Bedding the Enemy (5 page)

“Good evening.”

He offered his hand to her and more excitement raced through her. She lifted her hand to place it in his but Edmund gripped her wrist before she touched the Scot. Her brother's grip was cold and harsh. He didn't have a care for his strength, crushing the smaller bones of her wrists. She didn't feel the pain because lament burned through her for the contact she was being denied.

“My sister is on her way to play for the queen.”

She didn't want to see the Scot bend in front of her brother's arrogance. That idea flashed through her mind and she did not tear her attention from his face, watching to see if he allowed Edmund's name to impress him. For some odd reason, she needed to know. She actually wanted him to stand tall, even if that was unwise. But it would be gallant and noble.

Whoever he was, Edmund did not impress him. One dark eyebrow rose mockingly. Helena felt warmth spread through her heart. It was not that she enjoyed seeing her brother disrespected, but it was endearing to watch a man refuse to swallow Edmund's arrogance.

“And she has no time for dawdling.” Edmund glared at her. “Go on with you, Helena.”

She couldn't disobey a direct order, not in public. The scandal would taint the entire Knyvett family.

Oh, but she wanted to.

Her gaze returned to the Scot. His eyes were dark as ink and just as solid as the written word. His lips curved slightly for her. The soft skin of her own tingled in response. Her cheeks burned hotter but a grumble from her brother sent her feet to moving.

Damn Edmund and his ambition….

 

Edmund waited until his sister complied before scoffing at Keir once more. It was almost too amusing to hold inside. But the way the man spoke to his sister was not entertaining. It reminded him of the way his own sister had lived under his father's rule.

“My sister is a noblewoman of blue blood. Our family is one of the oldest in England, sir. You will keep your hands away from her.”

Keir grinned. It was a full curving of his lips that flashed his teeth at the whelp trying to impress him. He took one long step toward the man and was rewarded with a whitening of his pallor.

“Strange thing is, I do believe ye might have just been discussing a hunting bitch instead of yer own sister. It sounded that cold-blooded. If she's the lady you proclaim her to be, why are ye talking to her like a dockside hussy?”

“How dare you…Scot! Do you know who I am?”

“Nay, but so far I'm nae impressed with the way ye treat yer sister. Titles are nothing but old words without honor.”

Keir turned and left. He did not need one of England's nobles wrought with him, but he could not stomach the man without speaking his mind, either. He was drunk on his own power, exactly like his older brothers had been when his father was still laird of the McQuades. They did whatever pleased them and the suffering caused by that selfishness bothered them naught at all.

But that was not what he wanted to think about. He scanned the court, searching for her. Something in her eyes had drawn a response that baffled him. The moment that her hand had been moving toward his own was etched into his memory. It was as tantalizing as it was frustrating. The only thing he felt certain of was the fact that he wanted to see her again.

Without her scheming brother. He was not the first pompous man who had tried to step on him, but Keir was not planning on letting the man interfere with discovering if the lass could snare more of his attention.

 

“There's nae a great deal of affection between yer brother and ye.”

Helena froze only halfway around the corner. For a moment she thought she imagined the Scottish brogue. It was the truth that she was dwelling on the man. But he stood in the hallway as large and real as might be.

“Do you often appear in front of ladies?”

He shrugged, drawing her eyes to his shoulders. For some unknown reason his body fascinated her. She simply enjoyed looking at him, tracing the bulges that pushed on his doublet, running her gaze along his arms and wondering what his skin looked like beneath the sleeves of his doublet. She had never been so interested in a man before, which made her curious.

“'Twas the best way to get back to the conversation yer brother interrupted.”

“I see.” She didn't care for how soft her voice was. Lifting her chin, she stared straight at his face. Indeed, the man was large, but that was no reason to simper. “There was no need. My brother was truthful; I am expected by the queen. Yet I apologize for how rude he was.”

There was no disguising the lament in her tone.

“I'll be the judge of whether or no I needed to find a way to place that kiss on the back of yer hand.”

He was a proud man; she heard it in his voice. But his words irritated her. He was quite sure of himself indeed.

“Nay sir, I shall be the keeper of my own hand.”

She wasn't sure why she spoke so heatedly to him. Her heart was beating faster, making it hard to remain poised and in place. It was almost as if she needed to prove that she would not surrender to his will without due consideration.

“Good day, sir. I must be on my way now.”

She brushed by him, her knees feeling wobbly. Her eyes widened but he couldn't see her face.

“Och well, I'll be happy to meet yer challenge, lass.”

Helena spun around in spite of knowing that it wasn't the wisest thing to do. Allowing anyone to view her emotions would only lead to misfortune on her part. Even this man who fascinated her so. There could be no good end to it.

“I did not issue you a challenge. You really shouldn't believe that I have.”

He was very close behind her and she gasped when she realized that they were only one step from each other. Her feet stepped back before she thought. But the cumbersome court dress was not made for such motions, and her heel landed on her hem. The weight of her body pulled on the skirts that were trapped beneath her long corset. She tipped backward, off balance, knowing that she was falling and helpless to do anything about it.

She gasped but the sound didn't have time to completely cross her lips before she was sucking in a very ungentle-sounding breath. The Scot caught her forearms, controlling her weight as if she were a child. She felt every finger in spite of her clothing.

“You shouldn't.”

That dark eyebrow rose once more. “Shouldna keep ye from falling?”

He set her back on her feet, as though she were a figurine. Behind her stays, her heart was truly racing now and her breathing accelerated to keep pace. The increase in her respiration drew his scent into her senses. Her thoughts ceased for a time, her mind settling on that scent and how much she liked it. She wanted to hum with satisfaction. That idea startled her with just how intense it was. This was more than curiosity. At least more intense than she was comfortable with.

“You shouldn't touch me.”

He released her forearms but trailed one hand down the length of her arm. A shiver shook her, racing down her back. Her gaze fell to his fingers. He gently clasped her wrist and lifted her hand toward his lips.

But he didn't kiss the back of her gloved hand. He pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her wrist. The delicate skin reacted to the touch of his lips like fire. It burned up her arm and into her body. Time remained still, suspending her between heartbeats. She noticed so many details in that moment. The way his lips curved, it was far more than a grin. He looked hungry and her belly twisted in response to that knowledge.

“Ah, but the look in yer eyes says otherwise, lass.” His voice turned husky but he stepped back and reached for the corner of his bonnet. He tugged on it, the simple gesture conveying more respect than any reverence she had ever seen. The reason was simple: it was genuine.

“And I'll be happy to take up that challenge in spite of that brother of yers.”

“You are an arrogant man, sir.”

He flashed a grin at her. “Aye, well some call it confidence.”

Frustration sent her teeth into her lower lip while she tried to force herself to think. “What do you mean by that?”

His eyes flashed with determination. “I believe that I mean to court ye. There is something between us that needs a wee bit of investigation.”

Helena was suspended between the need to laugh and the urge to gasp. “My brother will never allow it.”

The Scot shrugged. “Then I suppose 'tis a good thing I wasnae planning on courting him.” His lips became a mocking curve that showed her even white teeth.

Helena pressed her lips together. The man was toying with her. But what vexed her so was the fact that she was jumping at his bait like a fish. So many years of polish and practice should not be undermined so easily. Court was filled with men who would cheerfully make prey of her if she could not hold up to their flirting. She was failing at all of the things that she was expected to be.

“Good day.”

She turned and left, covering the distance to the queen's chambers with quick strides. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirts as she drew closer to the guards at the doors because she was not entirely certain that she would be admitted. Edmund was correct—the queen had many musicians to choose from.

But she needed the pikes to remain uncrossed to allow her to enter. The man behind her was disturbing her with his ability to unsettle her usual calm so easily. She needed sanctuary and time to sort out her feelings. Tension drew the muscles across her shoulders taut when the guards looked at her. Holding her chin level, she stared at them, forcing herself to appear confident of her position with the queen. They considered her for a moment before lifting their pikes to clear the doorway. Two uniformed servants drew the doors open.

Her knees felt weak, but what alarmed her the most was the lament that crossed her heart when she heard the soft click of the doors closing behind her.

 

“Now you can tell me. We're friends, aren't we?”

Raelin fluttered her eyelashes in an attempt to cajole her into doing what she wanted. Helena shook her head.

“It was nothing.”

The Scots girl narrowed her eyes. “Oh aye, so much a nothing that ye were blushing bright as a summer sunset.” Raelin sighed. “I have never blushed like that. No' even once.”

“That's not fair.”

Raelin lifted her eyebrows. “What is no fair?”

A faint flicker of victory lit her friend's eyes, but it was too charming to really become annoyed with. Helena rolled her eyes.

“Pouting like that. I do consider you a friend.” So much so that she would challenge Edmund over her. Many would condemn her for such. Blood was considered thicker than anything else.

Mischief glittered in Raelin's eyes. She leaned close, so that their words wouldn't carry.

“So tell me what sort of man put so bright a blush on yer cheeks. Don't make me beg. Canna ye see how jealous I am?”

“You have no need of envying me. Truthfully, I am jealous of you.” Helena had never spoken such a truth. Her inability to control herself in relationship to the Scot was unnerving.

Raelin sighed and slumped as far as her corset would allow. “No man has ever made me blush. My brothers would be happy about that but you should have seen yer face when you arrived this morning.” Her lips curved into a smile. “'Twas a sight. You looked all aflutter and all of the things I hear about but have nae felt. Just looking at ye made me feel like there is some grand part of life that I am missing because I have no looked into the right pair of eyes.”

“Really?” Had it been so obvious? Helena looked down at the broach she was polishing. It was slightly frightening to know her friend had read her fascination right off her face.

“Now dinnae look like that.” Raelin didn't even look at the piece of jewelry she was polishing. Her hands moved on it while she looked into Helena's eyes. There was a hint of pleading in her eyes that had nothing to do with idle curiosity. She actually sought something by asking, as though she were trying to understand something important.

“I simply encountered a man that…um…held my attention.”

“Why did he captivate you?”

Helena shifted, heat touching her cheeks just from talking about him. It was somehow exposing to hear Raelin using a word such as
captivate.
The girl didn't know how correct she was.

“It wasn't that intense.”

“Aye, it was. You didna see yer own face. I did.” Raelin eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you squirming if it wasn't that intense? We cannae be true friends if you want to be deceptive in private.”

Helena sighed. “You are very persistent.”

Her friend smiled in triumph but there was a flicker of compassion in her eyes. “I'm not toying with you, truly. It is just that there are so many who pretend friendship to sit here near the queen. You seem different. I am hoping that ye are. Serving the queen can be very lonely.”

“I understand what you mean. Ever since I have arrived at court there have been many who wanted to be near me in order to flirt with my brother. They covet his impending inheritance and seem to have no qualms about pretending friendship to me to try their charms on him. It does indeed become very lonely.”

Raelin nodded her head. “You do understand. I'm glad. So very glad.” Her voice trailed off as though she was afraid to allow her emotions to be exposed. There was a camaraderie in the moment, one that Helena was hungry for, too. Raelin filled an empty space in her soul and she was grateful.

Raelin reached out and slapped her arm lightly. “So tell me about him. Were ye unable to look away like the poets say?”

“I couldn't seem to stop looking at him. My eyes were drawn to him, like the only candle in a pitch-dark room. Honestly, it's as if I didn't have any control over what I was thinking. His face keeps pushing its way to the front of my thoughts. I can't seem to banish it.”