each other. Her feet stepped back before she thought. But the cumbersome court dress was not made for such motions, and her heel landed on her hem. The weight of her body pulled on the skirts that were trapped beneath her long corset. She tipped backward, off balance, knowing that she was falling and helpless to do anything about it.

She gasped but the sound didn’t have time to completely cross her lips before she was sucking in a very ungentle-sounding breath. The Scot caught her forearms, controlling her weight as if she were a child. She felt every finger in spite of her clothing.

“You shouldn’t.”

That dark eyebrow rose once more. “Shouldna keep ye from falling?”

He set her back on her feet, as though she were a figurine. Behind her stays, her heart was truly racing now and her breathing accelerated to keep pace. The increase in her respiration drew his scent into her senses. Her thoughts ceased for a time, her mind settling on that scent and how much she liked it. She wanted to hum with satisfaction. That idea startled her with just how intense it was. This was more than curiosity. At least more intense than she was comfortable with.

“You shouldn’t touch me.”

He released her forearms but trailed one hand down the length of her arm. A shiver shook her, racing down her back. Her gaze fell to his fingers. He gently clasped her wrist and lifted her hand toward his lips.

But he didn’t kiss the back of her gloved hand. He pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her wrist. The delicate skin reacted to the touch of his lips like fire. It burned up her arm and into her body. Time remained still, suspending her between heartbeats. She noticed so many details in that moment. The way his lips curved, it was far more than a grin. He looked hungry and her belly twisted in response to that knowledge.

“Ah, but the look in yer eyes says otherwise, lass.” His voice turned husky but he stepped back and reached for the corner of his bonnet. He tugged on it, the simple gesture conveying more respect than any reverence she had ever seen. The reason was simple: it was genuine.

“And I’ll be happy to take up that challenge in spite of that brother of yers.”

“You are an arrogant man, sir.”

He flashed a grin at her. “Aye, well some call it confidence.”

Frustration sent her teeth into her lower lip while she tried to force herself to think. “What do you mean by that?”

His eyes flashed with determination. “I believe that I mean to court ye. There is something between us that needs a wee bit of investigation.”

Helena was suspended between the need to laugh and the urge to gasp. “My brother will never allow it.”

The Scot shrugged. “Then I suppose ’tis a good thing I wasnae planning on courting him.” His lips became a mocking curve that showed her even white teeth.

Helena pressed her lips together. The man was toying with her. But what vexed her so was the fact that she was jumping at his bait like a fish. So many years of polish and practice should not be undermined so easily. Court was filled with men who would cheerfully make prey of her if she could not hold up to their flirting. She was failing at all of the things that she was expected to be.

“Good day.”

She turned and left, covering the distance to the queen’s chambers with quick strides. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirts as she drew closer to the guards at the doors because she was not entirely certain that she would be admitted. Edmund was correct—the queen had many musicians to choose from.

But she needed the pikes to remain uncrossed to allow her to enter. The man behind her was disturbing her with his ability to unsettle her usual calm so easily. She needed sanctuary and time to sort out her feelings. Tension drew the muscles across her shoulders taut when the guards looked at her. Holding her chin level, she stared at them, forcing herself to appear confident of her position with the queen. They considered her for a moment before lifting their pikes to clear the doorway. Two uniformed servants drew the doors open.

Her knees felt weak, but what alarmed her the most was the lament that crossed her heart when she heard the soft click of the doors closing behind her.

“Now you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Raelin fluttered her eyelashes in an attempt to cajole her into doing what she wanted. Helena shook her head.

“It was nothing.”

The Scots girl narrowed her eyes. “Oh aye, so much a nothing that ye were blushing bright as a summer sunset.” Raelin sighed. “I have never blushed like that. No’ even once.”

“That’s not fair.”

Raelin lifted her eyebrows. “What is no fair?”

A faint flicker of victory lit her friend’s eyes, but it was too charming to really become annoyed with. Helena rolled her eyes.

“Pouting like that. I do consider you a friend.” So much so that she would challenge Edmund over her. Many would condemn her for such. Blood was considered thicker than anything else.

Mischief glittered in Raelin’s eyes. She leaned close, so that their words wouldn’t carry.

“So tell me what sort of man put so bright a blush on yer cheeks. Don’t make me beg. Canna ye see how jealous I am?”

“You have no need of envying me. Truthfully, I am jealous of you.” Helena had never spoken such a truth. Her inability to control herself in relationship to the Scot was unnerving.

Raelin sighed and slumped as far as her corset would allow. “No man has ever made me blush. My brothers would be happy about that but you should have seen yer face when you arrived this morning.” Her lips curved into a smile. “’Twas a sight. You looked all aflutter and all of the things I hear about but have nae felt. Just looking at ye made me feel like there is some grand part of life that I am missing because I have no looked into the right pair of eyes.”

“Really?” Had it been so obvious? Helena looked down at the broach she was polishing. It was slightly frightening to know her friend had read her fascination right off her face.

“Now dinnae look like that.” Raelin didn’t even look at the piece of jewelry she was polishing. Her hands moved on it while she looked into Helena’s eyes. There was a hint of pleading in her eyes that had nothing to do with idle curiosity. She actually sought something by asking, as though she were trying to understand something important.

“I simply encountered a man that…um…held my attention.”

“Why did he captivate you?”

Helena shifted, heat touching her cheeks just from talking about him. It was somehow exposing to hear Raelin using a word such as captivate. The girl didn’t know how correct she was.

“It wasn’t that intense.”

“Aye, it was. You didna see yer own face. I did.” Raelin eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you squirming if it wasn’t that intense? We cannae be true friends if you want to be deceptive in private.”

Helena sighed. “You are very persistent.”

Her friend smiled in triumph but there was a flicker of compassion in her eyes. “I’m not toying with you, truly. It is just that there are so many who pretend friendship to sit here near the queen. You seem different. I am hoping that ye are. Serving the queen can be very lonely.”

“I understand what you mean. Ever since I have arrived at court there have been many who wanted to be near me in order to flirt with my brother. They covet his impending inheritance and seem to have no qualms about pretending friendship to me to try their charms on him. It does indeed become very lonely.”

Raelin nodded her head. “You do understand. I’m glad. So very glad.” Her voice trailed off as though she was afraid to allow her emotions to be exposed. There was a camaraderie in the moment, one that Helena was hungry for, too. Raelin filled an empty space in her soul and she was grateful.

Raelin reached out and slapped her arm lightly. “So tell me about him. Were ye unable to look away like the poets say?”

“I couldn’t seem to stop looking at him. My eyes were drawn to him, like the only candle in a pitch-dark room. Honestly, it’s as if I didn’t have any control over what I was thinking. His face keeps pushing its way to the front of my thoughts. I can’t seem to banish it.”

“What drew ye to him?”

Raelin sat poised, waiting to hear the answer.

What indeed…

“Something in his eyes…I don’t really understand it myself.” She wished she did. It would make it far easier to block his face from her mind. Too many times today he’d appeared in her thoughts, stealing her attention away from whatever she was doing. Such a fascination was bound to lead her toward despair.

Raelin sighed.

“It’s nothing to be envious of. My brother was quite angry.”

“Your brother noticed?”

Helena looked down at the broach. Raelin covered it with her polishing cloth.

“You cannae stop now. Tell me the rest.”

Lifting her face, she stared at her friend. “He tried to kiss my hand but Edmund sent me off to join you. My brother was quite rude.”

“And what did the man do?”

What did he do, indeed? What sounded so innocent held her over a flame that licked her body….

Helena felt the heat from her blush spread. It flowed down into her body, across the sensitive skin of her breasts and all the way to the tips of her nipples. Raelin slapped her hand, jerking her out of the moment.

“He followed me. Into the hallway. To place the kiss on my hand that Edmund refused him. My brother’s position didn’t appear to worry him at all. He claimed that I challenged him.” Helena let out a slow breath. “Are all Scotsmen that persistent?”

“He was Scots?”

Helena nodded. “He wore a kilt and bonnet. No lace or high fashion at all. Only a doublet and a large sword strapped to his back.”

“Och now, if he said ye challenged him, ye’d best prepare to deal with him again. My countrymen are never timid when it comes to a lass who has captured their interest.”

“My brother will be quite angry with me over it if he notices me daydreaming. That is nothing to be envious of.”

Her friend shrugged once again. “I quite disagree. Never once have I met a man that did that to me. I can ignore them all at my pleasure and they can do the same to me.” Raelin spread her hands out wide. “Which leaves me lonely and begging to hear about yer good fortune. I am truly a pathetic creature.”

Helena frowned. “You shouldn’t say things like that. I should have better discipline.” She shivered, the topic shooting a chill down her spine again. “I need to stop thinking about him. That is why I didn’t want to tell you. I can’t continue to dwell on him.”

“But it’s wonderful to find a man who does that to you. Maybe ye’ll fall in love with him.”

Helena recoiled from the look of bright hope in Raelin’s eyes. “That will gain me naught but a broken heart.”

“Or a spring wedding to a man ye’re eager to share yer bed with.”

Helena laughed. The sound was too loud, drawing looks from the queen’s ladies. Raised eyebrows that critiqued them from where they sat at the other end of the chamber. Her fingers began moving over the broach once more.

“All it will get me is a broken heart. Affection is no reason to marry. I’ll cry on my wedding night because of who my family weds me to. Edmund would never allow a match with him.” She’d been taught to think that way, but today for the first time she questioned it. She had never believed that a look could make her blush. Never even considered that such a thing truly happened.

Or that one kiss, against so innocent a place, might be so moving. Yet it had happened. She could still feel the pulse of excitement lingering in her blood. It was far more potent than any wine. The delicate skin on her inner wrist tingled with renewed longing for another touch from those warm lips.

“That is a shame. Ye should be happy on your wedding night.” Raelin replaced the earring she’d been cleaning and took up the matching one.

“You sound as though you have some say in who you wed.” That was ridiculous, but there was something in Raelin’s tone that implied it. “Is that allowed in Scotland? A lady having say in who she marries? Even if that choice is not a man with a title?”

“My brother would listen to me, if I told him someone had taken my fancy.”

“Now I am jealous.” And it sounded too good to be true. But they were in England. That harsh truth sliced through her excitement. Even if things were different in Scotland, she had been born English.

Raelin smiled. “Will you show him to me?”

“I don’t even know the man’s name. Much less where to begin looking for him.”

“If he’s here, he’s waiting to see the king. We’ll begin in the great hall.”

Raelin took the broach from her hands and set it back inside the open chest of the queen’s jewels. They were all clean anyway. But the ladies-in-waiting often dictated chores to the maids of honor and there was no arguing permitted.

Raelin grasped her hand and took a look across the chamber before pulling Helena off her bench. The queen was in her bedchamber and her ladies with her. She tired easily now and was retiring for the night. But the queen was also particular. She’d felt pressed upon and wanted only her ladies near. Chores had been handed out to the maids to take them away from the bedchamber. No one was left in the outer chamber except the pair of them.

“If I see his kilt, I can tell you what clan he’s from. Maybe even if he holds a title. We have nobles in Scotland, too, ye know.” Her friend offered her a bright smile. “No one will miss us. Not now that the queen has begun to retire.”

“You are a conspirator.” But she was tempted. She wanted to know his name.

Raelin hurried them past the royal guards outside the door before giggling.

“’Tis so, but it’s fun.” Excitement laced her voice. “Besides, we are together. A walk isn’t so bad since there are two of us. I get out so little, I never get to meet men that might make me blush. Perhaps I’ll want to steal his interest from ye.”

Her friend’s excitement was infectious. Helena smiled and clasped the hand Raelin closed around her own. They hurried down the wide hallways like curious children on a feast day. Now that the queen had retired for the night, many nobles had begun the process of returning to their town homes. Everyone attending court wanted to be noticed, so they did their best to be present any time the king might step into the great hall. Or send a summons for them. The chamberlain kept a list of those men waiting for an audience with His Majesty. Just getting your name on that list took a great deal of influence and often a bribe. If you failed to make a good enough bribe, your name might be very low on the list and the chamberlain might forget to mention to the king that you were waiting for a very long time.

But once the queen retired, the king often took to his private chambers with his friends. That ended the day, giving weary nobles the chance to retire until they rose at dawn to begin the entire process once again. Helena had been keeping such hours since arriving. It was becoming difficult to remain awake during services.

Tonight she didn’t care. Excitement flowed through her. They circled the private garden used by the queen and crept out into the hallways that led toward the great hall. Long shadows darkened the hallway. Lamps were lit but their light became lost in the vaulted ceilings.

“Maybe the poets are reading.”

“You mean ‘wenching,’” Raelin declared boldly.

Helena smothered a laugh. “You say the most outlandish things.”

“’Tis the only way I survive serving the queen. Her ladies are quite prudish and I refuse to forget that I am young enough to think about men.”

“Raelin…”

Her friend shrugged. “I only said think about men. What’s wrong with listening to a little posy? We’ll both marry soon enough and find ourselves shipped off to country estates to produce heirs. I, for one, would like to take a few memories along.”

“I agree.”

The young men of the court liked to practice their poems on the maids after the hall was emptied for the night. Edmund had warned her to keep well away of such gatherings. Ladies that were seen by the flicker of the candles were considered light-skirts. That didn’t stop some of the bolder noble daughters from going. One or two had snared herself a titled husband by ignoring the possible gossip and invading the male-dominated activity. But doing so was a very risky gamble. Many had not fared so well.

“We’ll stay in the eves. Ladies do it all the time. No one shall see us.”

“That’s wickedly naughty.” And she had never thought about it. The great hall was surrounded by hallways that had arched openings. At night, a dozen people might be standing there. If you were near the candles, the darkness beyond would be impossible to see into. It was so clever and so tempting.

Raelin laughed. “I know. My brother would have a fit if he knew. But I often wonder if that’s because I might see him attending. And enjoying himself.”

Helena laughed; she couldn’t help it. Edmund would be enraged if she caught him doing anything that he’d rather she didn’t know about. Which only made her laugh harder. Her belly ached with it. She stopped to catch her breath and Raelin swirled around in a circle, her golden skirts flaring up. She laughed softly, her head pointing at the ceiling like a little girl on a spring morning.

“Perfect.”

Raelin screamed, the sound erupting from her as Edmund emerged from the darkness like a serpent striking at prey. He grabbed at Raelin, ripping her bodice with one harsh motion of his hand. She snarled and tried to fend off the hands pulling and clawing at her clothing. Lace tore and her strand of pearls broke. But she did not make it simple for him. The Scots girl fought Edmund, hitting him and yanking on his fine velvet doublet, raking her nails down one side of his face. Edmund raised his hand and struck her in retaliation.

“Stop it, Edmund! Let her go!”

Her brother cursed at her and sent her tumbling with another blow from his hand. Raelin stopped trying to free herself and launched a fresh attack on him when he tried to follow up with a kick. Edmund took full advantage of her change in direction, hooking his hands into her bodice and tearing the golden silk so that her corset showed.

“Hold there!”

Guards charged down the hallway, their boots echoing. Light suddenly surrounded them all, illuminating a tousled-looking Raelin with Edmund standing nearby.

“What goes on here?”

Her brother arrogantly raised one eyebrow. More footsteps announced the arrival of witnesses. Raelin stood in shock, her hands trying to cover up one breast that was too exposed. Helena struggled to her feet, fighting with her dress while she struggled to get her feet on the floor and not on the damask that made up her skirts. Faces emerged from the shadows to stare at them. Edmund smirked in victory.

Whispers erupted among the spectators. Each hushed voice sliced as deeply as sharpened steel. Panic appeared on Raelin’s face. The change from Raelin’s normally smiling face was so sharp it horrified Helena, choking her with the ugliness of the condemning people around her.

“I’ll tell ye what goes on—that bastard needs some manners beaten into him.”

The man emerged from the darkness.

Helena stared at the face that had occupied her mind since seeing him that morning. There was nothing kind in his expression now. Rage flickered in his eyes and it drew his features tight. His breathing was rapid, betraying the fact that he had been running.

“If I hadna been all the way across the hall, I’d have snapped the whelp’s neck by now. He put rough hands on her.” He pointed a thick finger at Edmund.

Raelin’s eyes rounded when she saw him. But the Scot didn’t look at her. His attention was focused on Edmund, whose face didn’t betray even a hint of remorse. Instead he looked at the guards with a small smirk on his lips. They broke under the weight of his stare, one clearing his throat.

“He is the heir to the Earl of Kenton, a peer of this realm.” One Royal Guard member spoke quietly, his tone thick with warning. The Scot didn’t even blink. His face remained in its disapproving expression. Edmund’s blood didn’t buy him any tolerance from this man.

“What he is, is an undisciplined whelp who doesna know how to treat a woman with respect. Look at her, man! He ripped her dress down her body, and you English dare to call us Scots barbarians? I’d lay one of me own clansmen low for doing the same.”

The whispers began again. They rose in volume until it felt like they were pounding against the inside of her head. The horror was too much to bear. Helena reached for her friend and felt the Scots girl clasp her hands in a crushing grip. Raelin held her chin steady but it must have cost her greatly.

“Make way for the king!”

The crowd gawking around them split apart, backing up to the walls. James Stuart didn’t look amused. Everyone lowered themselves before him. But he only had eyes for Raelin. She tried to lower herself but wobbled on unsteady feet. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she hugged her ruined bodice over her exposed breast. The king’s face flushed, rage flickering in his eyes.

“Get up. All of you! What is this nonsense?”

The king’s gaze settled on Raelin. A frown marred his forehead. His expression quickly changed to one of anger when he turned to look at Helena and the Scot.

“My chambers! Bring them all.”

Raelin’s hand shook. She was holding Helena’s hand so tightly, the tips of her fingers were beginning to lose feeling. But you wouldn’t have known such from the way her friend held her face—smooth and composed. All traces of panic evaporated as though she was sitting down polishing jewelry in the queen’s chambers. No more tears fell from her eyes; she stood sure and steady with her eyes on the king.

The king sat in an ornately carved X-chair that was placed on a raised section at the back of the room. A costly Persian carpet ran beneath it and velvet curtains covered the wall behind him. It was a lavish display with only one purpose—to ensure that everyone entering understood that they were in the presence of the king.

More X-chairs were neatly lined up against the far wall facing the king’s, but no one sat in them without permission. Such was an honor, and James was in no mood to grant that tonight. Everyone lowered themselves and remained with bent knees while their monarch surveyed them. James Stuart took his time, his displeasure clear.

“Enough. Rise.”

The room was so silent, Helena heard the servants moving behind them to light the candles. Large iron candelabra stood in all four corners of the room. They each held five candles in an X formation. The room brightened as the servants touched the wicks with flame.

“What’s yer reason for leaving one of my queen’s maids of honor looking like that, Edmund Knyvett?”

Her brother shrugged. His lips curved into a satisfied smile that shocked her in spite of how many times she had seen him behave selfishly. No hint of remorse or pity entered his eyes. Quite the opposite, her brother looked very pleased.

“Passion isn’t very often soft. Some like it rougher than others.” He cast a look down the length of his nose at Raelin.

Raelin tightened her grip but made no other sign of her distress. Helena felt her own stomach twisting with nausea. Her brother had all but called Raelin a whore. James wasn’t amused. His hand curled around one of the ornately carved arms of the chair.

“I heard a scream that didna sound like passion.”

Edmund flicked his fingers toward her. “My sister is easily shocked. My parents sheltered her to preserve her virtue. Helena doesn’t understand the games that the other ladies at court like to play.”

“Ye’re a liar.” The Scot was furious but his voice was so controlled it made him seem deadly. The king held up his hand, but the man didn’t instantly back down. He sent another look at Edmund that clearly said he wasn’t afraid of his position. Helena bit her lip to keep from gasping. Never once had she witnessed anyone, save her father, standing up to Edmund. This man only controlled himself for the king, but he shook with anger, clenching his hands into fists.

“Lady Helena.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” She snapped her gaze back to the king, heat brushing her cheeks. She had to break this habit of staring at the Scot. Immediately.

“Was it passion and your naiveté, or something else?”

Tension gripped her so tightly, time froze. She became aware of each heartbeat and the time between them. Edmund looked down his nose at her, so supremely confident of her obedience to his will. She hated him for that. For the first time in her life she became aware of what it felt like to actually hate. She hated the callousness she saw on his face. It was ugly and horrible in a way that threatened to make her sick. The Scot watched her, his eyes burning once more, but this time he seemed to be hoping that she would not disappoint him by lying. She actually felt the weight of his opinion and she discovered that it mattered to her what he thought of her.

“It was not passion and I was shocked by my brother’s behavior. It was none of Raelin’s doing.”

The king leaned forward. “Ye were together?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Edmund’s eyes bulged. Promise of retribution burned in them, but Helena did not lower her head. She stared at him, proud of herself. She had spoken the truth. The shame was her brother’s to bear.

The king sat back, his expression pensive.

“It was much more than that, Yer Majesty! He struck her.” The Scot was still enraged. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down Helena’s back. She was suddenly very grateful that she had spoken truthfully. This was not a man to cross.

“Ridiculous. I am a gentleman. A descendant of one of the oldest noble houses.” Edmund sneered at the Scot.

“Is that a fact? I noticed ye didna simply say ye didna strike her. If ye’re innocent, speak it plainly.”

“Enough!” James Stuart’s voice cracked like a whip. He pointed at the Scot. “I’ll question you when I’m ready. Hold yer silence.” He pointed at the captain of his guard.

“Captain, ye will escort my queen’s maid of honor back to the queen’s chamber. And I mean every step of the way.”

There was a click of polished boot heels against each other, and a moment later Raelin was being ushered toward the doors. She didn’t release Helena’s hand but tried to pull her along.

“Lady Knyvett will remain.”

The king’s guard didn’t allow them any time to question the will of the king. Raelin was taken away without another word. The king glared at her brother.

“Edmund Knyvett, ye may be the only son of the Earl of Kenton but I’ll no have ye placing rough hands on maidens.” The king never raised his voice but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone. “Ye shall be in the great hall when I summon ye and yer sister will be in my queen’s chambers on the morrow. Dinnae make my chamberlain call yer name twice.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Begone.” James Stuart’s voice cracked like a whip. The guards standing next to him were lowering their pikes. Helena curtsied and backed toward the door. Her brother hesitated, earning him a scowl from the king.

“Do not test me, sir. Your name protects you thus far but ye dinnae have any more grace to impose upon. Best ye get out of me sight afore I recall some frozen country that needs an ambassador.”

Edmund offered the briefest of reverences before quitting the room. Helena followed him. His strides were long and fueled by a hot temper. There was no missing the fuming glance he raked her with when he passed her.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t frightened. A strange manner of contentment settled over her. She’d spoken truly even though so many around her used deception to maintain their family position. Deep in her heart, she realized that true friendship was a gift Raelin would not be granting to anyone who didn’t treat her with respect in return.

Her cheeks heated, and it had nothing to do with the pace she was forced to keep. Her conscience pricked her because defending her friend had not been her only motivation. Simply put, she hadn’t been willing to disappoint the Scot. He was a man of honor. He didn’t care for her brother’s impending inheritance or the political advantage that might have been his had he looked the other way. He was the first man that she had met at court who held his honor above his hunger for power and position.

James Stuart fingered his chin. Keir didn’t move. He’d expected his meeting with the king to be a tense one. But he was distracted by the knowledge of who his mystery lady was. He’d spent too many hours attempting to discover her identity. Not being able to reach her in time to beat her brother off her and Raelin McKorey had his temper white-hot. But his interest was even hotter, because she had stood up to her brother and spoken the truth. Now that was a woman he wanted to get to know better. The kind he might bring home to Red Stone and truthfully hear her called mistress by his clansmen. She was worthy of it.

But he would have to do what he came to London to do first: swear his fealty and restore his clan to good standing. He could nay offer for her before his name was worthy of her. Keir aimed his attention at the king. James Stuart studied him long and hard.

“Ye’re McQuade’s youngest son?”

“Aye, Yer Majesty, I am.”

The guards standing on either side of the king moved slightly closer, their fingers tightening on their short pikes. His father had been run through with one of the weapons when he tried to drive a dagger through Raelin McKorey during a fight with Brodick McJames. His two older brothers had launched an attack on the royal guard in defense of their father and ended up dead along with his sire. All of it had been done within inches of the king and queen. The name McQuade had been tarnished ever since. He kept very still, with his hands at his sides. It wouldn’t take much to see the guards using their deadly pikes on him. He could see the distrust in their eyes.

“How long have ye been at court?”

“A few days.”

The king lowered his hand and gripped the arm of his chair. “Why have ye come, McQuade? I didna send for ye.”

Keir felt his jaw tighten. He did not care for the tone of the king’s voice, but he’d expected nothing less. Still, the disdain was hard to listen to.

“To swear my fealty to you. As tradition dictates.”

The king sat up straighter, his face drawing into an expression of consideration.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is, sire, and my duty.”

The king nodded. “Aye, so it is, but I’m a bit surprised to see ye attending to the matter so promptly.”

Keir shot the king’s hard gaze right back at him. “Honor is no’ something ye put off to another time. It’s time the McQuades had a laird who set a correct example. That is why I’m in London.”

“Well now, I’ll not be arguing with that.” The king waved his hand. “And what of this business with Raelin McKorey?”

Keir felt tension tighten across his body. “That whelp needs a good lesson. He tore her gown like a rabid animal. Ye saw the trails of her nails on his cheek. ’Twas the result of a desperate attempt to free herself. I couldna get across the hall fast enough.”

“My guards are very diligent.” James stroked his chin again. “Edmund Knyvett is a powerful man and will soon become even more so. I dinnae think many men would have interfered.”

“Ye have my sympathies on the condition of yer court.”

The king chuckled. He covered it quickly, looking surprised by his own response. “Ye’re no’ very much like yer father, or ye’re doing a grand job of disguising yer nature.”

“My father liked to tell me how much like my mother I was. He had no tender feelings toward me beyond the fact that I was born a son instead of a daughter.”

The king nodded absently. “Aye, yer father held no affection toward yer sister Bronwyn.”

“I do.”

“And what of Raelin McKorey? Yer father put that scar on her face.”

Keir did not answer. He stared at the king, allowing his actions to speak for him. He’d never been a man of prattling conversations and he was not going to begin now.

The king grunted. “I suppose that was nae a necessary question, considering ye just threatened one of my English nobles on her account.”

“He grabbed her like a drunken sailor on the waterfront.” Keir spoke through clenched teeth. “Ye should have let me give him a few lessons in manners.”

Telling the king what to do might not have been the wisest thing, but his temper was still hot. It was taking a great deal of effort to remain in place while the English whelp left with his sister in tow. It was a sure thing that she would not be having an easy time of it now that she’d refused to lie for her kin. It was something he understood, and that was for certain. His father had always detested him for his resolve to retain his honor. “What of his sister? She’s a good lass.”

James stiffened. “Ye’re a keen one, all right. Things will nae go well for her tonight. ’Tis a curse, but I must handle these English nobles carefully. The lass impressed me with her courage.”

“Aye. She’s nae a coward.”

The king lifted one eyebrow. “I dinnae think her brother will be taking very kindly to yer tone, considering ye just threatened to beat him.”

Keir smiled. He couldn’t help it. “I’m here to swear my oath to ye, nae dabble in schemes that involve ripping the dresses off maidens.” Disgust edged his words, but he didn’t care.

“Most men wouldna let me hear that tone. They would not dare use such in the presence of their king.”

“I’ve just traveled to London to kneel before ye when I know a few of my neighbors havena made the effort and wear their lairdship proudly. I am nae a dishonest man. My father often berated me for it. But if what ye prefer is men that coddle yer ego, best we get on with my duty so that I can ride out of yer sight.”

The king chuckled. It was an honest sound that drew surprised glances from his normally frozen guards. The men recovered quickly but their eyes strayed to him, surveying him. James laughed harder until the room was full of the sound.

“Coddle my ego?” He slapped the arm of his throne. “I believe I may like ye, Keir McQuade. A rather pleasant surprise. Join my court for a few weeks. I’ve a mind to get to know ye a bit better afore I hear yer oath.”

Keir lowered himself. James raised an eyebrow.

“What? Nae objection to remaining among the English?”

Keir straightened. “There’re one or two things that draw my interest here. The idea of making sure the name McQuade is restored to a standing of honor is a good enough reason to remain. Ye may have more objections from your English lords to me than I have to them.”

James sobered. “Being king does have advantages. Ye’re here at my invitation. They will keep their grumbles low. Stay.” Something crossed James Stuart’s face. “Stay and court the girl. I believe it will be interesting to see what her brother makes of that.”

He should have been satisfied, but he was not. Keir ground his teeth all the way back to his hovel of a residence. He’d done what he set out to do, or at least he’d made a good beginning of it.

But he was itching to find her.

Helena.

He had a name to go with her face, but he was more frustrated than before. He sighed. Laying his kilt aside, he propped his sword next to his bed. The thing was too short and narrow for his frame. At least thinking about Helena gave his mind something to dwell on besides how much he longed for Red Stone and his own bed.

Court the girl…

Well now, it appeared that he had something to accomplish before he rode back to Scotland. Helena’s face came to mind. She had courage, all right—maybe too much—because it was soliciting a response from him that was rather out of line, considering she was a maiden. He grinned and pinched out the candle beside his bed. His cock was hard and he could hear the carousing from the inn on the corner: music and women laughing while they sold their favors.

It did not interest him.

Instead, frustration kept him awake for several hours. He could not help her and that twisted his gut.

But tomorrow would be different. He had the king’s permission to court her.

He would be happy to obey.