Bedding the Enemy. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
nae a whore.”
“I didna say ye were. I told ye I’d wed with ye, today if ye like.” She glared at him. Gwen never let his size intimidate her—another trait that he liked about her. She shook her head, refusing him.
“Ye’ll take the horses and some sheep, since ye’re set on this course of leaving me to find love. I’m going to make very sure that ye dinnae end up marrying because ye’re wondering how to keep food on the table.”
He rubbed her cheek one last time. “Promise me, Gwen, that ye’ll come to me if ye need something?”
She reached up and hugged him tightly, her body shaking just a tiny bit. “I will, Keir. I promise.”
She ducked out the door, her steps fading down the hallway. Keir clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to turn around. The chamber was suddenly empty, more devoid of life than he’d ever thought it might be.
Oh aye, being laird was a burden, to be sure.
But it was also a duty, and Gwen was correct. He needed to marry for the clan—find himself a wife who came with powerful relatives and maybe even a good dowry. Love was for common men, most of them never realizing how rich they truly were to have the power of free choice. Being laird came with power but responsibility so heavy a man could feel his own knees buckle at times.
He would shoulder it. Looking out the window, he watched the McQuade retainers in the yard. Once more the clan colors might be respected. He would make the McQuades a clan to be admired instead of scorned for nighttime raids.
And he would begin by finding a bride who would bridge the gap between him and his neighbors.
The English queen was dead. James Stuart had inherited the English crown from the monarch who had signed his own mother’s execution order. The English nobles awaited their new king as spring drove away winter’s chill. The English court lowered themselves before the new king and queen.
Helena Knyvett moved through the court, taking care with her steps. She had learned at a young age to control her every action. Each of her hands was resting perfectly on the front of her skirts to display her long fingers. Her chin was level and her expression smooth, no hint of disagreement. It was necessary to stop often in order to give deference to the nobles she passed. No matter, there was no place that she needed to be; in truth, her purpose was to represent her family among the other nobles of England. Her purpose was to mingle among them while being poised, educated, and well bred. Greeting them and making a favorable impression was the entire point of the costly silk damask gown she wore. The corset was stiff and the sleeves tight as fashion dictated, but all of that was something she was expected to shoulder without a single frown to mar her makeup. She needed to present the correct image so that a powerful man might offer for her. Her poise and ability to conduct herself well among other powerful people was what she would bring to a husband. Marriage was about a union between those of blue blood and those who understood how to gain the eye of other nobles.
At least that was what she had been told since childhood. It had been instilled in her every moment of her youth. Her purpose was to further her family. She was to represent her father, always considering what her actions might do for him.
In truth she was quite tired of the games played at court—the whispered schemes and plotting that didn’t match the endless respect and greeting done in the middle of the great halls. But in the dark corners, nobles talked about one another in anything but kind terms.
“It took you long enough.”
Edmund Knyvett enjoyed court. Helena curtsied to her brother. He rolled his eyes and his lip lifted into a sneer that didn’t look good against his velvet doublet and silk sleeves. The only son and heir to the earldom of Kenton, Edmund was lavishly attired and he stood poised on one foot with the other barely touching the ground. It was a courtly pose, one that was considered sophisticated.
“Enough, Helena; if I want polished manners I don’t need to spend time with you to see them.”
She bored her brother. Her sibling preferred his friends and consorts to family. He often used her as an alibi for his lustful meetings. She would not lie for him but no one ever asked her. Edmund was her father’s heir. One day he would be an earl. The court surrounding them dare not risk making an enemy of him. As long as there was a believable story, they chose not to question it. Besides, as his sister, if he suffered the ill will of the powerful men around them, so would she.
Such was court. Full of rumors and intrigue. She had no friends here—only the fear of performing poorly enough to earn the scorn of her brother. Edmund did not suffer silently. Her brother ensured that she understood everything she did that did not meet his standards.
“I came as soon as I received word that you summoned me.”
“Yes, yes. That doesn’t matter.” Edmund began walking. Nobles made way for him quickly and with a slight lowering of their heads. They reached the end of the great hall and passed through to the inner rooms of the palace. Once they left the larger receiving hall there was privacy if you spoke in low tones.
“It is time to place you closer to the throne.” Edmund paused, looking through an arched opening in the wall. Queen Anne was in the private garden with two of her children. The new queen was still enchanted by the palace, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
“Have I been offered a place?” She hoped not. Gaining any position among the new queen’s ladies would trap her at court while her family interrogated her for every detail she overheard.
“No, but I plan to change that.” Edmund looked across the garden toward one of the queen’s maids of honor. “That one with the golden red hair. Raelin McKorey. Rumor has it half of Scotland thinks she’s a witch due to some nasty business with a laird getting impaled on a royal pike over her. Getting her dismissed should prove simple enough. All I need do is give the queen a suitable reason to dispense with her. I’ll tussle her tits and rumple her maidenly skirts in the hallway. That should suffice to disgrace her enough to be dismissed, leaving an opening for you.”
Helena’s eyes rounded. Her brother had little compassion in him. She knew it from personal experience. The girl in question was dressed in the queen’s colors of gold and cream. A scar marred her creamy skin on one side of her face, but she smiled at the young prince and princess. The young princess took her hands and began swinging around in a circle. Raelin’s eyes shimmered with happiness and she swung the child higher until both their skirts billowed out like flags on a jousting field. They didn’t stop to worry about what others thought of them. Raelin simply kept turning in a circle with the princess holding onto her hands and her feet flying through the morning air.
It was a pure delight to see. To simply play. Now there was something she missed. It seemed so very long ago that she was permitted to indulge in such moments. Such was the burden of noble birth. Image was more important than childhood.
“Get out there and charm those royal brats. Before I disgrace Raelin, the queen must know your face. Or she’ll pick some other girl to be her maid.”
Helena ached for the Scots girl but she didn’t dare voice an argument. Edmund could often turn cruel toward her, doing the very thing she begged him not to just to smother her in his authority. Instead she secretly hoped that Raelin McKorey was wiser than Edmund gave her credit for.
That was entirely possible.
Her brother was like many men, in that he didn’t believe women might be clever. She walked silently, gliding around the edges of the garden. The sound of laughter was infectious because it was honest for a change. Not the theatrics often heard at court. The new queen was still getting settled into her new home and often didn’t post guards around herself. A pair of burly Scots eyed her when she came closer. Helena lowered herself gracefully and deeply, remaining there.
“Yes? What do you want?” Queen Anne sounded mildly annoyed to have her time with her children interrupted.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. The sound of the children drew me forward. I but longed for the view of innocence.”