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