Bedding the Enemy - By Mary Wine Page 0,50

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

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