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.”