Bedding the Enemy - By Mary Wine Page 0,22

during a fight with Brodick McJames. His two older brothers had launched an attack on the royal guard in defense of their father and ended up dead along with his sire. All of it had been done within inches of the king and queen. The name McQuade had been tarnished ever since. He kept very still, with his hands at his sides. It wouldn’t take much to see the guards using their deadly pikes on him. He could see the distrust in their eyes.

“How long have ye been at court?”

“A few days.”

The king lowered his hand and gripped the arm of his chair. “Why have ye come, McQuade? I didna send for ye.”

Keir felt his jaw tighten. He did not care for the tone of the king’s voice, but he’d expected nothing less. Still, the disdain was hard to listen to.

“To swear my fealty to you. As tradition dictates.”

The king sat up straighter, his face drawing into an expression of consideration.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is, sire, and my duty.”

The king nodded. “Aye, so it is, but I’m a bit surprised to see ye attending to the matter so promptly.”

Keir shot the king’s hard gaze right back at him. “Honor is no’ something ye put off to another time. It’s time the McQuades had a laird who set a correct example. That is why I’m in London.”

“Well now, I’ll not be arguing with that.” The king waved his hand. “And what of this business with Raelin McKorey?”

Keir felt tension tighten across his body. “That whelp needs a good lesson. He tore her gown like a rabid animal. Ye saw the trails of her nails on his cheek. ’Twas the result of a desperate attempt to free herself. I couldna get across the hall fast enough.”

“My guards are very diligent.” James stroked his chin again. “Edmund Knyvett is a powerful man and will soon become even more so. I dinnae think many men would have interfered.”

“Ye have my sympathies on the condition of yer court.”

The king chuckled. He covered it quickly, looking surprised by his own response. “Ye’re no’ very much like yer father, or ye’re doing a grand job of disguising yer nature.”

“My father liked to tell me how much like my mother I was. He had no tender feelings toward me beyond the fact that I was born a son instead of a daughter.”

The king nodded absently. “Aye, yer father held no affection toward yer sister Bronwyn.”

“I do.”

“And what of Raelin McKorey? Yer father put that scar on her face.”

Keir did not answer. He stared at the king, allowing his actions to speak for him. He’d never been a man of prattling conversations and he was not going to begin now.

The king grunted. “I suppose that was nae a necessary question, considering ye just threatened one of my English nobles on her account.”

“He grabbed her like a drunken sailor on the waterfront.” Keir spoke through clenched teeth. “Ye should have let me give him a few lessons in manners.”

Telling the king what to do might not have been the wisest thing, but his temper was still hot. It was taking a great deal of effort to remain in place while the English whelp left with his sister in tow. It was a sure thing that she would not be having an easy time of it now that she’d refused to lie for her kin. It was something he understood, and that was for certain. His father had always detested him for his resolve to retain his honor. “What of his sister? She’s a good lass.”

James stiffened. “Ye’re a keen one, all right. Things will nae go well for her tonight. ’Tis a curse, but I must handle these English nobles carefully. The lass impressed me with her courage.”

“Aye. She’s nae a coward.”

The king lifted one eyebrow. “I dinnae think her brother will be taking very kindly to yer tone, considering ye just threatened to beat him.”

Keir smiled. He couldn’t help it. “I’m here to swear my oath to ye, nae dabble in schemes that involve ripping the dresses off maidens.” Disgust edged his words, but he didn’t care.

“Most men wouldna let me hear that tone. They would not dare use such in the presence of their king.”

“I’ve just traveled to London to kneel before ye when I know a few of my neighbors havena made the effort and wear their lairdship proudly. I am nae a dishonest man. My father often berated me for it. But if what ye prefer

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