by Emma Prince
Vivienne had forgone her veil in order to feel the sun’s rays on her hair, but now she wished she could hide her cheeks and neck behind the fabric, if only to put an end to Marie’s prying.
“I am fine,” she replied tightly.
“Are you sure? Because the way that giant bodyguard of yours is eyeing you may well set your gown aflame.” Marie and Aveline dipped their heads together and giggled.
She shouldn’t take their bait, but Vivienne couldn’t help it. Her gaze shot to Kieran, who was several paces away. He stood awkwardly in the middle of one of the gravel paths winding through the garden, looking about as out of place as…well, as a fierce Highland warrior in the middle of a sea of meticulously manicured flowers and shrubs.
His commanding presence was undeniable. He stood with his feet planted wide beneath his red-checked plaid, his thickly muscled arms folded over his chest. He didn’t seem to bother shaving every day, for the brown stubble on his face was a familiar sight.
As was the nigh-permanent scowl he wore. Combined with the crook in his nose, which must have come from a break long ago, he was a fearsome sight. But most disconcerting of all was the way his blue eyes remained sharp and watchful on her.
Though his features were rugged—his faintly crooked nose, his prominent brow, and the hard line of his jaw all set him apart from the refined nobles at court—he was devilishly handsome nonetheless.
“He…he is only doing his job,” Vivienne murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from him.
“Don’t worry,” Marie said, nudging Vivienne softly with her shoulder. “We are only teasing you. Mon Dieu, I wish my husband looked at me like that.”
“I wish anyone looked at me like that,” Aveline said, ducking her head shyly.
“There is nothing wrong with enjoying it, either,” Marie prodded. “Since he seems to be bound to your side for the foreseeable future, can you not…appreciate each other’s company a bit?”
Vivienne yanked on her gloves and snatched up her shears before slinging her basket over her arm once more. Heaven help her, would she ever escape the man? He’d already become her shadow, inserting himself into the Queen’s chamber and her evening fetes, and now his presence had invaded the light chatter of her friends?
“We are the Queen of France’s ladies-in-waiting,” she replied through gritted teeth. “We are meant to be models of propriety and elegance, especially those of us who are not yet married.”
And Kieran threatened to ruin it all. Thierry hadn’t approached her in nearly a sennight. Kieran’s looming presence and blunt rebuffs seemed to have finally frightened him off for good. If Vivienne couldn’t make a good match—a stable, safe match—then all might be lost, not only for herself, but for her father as well.
The last thing she needed was to dally with her Highland bodyguard, no matter that Marie and the others thought it amusing to concoct imaginary trysts for them. The scandal would smear her name once and for all. She had barely managed to survive one disgrace seven years past. Two would certainly be her end.
“Vivienne, don’t be mad,” Aveline called after her as she strode away with as much calm grace as she could muster.
She waved reassuringly at the two ladies, not trusting her voice to keep from wobbling with emotion if they pressed her further. She made a half-hearted attempt to cut a few flowers, placing them in her basket as she moved down the gravel path, but inside she was a tangle of confusion.
She needed to clear her head—and that wasn’t possible in the presence of either her gossiping friends or Kieran’s penetrating stare. So she made her way toward the large hedge maze in the middle of the garden.
The carefully-trimmed hedge stood well above her head. It would be pleasantly cool and lush inside. She’d ventured into the maze enough times to know that she couldn’t truly become lost, but the winding pathways would allow her to amble for a while with her thoughts.
As she was about to enter the maze, one of the castle gardeners appeared from behind a nearby shrub, shears in hand. She didn’t recognize him, but he smiled and gave her a little bow, resuming his pruning.
She dipped her head at him, but she was so distracted that she didn’t even bother asking his name. It was rude of her not to greet a new member of the palace staff, yet that was the effect her brooding bodyguard had on her—she was losing control of her well-ordered, tightly-managed life.
With a sigh, she stepped into the hedge maze, letting the earthy smell of sun-warmed leaves calm her. She wandered to the left, knowing it was the slower route to the center and would therefore give her more time to untangle her thoughts.
She couldn’t deny it. She was attracted to Kieran. He was big and bold and ruggedly handsome—and entirely wrong for her. Her whole life seemed to hang by a thread. Her position with the Queen, her father’s wellbeing, her own future—they all depended on her remaining in control.
And Kieran made her feel out of control. In a matter of a fortnight, he’d wheedled his way into her life, disrupting everything she’d so carefully arranged over the last seven years, and threatening to turn her into the foolish girl she’d been at sixteen.
He’d said she was in danger from de Soules, but she feared the real danger was in the blazing-hot spark that flared between them whenever they spoke or simply exchanged a look.
But she couldn’t let this be her undoing. She’d worked too hard to get here. She had to—
A rustling in the leaves behind her made her pause. Had Kieran followed her into the maze? Heaven help her if he had, for if they were alone together now, she didn’t trust herself not to touch him.
The rustling came again, closer this time. Her skin prickled with anticipation, but some instinct told her that something was wrong.
Before she could move or even draw a breath, the gardener she’d seen earlier stepped into the middle of the path. She nearly hissed a laugh at her own silly nerves when she saw what he held.
The large shears he’d been using to prune one of the hedges a few moments ago were raised in his grasp like a dagger.
And pointed right at her.
Vivienne only had time to scream before he lunged toward her.
Chapter Eight
Kieran stared at Lady Vivienne as she stood talking quietly with two of the other ladies-in-waiting. They were speaking of him. He could tell by the way the older one—Marie, he thought her name was—kept glancing appreciatively at him.
He didn’t give a damn if they gossiped, but he found himself frowning deeper as Lady Vivienne seemed to grow agitated.
It was hard to tell, of course, for she had an uncanny ability to keep her features smooth and her slim shoulders relaxed, but suddenly her gaze darted to him and her normally cool blue eyes sparked with dark intensity. She swept him over, her cheeks flushing and her petal-pink lips parting ever so slightly.
Bloody hell, if she looked at him like that again, he would not be held accountable for his actions. And damn if she didn’t look especially stunning today as well.
When she’d emerged from her chamber that morning, he’d nearly choked on his tongue. She wore a blush-pink silk gown that set off her strawberries and cream skin—which was generously exposed thanks to the gown’s scooped neckline. Though she was on the slim side, the expertly-designed garment put every delicate curve on perfect display.
Her flaxen hair was coiled into plaits and pinned up as usual, giving him the long expanse of her neck and décolletage to stare at. She’d floated by him as she always did, her violet scent curling around him and tugging him after her like a leash.
In short, she was like a damn dessert ready to be eaten.
As he stood before her now, leveling her with his best glower, he could only pray that his cock didn’t begin stirring beneath his kilt and give him away.
She tore her gaze from him at last, murmuring a few more words to the two ladies through a tightened mouth, then glided away to cut flowers. He remained rooted in place, for she was directly in his line of s
ight. Besides, she seemed agitated enough even without him pestering her.
Aye, he enjoyed being a thorn in that sweet behind of hers, for she seemed far too perfect for her own good, but he didn’t truly wish to torture her. She was wise to suggest that they not speak today, for every time he did he had to fight the urge to seal her tart lips with a kiss.
After snipping several flowers and placing them into her basket, she ambled toward what appeared to be a large hedge maze. He moved at last, stalking down the path slowly so that she remained a stone’s throw away but still in his sights. She nodded to a gardener, then slipped inside the maze.
Kieran nearly went after her, but he hesitated. What would happen if he were alone with her in the leafy, shaded privacy of the maze? Would he be able to restrain himself, as he had in the alcove that first night, or would his control finally snap and have him doing something foolish like tasting her lips, dragging her against him, grinding his aching cock into—
He muttered a curse, stepping out of the path and behind a shrub. What was happening to him? It was only lust, he told himself firmly for the hundredth time since arriving at court. He was a man. He had needs—which he hadn’t attended to for some time now. And Vivienne was a beautiful woman. It didn’t mean aught.
But a nagging wee voice in the back of his head pointed out that there were plenty of other bonny women in the French court, some of whom had passed him suggestive and even openly inviting looks. Yet he didn’t want them. He wanted sharp-tongued, strong-willed, ever-restrained Vivienne. He had to—
Unaware of Kieran’s presence nearby, the gardener who’d greeted Vivienne abruptly stopped pruning and gazed at the hedge maze’s entrance. With a surreptitious glance at the other ladies, who were all some distance away engaged in cutting flowers, the gardener slipped into the maze.
Kieran’s instincts flared with warning. It was possible the man was simply seeing to his duty to trim the hedge, yet his furtive glance and slinking steps told a different story.
Kieran swiftly strode to the maze’s entrance. The path immediately forked, each direction shrouded by the hedge’s dense foliage. Neither Vivienne nor the gardener was anywhere in sight.
Hell and damnation.
Just as he was about to pick one direction at random, a high, frightened scream tore through the air.
Vivienne.
Without thinking, Kieran lowered his shoulder and plowed straight through the hedge toward where the scream had come from.
Leaves exploded around him and branches snapped in his wake, some snagging his shirt and plaid, but he did not slow. He barreled on like a charging bull, desperate to reach Vivienne.
She screamed again, and it was like a dagger to his chest, but he was closer. With a roar, he picked up speed, crashing through the hedge toward her.
Suddenly he broke into one of the paths, and there she was. She lay sprawled on the gravel path, her gown torn and stained. But she was conscious, thank God, and clutching the small pair of shears she’d carried earlier in trembling hands.
The gardener loomed over her, his shears raised as if he were about to plunge them into her. His head whipped around at Kieran’s abrupt appearance, his face twisted in a snarl.
Without hesitating, Kieran lunged for him. The gardener turned his shears on Kieran at the last moment, attempting to stab him in the chest, but Kieran batted his arm aside. He plowed into him, driving them both to the ground.
With his greater size and strength, Kieran pinned him, but the gardener had managed to keep his grip on the shears. He stabbed again, this time aiming for Kieran’s side. Kieran barely managed to twist out of the way, catching the man’s wrist as the shears sliced through the air where he’d been a heartbeat before.
The man’s hand trembled as he fought against Kieran’s hold, but Kieran managed to torque the gardener’s wrist so that the shears slowly tilted toward him.
With a bellow of rage, Kieran sent all of his strength into his arm and surged downward, plunging the shears into the gardener’s chest.
The man went rigid, his eyes widening in shock, then sputtered a bloody breath before going still.
Panting, Kieran rolled off the lifeless man. His limbs trembled, but not from his battle with the gardener. Nay, he shook out of fear for Vivienne and what had almost just happened.
He looked up to find her still huddled on the ground, the shears in her hand wavering like a leaf in a stiff breeze. Her dark blue eyes brimmed with tears and her lips quavered.
Instantly, he was crouched at her side.
“Are ye hurt, lass?” Distantly, he knew she would not like him calling her that, but the gently spoken word slipped out like an endearment.
She blinked, struggling to focus her gaze on him. He moved so that his body blocked the sight of the dead gardener, then took her chin carefully in his grasp.
“Vivienne, look at me. Are ye all right? I need to ken before I move ye.”
When her eyes at last locked on his, the knot of anxiety in his gut loosened ever so slightly. She was alive, at least, and that was better than his worst fear.
“I…he didn’t hurt me.”
He swept his gaze over her, taking in the tear in her skirts and the dirt stains on the pink silk. But he saw no blood and her limbs all seemed to be working. If she truly was unharmed, his first priority was to get her to safety.
Carefully, he extracted the shears from her hand and tossed them onto the ground. Then he slid his arms under her and brought her against his chest. She inhaled in surprise, but as he rose to his feet, her arms looped around his neck and she pulled herself closer.
Rather than returning the way he’d come, which would have meant dragging Vivienne back through the hole he’d made in the hedge, he bore right at every fork in the maze until he reached the entrance.
They were greeted by the shocked faces of the ladies-in-waiting, who must have heard Vivienne’s screams as well. Several gasped in dismay at the sight of Vivienne, disheveled and in Kieran’s arms. One even sank to the ground in a half-swoon.
“Ye,” he said, turning to Marie. “Fetch the guards and have them remove the man in the maze. Then go straight to the King and Queen and tell them to come to Lady Vivienne’s chamber. Dinnae take nay for an answer.”
“Oui, monsieur,” Marie, wide-eyed but clearly the most level-headed one in the bunch, replied quickly. She immediately scurried off to do his bidding.
The other ladies began swarming after Kieran as he strode toward the palace, wringing their hands and murmuring prayers.
“Off with the lot of ye,” Kieran barked as he entered the palace and began winding his way toward Vivienne’s chamber. “Go to yer chambers, or help Marie, but dinnae get in my way.”
They scattered like startled butterflies, some flitting after Marie and others fleeing to their rooms.
When he reached Vivienne’s chamber, he kicked the door open unceremoniously and strode toward her bed. He set her down on top of the coverlet as gently as he could, but her fingers sank into his shoulders as if she didn’t want to let him go.
“I’m going to guard yer door until the King and Queen arrive,” he said, gently prying her hands free. “Then we will have a talk about what happened—and what happens next. Understand?”
She stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes, nodding mutely.
“Do ye want me to send in one of the ladies to help ye change or wash?”
“N-non,” she murmured. “I can do it myself.”
“Verra well.” He pinned her with his gaze. “I will be right outside. Ye can call for me if ye need aught.”
She nodded again. Reluctantly, he straightened and strode to the door. He forced himself not to look back at Vivienne, for if he did, he doubted he would be able to leave.
Closing the door behind him, he planted himself in the corridor and waited, thanking God with each passing heartbeat that he’d reached Vivienne in time.
Chapter Nine
Vivienne didn’t know how
long she sat on her bed, staring in a numb stupor at the door beyond which Kieran stood. After what felt like an hour but was probably only a quarter of that, she forced herself to stand on trembling legs.
With wooden fingers, she unlaced her ruined gown and carefully laid it over the chair in front of her dressing table. Though the gown was likely unsalvageable, at least a few kerchiefs or mayhap a headdress could be saved from the undamaged silk.
Distantly, she realized she must be in shock, even as part of her mind tumbled on with disturbing normalcy, planning out practical uses for the gown that had been destroyed when she’d nearly been killed.
She donned a simple dress of gray wool, then splashed water over her hands and face. As the water in the basin turned muddy from the dirt on her hands, an overpowering exhaustion came over her. She stumbled to the bed and dragged back the coverlet, climbing in without bothering to remove the dress she’d just put on.
But when she closed her eyes, the gardener’s face swam before her, his hazel eyes menacing as the shears came toward her.
Blessedly, Kieran’s low, gruff voice suddenly drifted to her through the door. The King must have just arrived, for she heard his sharp, worried voice as well.
To her astonishment, Kieran didn’t immediately admit the King to her chamber. He must have been waiting for the Queen to arrive as well. If Vivienne had been in her right state of mind, she would have been horrified at the idea of Kieran making the King himself stand outside and wait to see her, but as it was, she didn’t have the energy to care.
Soon enough, the Queen’s voice filtered through from the corridor, and then the door swung open and Kieran was there again. He stepped aside and allowed the King and Queen to enter, then closed the door, his hard features even grimmer than normal.
Vivienne struggled to throw back the coverlet and untangle herself from the bedding so that she could greet the King and Queen on her feet, but Kieran shot to her side, laying a hand over hers to still her.