brown than Keir’s stallion. But its coat was silky and shimmered in the sunlight. Running a hand over its neck, Helena smiled.
“It was very kind of you to buy me a mount.” She spoke quietly, unused to receiving gifts. Every fine thing she owned had been purchased with the goal of securing her a place at court. There was nothing in her trunk that she valued simply for the emotional enjoyment it gave her.
“I would have preferred to have you ride double with me.” Her husband offered her a roguish grin. “Aye, but we wouldn’t get a whole lot of hunting done if I had to feel ye clinging to my back.”
She blushed again, but this time she reached out and slapped him on the forearm. It was an impulse, one that her discipline should have prevented. Horror gripped her when she realized that every one of his men had witnessed the impulsive, unpolished gesture.
Keir tossed his shoulder-length hair back and laughed. His men followed his example. It was such a contrast to everything she had been trained to expect. But her husband grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. He grasped her waist and lifted her up onto the back of the mare. His strength amazed her. She’d suspected he was strong, but he lifted her as though she were a child.
“I think we may be more compatible than you think, Helena.”
He winked at her. She blinked her eyes because she had never actually had someone do that to her since she was a girl. The footmen used to do it, in a kindly fashion, to distract her from something boring she was being forced to attend, but coming from Keir, it was a very different thing. She tightened her grip on the reins and hooked her knee over the small handle that was placed on the sidesaddle. Her cheeks were still hot and she realized that she was flattered by Keir’s approval of her. His amusement was something to be proud of. He was not a man who laughed with his enemies.
She watched him swing up into the saddle through her lowered eyelashes. Heat traveled down her spine to pool in her belly as she did it. Keir was magnificent sitting there, the powerful stallion suiting him because he was so strong himself.
A gallant knight…
She didn’t chide herself for thinking it. She couldn’t. He embodied it right then, from the way his dark hair curled down to tease the top of his shoulders, to the manner in which he had his doublet sleeves tied behind his back. Only his shirt covered his arms. He tossed his head and cast her an eager glance.
“Let’s ride, lass.”
He kicked his horse and grinned. Helena did, too. There was a freedom in riding that she hadn’t known in months. Keir took the lead and her mare followed out into the street. It was congested by wagons and carriages but their horses cut through the mass of busy merchants and ambassadors with ease, many of them clearing the road when they sighted the party of McQuades.
No…not a gallant knight.
He was a worthy laird.
“The poor thing, wed to a Scot.” Lady Philipa Fitzgerald stared at her and didn’t lower her voice enough to keep it from drifting on the breeze. “Such a waste of blue blood.”
The woman was a notorious gossip. Helena had learned that within days of arriving at court. Lady Philipa was dressed in the highest fashion with no care for the fact that the sky was overcast. The swollen mass of clouds was promising rain. Her silk dress wouldn’t fare very well but the lady sat there in her lace and finery while gossiping with several other ladies. They all cast looks at her, some of them actually wrinkling their noses. Helena offered them a serene expression, refusing to let their sniping get to her. There was another thing she had learned early at court. Never believe what was said about you. If she had, she would have cried herself to sleep every night for a year.
The king arrived with a fanfare of trumpets. James Stuart swept the assembled group with a critical eye.
“McQuade, my friend! I’m happy to see ye and yer bride.”
Heads turned and Helena felt the weight of more stares than she might count. The variety of their expressions amazed her. Some were merely curious, others glared at her with scorn, while still others smiled at the idea of a wedding. Lady Fitzgerald looked at her friends