Bedding the Enemy (13 page)

“No. I did what I promised. The money is mine. It is not my fault you couldn't conclude the transaction on your end.”

“Now see here!”

Edmund hit the table with a fist. His men leaned forward, lending their weight to his side of the argument. “I did what I promised.”

“But I didn't get to marry her.” Ronchford's eyes glowed with his rage. He lowered his voice and leaned forward to keep his words from carrying across the tavern.

“Don't cross me. You'll regret it. I swear that on my mother's tits.”

Edmund looked down his nose at the man. “As I said. I completed my obligation. This business matter is finished.”

He stood up and left, never looking back. He was a peer. It was not his responsibility to get Helena to the church. For Christ's sake, he'd managed to get her to run off into London in the dead of night. All in all, his little sibling had managed to deliver a fortune into his keeping. It was a shame that the king wanted her wed in the morning. With a few more months and another parchment bearing his father's seal, he might be able to sell her a few more times.

Well, what mattered was the gain he'd managed to get for the trouble of housing her. Maybe in a few years he might pressure the Scot to do his bidding. All in the interest of Edmund using his position to ensure a good place for his nephews at court. Even the Scot would bend for that. Even the proudest man crumpled when it came to his family. Once Helena was bred, he'd have an entire new bunch of opportunities to exploit.

“M
istress?”

Helena frowned. No one ever called her mistress.

“Mistress? Forgive me, but you must rise.”

Helena opened her eyes. A young maid stood in front of her. The girl was dressed neatly in a fine wool livery dress, each button on her doublet shiny and untarnished. A crisply ironed apron was pinned neatly over her chest and a linen cap covered her head.

“The queen has sent a carriage for you, mistress. You must rise immediately. The royal guards are waiting.”

She must still be dreaming. But her vision showed her the same finely adorned room. Only a hint of light was coming through the open windows, the sun not yet fully risen. The girl fiddled with her apron, clearly agitated.

“Helena.”

Keir's voice was too strong to be in her dreams. The only tone she heard in her dreams was his teasing one, not this hard one.

She sat up, jerking her head around toward the door. He was frowning at her, distaste in his eyes, but there was something else that cleared the slumber from her mind, because she wanted to understand what it was.

He hid it behind a stern mask before she figured it out. Keir was already wearing his kilt, but the doublet she'd always seen him in was missing. All that covered his chest was a shirt, and the cuffs were rolled up his forearms, allowing her a look at the clearly defined muscles.

“The queen sent an escort for ye.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Helena stood up, rubbing at her forehead. She was cramped from lying in her long stays and hip roll. The center of her back ached when she moved.

“Because we are to wed in the presence of the king and queen.”

“Wed? You were telling me the truth?”

Her question was insulting, but not by design. Keir frowned at her, clearly disliking the slight. The maid looked at the floor and did her best to appear invisible. Keir crossed the distance between them and her belly tightened. Her body instantly responded to his—it was immediate and uncontrollable.

“I have never lied to ye.”

And he didn't like having his honor questioned. She heard it in his tone, but she also felt it in her heart. A little bubble of joy appeared to ease the ache she'd fallen asleep with. The tarnish on his gallant image was rubbed off in her mind.

“But Edmund told me…” She shook her head. “Of course he lied. Another scheme….” It shouldn't hurt, but it did.

“Yer brother told ye what?”

Keir was still hiding behind an expression devoid of clues to his true mood.

“It doesn't appear to matter.”

He stepped closer. “I disagree. I would enjoying hearing what yer brother said that sent ye out into the night if it wasnae that you and I were to wed this morning.”

She saw the hurt flicker in his eyes. It was surprising, because she'd never have guessed that anything she did might injure his emotions. He cupped her chin in a warm hand.

“Who did ye run away from, Helena?”

“Edmund said I was to wed Ronchford this morning.” Just saying it made her shiver. But Keir had another response. Pleasure lit his eyes, spilling over to cover his face. A firm look of satisfaction entered his eyes.

Jerking away from his hold, she moved several paces across the chamber. The maid took the opportunity to flee the room. A tingle went down her nape when she realized, almost keenly, that she was alone with him once again. She seemed to have no ability to control her wicked thoughts when they were close. “That does not mean I was running to you.”

Her pride fueled the comment—that and the need to hold on to some part of herself. She felt crushed beneath the weight of so many hands pushing her toward what they wanted.

“Is that so?”

Keir crossed his arms over his chest, his face returning to that unreadable mask. “Well now, I suppose 'tis a grand thing that I didna trust yer brother to keep his word, else ye would be spread out on Ronchford's bed this morning.”

It was a blunt thing to say aloud. Helena lifted her chin in the face of it. But her cheeks colored in spite of her posture. “All that much better for ensuring that I end up in yours.”

His eyes darkened with promise. Her belly twisted in response. The desire she'd battled last night rekindled to lick across her skin.

“I'll no' deny it.” He stalked her, chasing her across the chamber. She stiffened when she realized that she was retreating and forced her feet to stand still. But he enjoyed the show of courage, approval glimmering in his eyes when he reached her, and all she did was tilt her head up so that their gazes remained fused.

“But ye're nae as unhappy about the prospect of sharing my bed as yer words would like me to believe.”

He stroked her cheek and a shudder shot down her back. She felt her face turning hot beneath his fingers.

“I dinnae think I ever noticed a blush so much as I do on ye.” His fingers smoothed over her cheek, his dark eyes intent on the patch of bright skin. His face told her that he liked what he saw and she suddenly felt pretty.

“That blush tells me ye're thinking about me, just as I'm thinking about you.”

“That does not mean we should wed.”

He crossed his arms over his chest again. The posture was a warning that his mind was not going to be changed.

“Nay, the parchment that I won from yer sniveling brother says ye're to be my wife and I dinnae care very much about the means.”

“You won me?” She choked out the words.

“Aye, at cards.” His voice was as solemn as a mourning bell. But he offered her a kind look when her eyes widened in shock. “It doesna matter, Helena. What's important is that ye will no' return to yer brother's keeping and ye won't have to risk yer safety by running through the night.”

“Because I shall be wed to you.”

He crossed his arms again. “Scotland is nae as bad as the gossip paints it.”

He assumed that her objection was to his country, but Helena was held in the grip of wondering how to keep her heart from becoming his possession. It was one of the only things she had that was hers alone. He was the only man who seemed to stir such deep emotions inside her.

That terrified her.

“Go on, Helena. Dinnae make me put ye in that carriage. Even if I were opposed to this marriage, I'd have to obey my king. Just as ye do.”

“How could you be opposed to something that you have obviously gone to great lengths to ensure?”

She didn't wait for his reply. Part of her hoped that there would be no carriage waiting for her, but that shattered when she entered the entryway of the town home. Royal guards stood there, their livery a mark of their authority. To wear the uniform was a death sentence if you didn't truly serve the royal guard.

She sighed. There was nothing but to go forward. Taking the hand offered, she climbed into the closed carriage. Such a vehicle was very expensive. It was completely closed, even the curtains drawn over the windows.

But the seats were plush and comfortable. She settled against them, stroking a hand over the fine fabric.

The carriage rocked. Helena looked toward the door to see Keir angling his wide frame through the doorway. He cast a frustrated look at the interior ceiling before taking up the entire other side of the carriage with his larger frame.

“You're going to the palace without a doublet?”

He flashed her a grin and nodded to the footman to close the door.

“I'm going to the palace with you, my sweet lass.” She shivered, because his voice had become soft and teasing. This was the man she allowed into her dreams, and her body was quite willing to remind her of how much she did dream of him.

“Because I think 'tis a shame that we've no' had the chance to circle one another.”

Excitement rippled through her. She pushed it aside, trying to ignore it, but the promise lurking in his eyes made it nearly impossible.

“I don't know what you mean.”

The carriage jerked and began moving. Keir reached across the space between them and easily captured her upper arms. A soft squeal passed her lips as the man lifted her right off the seat and onto his reclining body.

“Och now, I know ye don't. Which is exactly why I need to spend a wee bit of time introducing ye to the delights of anticipation.”

“Anticipation of what?”

His mouth sealed out everything, this kiss more demanding than the ones he'd teased her with last night. Her hands were flat against his chest and the shirt he wore did little to mask the heat coming from his skin. She'd never noticed that a man might smell nice. Keir did. The scent invaded her senses, clouding her thinking.

But it was his kiss that destroyed her last bit of sanity, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that was demanding, but sweetly so. She twisted, unsure of how to deal with the delight. He didn't capture the back of her head but followed her, tilting his head to fit his mouth against hers. Her heart raced, making it difficult to draw in enough breath. She lifted her chin to escape from his mouth.

“Keir…”

He trailed his kisses down her neck. Pleasure shot down her body from the touch. His lips were so hot against her skin, and why had she never noticed how sensitive her neck was?

“I want to take ye home to Red Stone where I can steal ye away into the tall grass for a bit of play. The sort of games that lovers enjoy when the spring is warm and the grass sweet enough for rolling in.”

His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still. He placed two delicate bites on the skin and she shuddered. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, drawing her eyes back to his. Passion burned there. It was hot and needy, just like the tension pooling in her belly. She had never been so aware of her breasts or the way that they were flattened by her stays. The mounds felt trapped behind clothing that was suddenly uncomfortable. Every inch of her skin begged to be free.

Begged to be bare for his hands to glide across…

“Keir…You shouldn't…”

“Shouldn't touch ye? Why not, Helena? 'Tis what we both longed for within the first few moments that our eyes met.”

He cradled her body with a firm arm beneath her knees. He laid her back so that her bottom touched the seat beside him but he kept her legs across his lap.

“'Tis nae common, this sort of attraction.”

“Which is why it should not be given too much attention. Passion leads to sin.”

He undid the first few buttons on her doublet. “Och now, that's nonsense, seeing as how we are going to be wed in a few hours.”

“You believe what I think is nonsense?”

He spread the open edges of her doublet apart. The morning air swept over her skin, drawing a sigh from her. She wanted to sink back into the flood of sensation and leave the talking behind. The pleasure called to her, tempting her with its rich intoxication.

“Nay, but I do think ye spend too much time fighting yer own nature. Ye want me to touch ye. I see it in yer eyes. And I am no' a blackguard set on spoiling ye. I'll wed ye gladly.”

His fingers trailed over the tops of her breasts. She jerked and fisted her hands in her skirts as sensation shot through her. A little gasp passed her lips and she heard him chuckle in response.

“That is no nonsense, lass. It is pure passion. I'm going to enjoy showing ye its way.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the swell of one breast. It was too much. She arched upward, unable to contain all the pleasure. It tore through her and she danced over the flame. His lips were so hot, they burned over the swell of one breast until he reached the valley of her cleavage. The tip of his tongue traced the seam where her breasts met, slowly licking deeper. Between her thighs her passage suddenly felt empty. It was bluntly carnal but she couldn't shy away from it, either. Hidden somewhere beneath the fold of his kilt was the hard flesh that would ease that emptiness.

“Tonight I am going to discover what shade yer nipples are.”

“Keir! You can't say things like that.”

He lifted his head, his lips curved into a roguish grin. “And why not? I'm intent on gaining the church's blessing on our union aren't I?”

“Yes, but talk such as that is wicked.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and male. She seemed to notice so much about him that was different from her own female gender, as though they were fashioned to fit against one another.

“Did yer father raise ye to be one of these puritans? Intent on no' enjoying anything life has to offer?”

She laughed. “Obviously you do not understand puritans. They shun face paint and silk dresses, among other things that they consider vanities.”

He touched her face, tenderly trailing his fingers over her jawline. “I may need to convert. I cannae wait to see ye bare of all this court fashion.” He reached up, poking softly at one of the pads her hair was still rolled over. “The thought of seeing ye with yer hair flowing down over yer shoulders haunts me.”

Something in his tone sounded needy. But the look on his face humbled her. She felt so beautiful just witnessing the way he looked at her. She reached up, drawn to him. Her hand hesitantly stroked over his jaw, absorbing the texture of his skin. His eyes closed to slits, enjoyment shining in them.

“Touch me.” His voice was husky and so tempting. It was liberating, too, granting her the chance to choose what she wanted.

“I'm not sure how….”

But she longed to do it. Her hands smoothed over his chin and onto his neck, her fingertips slipping over the warm male skin until she reached the collar of his shirt. She froze when he rubbed a hand over her thigh. Even through the fabric of her skirts the touch set off another round of need from her passage. This time she felt a pulsing need from the folds of her sex. One, small point pressed between the delicate tissues, swelling and demanding the touch of his hand.

“I am going to enjoy allowing ye to learn, Helena.”