Bedding the Enemy

Chapter Seven

“Mistress?”
Helena frowned. No one ever called her mistress.
“Mistress? Forgive me, but you must rise.”
Helena opened her eyes. A young maid stood in front of her. The girl was dressed neatly in a fine wool livery dress, each button on her doublet shiny and untarnished. A crisply ironed apron was pinned neatly over her chest and a linen cap covered her head.
“The queen has sent a carriage for you, mistress. You must rise immediately. The royal guards are waiting.”
She must still be dreaming. But her vision showed her the same finely adorned room. Only a hint of light was coming through the open windows, the sun not yet fully risen. The girl fiddled with her apron, clearly agitated.
“Helena.”
Keir’s voice was too strong to be in her dreams. The only tone she heard in her dreams was his teasing one, not this hard one.
She sat up, jerking her head around toward the door. He was frowning at her, distaste in his eyes, but there was something else that cleared the slumber from her mind, because she wanted to understand what it was.
He hid it behind a stern mask before she figured it out. Keir was already wearing his kilt, but the doublet she’d always seen him in was missing. All that covered his chest was a shirt, and the cuffs were rolled up his forearms, allowing her a look at the clearly defined muscles.
“The queen sent an escort for ye.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Helena stood up, rubbing at her forehead. She was cramped from lying in her long stays and hip roll. The center of her back ached when she moved.
“Because we are to wed in the presence of the king and queen.”
“Wed? You were telling me the truth?”
Her question was insulting, but not by design. Keir frowned at her, clearly disliking the slight. The maid looked at the floor and did her best to appear invisible. Keir crossed the distance between them and her belly tightened. Her body instantly responded to his—it was immediate and uncontrollable.
“I have never lied to ye.”
And he didn’t like having his honor questioned. She heard it in his tone, but she also felt it in her heart. A little bubble of joy appeared to ease the ache she’d fallen asleep with. The tarnish on his gallant image was rubbed off in her mind.
“But Edmund told me…” She shook her head. “Of course he lied. Another scheme….” It shouldn’t hurt, but it did.
“Yer brother told ye what?”
Keir was still hiding behind an expression devoid of clues to his true mood.
“It doesn’t appear to matter.”
He stepped closer. “I disagree. I would enjoying hearing what yer brother said that sent ye out into the night if it wasnae that you and I were to wed this morning.”
She saw the hurt flicker in his eyes. It was surprising, because she’d never have guessed that anything she did might injure his emotions. He cupped her chin in a warm hand.
“Who did ye run away from, Helena?”
“Edmund said I was to wed Ronchford this morning.” Just saying it made her shiver. But Keir had another response. Pleasure lit his eyes, spilling over to cover his face. A firm look of satisfaction entered his eyes.
Jerking away from his hold, she moved several paces across the chamber. The maid took the opportunity to flee the room. A tingle went down her nape when she realized, almost keenly, that she was alone with him once again. She seemed to have no ability to control her wicked thoughts when they were close. “That does not mean I was running to you.”
Her pride fueled the comment—that and the need to hold on to some part of herself. She felt crushed beneath the weight of so many hands pushing her toward what they wanted.
“Is that so?”
Keir crossed his arms over his chest, his face returning to that unreadable mask. “Well now, I suppose ’tis a grand thing that I didna trust yer brother to keep his word, else ye would be spread out on Ronchford’s bed this morning.”
It was a blunt thing to say aloud. Helena lifted her chin in the face of it. But her cheeks colored in spite of her posture. “All that much better for ensuring that I end up in yours.”
His eyes darkened with promise. Her belly twisted in response. The desire she’d battled last night rekindled to lick across her skin.
“I’ll no’ deny it.” He stalked her, chasing her across the chamber. She stiffened when she realized that she was retreating and forced her feet to stand still. But he enjoyed the show of courage, approval glimmering in his eyes when he reached her, and all she did was tilt her head up so that their gazes remained fused.
“But ye’re nae as unhappy about the prospect of sharing my bed as yer words would like me to believe.”
He stroked her cheek and a shudder shot down her back. She felt her face turning hot beneath his fingers.
“I dinnae think I ever noticed a blush so much as I do on ye.” His fingers smoothed over her cheek, his dark eyes intent on the patch of bright skin. His face told her that he liked what he saw and she suddenly felt pretty.
“That blush tells me ye’re thinking about me, just as I’m thinking about you.”
“That does not mean we should wed.”
He crossed his arms over his chest again. The posture was a warning that his mind was not going to be changed.
“Nay, the parchment that I won from yer sniveling brother says ye’re to be my wife and I dinnae care very much about the means.”
“You won me?” She choked out the words.
“Aye, at cards.” His voice was as solemn as a mourning bell. But he offered her a kind look when her eyes widened in shock. “It doesna matter, Helena. What’s important is that ye will no’ return to yer brother’s keeping and ye won’t have to risk yer safety by running through the night.”
“Because I shall be wed to you.”
He crossed his arms again. “Scotland is nae as bad as the gossip paints it.”
He assumed that her objection was to his country, but Helena was held in the grip of wondering how to keep her heart from becoming his possession. It was one of the only things she had that was hers alone. He was the only man who seemed to stir such deep emotions inside her.
That terrified her.
“Go on, Helena. Dinnae make me put ye in that carriage. Even if I were opposed to this marriage, I’d have to obey my king. Just as ye do.”
“How could you be opposed to something that you have obviously gone to great lengths to ensure?”
She didn’t wait for his reply. Part of her hoped that there would be no carriage waiting for her, but that shattered when she entered the entryway of the town home. Royal guards stood there, their livery a mark of their authority. To wear the uniform was a death sentence if you didn’t truly serve the royal guard.
She sighed. There was nothing but to go forward. Taking the hand offered, she climbed into the closed carriage. Such a vehicle was very expensive. It was completely closed, even the curtains drawn over the windows.
But the seats were plush and comfortable. She settled against them, stroking a hand over the fine fabric.
The carriage rocked. Helena looked toward the door to see Keir angling his wide frame through the doorway. He cast a frustrated look at the interior ceiling before taking up the entire other side of the carriage with his larger frame.
“You’re going to the palace without a doublet?”
He flashed her a grin and nodded to the footman to close the door.
“I’m going to the palace with you, my sweet lass.” She shivered, because his voice had become soft and teasing. This was the man she allowed into her dreams, and her body was quite willing to remind her of how much she did dream of him.
“Because I think ’tis a shame that we’ve no’ had the chance to circle one another.”
Excitement rippled through her. She pushed it aside, trying to ignore it, but the promise lurking in his eyes made it nearly impossible.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The carriage jerked and began moving. Keir reached across the space between them and easily captured her upper arms. A soft squeal passed her lips as the man lifted her right off the seat and onto his reclining body.
“Och now, I know ye don’t. Which is exactly why I need to spend a wee bit of time introducing ye to the delights of anticipation.”
“Anticipation of what?”
His mouth sealed out everything, this kiss more demanding than the ones he’d teased her with last night. Her hands were flat against his chest and the shirt he wore did little to mask the heat coming from his skin. She’d never noticed that a man might smell nice. Keir did. The scent invaded her senses, clouding her thinking.
But it was his kiss that destroyed her last bit of sanity, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that was demanding, but sweetly so. She twisted, unsure of how to deal with the delight. He didn’t capture the back of her head but followed her, tilting his head to fit his mouth against hers. Her heart raced, making it difficult to draw in enough breath. She lifted her chin to escape from his mouth.
“Keir…”
He trailed his kisses down her neck. Pleasure shot down her body from the touch. His lips were so hot against her skin, and why had she never noticed how sensitive her neck was?
“I want to take ye home to Red Stone where I can steal ye away into the tall grass for a bit of play. The sort of games that lovers enjoy when the spring is warm and the grass sweet enough for rolling in.”
His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still. He placed two delicate bites on the skin and she shuddered. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, drawing her eyes back to his. Passion burned there. It was hot and needy, just like the tension pooling in her belly. She had never been so aware of her breasts or the way that they were flattened by her stays. The mounds felt trapped behind clothing that was suddenly uncomfortable. Every inch of her skin begged to be free.
Begged to be bare for his hands to glide across…
“Keir…You shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t touch ye? Why not, Helena? ’Tis what we both longed for within the first few moments that our eyes met.”
He cradled her body with a firm arm beneath her knees. He laid her back so that her bottom touched the seat beside him but he kept her legs across his lap.
“’Tis nae common, this sort of attraction.”
“Which is why it should not be given too much attention. Passion leads to sin.”
He undid the first few buttons on her doublet. “Och now, that’s nonsense, seeing as how we are going to be wed in a few hours.”
“You believe what I think is nonsense?”
He spread the open edges of her doublet apart. The morning air swept over her skin, drawing a sigh from her. She wanted to sink back into the flood of sensation and leave the talking behind. The pleasure called to her, tempting her with its rich intoxication.
“Nay, but I do think ye spend too much time fighting yer own nature. Ye want me to touch ye. I see it in yer eyes. And I am no’ a blackguard set on spoiling ye. I’ll wed ye gladly.”
His fingers trailed over the tops of her breasts. She jerked and fisted her hands in her skirts as sensation shot through her. A little gasp passed her lips and she heard him chuckle in response.
“That is no nonsense, lass. It is pure passion. I’m going to enjoy showing ye its way.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the swell of one breast. It was too much. She arched upward, unable to contain all the pleasure. It tore through her and she danced over the flame. His lips were so hot, they burned over the swell of one breast until he reached the valley of her cleavage. The tip of his tongue traced the seam where her breasts met, slowly licking deeper. Between her thighs her passage suddenly felt empty. It was bluntly carnal but she couldn’t shy away from it, either. Hidden somewhere beneath the fold of his kilt was the hard flesh that would ease that emptiness.
“Tonight I am going to discover what shade yer nipples are.”
“Keir! You can’t say things like that.”
He lifted his head, his lips curved into a roguish grin. “And why not? I’m intent on gaining the church’s blessing on our union aren’t I?”
“Yes, but talk such as that is wicked.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and male. She seemed to notice so much about him that was different from her own female gender, as though they were fashioned to fit against one another.
“Did yer father raise ye to be one of these puritans? Intent on no’ enjoying anything life has to offer?”
She laughed. “Obviously you do not understand puritans. They shun face paint and silk dresses, among other things that they consider vanities.”
He touched her face, tenderly trailing his fingers over her jawline. “I may need to convert. I cannae wait to see ye bare of all this court fashion.” He reached up, poking softly at one of the pads her hair was still rolled over. “The thought of seeing ye with yer hair flowing down over yer shoulders haunts me.”
Something in his tone sounded needy. But the look on his face humbled her. She felt so beautiful just witnessing the way he looked at her. She reached up, drawn to him. Her hand hesitantly stroked over his jaw, absorbing the texture of his skin. His eyes closed to slits, enjoyment shining in them.
“Touch me.” His voice was husky and so tempting. It was liberating, too, granting her the chance to choose what she wanted.
“I’m not sure how….”
But she longed to do it. Her hands smoothed over his chin and onto his neck, her fingertips slipping over the warm male skin until she reached the collar of his shirt. She froze when he rubbed a hand over her thigh. Even through the fabric of her skirts the touch set off another round of need from her passage. This time she felt a pulsing need from the folds of her sex. One, small point pressed between the delicate tissues, swelling and demanding the touch of his hand.
“I am going to enjoy allowing ye to learn, Helena.”
“You want me to…to be a bold wife?” Wicked and tempting, the idea caught fire inside her.
“Aye.”
His mouth took hers with a hunger that stole her breath. All teasing was missing from the kiss. He took her mouth and thrust his tongue in deeply, invading and stroking along hers until she mimicked his motions with her own. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her prisoner while the kiss continued. Heat rose between them until she hated her dress, hated the shirt keeping her fingers from making contact with his skin. She clawed at his shoulders, a faint tearing sound startling her.
It drew a chuckle from Keir. He lifted his head, grinning at her. His expression was too full of arrogance.
She slapped him on the broad chest that fascinated her too much.
“You are toying with me.”
“Not so. But it’s the truth that I’m hoping I’ve heated ye up enough to share my frustration with ye.”
He pulled her up onto his lap once more; the way he moved her so effortlessly, she shivered.
He smoothed a hand down her back in response. “Are ye truly frightened of sharing my bed?”
She longed for it….
Helena bit her lip, shocked yet excited by her thoughts. He snarled softly, frustrated by her silence. He buried his head against her neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin and placing soft kisses against her throat.
The carriage stopped and she heard him mutter in Gaelic.
“I suppose ye’ll be leaving me to wonder why ye shuddered and no’ answered.”
“Does it matter? This carriage confirms that I must wed you.”
He sat her on the opposite seat, his face set back into a blank expression.
“It matters to me, and I will know why ye wept last night. I swear it.”
The door opened and pain pierced her heart for disappointing him. That was the one thing she dare not risk telling him. It was the only fear she had because it was the only thing that she could count as her own. She did not enjoying seeing him unhappy with her silence. He frowned, reading her refusal from her face. But his eyes glittered with renewed challenge.
“All right then, Helena. Do yer best to push me away, but I’m giving ye fair warning that I will not budge. Ye belong to me.”
The queen’s chambers…

“Well now. Ye are wedding the man who made ye blush after all.” Raelin McKorey was forcing a smile onto her lips. Helena knew it because she recognized the strain in her eyes. Raelin dabbed another brush into a face powder but Helena raised her hand to keep the girl from lifting it.
“Unless you plan to paint me like the first day you met me, put that brush away.”
Raelin nodded, her eyes settling on the purple bruises her efforts had failed to mask. “Yer brother is a horrible man.”
She didn’t lower her voice, nor was there any misgiving in her voice. Catriona McAlister nodded in agreement. “I dinnae care if the man will inherit an earldom. I’ll nae even dance with him ever again.”
Catriona reached for the cloth draped around Helena’s shoulders. “Come now. We need to dress ye for yer wedding.”
It was an event that Helena had heard so much about throughout her childhood. It felt rather surreal to be preparing for her wedding, because the steps were so normal. The girls pulled her simple doublet and wool skirt from her. A blue silk gown was brought forward for her to wear. It wasn’t overdone with lace and pleats. The simplicity of it was what charmed her but she would have worn it in spite of detesting the reason it was given to her. It was a gift from the queen, one of Her Majesty’s own dresses.
“You do not need anything else, Helena. A bride should be simple and sweet with her own charms. You are quite beautiful.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Anne of Denmark, queen of Scotland and England, smiled at her. She reached for a silver brush and carried it over to Helena herself in spite of her ladies trying to intercede.
“You must wear your hair down.”
“Oh, yes.” Raelin pulled the pins out eagerly. The queen began to pull the brush through her hair, gently untangling it. So many hands touched her, tending her. Time flew past and there was no more time to think or ponder.
Not that it would have mattered. Her life was moving forward in its habit of taking her along no matter what she wanted.
But there was part of her that looked forward to seeing Keir at the altar. That part of her that had felt Ronchford’s rough hands on her breasts rejoiced at knowing Keir would never allow another to touch her.
No, the arrogant man considered her his.
She saw it shining in his eyes when he saw her enter the private chapel used only by the royal family. His gaze touched hers, sending a bolt of awareness through her just as he had done the first time she looked into his eyes.
Only this time she knew what she craved.
At least she had picked a fine man to want. He was a sight to behold in black doublet and kilt. There was not a man in brocade or silk damask that she considered his equal. It was the nobility, the pure intensity of his spirit that made him so.
Edmund stood near the altar, his expression carefully smooth. The small chapel was filled to near bursting with Keir’s men and her brother’s men all watched over by the king’s royal guard. Tension filled the air, tightening as she approached the altar. The bishop, dressed in his black robe and white smock, glanced nervously around before a quick motion from the king’s hand made the man begin the ceremony. He mumbled through the first set of prayers and rushed on to the vows faster than she had ever witnessed. In a remarkably short amount of time, she was wed.


Helena sighed. She drew a deep breath, savoring the moment of privacy. Sneaking away from her own reception proved simpler than she’d thought. The court was only using her wedding as another excuse to flirt and observe one another. It might have been a feast day or birthday celebration. All that seemed to matter was that there was music, food, and the royal couple in attendance. She crept away into the hallways for a few moments alone.
“Nothing good will come of this marriage.”
Edmund emerged from an archway. He moved silently, placing every step artfully.
“Enough, Edmund. It is done.”
He shook his head, snickering at her. For all that she had heard the sound many, many times before, it agitated her.
“I said enough, Edmund. Your schemes must end now or move on to someone else. I am a wife now.”
“Nothing is done until the union is consummated.” He tsked at her. “Sweet little ignorant sister of mine.” His amusement suddenly died. “Unless that Scot plowed you last night.”
Her face burned. “It would serve you right if he did. Ronchford is a horrible man, Edmund. How could you send me to him?”
She shouldn’t care, but couldn’t seem to keep the hurt from her tone. She had tried so hard to be agreeable with her brother. It was difficult to absorb how little he cared for their blood connection.
“He is a rich man with many more powerful men owing him money and favors.” Edmund sneered at her, uncaring of the torment his words inflicted. “Marriage is about power, not whether or not you like the man.”
“Did you sell me to him? As you gambled me away to Keir?” She wanted to hear him say it, so that she might never again think of him kindly. Blood or no blood.
“Of course. I’m rather pleasantly surprised that I was able to arrange two transactions for the same sister. Much less disappointing than I first imagined it would be when you were delivered onto my doorstep.”
“You are a monster, Edmund. I swear I will never think of you as my brother again.”
“But I am your brother, little sister, and it would be in your best interests to obey me.” He cast a glance about, making sure they were still alone. “Think about your children. When they come to this court, they will need their titled uncle to pave the way for them.”
She choked on her horror because she could not say it did not matter. Family connections were what made it possible to succeed. It was not fair, but neither was life.
“Excellent. You have finally realized that listening to me is the best course of action.” He leaned closer. “Refuse to consummate your union.”
“What are you talking about? The man is my husband by royal command.”
“And a little-known titled Scot who only wants to better himself through breeding you. Refuse him so that I have grounds to annul your marriage. The king is a businessman; he will come around in time. This will not be the first marriage he has annulled. I need your virginity to stand up to a midwife’s inspection.”
Anticipation showed in Edmund’s eyes. It was ugly and greedy, sickening her.
“I am done being your property, Edmund.” She lifted her chin. “You sold me. Twice.”
He shook his head. “Don’t let that itch between your thighs make you do something you will live to regret, Helena. You are a peer. I can wed you to a far more powerful man. Think of your children. Don’t let that Scot dilute your blue blood with his common stock.”
The cold-bloodedness of her brother’s word froze her. She was naught but a possession to him.
“I am wed, Edmund, and I want nothing to do with you.”
He reached for her, his hand curling around her upper arm. She barely had time to feel the compression of his grasp before he was stumbling across the stone floor.
“My wife spoke plainly enough. Dinnae touch her. Nae ever again.”
Keir’s voice was deadly. She turned her attention to stare at him. She thought his body strong, felt that strength but never really understood how deadly he might be. She was witnessing it now, the side of men that women only heard about in hushed tones, as he stood in front of her. This was the part of him that could kill for what he believed in.
“Do you really think I am afraid of you, Scot? I am the earl of Kenton!”
“Nae yet, ye aren’t, and if fate has any sense of justice, ye never will be. I swear I hope that becomes so. Ye have no honor.”
A startled gasp from the shadows invaded their conversation. Catriona McAlister stood there with a hand covering her open mouth, clearly hearing Keir’s words. Taken alone, they were harsh indeed.
“You have some nerve to threaten me, Scot. There are laws here in England. Don’t think to get my title through marriage to my sister.”
A royal guard stood next to Catriona, frowning. The horror of seeing suspicion on his face sent her belly to cramping. Edmund held too much power.
Too much.


Keir didn’t ride in the carriage with her on the way back to his town home. But he was so close, she could actually feel him watching the carriage. A peek out the curtains showed her his men, all riding in formation around the carriage. Under different circumstances, she might have felt honored by their escort. Tonight, all she felt was guarded.
Not that she should be surprised. Most noble weddings were about the business transactions between the families. The bride, and many times the groom, had little concern over their personal feelings for one another. Edmund was nauseatingly correct about that.
It also wasn’t uncommon for the bride to be guarded like a chest of jewels. Helena snorted. There was no one about to hear the ungentle sound and she indulged herself in the chance to simply be grumpy.
You don’t completely dislike the situation….
She growled at her own thoughts. Behind her stays her nipples tingled, little feathers of sensation drawing slowly over the sensitive skin. If that was lust, she lusted for Keir. Her nipples drew into hard buttons, craving freedom from her clothing. She fingered a lock of her hair. It lay over her shoulder in a long, untied and unbraided length. It was amazing how free it felt to be without pins and rolls. Somehow, she felt more feminine than ever before.
The carriage stopped, rocking slowly back and forth before coming to a rest. The footman opened the door, but it was her new husband who offered her a hand to use for balance.
She remembered that hand being offered to her…
But they were not alone. She took his hand, conscious of his men watching her. They lined the walkway to the town home, and where they ended, the staff had appeared to take up positions honoring her arrival as the mistress. Each one of his men stood proudly. They inclined their heads when she passed.
Well…she did not disappoint her family when she walked down their length. It was all the years of practice keeping her chin level and her back straight. But sweat trickled down her back. Tension clawed at her but she kept it hidden behind a serene expression.
But her thoughts were settling on the man holding her hand. Somehow, in spite of all the terrible reasons why he was the one escorting her into his home, she was pleased with who it was. It was a confusing idea—one that made her sneak a peek at him while she struggled to understand just how she should feel about being won in a game of cards.
He was pleased.
There was no other way to describe the expression on his face and it went deeper, into his dark eyes. Something flickered there, a flare of heat that sent more sweat down her back. Determination shone from his eyes, and her belly tightened.
“Mistress.”
“This is Terri. She won’t be showing ye to an attic.”
He spoke proudly. But her cheeks colored. It was Edmund’s shame, but she still felt the weight of it anyway.
“This way, mistress. We’ve a bath ready for ye.”
Keir didn’t release her hand immediately. His fingers tightened, drawing her attention to his face. Promise flickered in his eyes as hard and overwhelming as his body. She pulled on her hand, craving distance from yet more demands.
She dropped him a curtsy before keeping her eyes on the ground and following the housekeeper. If that was cowardly, so be it. She was too tired to be anything else. But it wasn’t a fatigue brought on by a longing for sleep. Even knowing that her wedding day would be the end of negotiation and family bartering, she was still slightly nauseated by the process.
It would be very easy to begin thinking like a piece of property instead of a person. But she refused to give up that single thing that was still hers. Even if it might be far simpler to drift along with the currents that were dragging her.