Bedding the Enemy. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
near her brother. There wasn’t a single gold or silver bead sewn to that doublet, but he looked ready to meet his king. It was the slant of his chin, the way he stood.
“You appear to have an admirer, Helena.”
Edmund sounded conceited and his friends chuckled. Her brother’s words surfaced in her mind and she shifted her gaze to the men standing near her brother. They were poised in perfect poses that showed off their new clothing. One even had a lace-edged handkerchief dangling from one hand.
She suddenly noticed how much of a fiction it was. Edmund didn’t believe them to be his friends but he stood jesting with them. Each one of them would sell the other out for the right amount. It was so very sad—like a sickness you knew would claim their lives but could do nothing about.
“A Scot, no less.”
Edmund eyed her. She stared back, unwilling to allow him to see into her thoughts. Annoyance flickered in his eyes when she remained calm. He waved his hands, dismissing her.
She turned quickly before he heard the soft sound of a gasp. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. It was such a curious reaction. Peeking back across the hall, she found the man responsible for invading her thoughts completely. He had a rugged look to him, his cheekbones high and defined. No paint decorated his face. His skin was a healthy tone she hadn’t realized she missed so much. He was clean-shaven, in contrast to the rumors she’d heard of Scotland’s men. Of course, many Englishmen wore beards. But his hair was longer, touching his shoulders and full of curl. It was dark as midnight and she found it quite rakish.
He caught her staring at him. She froze, her heartbeat accelerating. His dark eyes seemed alive even from across the room. His lips twitched up, flashing her a glimpse of strong teeth. He reached up to tug lightly on the corner of his knitted bonnet. She felt connected to him, her body strangely aware of his—even from so great a distance. Sensations rippled down her spine and into her belly. She sank into a tiny curtsy without thought or consideration. It was a response, pure and simple. Her heart was thumping against her chest and she felt every beat as if time had slowed down.
A woman crossed between them, interrupting her staring. It was enough time for her mind to begin questioning what she was doing. Fluttering her eyelashes, she lowered her gaze, forcing herself to move through the court with slow steps. She ordered herself not to look back. She was warm, warmer than the day warranted. The reaction fascinated her but it also struck a warning bell inside her mind. She should not look back.
But a part of her didn’t care for that. It clamored for her to turn and find him again. His eyes were as dark as his hair but lit with some manner of flame. She wanted to know if he was still watching her, wanted to know if she glimpsed the same flames in his eyes that she felt in her cheeks.
Ah yes, but fire burns…
Helena smiled. She enjoyed the way she felt, a silly little sort of enjoyment that made her want to giggle. The reason was actually quite simple. The way he looked at her made her feel pretty. Court was full of poetry and lavish compliments, but none of it had touched her. His eyes did. The flicker of appreciation was genuine.
She had never felt such before.
“Good day to ye.”
She froze. The man must be half specter to move so quickly. But she wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite. Her gaze sought his, curious to see if his eyes continued to fascinate her up close.
She was not disappointed. Her breath froze in her lungs, excitement twisting her belly. His gaze roamed over her face and a pleased expression entered his eyes. In fact, it looked a bit like relief.
She was suddenly grateful to Raelin all over again for having freed her of the heavy makeup. The way he looked at her made her feel pretty for the first time in her life.
“Good evening.”
He offered his hand to her and more excitement raced through her. She lifted her hand to place it in his but Edmund gripped her wrist before she touched the Scot. Her brother’s grip was cold and harsh. He didn’t have a care for his strength, crushing the smaller bones of her wrists. She didn’t feel the pain because lament burned through her for the contact she was being denied.
“My sister is on her way to play for the queen.”
She didn’t want to see the Scot bend in front of her brother’s arrogance. That idea flashed through her mind and she did not tear her attention from his face, watching to see if he allowed Edmund’s name to impress him. For some odd reason, she needed to know. She actually wanted him to stand tall, even if that was unwise. But it would be gallant and noble.
Whoever he was, Edmund did not impress him. One dark eyebrow rose mockingly. Helena felt warmth spread through her heart. It was not that she enjoyed seeing her brother disrespected, but it was endearing to watch a man refuse to swallow Edmund’s arrogance.
“And she has no time for dawdling.” Edmund glared at her. “Go on with you, Helena.”
She couldn’t disobey a direct order, not in public. The scandal would taint the entire Knyvett family.
Oh, but she wanted to.
Her gaze returned to the Scot. His eyes were dark as ink and just as solid as the written word. His lips curved slightly for her. The soft skin of her own tingled in response. Her cheeks burned hotter but a grumble from her brother sent her feet to moving.
Damn Edmund and his ambition….
Edmund waited until his sister complied before scoffing at Keir once more. It was almost too amusing to hold inside. But the way the man spoke to his sister was not entertaining. It reminded him of the way his own sister had lived under his father’s rule.
“My sister is a noblewoman of blue blood. Our family is one of the oldest in England, sir. You will keep your hands away from her.”
Keir grinned. It was a full curving of his lips that flashed his teeth at the whelp trying to impress him. He took one long step toward the man and was rewarded with a whitening of his pallor.
“Strange thing is, I do believe ye might have just been discussing a hunting bitch instead of yer own sister. It sounded that cold-blooded. If she’s the lady you proclaim her to be, why are ye talking to her like a dockside hussy?”
“How dare you…Scot! Do you know who I am?”
“Nay, but so far I’m nae impressed with the way ye treat yer sister. Titles are nothing but old words without honor.”
Keir turned and left. He did not need one of England’s nobles wrought with him, but he could not stomach the man without speaking his mind, either. He was drunk on his own power, exactly like his older brothers had been when his father was still laird of the McQuades. They did whatever pleased them and the suffering caused by that selfishness bothered them naught at all.
But that was not what he wanted to think about. He scanned the court, searching for her. Something in her eyes had drawn a response that baffled him. The moment that her hand had been moving toward his own was etched into his memory. It was as tantalizing as it was frustrating. The only thing he felt certain of was the fact that he wanted to see her again.
Without her scheming brother. He was not the first pompous man who had tried to step on him, but Keir was not planning on letting the man interfere with discovering if the lass could snare more of his attention.
“There’s nae a great deal of affection between yer brother and ye.”
Helena froze only halfway around the corner. For a moment she thought she imagined the Scottish brogue. It was the truth that she was dwelling on the man. But he stood in the hallway as large and real as might be.
“Do you often appear in front of ladies?”
He shrugged, drawing her eyes to his shoulders. For some unknown reason his body fascinated her. She simply enjoyed looking at him, tracing the bulges that pushed on his doublet, running her gaze along his arms and wondering what his skin