by Mary Wine
Oh no. She wanted to unbutton her doublet and let the air brush across her skin. The garment was stifling, her skin was begging for freedom. More than her skin. Her body clamored for release from the bonds of her childhood learning. Maybe it was the darkness, but she longed to see Keir back in the room in spite of her rejection of him.
Her tears had sent him away. She shuddered again because it was so tender, so noble of him. How was she to resist her longing for him when he continued to act so gallant?
Maybe you shouldn’t…
Temptation was cruel. Her flesh now warred with her pride. She was so alone, she ached with it. Her groom? Who exactly was she expected to marry and when? Sitting down on a small lounge, she laid her head down on its silk surface. Resting in the bed was out of the question; her mind rejected it. She could barely tolerate the sight of it, so she allowed her eyelids to close.
As much as her body longed to lie with Keir, her pride refused. She didn’t want to give him her purity because he believed it belonged to him. Ronchford was that sort of man. So was Edmund and a hundred others who had viewed her at court like a mare on display with her bloodlines neatly laid out to increase her value.
She wanted Keir to remain noble—untarnished by the marriage game. She wanted to make love with him, not part her thighs so that her blue blood might be bred into children who would be reared to take their place. She’d always been instructed on what was expected.
Tears eased from her eyes for the fantasy that would dissipate the second she opened her eyes again. But for the moment, she allowed her dreams to take her away from the aches and pains of her flesh. The longings remained, keeping her warm as her lover held her.
“Well ye don’t look very pleased with yer victory.” Farrell glanced around the kitchen. “I, for one, am rather impressed with the new accommodations. If ye’re going to have to pay the inheritance taxes on a title, at least ye got something in return.”
Keir had to agree. The Hurst Barony came with little. Most of the land was bound to his sister Bronwyn, but the king had settled a small estate on him along with the title. There were taxes due on the inheritance of such a title, but it had gained him a town home that he was not ashamed to bring his bride to.
There would no doubt be wages due the staff as well.
He looked around the kitchen. Nothing was rundown. The long table used for preparing food showed use but not more than any in the kitchens of Red Stone castle. He decided that he did not need to know why the house was in such good repair if the title had been without a lord for over thirty years. It was his now and that was what mattered.
“I need the men to take shifts tonight. My bride is nae to leave the house or send any letters.”
He clenched his teeth, grinding his jaw with the tension that held him. Farrell abandoned his lazy position.
“She doesna want to marry with ye?”
She’d wept….
Keir snarled and poured himself a glass of whisky. Farrell watched him for a moment before standing up and leaving to post the guards Keir had ordered. The whisky failed to burn away the bitter taste in his mouth.
She’d wept….
Why?
The whisky burned but his question burned hotter. He needed to know.
The little drops had stabbed into him deeper than any dirk ever did. It did not make any sense. She’d enjoyed his kiss. He knew the difference between a woman who kissed a man back because she desired him and one who merely wanted to stroke his ego. Being the third son of a laird, he’d experienced plenty of girls trying their hand at deceiving him with false affection in the hope of securing a future by his side.
Helena had trembled against him and offered him innocent little kisses that were enough to burn away any sense of control he had. All he wanted to do was go back into that chamber and kiss her until she shivered again.
The candles had burned low in the bedchamber. Keir opened the door slowly, taking care that the hinges wouldn’t squeak. It was a fine chamber, the windows hung with velvet and the bed canopy made of rich brocade. There was a fireplace but it was cold because the staff hadn’t realized that they were getting a new master.
The bed was empty.
Keir swept through the room, stopping when he found the cause of his mental dilemma. Small wet spots marked the silk beneath her cheek, but the smile on her lips made his own curve up. Maybe he was a fool to care about a woman at all; there were plenty of men who would tell him that.
But he enjoyed knowing she was in his care.
Aye, the knowledge settled a great deal of his unsettled thoughts. There would be plenty of time to discover what caused her tears. They were not the first couple who married while still mostly strangers. Pulling a blanket from the bed, he covered her with it. She looked too content to move and there was a part of him that wanted to join her in that bed too much to risk carrying her there.
He was not sure he had enough self-discipline to walk away.
“You imbecile.” Edmund Knyvett, heir to the Earl of Kenton, felt fear creep into his heart for the first time in a very long time. He was not a man who feared. In fact, he was not a man who worried very often. His place was secured and he had been born to it by divine decision.
“It was such a simple plan. I sent her right into your hands!”
“Well, that Scot took her out of my hands!” Lord Ronchford snarled and reached up to gingerly test the lump on the top of his head. He winced and cursed. “I want my money returned.”
“No. I did what I promised. The money is mine. It is not my fault you couldn’t conclude the transaction on your end.”
“Now see here!”
Edmund hit the table with a fist. His men leaned forward, lending their weight to his side of the argument. “I did what I promised.”
“But I didn’t get to marry her.” Ronchford’s eyes glowed with his rage. He lowered his voice and leaned forward to keep his words from carrying across the tavern.
“Don’t cross me. You’ll regret it. I swear that on my mother’s tits.”
Edmund looked down his nose at the man. “As I said. I completed my obligation. This business matter is finished.”
He stood up and left, never looking back. He was a peer. It was not his responsibility to get Helena to the church. For Christ’s sake, he’d managed to get her to run off into London in the dead of night. All in all, his little sibling had managed to deliver a fortune into his keeping. It was a shame that the king wanted her wed in the morning. With a few more months and another parchment bearing his father’s seal, he might be able to sell her a few more times.
Well, what mattered was the gain he’d managed to get for the trouble of housing her. Maybe in a few years he might pressure the Scot to do his bidding. All in the interest of Edmund using his position to ensure a good place for his nephews at court. Even the Scot would bend for that. Even the proudest man crumpled when it came to his family. Once Helena was bred, he’d have an entire new bunch of opportunities to exploit.
Chapter Seven
“Mistress?”
Helena frowned. No one ever called her mistress.
“Mistress? Forgive me, but you must rise.”
Helena opened her eyes. A young maid stood in front of her. The girl was dressed neatly in a fine wool livery dress, each button on her doublet shiny and untarnished. A crisply ironed apron was pinned neatly over her chest and a linen cap covered her head.
“The queen has sent a carriage for you, mistress. You must rise immediately. The royal guards are waiting.”
She must still be dreaming. But her vision showed her the same finely adorned room. Only a hint of light was coming through the open windows, the sun not yet fully risen. The girl fiddled with her apron, clearly agitated.
“Helena.”
Keir’s voice was too strong to be in her dreams. The only tone she heard in her dreams was his teasing one, not this hard one.
She sat up, jerking her head around toward the door. He was frowni
ng at her, distaste in his eyes, but there was something else that cleared the slumber from her mind, because she wanted to understand what it was.
He hid it behind a stern mask before she figured it out. Keir was already wearing his kilt, but the doublet she’d always seen him in was missing. All that covered his chest was a shirt, and the cuffs were rolled up his forearms, allowing her a look at the clearly defined muscles.
“The queen sent an escort for ye.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Helena stood up, rubbing at her forehead. She was cramped from lying in her long stays and hip roll. The center of her back ached when she moved.
“Because we are to wed in the presence of the king and queen.”
“Wed? You were telling me the truth?”
Her question was insulting, but not by design. Keir frowned at her, clearly disliking the slight. The maid looked at the floor and did her best to appear invisible. Keir crossed the distance between them and her belly tightened. Her body instantly responded to his—it was immediate and uncontrollable.
“I have never lied to ye.”
And he didn’t like having his honor questioned. She heard it in his tone, but she also felt it in her heart. A little bubble of joy appeared to ease the ache she’d fallen asleep with. The tarnish on his gallant image was rubbed off in her mind.
“But Edmund told me…” She shook her head. “Of course he lied. Another scheme….” It shouldn’t hurt, but it did.
“Yer brother told ye what?”
Keir was still hiding behind an expression devoid of clues to his true mood.
“It doesn’t appear to matter.”
He stepped closer. “I disagree. I would enjoying hearing what yer brother said that sent ye out into the night if it wasnae that you and I were to wed this morning.”
She saw the hurt flicker in his eyes. It was surprising, because she’d never have guessed that anything she did might injure his emotions. He cupped her chin in a warm hand.
“Who did ye run away from, Helena?”
“Edmund said I was to wed Ronchford this morning.” Just saying it made her shiver. But Keir had another response. Pleasure lit his eyes, spilling over to cover his face. A firm look of satisfaction entered his eyes.
Jerking away from his hold, she moved several paces across the chamber. The maid took the opportunity to flee the room. A tingle went down her nape when she realized, almost keenly, that she was alone with him once again. She seemed to have no ability to control her wicked thoughts when they were close. “That does not mean I was running to you.”
Her pride fueled the comment—that and the need to hold on to some part of herself. She felt crushed beneath the weight of so many hands pushing her toward what they wanted.
“Is that so?”
Keir crossed his arms over his chest, his face returning to that unreadable mask. “Well now, I suppose ’tis a grand thing that I didna trust yer brother to keep his word, else ye would be spread out on Ronchford’s bed this morning.”
It was a blunt thing to say aloud. Helena lifted her chin in the face of it. But her cheeks colored in spite of her posture. “All that much better for ensuring that I end up in yours.”
His eyes darkened with promise. Her belly twisted in response. The desire she’d battled last night rekindled to lick across her skin.
“I’ll no’ deny it.” He stalked her, chasing her across the chamber. She stiffened when she realized that she was retreating and forced her feet to stand still. But he enjoyed the show of courage, approval glimmering in his eyes when he reached her, and all she did was tilt her head up so that their gazes remained fused.
“But ye’re nae as unhappy about the prospect of sharing my bed as yer words would like me to believe.”
He stroked her cheek and a shudder shot down her back. She felt her face turning hot beneath his fingers.
“I dinnae think I ever noticed a blush so much as I do on ye.” His fingers smoothed over her cheek, his dark eyes intent on the patch of bright skin. His face told her that he liked what he saw and she suddenly felt pretty.
“That blush tells me ye’re thinking about me, just as I’m thinking about you.”
“That does not mean we should wed.”
He crossed his arms over his chest again. The posture was a warning that his mind was not going to be changed.
“Nay, the parchment that I won from yer sniveling brother says ye’re to be my wife and I dinnae care very much about the means.”
“You won me?” She choked out the words.
“Aye, at cards.” His voice was as solemn as a mourning bell. But he offered her a kind look when her eyes widened in shock. “It doesna matter, Helena. What’s important is that ye will no’ return to yer brother’s keeping and ye won’t have to risk yer safety by running through the night.”
“Because I shall be wed to you.”
He crossed his arms again. “Scotland is nae as bad as the gossip paints it.”
He assumed that her objection was to his country, but Helena was held in the grip of wondering how to keep her heart from becoming his possession. It was one of the only things she had that was hers alone. He was the only man who seemed to stir such deep emotions inside her.
That terrified her.
“Go on, Helena. Dinnae make me put ye in that carriage. Even if I were opposed to this marriage, I’d have to obey my king. Just as ye do.”
“How could you be opposed to something that you have obviously gone to great lengths to ensure?”
She didn’t wait for his reply. Part of her hoped that there would be no carriage waiting for her, but that shattered when she entered the entryway of the town home. Royal guards stood there, their livery a mark of their authority. To wear the uniform was a death sentence if you didn’t truly serve the royal guard.
She sighed. There was nothing but to go forward. Taking the hand offered, she climbed into the closed carriage. Such a vehicle was very expensive. It was completely closed, even the curtains drawn over the windows.
But the seats were plush and comfortable. She settled against them, stroking a hand over the fine fabric.
The carriage rocked. Helena looked toward the door to see Keir angling his wide frame through the doorway. He cast a frustrated look at the interior ceiling before taking up the entire other side of the carriage with his larger frame.
“You’re going to the palace without a doublet?”
He flashed her a grin and nodded to the footman to close the door.
“I’m going to the palace with you, my sweet lass.” She shivered, because his voice had become soft and teasing. This was the man she allowed into her dreams, and her body was quite willing to remind her of how much she did dream of him.
“Because I think ’tis a shame that we’ve no’ had the chance to circle one another.”
Excitement rippled through her. She pushed it aside, trying to ignore it, but the promise lurking in his eyes made it nearly impossible.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The carriage jerked and began moving. Keir reached across the space between them and easily captured her upper arms. A soft squeal passed her lips as the man lifted her right off the seat and onto his reclining body.
“Och now, I know ye don’t. Which is exactly why I need to spend a wee bit of time introducing ye to the delights of anticipation.”
“Anticipation of what?”
His mouth sealed out everything, this kiss more demanding than the ones he’d teased her with last night. Her hands were flat against his chest and the shirt he wore did little to mask the heat coming from his skin. She’d never noticed that a man might smell nice. Keir did. The scent invaded her senses, clouding her thinking.
But it was his kiss that destroyed her last bit of sanity, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that was demanding, but sweetly so. She twisted, unsure of how to deal with the delight. He didn’t capture the back of her head but followed her, tilting his head to fit his mouth against hers.
Her heart raced, making it difficult to draw in enough breath. She lifted her chin to escape from his mouth.
“Keir…”
He trailed his kisses down her neck. Pleasure shot down her body from the touch. His lips were so hot against her skin, and why had she never noticed how sensitive her neck was?
“I want to take ye home to Red Stone where I can steal ye away into the tall grass for a bit of play. The sort of games that lovers enjoy when the spring is warm and the grass sweet enough for rolling in.”
His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still. He placed two delicate bites on the skin and she shuddered. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, drawing her eyes back to his. Passion burned there. It was hot and needy, just like the tension pooling in her belly. She had never been so aware of her breasts or the way that they were flattened by her stays. The mounds felt trapped behind clothing that was suddenly uncomfortable. Every inch of her skin begged to be free.
Begged to be bare for his hands to glide across…
“Keir…You shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t touch ye? Why not, Helena? ’Tis what we both longed for within the first few moments that our eyes met.”
He cradled her body with a firm arm beneath her knees. He laid her back so that her bottom touched the seat beside him but he kept her legs across his lap.
“’Tis nae common, this sort of attraction.”
“Which is why it should not be given too much attention. Passion leads to sin.”
He undid the first few buttons on her doublet. “Och now, that’s nonsense, seeing as how we are going to be wed in a few hours.”
“You believe what I think is nonsense?”
He spread the open edges of her doublet apart. The morning air swept over her skin, drawing a sigh from her. She wanted to sink back into the flood of sensation and leave the talking behind. The pleasure called to her, tempting her with its rich intoxication.
“Nay, but I do think ye spend too much time fighting yer own nature. Ye want me to touch ye. I see it in yer eyes. And I am no’ a blackguard set on spoiling ye. I’ll wed ye gladly.”
