“Look there!” She pointed at the still body lying unmoving on the dock. The yellow glow of lanterns came closer, casting light over the dismal scene.
Catriona gasped. The stone floor was covered in blood. It seeped out from the body, running into a growing puddle. The fine fabric of his clothing made no difference in the color of his blood. The royal guard turned him over and she smothered a horrified gasp.
Edmund Knyvett was dead. His eyes were still open but were glazed over. The guards shook their heads but Catriona followed their eyes toward the length of gold silk that Edmund’s hand clenched. It lay stained with his blood, and hung over the edge of the dock.
It was the same gold silk as her own dress.
“Raelin!”
She ran to the edge of the dock. The guards tried to stop her, but she fought them. The silk dropped into the choppy water, but there was no sign of her friend. The guards pulled her back, refusing to allow her near the swollen river. She tried to resist the urge to look at the scene but couldn’t keep her eyes from lowering to the blood once again. This time she stepped on another torn piece of fabric. Reaching down, she picked it up. Turning it toward the lantern light, she stared at the heather, tan, and green stripes.
McQuade colors.
She would know them anywhere. She opened the folded parchment and found the signature of the McQuade laird. Disbelief held her in its grasp, her fingers tightening on the paper until it crinkled. One of the guards took it from her, his face becoming a mask of fury.
“This is murder.”
The fire had burned down, but Helena wasn’t cold. Keir was too warm. His fingers were busy toying with a lock of her hair. She watched the way he stroked it, slowly running his fingertips over the silky strands. He’d pulled his kilt over them both while he kept her close against his body. Her legs tangled with his. Her head rested on his chest.
“I cannae wait to lie with ye like this at Red Stone.”
Neither could she. The desire was growing inside her. Even though she had never seen it, the tone of his voice enticed her to want it as much as he did.
A pounding on the front door shattered the moment. Keir was on his feet before he heard his men arguing with whomever was at the door. He shrugged into his shirt while reaching for his sword. That single garment was the only concession he gave to his modesty.
“Stay down, Helena.”
Hard authority edged his voice. A fist landed on the chamber door. She gasped and rolled onto her knees, holding the wool close. Keir opened the door, the tip of his sword aimed at whoever was on the other side.
The uniformed royal guard stood there with Farrell in front of them.
“What the devil is this?” Keir glared at his man.
“They claim the king demands yer presence.”
Helena gasped. The king did not send his personal guard to make sure that someone showed up unless there was trouble. Grave trouble.
Keir lowered his sword but didn’t set the weapon aside. The guards looked around the chamber, stopping when they spied her.
“I’ll thank ye to keep yer eyes off me bride.”
“His Majesty wishes to see the lady as well. We will wait outside.”
The captain of the guard offered Keir a nod of respect but he swept the room one more time, looking for exits. He pulled the door shut with a firm hand.
Keir cursed. His body was tight with rage.
“I detest this city.”
“I agree.”
He jerked around to stare at her. Anger held his expression tight but there was a flicker of appreciation in his dark eyes. Pushing to her feet, Helena shook out the length of McQuade wool.
“I suppose I had better learn to fold this correctly.”
“Being wed to you, I might need to keep a second one about so that I don’t get caught in me shirt as I just did.”
He was trying to be playful but there was too much tension in his voice. He hesitated over releasing his sword, finally gritting his teeth and placing it aside. He took his plaid and began laying it across the table in neat pleats.
“I’ll teach ye later, lassie. It seems Jamie needs something settled. Ye’d best get dressed.”
She turned to obey, her stomach becoming queasy. She couldn’t help but suspect that her brother was yet again attempting to regain his hold on her.