table, yanking her skirts up. A bucket of water hit him square in the face. Edmund snarled and turned on the person responsible. Avis rolled over the table and ran toward the door, where Margery stood with a bucket in hand.
“Run, girl! The master’s gone insane.” The door slammed behind them.
“I am not insane!”
He wasn’t…wasn’t…wasn’t…Edmund pulled his own hair, slamming his fist against the closed door of his chamber. He was in a rage—burning in the grip of anger caused by Keir McQuade!
Margery grabbed her cloak, as well as one for Avis. “Come on, girl. We’ve got to flee this house. The evil eye is here.”
They had to run before the insanity touched them as it had their master.
“Run, girl! Run!”
“Now that is a fair nicer dress.”
Helena’s husband sounded pleased. In fact, his men looked pleased with her appearance as well. A little flicker of enjoyment warmed Helena when she stepped outside to join them.
“I must admit that I don’t care for court dresses too much.”
“’Tis glad I am to hear that. Those things would have no place at Red Stone.” Her husband stopped for a moment. “Unless ye wanted to wear them, I suppose.”
He looked as though he couldn’t understand why she would want to. Her hunting dress was far easier to move in. Constructed of lightweight wool, it had only a petticoat beneath the skirts. There was no cartwheel farthingale with stiff boning to keep even when she walked, just a hip roll to help support the weight of the cartridge-pleated skirts. Her arms didn’t need to be bent and positioned perfectly, because she had on only one pair of sleeves. While they were not common, they were built to move with the natural motion of her body. She felt freer than she had in years. Her mother had put her into court dresses a full year before she arrived at court, dictating that she wear nothing else so that she would become balanced and poised.
And all of it didn’t seem to matter because Keir McQuade found her quite charming in her hunting dress. She couldn’t help but enjoy the way his lips curved while he took her hand. It was the sort of honest admiration that she liked about him so much.
There was no carriage today. Keir’s men had their mounts waiting in the small courtyard that sat in front of the town house—large, powerful beasts that snorted in the morning air. Keir reached for one, a huge, sable-brown stallion that tossed its head before allowing his master to stroke its muzzle. Man and beast shared a moment of true friendship that was evident in both their eyes. Helena watched it, staring at the way Keir stroked the animal.
She was jealous.
The emotion caught her completely off guard. She looked away to force herself back into a composed noblewoman who did not care about tender feelings. It didn’t work. She was still biting her lower lip when her husband spoke to her.
“Do ye ride?”
He hesitated over the question, phrasing it simply as though he was a bit afraid to hear her answer. His men watched her, fear lurking in their eyes as well: a fear of getting the chore of hauling a pampered and helpless court lady up to Scotland.
Keir swallowed roughly when she didn’t answer him quickly. She watched the muscles of his throat contract and his lips press into a firm line to conceal his true feelings.
“Of course I can ride.”
She heard more than one sigh of relief. Her husband, on the other hand, eyed her suspiciously.
“Ye’re toying with me.”
She tilted her head slightly to the side. “I cannot help it if you believe all the gossip about English women. If I gave any attention to half the things I’ve heard about Scotland, I’d have fainted dead away the moment I met you.”
His men laughed and a grin split Keir’s lips.
“Ye were too busy staring at me to do that.”
His men chuckled and her face burned. Her husband’s gaze instantly touched on the blush brightening her cheeks.
“We mustn’t be late. The king doesn’t hold his hunts for anyone.”
Everyone found something to do, their amusement dying quickly. She missed it once it was gone.
“Farrell brought ye a fine mare this morning.”
One of his men brought the horse forward. “She’s young and healthy. Built for endurance.” Farrell pulled the bridle down so that the mare was close enough to touch, pride gleaming in his eyes.
“She’s magnificent. You have a skilled eye for horses.” The mare was a lighter