In The Warrior's Bed. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
blood as he rode toward home. It was bitter because there was no way to feed it. She was the only lass that held his interest and she was a McQuade.
Fate was a siren at times. Tempting and taunting mortal man with the things he could not have. But the one thing that fate had not counted on was the will of a McJames. He had never been a man to settle for being told that he could not have what he wanted.
He’d learn her name and that was a promise.
Chapter Two
A fist pounded on her door at dawn. Bronwyn rubbed her eyes but sat up when the door opened. Her brother, Sodac, strode into the room without a shred of courtesy. She held the covers tight against her body.
“Father says to tell ye to dress and get to the stables. We’re to leave as soon as the horses are ready.”
He raked her with a look that was full of loathing.
“Keir will be staying here, by Father’s command. Best ye think long and hard about what will happen to him if ye speak out against yer laird’s words. A third son needs the good will of his family in this life.”
She gasped and her brother smiled at her distress.
“I don’t expect a woman to understand the way the world works. So choose yer words carefully, or better still keep yer mouth shut, Bronwyn. The McJames owe us and we will get our due any way we can.”
Sodac left and Bronwyn shivered. She wasn’t cold; no, she was horrified at the pure malevolence she’d just witnessed. Cullen’s face surfaced from her dreams and seemed so vastly different from her brother’s. There had not been malice in his eyes, only enjoyment of the moment.
Her stomach twisted as she crawled from the bed. Aye, there was a great difference between Cullen and Sodac. But Keir did need the goodwill of his family. With his sense of honor, her brother would hold his head high as he was cast aside. That left only her to protect him. She would not lie but there was nothing wrong with remaining silent. Her father had been at court for eight months, banished to the outer receiving area, not even allowed into the royal hall because he’d angered the king with his accusations against the McJames. Maybe she’d be fortunate and James Stuart would refuse to see her father.
She would hope for the best, anyway. There was no point in dwelling on the darker things that her father might shackle onto her. Red Stone promised to be a colder place now that he’d called her a slut openly. Even if no one believed that she was a lightskirt, they could not miss the lack of affection from her sire. The fact remained that he was laird and Liam set to follow him by tradition. It was even supported by the scriptures.
Nay, she would not think about the life that was awaiting her after she went to court. Nor would she banish the memory of her meeting with Cullen McJames from her thoughts. It was for certain that she would not be riding again soon, if at all. She would enjoy what she could. Besides, she had felt more in those moments than she had in a year. Cullen had stirred something in her that she had never felt before. There had been so much excitement jumping about inside her that just thinking about it made her heart pump faster.
Perhaps that was wickedness. But it felt too good to cast aside in favor of a father that called her slut.
The road to court was long, but it passed quickly as she tumbled her thoughts over and over in her mind. The cold glances of her father’s retainers didn’t even make her shudder. She was far too absorbed with thinking of a way to satisfy her father without damning Cullen McJames.
To be sure, she would never ride in that valley again.
A twinge of pain startled her, stunning her as it ripped at her heart. Surely it was impossible to lament never seeing the man again. She had to prevent another meeting because her father would use any contact to damn the younger brother of the McJames family. Besides, Cullen might set to strike at her father through her once he knew whom he’d met. He was a warrior as devoted to his clan as her brothers were to her father.
And still she felt it. A small rent in the fabric of her heart. It softly throbbed as she pictured his face once again.
Well, her memories would have to be enough. His family had even more reason to dislike her than her father had to hate him. Her father raided the McJames. Oh yes, she knew it. Cullen McJames would never believe that her father detested her almost as much as he hated the McJames.
A soft chuckle made it past her frozen lips. It truly was a comedy of errors that she found the man so fetching. Once Cullen McJames knew her name, he would curse her unto hell.
She should have let him steal that kiss.
The court of Scotland was filled with men who waited. Bronwyn looked at their pensive faces as she was led through the mass of richly attired men toward the main entrance to the great hall where the king sat. Armed guards kept the velvet-clad hordes from entering the hall without a summons from their monarch. Every set of eyes seemed to be judging her, calculating what she might do to further their cause. To be king suddenly looked like a burden too heavy for any mere man. The guards with their weapons and the press of people all seeking an audience felt thick enough to smother.
Her wool dress was plain. More than one set of female eyes looked surprised as they raked over her common dress. The women waiting to be admitted into the hall wore lavish gowns made of velvet and silk. There was the twinkle of gold and silver sewn right onto the expensive garments. Each gown was supported with undergarments that made the skirts wider and grander than her own dress. The women held their arms carefully arched, without resting their hands on the dresses. There were pearls and jewels. Large wigs and powder and paint on their faces.
Their stays were so long, they looked as though they didn’t have any hips. The abundance of fabric reminded her of her father’s bed with its rich tapestry curtains. Her father held up a parchment, and to her surprise, the guards allowed them to pass into the receiving hall. A ripple of whispers went through those waiting, but Bronwyn lost interest in them as a new sea of faces cast inquiring glances toward them.
At the end of the hall the king sat. Musicians played in the eves surrounding the hall. Some of his courtiers were dancing but she did not recognize the steps. Still, music was a delight to hear. At Red Stone it was rare because her father refused to offer coin for entertainment. In the spring there would be market fairs, and with the merchants came music. Even if her father’s reasons for bringing her to court were distasteful, Bronwyn couldn’t keep herself from enjoying the music.
The king suddenly stiffened.
“McQuade.” His voice rose in a tone that silenced everyone who heard it. Her father seemed to be the only one who didn’t hear the warning. He marched forward and bowed to his king.
James Stuart didn’t look impressed.
“I gave ye leave to return home.”
Her father yanked her forward. Bronwyn stumbled because she wasn’t expecting her sire to touch her; he went for years without placing a finger on her.
“Aye, I returned home to discover that Cullen McJames has been using my daughter as his whore.”
There was an instant uproar in the hall. The air felt stuck in her lungs. Bronwyn watched the sea of faces peering at her, their eyes narrowing, dark condemning sneers aimed at her over lace fans. Several of the men smiled at her, invitation clearly written on their faces. Sweat popped out on her forehead while her heart began to race. The king scowled at her.
“My private chambers, McQuade. Now.”
The king was quite clearly displeased. He quit the room on fast steps, his guards keeping pace. Conversation rose in the hall as necks angled and stretched to get a clear look at her.
“Now ye’ll understand the penalties for turning traitor on me, Daughter.”
Her father hooked her arm and pulled her toward the back of the hall behind the throne. Heavy, ornately carved doors were held open by the royal guard. The moment they passed over the threshold, the doors were pushed shut behind them with a hard sound