by Mary Wine
A young face peeked through the front window. Two moments later the door opened wide for him. Keir felt one eyebrow rise. He was not accustomed to the staff waiting around on his pleasure and he was not planning on becoming so. The inhabitants of Red Stone had never scurried to please him and he would keep it that way. But as he walked through the open door, he was met by members of the house staff. They were lined up shoulder to shoulder to greet him, a few of them attempting to cover rapid breathing that betrayed the fact that they’d run to make sure they did not miss the master’s entrance. They kept their eyes lowered and their chins tucked down in deference. The young boy had clearly been posted at the window to cry the alarm when he approached.
What surprised him was Helena. She stood at the head of the line, lowering herself neatly in a polished display of meekness. His temper ignited. He knew what she was doing. He knew it because he’d witnessed his sister putting on such displays when his father was alive. There was no truth in it. It was only a carefully rehearsed action that she performed to maintain peace by stroking his ego.
But he was not his father and did not care for false demonstrations of respect that were insincere. He moved quickly. His new bride had made an error by looking at the floor. He was already in front of her before she raised her gaze.
Helena gasped. The sound flew past her startled lips when she realized that her husband was only a foot away from her. Somehow she had forgotten how much larger he was than her. She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. What she found there startled her, but not in a fearful manner. He was displeased, there was no missing that. But what drew her attention was the flare of determination that looked very similar to what she had witnessed during the thunderstorm.
Keir didn’t give her time to ponder her thoughts. He swept her off her feet in a fluid motion that wrung another gasp from her lips. She grabbed at his doublet out of reflex but there was no hint of weakness in his embrace. He cradled her easily, striding through the dining room and toward the stairs without a single pause.
The cook stood near the table. Her apron was newly pressed and her linen cap starched so that the box-pleated edge stood straight. There were candles in the silver holders and in the wall brackets. All were lit and filling the room with a yellow glow. Fine dishes were laid on the table and the long cupboard set against the wall already held several platters awaiting the master’s dining pleasure.
Her husband only swept the table with a quick glance before carrying her through the doorframe and into the back hallway. She heard the scamper of steps on the stone floor behind them and the unmistakable snap of the cook’s fingers as she commanded the staff.
Her face colored because it was perfectly clear what her husband was in a hurry to do. For all that everyone expected newlyweds to spend time sharing intimacies, she did not appreciate her husband carrying her through the house like a captive.
But you enjoyed it earlier today…
Her thoughts annoyed her. She twisted in his embrace, pushing on the wide chest.
“Have done, husband. I can walk very well.” She might have been mute for all the good her actions gained her. His embrace never changed. It remained solid and steady while he climbed the stairs.
“Aye, ye can, but I’m no’ in the mood for rehearsed niceties.”
He pushed the door to their chamber open with a shove from his shoulder. The hallway had been dim, with only the flicker of the lamps burning on the first floor to cut through the darkness. The chamber was very different. The staff were doing their best to make sure their new master didn’t find any reason to begin replacing them. Candles were set into every holder on the tables and costly glass lanterns hung from hooks set into the walls. The colored glass filled the chamber with a surreal, reddish light.
“So now you are displeased with me because I show you good manners?” She hit his shoulder, completely exhausted with attempting to understand him. She struggled again, this time twisting her body and bucking without any care for how ungentle she appeared.
He released her but growled. It was a low sound filled with frustration. Helena tossed her head, refusing to lower her chin meekly. She didn’t feel meek, not in the least.
“I do not understand you, husband.”
But she moved away from his imposing body—not because he was stronger but because she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about how good he felt against her. Maybe it was the fact that they were alone in the chamber, but her thoughts were alight with flashes of memory from that afternoon. Her skin grew warm and she had to shake her head to dispel the excitement that was beginning to swirl through her mind.
Keir stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as imposing as he had outside the queen’s chambers, but here she found it attractive, too. In the back of her mind all she could think of was the large bed waiting for them with turned-down covers.
He’d take her there—she had no doubt about it.
“I am nae yer brother.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise. “Good God! I should hope not, considering how we passed the after—”
One dark eyebrow arched in a mocking display. “The afternoon? Aye. I suppose that would nae be something a brother and sister should be about.”
It was sickening. Disgust travel through her. “Then what is your discontent with me? I made no mention of Edmund.”
He raised a single finger. “But you did, my sweet bride. Ye stood there greeting me as he would have expected. All the staff lined up.”
And he didn’t care for it. Helena stared at the discontent in his eyes, confused by his mood. “Your men offer you respect.”
“’Tis different. I earned that from them by proving myself with a sword just as I expect of every one of them.”
“I can see that plainly enough….” She was speaking without thinking again. Helena clamped her lips closed, frowning at herself. Keir was the only man who swept her common sense aside simply by being near her. It was as irritating as it was exciting. But his lips twitched up at her words, a half grin giving her a hint of his teeth before he shook his head and returned to glaring at her.
Helena felt her temper burn hotter. “Pray sir, do not leave me lingering in doubt and confusion any longer. For I have no idea what has annoyed you so badly that you felt the need to carry me up here instead of noticing how much your staff are trying to please you in the hope that you will not turn them out.”
He winced, his arms unfolding. A flush appeared on his throat. “Och, well I dinnae mean to ignore their efforts. I am a wee bit new to being a lord.”
Helena crossed her arms in response. Her husband looked stunned, his gaze moving over her for long seconds before his mouth rose into that roguish grin once again.
“Ye are too pretty when ye’re mad for me to remember what we were fighting about.”
A frustrated sound of fury escaped her lips. Her hands flew up as every lesson she’d ever mastered sailed out of her mind. “You hauled me up here like a sailor taking his dingy sack home, and now you claim you cannot recall what I did to annoy you?”
He surged. “Och, now I recall just fine, but I’m finding it much more enjoyable to dwell on yer sweet face than on what bothered me.”
There was truly no understanding the way a man’s mind worked. Helena waved her hand. “As well as that might be, I can only wonder what shall happen once the newness has worn away from our union.”
“You think I’ll turn mean toward ye? Why would ye think such a thing?”
His pride was wounded by the very idea. Helena heard it but it was that very pride that she expected to bring her grief someday.
“I did not say mean.”
“But ye implied that I would not longer find ye sweet enough to blind me.” He moved toward her, seeking the answer to his question.
Helena moved away from him, needing the space to keep her thoughts clear. She was treading on dangerous ground—that place where a man’s pride might easily take offense over some truth spok
en without thinking about the consequences.
“I simply am not vain enough to believe that I can expect to monopolize your attention forever.”
Her words were still bold, in spite of how carefully she phrased the idea. But pain still drew its claw across her heart. A man such as Keir had a mistress, and it was likely that she was a beautiful woman. It was also likely that he would have more throughout the years and that she would be expected to be gracious in the face of his needs. Such was the lot of a wife.
He frowned again but this time he seemed partially annoyed with himself.
“If ye want to know something of me, Helena, ask yer question straight. I am nae a man that enjoys false displays of respect such as ye just offered me below. It’s yer courage that I find irresistible, nae just the sight of yer face.”
It was tempting. Helena chewed on her lower lip for a moment, but Keir didn’t offer her anything else except for a challenge shimmering in his dark eyes. She felt her own pride rising in the face of that look. He was not a man who was easily impressed. Knowing that she had earned such from him filled her with confidence.
“Very well. I expect to be sleeping alone once we arrive at your home because you have a mistress there waiting on your return.”
“Red Stone will be yer home, too, lass. Dinnae doubt it.” Heat coated his voice and it tempted her to believe in that idea. A home. It was the truth that she wasn’t sure what it felt like to be home anymore. The estate her parents lived on was run on tradition and schedule.
“But you didn’t deny that you have a mistress waiting for you.” She spoke quietly but kept her chin level. It would be better if he understood that she wasn’t afraid of him.
He reached up to untie his sword. “I don’t.” The huge weapon was set on the table before he turned back to look at her. “But that is only because Gwen knew it was in the best interest of the McQuades for me to find a noblewoman for a wife.”
His words hurt. Her gaze lowered to the floor to hide the pain slashing through her. Keir cupped her chin, following her backward when she retreated from his touch. She hadn’t heard his feet on the floor—not even a tiny hint that he was closing the distance.
“She left me because she knew that I didna love her. At the time I argued with her. Even insisted that she would make a fine wife. But she would nae wed a man who didna love her.”
His hand left her chin. He stroked her cheek and she turned to allow the touch. A shudder wracked her body. She felt his touch so much more keenly than anyone else’s. Each fingertip brought her joy as they slid over the surface of her face.
“I didna understand at the time, but I do now.”
He turned her face back so that their eyes met. Emotion flickered in his dark gaze. She didn’t fully understand it, but neither did he.
“You cannot claim to love me.”
“I know that no woman has ever upset me so much by giving me deference that I knew was false. Or that looking up to see ye gone put a bolt of fear through me that I swear I would have fallen to my knees and sobbed like a lad to escape.”
He drew a stiff breath, his hand slipping away from her. She shivered at the loss, her entire body leaning toward his, seeking out the warmth she witnessed in his gaze.
“I didna know what love was and thought I could live very well without it. I swear that I would have married Gwen and never hesitated. But the first time I kissed ye, I understood the difference. There is no mistress waiting on me. No matter how much we quarrel we shall share a bed. I promise ye that.”
Shock held her in its grasp. Her mind raced in circles. She expected a mistress but not one to whom she would be thankful. His promise was arrogant, but so sweet that tears burned her eyes. The distance between them was suddenly too great to endure. She needed to be in contact with him, craved to feel his skin against her own again. It seemed an eternity since the last time they touched. She ached with the need.
Helena reached for him. He drew a sharp breath when her hands made connection with his chest. But she was mesmerized by the look in his eyes. Heat filled the dark centers. She smoothed her hands over his chest, delighting in the hard ridges of muscles hidden beneath his clothing. She moved closer and inhaled the scent of his skin. It was warm and very male. She didn’t pause to ponder why she thought he smelled male. For the moment there was only the way she felt and the fact that touching him filled her with happiness.
But she wanted to touch his skin. She cupped her hand behind his neck and pulled him toward her. He shivered when her lips made contact for the first time. She felt the delicate tremor running along his nape. It was a light kiss—only a soft pressing of her mouth against his throat—but the connection sent a bolt of awareness through her that did not stop until it reached every single one of her toes.
“Sweet lass.” He cupped her face, taking command of her. “Ye have no idea how much I enjoy yer touch.”
His voice was raspy with hunger. He held her head in place and angled his own before pressing a hard kiss on her lips. Passion licked down her body, making her long to be rid of her dress and stays. She wanted to press against him, their skin bare to increase the sensation, the intimacy.
She reached for the buttons on his doublet, working them loose. He lifted his head and watched her for a moment. The hands cradling her face slipped down to her shoulders. He found the tiny button that kept her partlet closed and opened it.
A little sigh of relief crossed her lips.
“I couldna agree with ye more.”
He turned her around, his hands seeking out the laces that held her dress closed. He was far more confident at the task than she was at removing his clothing. In a few tugs and pulls the bodice sagged. He pushed it right off her shoulders and down to her waist. The small hip roll that was tied around her hips didn’t stop him, either. He reached down and pulled the tie loose. A moment later her dress puddled around her ankles. He lifted her up and away from her clothing. The night air brushed up her thighs beneath her chemise but was stopped by her stays.
“I want to undress you, too.”
Her feet touched the ground closer to the fire. Its scarlet and orange light bathed them both. A carpet lay over the cold wooden floor. Her shoes sunk into it while her toes longed to be free to experience it. Her husband moved to face her. His face was alight with excitement. She reached for him and witnessed the way his eyes lit with anticipation. It was intoxicating. She was equally excited by the impact her touch had on him as she was by any stroke of his hand across her flesh.
She flattened her palms on his chest beneath the open doublet. It still hung on his wide shoulders. A shiver raced down her back as she felt his heartbeat. It was such a simple thing, one that her own body did, but that seemed to be so much more unique when she felt it through her fingertips. Slipping her hands up, she lifted the open edges of the garment over his shoulders. But trying to control it so far above herself proved awkward. He chuckled and shrugged to get the doublet to fall all the way down his arms.
“I swear the slowness of this undressing is about to kill me, but I’d nae miss it for anything.”
She reached for his belt buckle, her cheeks brightening. It would have been far more demure to lift her hands toward his collar, but he enjoyed her boldness and she found that too tempting a prospect to miss. His hands slipped into her hair, hunting for her hairpins. He pulled them loose, one at a time, until her braid fell down her back. His belt was stiff but she pulled it back and the weight of his kilt took the carefully pleated garment down to the carpet.
“Undress for me, Helena.” Keir’s voice was rough with hunger. “I swear, the image of ye brushing yer hair last night is burned into my soul. I want to look at ye, the way ye were made.”
The firelight turned his shirt translucent. She gained a glimpse of the way his torso tapered down to a lean waist, and then the unmistakable thrust of his erection. But he took one step away from her and removed his boots in quick, efficient motions. His attention returned to her.
The fire crackled and gooseflesh raced along her arms. She was suddenly more aware of her own heartbeat, could hear it and feel it pulsing along her limbs.
The look on his face made her feel beautiful. She realized that nothing had the power to make someone attractive until someone else believed that they were. It wasn’t about the color of her hair; it was about this moment and their need for one another.
“All right. But you shall promise to stay until I grant you permission to touch me, husband.”
He frowned, but excitement flickered in his eyes. She offered him a look through her eyelashes, enjoying the moment of flirtation. It heightened the need that burned along her skin, deepening the pleasure.
“’Tis a good thing I was no’ playing cards with ye. I would have lost me shirt.”
She slowly smiled, her cheeks burning hotter. He tilted his head and offered her a mocking look.
“I do believe I like that idea, husband.”
He chuckled. “I thought noblewomen needed their maids.”
There was a teasing note in his tone. It challenged her, making her bold. Reaching up, she tugged on the lace, keeping her stays tight. The moment the knot was free, the weight of her breasts pulled the lace so that the front sagged open. A little shiver traveled along her skin. It was a relief to be loosened from the constricting garment. Keir’s attention was focused on her fingers. She toyed with the lace, gently pulling it through the first few holes. He swallowed roughly, filling her with confidence. She had never really taken any time to think about whether or not her body was attractive. All of the pads and supports demanded by fashion gave her a distortion of what in fact a man enjoyed in a woman’s form.
Keir enjoyed hers. It shimmered in his gaze and his expression was tight. Her curiosity was piqued. She pulled the lace from the next few holes. It was curious to believe that he might enjoy her out of her stays more than he did while she wore the essentials of fashion.