Bedding the Enemy. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
her fingers, simply enjoying holding such a fine item. The sleeve itself was beautiful and working on it was a pure delight for the senses. The girls whispered all the time they attached pearls. Helena felt Raelin watching her first few stitches but she did not become flustered. Her skills were very good and she knotted the thread with a practiced hand.
The queen finally emerged from her sleeping chamber, her face pale. Her ladies fluttered around her but she waved them away.
“A bit of fresh air. That is all I need.”
She was wearing only a dressing gown and that was untied, allowing her chemise to be seen. Her hair was braided into one thick length that trailed down her back. But she still looked so regal. It was in the way she moved, commanding everyone around her.
“Helena, play something sweet.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Carefully setting her work aside, Helena rose and curtsied to her queen before sitting at the virginals. The queen looked out over the garden but her face lost some of its pinched look when Helena began to play.
“I heard ye were feeling poorly again.”
Helena missed a note as the king strode into the chamber. The queen turned and lowered herself. But the king reached for her hand, raising her.
“I am very well.”
James Stuart didn’t appear to believe her. His face was darkened with concern. Anne laughed at him.
“This is not our first babe. I will be strong and well.”
The king kissed her hand, lingering over it. He suddenly noticed Helena, looking straight at her.
“A new maid of honor, my dear?”
The queen smiled. “This is Helena Knyvett. I enjoy her command of the virginals quite a bit.”
“Then I am in her debt.”
Helena felt a smile brightening her face. There was no way to ignore the rise of satisfaction inside her. But it wasn’t due to some sense of family duty. The king might command the best musicians in the country to play for him. Pleasing his ear was an accomplishment, to be sure. She inclined her head to acknowledge his words, not wanting to lose the melody.
Servants entered with large serving platters that had silver domes over them. They set a table right in the middle of the chamber. The scent of fresh bread and newly cut cheese drifted to her nose when they lifted the domes. The king and queen began dining. Helena watched them from beneath her lowered lashes. It was a fascinating sight because, in spite of their positions, they appeared quite normal.
Not that she might ever dare to call them normal. Many still believed in the divine right of the monarchy. But it was almost an intimate setting, so far removed from the other times she had viewed the royal couple. At banquets, there were horns that announced the couple every time they entered the room. Each tempting and lavish tray was presented to them before anyone else. Earls and countesses served them, doing even the most basic of table chores, such as holding a bowl of wash water for the queen to rinse her hands in before she supped. The ladies of the chamber served the royal couple but it lacked the abundance of lowering and curtsies that was displayed by these very same women in the great hall. There was no lack of respect, simply a lack of pretense.
Helena was suddenly more content than she had been since leaving home. Behind all the polished manners and expected duties, there were people here. She enjoyed that.
Even Edmund and his schemes couldn’t tarnish her joy.
London…
Keir McQuade looked down on the town with a frown. He’d honestly never thought to travel so far into England. He liked Scotland and was quite content to run his estates.
There was yet another thing that had changed with his father’s recent behavior. James might just leave him standing in the outer chamber for months, considering the last McQuade he’d had in his presence had needed running through by the royal guard. The only thing his monarch might be interested in seeing him about was the inheritance taxes due the crown. But the secretary of the privy council could collect that.
Yet it was his duty to wait for his king’s attention.
Every new laird swore an oath to his monarch. It was a tradition that needed to be observed even more because of the way his father had disgraced the name of McQuade. Keir looked down on London and tightened his resolve. He wasna afraid of anything that would befall his own person. He was more worried about nae being able to restore his clan to good standing with his king. Being the McQuade laird, that was now his burden. Every soul wearing McQuade colors looked to him to maintain their honor. The men riding with him all wanted to be proud of the name they’d been born with, to wear their kilts with chins held high. His father had made that difficult with raids that cast a shadow over the honor of the entire clan.
He tightened his hand around the reins.
He’d make sure their sons could be proud of being McQuades.
“You’re more clever than I thought.”
Edmund was drunk, although her brother handled it expertly. There was only a slight slurring to his words and a pinch at the corner of his eyes that she had learned to recognize.
“Don’t plan on getting married. I need you.”
She bit her lip to retain the harsh words that bubbled up in response. What an arrogant fool her brother was. He mocked himself with his own words. One day he was ready to get rid of her, and the next he was warning her against thinking of marrying. The only thing his warning did was illuminate how little say she had over her own fate. Such knowledge was beginning to chafe, and being told that it was a woman’s position to accept it, very old.
Her brother’s hunting hounds appeared to have more choice than she.
“Lure Raelin McKorey out tonight.”
“That isn’t necessary. I am making my own place with the queen.” She knew better but just couldn’t stand idle while her brother threatened Raelin. The Scots girl was her only friend.
And she was a kindhearted soul as well. She deserved better than to be lured to her ruin. Especially by someone that she had been kind to. Maybe many at court considered that acceptable in the game of getting ahead, but it stuck in Helena’s throat, refusing to be swallowed.
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. He was an expert at concealing his true feelings, but she had learned some of his expressions, mostly the ones that promised her the harsh side of his temper.
“A position of your own?” He snickered softly at her. “Any player with a bit of skill can do what you have done, sister.”
Edmund moved toward her, his gait as refined as ever, and stopped within reach of her.
“I will not repeat my instructions. Do it—once the king retires and his nobles have a chance to leave for the night.”
Or suffer his displeasure. She heard that clearly enough. But she refused to aid him in this scheme. Or any others, for that matter. For all his fine clothing, she suddenly noticed just how pathetic he was. Her parents might have spent endless hours drilling her duty into her but they had also taught her honor.
Edmund didn’t even seem to know such a trait existed.
“I will not assist you, Edmund. Raelin is not dishonorable.”
His hand struck her quick and sharply, her head turning with the blow. When she returned her gaze to his face, she clearly saw the flush discoloring his skin. Her temper itched to retaliate, but acting on such impulses had never turned out well for her in the past. She clasped her hands together to keep them from returning the blow.
“You shall do exactly what I tell you to do.”
Greed shone from his eyes, sickening her.
“I will not do anything to hurt Raelin. Or dishonor her.”
Edmund