Bedding the Enemy

by Mary Wine

  “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.

  Chapter Three

  “Bitch!”

  Edmund hit her across the face. Her body spun around with the force he used. She tasted blood, but only stumbled, managing to keep her balance. She turned to see her brother’s face contorted with rage.

  “Traitor. Stupid bitch.” He aimed another blow at her face, this one popping loudly. Pain spiked through her head, turning her vision blurry for a moment. She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. The maids standing near the door flinched but they dared not abandon their post. They remained stiffly at attention while the master of the house raged.

  “You’ve ruined me!” He stomped across the floor to a large X-chair and flung himself into it. He pounded the wide arm of it with a fist.

  “Ruined! Do you hear me, you idiotic bitch? Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut? It was a perfect plan….”

  He hit the chair’s arm again and looked around for the staff. “Wine!” he bellowed at the maids. They tripped over their own feet trying to serve him. But both made sure to duck their chins and keep as far as possible from his hands.

  Helena couldn’t blame them. She stood where she was, rather grateful that Edmund had retired to his chair. It was his favorite spot to rail at her from. There was a familiarity about it that gave her strength. Edmund gulped at his tankard, his eyes peering over the rim at her.

  “I’m going to find you a husband.” He hit the arm of the chair with the base of the goblet. Dark red wine sloshed over the rim, staining the white cuff of his fine shirt, but he didn’t even look down to investigate the damage his negligence had done.

  “Someone willing to take half your dowry, because I intend to keep the rest of it. Maybe more.” He snarled at her and drank some more.

  “Get out of my sight! More wine! And get someone comely to serve me.”

  The older maid sent the younger one through the doorway with a quick flick of her fingers while Edmund was still glaring at her. The younger girl fled without a sound on the wooden floor, a grim testament to how many times they had heard their master order that very thing from them.

  Helena began to lower herself, simply out of habit, but stopped, the throbbing in her cheek freezing her before she finished lowering her head. She heard her brother growl but turned her back on him. There was no point in staying.

  Nor was there any point in worrying about his threats.

  She drew a deep breath once her door was closed. It really was only an illusion of security, but for the moment she would indulge herself in enjoying it. Edmund was master of the house. He would invade her privacy any time he chose, but she slid the small bolt across the metal brackets anyway.

  She sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders. Or at least a portion of it. Things were not as settled as she might wish for. Edmund never forgave and he never forgot. But she knew that. Had understood it very well. She straightened her back and began disrobing.

  A soft knock on the door sent her teeth into her lower lip. She scolded herself for jumping. Edmund wouldn’t be knocking softly. Not in his current rage. She slid the bolt to allow the door to open.

  “Ma’am.” The younger maid curtsied before coming into the room far enough that the door might close. She held a basin of fresh water in her hands, and a length of clean toweling was draped over her arm.

  There was no conversation. The pair of them were together in their need to escape the notice of the master of the house. Neither might help the other; the only thing they could do was take comfort in each other’s company. In spite of blood and station they were both women, struggling in a world controlled by men, leaving them with the task of outthinking the man who believed himself master of the house.

  But the water was welcome. Helena drew the toweling over her face, enjoying the feeling of her skin being clean. The endless requirements of court pressed in on her. Just like the tiny room, she felt as though there was so little of herself in anything she did. It was a helpless sensation, one that threatened to sink her into a lake of despair.

  She stiffened her resolve. Pity was a poor thing on which to spend her energy. Tomorrow she would think of something to do that would lift her spirits.

  Without warning, Keir McQuade’s face invaded her thoughts. Her cheeks heated up and the sensation traveled down her body. It seemed to ripple all across her skin, awaking it in a manner that she had never experienced. She was suddenly aware of the way her breasts felt without her long stays pressing them up into position. Lying in her narrow bunk, she could feel her nipples drawing into points. The darkness seemed to grant her permission to focus on the reaction of her body. She was fascinated by the idea that just the thought of him might draw such a response from her hours later.

  What would his kiss do to her? A true kiss, that is. One placed right on her mouth….

  Helena shivered and drew the bedding up to her chin. She was toying with dangerous ideas. Ones that might see her heartsick. Keir McQuade would never have permission to court her, much less wed her. Not after tonight. Lingering in the sensations that he caused would only make her unhappy when she faced the man Edmund gave her to.

  She would never know his touch unless she wanted to join the other noblewomen who sought satisfaction outside their wedding vows. She didn’t want to think of him that way. A bitter taste filled her mouth because she wanted to think of him as noble and above breaking commandments.

  Like a knight of the round table. Faithful to his honor above all earthly temptations….

  She sighed and closed her eyes. Childhood was behind her. Her blushes were not the innocent sort that young girls had. No, the way her nipples drew into hard buttons was proof of that. It was time to be practical and banish Keir McQuade from her mind. Along with dreams of men with honor and noble character. They only lived on the
pages of books.

  However logical her thoughts might be, they left her cold and unhappy. Compared to the warmth Keir McQuade kindled inside her, it was a bleak night that promised to become frigid.

  “Put it down.”

  Edmund’s voice startled her. Helena turned from where she sat in front of a mirror, preparing for the day ahead. The young maid backed up until her shoulders were flat against the wall. The older maid placed a wooden trencher on the side table. It was covered with a cloth.

  Edmund looked at the younger girl. “Begone.”

  She dropped him a clumsy curtsy and fled.

  “You will not be going to court today.”

  Dread gripped her with icy fingers. She recognized the tone of Edmund’s voice. Her brother was feeling cruel.

  “The king ordered me to.”

  Edmund snickered at her. “The king isn’t ruled by the whims of women, not even a royal one. The queen is meant to be bred. Since her belly is full, the king will have little interest in her.”

  “I didn’t tell you the queen was with child….” Her words trailed off, horror clogging her throat. Edmund glared at her.

  “No you didn’t, dear Sister. But rest assured that you are not my only means of gathering information.” His lips thinned. “However, since you have proven your unwillingness to perform as you are directed, I have no further need of you. Nor do I intend to allow you any freedom to further disgrace me.”

  “You dishonored yourself.” Perhaps it was unwise to voice her thoughts, but they refused to remain inside her.

  “Honor is for girls and soldiers serving in the infantry. It is a pretty tale that keeps them doing what they’re told even when the ground is soaked with blood.”

  Helena stared at her brother. “I do not even know who you are.”

  His eyebrows rose. “How very interesting, Helena. I feel the same way about you. Are our parents really so soft with age that they allowed you to remain a whimsical child?”