Improper Seduction Bundle with In the Warrior's Bed, Bedding the Enemy, & In Bed with A Stranger

by Mary Wine

  “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.”
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  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 Sc
ots 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.