Bedding the Enemy (6 page)

“What drew ye to him?”

Raelin sat poised, waiting to hear the answer.

What indeed…

“Something in his eyes…I don't really understand it myself.” She wished she did. It would make it far easier to block his face from her mind. Too many times today he'd appeared in her thoughts, stealing her attention away from whatever she was doing. Such a fascination was bound to lead her toward despair.

Raelin sighed.

“It's nothing to be envious of. My brother was quite angry.”

“Your brother noticed?”

Helena looked down at the broach. Raelin covered it with her polishing cloth.

“You cannae stop now. Tell me the rest.”

Lifting her face, she stared at her friend. “He tried to kiss my hand but Edmund sent me off to join you. My brother was quite rude.”

“And what did the man do?”

What did he do, indeed? What sounded so innocent held her over a flame that licked her body….

Helena felt the heat from her blush spread. It flowed down into her body, across the sensitive skin of her breasts and all the way to the tips of her nipples. Raelin slapped her hand, jerking her out of the moment.

“He followed me. Into the hallway. To place the kiss on my hand that Edmund refused him. My brother's position didn't appear to worry him at all. He claimed that I challenged him.” Helena let out a slow breath. “Are all Scotsmen that persistent?”

“He was Scots?”

Helena nodded. “He wore a kilt and bonnet. No lace or high fashion at all. Only a doublet and a large sword strapped to his back.”

“Och now, if he said ye challenged him, ye'd best prepare to deal with him again. My countrymen are never timid when it comes to a lass who has captured their interest.”

“My brother will be quite angry with me over it if he notices me daydreaming. That is nothing to be envious of.”

Her friend shrugged once again. “I quite disagree. Never once have I met a man that did that to me. I can ignore them all at my pleasure and they can do the same to me.” Raelin spread her hands out wide. “Which leaves me lonely and begging to hear about yer good fortune. I am truly a pathetic creature.”

Helena frowned. “You shouldn't say things like that. I should have better discipline.” She shivered, the topic shooting a chill down her spine again. “I need to stop thinking about him. That is why I didn't want to tell you. I can't continue to dwell on him.”

“But it's wonderful to find a man who does that to you. Maybe ye'll fall in love with him.”

Helena recoiled from the look of bright hope in Raelin's eyes. “That will gain me naught but a broken heart.”

“Or a spring wedding to a man ye're eager to share yer bed with.”

Helena laughed. The sound was too loud, drawing looks from the queen's ladies. Raised eyebrows that critiqued them from where they sat at the other end of the chamber. Her fingers began moving over the broach once more.

“All it will get me is a broken heart. Affection is no reason to marry. I'll cry on my wedding night because of who my family weds me to. Edmund would never allow a match with him.” She'd been taught to think that way, but today for the first time she questioned it. She had never believed that a look could make her blush. Never even considered that such a thing truly happened.

Or that one kiss, against so innocent a place, might be so moving. Yet it had happened. She could still feel the pulse of excitement lingering in her blood. It was far more potent than any wine. The delicate skin on her inner wrist tingled with renewed longing for another touch from those warm lips.

“That is a shame. Ye should be happy on your wedding night.” Raelin replaced the earring she'd been cleaning and took up the matching one.

“You sound as though you have some say in who you wed.” That was ridiculous, but there was something in Raelin's tone that implied it. “Is that allowed in Scotland? A lady having say in who she marries? Even if that choice is not a man with a title?”

“My brother would listen to me, if I told him someone had taken my fancy.”

“Now I am jealous.” And it sounded too good to be true. But they were in England. That harsh truth sliced through her excitement. Even if things were different in Scotland, she had been born English.

Raelin smiled. “Will you show him to me?”

“I don't even know the man's name. Much less where to begin looking for him.”

“If he's here, he's waiting to see the king. We'll begin in the great hall.”

Raelin took the broach from her hands and set it back inside the open chest of the queen's jewels. They were all clean anyway. But the ladies-in-waiting often dictated chores to the maids of honor and there was no arguing permitted.

Raelin grasped her hand and took a look across the chamber before pulling Helena off her bench. The queen was in her bedchamber and her ladies with her. She tired easily now and was retiring for the night. But the queen was also particular. She'd felt pressed upon and wanted only her ladies near. Chores had been handed out to the maids to take them away from the bedchamber. No one was left in the outer chamber except the pair of them.

“If I see his kilt, I can tell you what clan he's from. Maybe even if he holds a title. We have nobles in Scotland, too, ye know.” Her friend offered her a bright smile. “No one will miss us. Not now that the queen has begun to retire.”

“You are a conspirator.” But she was tempted. She wanted to know his name.

Raelin hurried them past the royal guards outside the door before giggling.

“'Tis so, but it's fun.” Excitement laced her voice. “Besides, we are together. A walk isn't so bad since there are two of us. I get out so little, I never get to meet men that might make me blush. Perhaps I'll want to steal his interest from ye.”

Her friend's excitement was infectious. Helena smiled and clasped the hand Raelin closed around her own. They hurried down the wide hallways like curious children on a feast day. Now that the queen had retired for the night, many nobles had begun the process of returning to their town homes. Everyone attending court wanted to be noticed, so they did their best to be present any time the king might step into the great hall. Or send a summons for them. The chamberlain kept a list of those men waiting for an audience with His Majesty. Just getting your name on that list took a great deal of influence and often a bribe. If you failed to make a good enough bribe, your name might be very low on the list and the chamberlain might forget to mention to the king that you were waiting for a very long time.

But once the queen retired, the king often took to his private chambers with his friends. That ended the day, giving weary nobles the chance to retire until they rose at dawn to begin the entire process once again. Helena had been keeping such hours since arriving. It was becoming difficult to remain awake during services.

Tonight she didn't care. Excitement flowed through her. They circled the private garden used by the queen and crept out into the hallways that led toward the great hall. Long shadows darkened the hallway. Lamps were lit but their light became lost in the vaulted ceilings.

“Maybe the poets are reading.”

“You mean ‘wenching,'” Raelin declared boldly.

Helena smothered a laugh. “You say the most outlandish things.”

“'Tis the only way I survive serving the queen. Her ladies are quite prudish and I refuse to forget that I am young enough to think about men.”

“Raelin…”

Her friend shrugged. “I only said think about men. What's wrong with listening to a little posy? We'll both marry soon enough and find ourselves shipped off to country estates to produce heirs. I, for one, would like to take a few memories along.”

“I agree.”

The young men of the court liked to practice their poems on the maids after the hall was emptied for the night. Edmund had warned her to keep well away of such gatherings. Ladies that were seen by the flicker of the candles were considered light-skirts. That didn't stop some of the bolder noble daughters from going. One or two had snared herself a titled husband by ignoring the possible gossip and invading the male-dominated activity. But doing so was a very risky gamble. Many had not fared so well.

“We'll stay in the eves. Ladies do it all the time. No one shall see us.”

“That's wickedly naughty.” And she had never thought about it. The great hall was surrounded by hallways that had arched openings. At night, a dozen people might be standing there. If you were near the candles, the darkness beyond would be impossible to see into. It was so clever and so tempting.

Raelin laughed. “I know. My brother would have a fit if he knew. But I often wonder if that's because I might see him attending. And enjoying himself.”

Helena laughed; she couldn't help it. Edmund would be enraged if she caught him doing anything that he'd rather she didn't know about. Which only made her laugh harder. Her belly ached with it. She stopped to catch her breath and Raelin swirled around in a circle, her golden skirts flaring up. She laughed softly, her head pointing at the ceiling like a little girl on a spring morning.

“Perfect.”

Raelin screamed, the sound erupting from her as Edmund emerged from the darkness like a serpent striking at prey. He grabbed at Raelin, ripping her bodice with one harsh motion of his hand. She snarled and tried to fend off the hands pulling and clawing at her clothing. Lace tore and her strand of pearls broke. But she did not make it simple for him. The Scots girl fought Edmund, hitting him and yanking on his fine velvet doublet, raking her nails down one side of his face. Edmund raised his hand and struck her in retaliation.

“Stop it, Edmund! Let her go!”

Her brother cursed at her and sent her tumbling with another blow from his hand. Raelin stopped trying to free herself and launched a fresh attack on him when he tried to follow up with a kick. Edmund took full advantage of her change in direction, hooking his hands into her bodice and tearing the golden silk so that her corset showed.

“Hold there!”

Guards charged down the hallway, their boots echoing. Light suddenly surrounded them all, illuminating a tousled-looking Raelin with Edmund standing nearby.

“What goes on here?”

Her brother arrogantly raised one eyebrow. More footsteps announced the arrival of witnesses. Raelin stood in shock, her hands trying to cover up one breast that was too exposed. Helena struggled to her feet, fighting with her dress while she struggled to get her feet on the floor and not on the damask that made up her skirts. Faces emerged from the shadows to stare at them. Edmund smirked in victory.

Whispers erupted among the spectators. Each hushed voice sliced as deeply as sharpened steel. Panic appeared on Raelin's face. The change from Raelin's normally smiling face was so sharp it horrified Helena, choking her with the ugliness of the condemning people around her.

“I'll tell ye what goes on—that bastard needs some manners beaten into him.”

The man emerged from the darkness.

Helena stared at the face that had occupied her mind since seeing him that morning. There was nothing kind in his expression now. Rage flickered in his eyes and it drew his features tight. His breathing was rapid, betraying the fact that he had been running.

“If I hadna been all the way across the hall, I'd have snapped the whelp's neck by now. He put rough hands on her.” He pointed a thick finger at Edmund.

Raelin's eyes rounded when she saw him. But the Scot didn't look at her. His attention was focused on Edmund, whose face didn't betray even a hint of remorse. Instead he looked at the guards with a small smirk on his lips. They broke under the weight of his stare, one clearing his throat.

“He is the heir to the Earl of Kenton, a peer of this realm.” One Royal Guard member spoke quietly, his tone thick with warning. The Scot didn't even blink. His face remained in its disapproving expression. Edmund's blood didn't buy him any tolerance from this man.

“What he is, is an undisciplined whelp who doesna know how to treat a woman with respect. Look at her, man! He ripped her dress down her body, and you English dare to call us Scots barbarians? I'd lay one of me own clansmen low for doing the same.”

The whispers began again. They rose in volume until it felt like they were pounding against the inside of her head. The horror was too much to bear. Helena reached for her friend and felt the Scots girl clasp her hands in a crushing grip. Raelin held her chin steady but it must have cost her greatly.

“Make way for the king!”

The crowd gawking around them split apart, backing up to the walls. James Stuart didn't look amused. Everyone lowered themselves before him. But he only had eyes for Raelin. She tried to lower herself but wobbled on unsteady feet. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she hugged her ruined bodice over her exposed breast. The king's face flushed, rage flickering in his eyes.

“Get up. All of you! What is this nonsense?”

The king's gaze settled on Raelin. A frown marred his forehead. His expression quickly changed to one of anger when he turned to look at Helena and the Scot.

“My chambers! Bring them all.”

 

Raelin's hand shook. She was holding Helena's hand so tightly, the tips of her fingers were beginning to lose feeling. But you wouldn't have known such from the way her friend held her face—smooth and composed. All traces of panic evaporated as though she was sitting down polishing jewelry in the queen's chambers. No more tears fell from her eyes; she stood sure and steady with her eyes on the king.

The king sat in an ornately carved X-chair that was placed on a raised section at the back of the room. A costly Persian carpet ran beneath it and velvet curtains covered the wall behind him. It was a lavish display with only one purpose—to ensure that everyone entering understood that they were in the presence of the king.