The sounds of clothing being donned filled the chamber. Her husband dressed quickly and moved across the chamber to help her. He touched her carefully, as though he was worried that she might vanish. Lifting her rebraided hair to his lips while she buttoned her doublet, he closed his eyes and inhaled, enjoyment breaking through the tension on his face. She quivered, tenderness flooding her.
She must have made some sound because he opened his eyes and stared into hers. His hand tightened around her hair, his face drawing tight once more.
“I swear, Helena, that no matter what scheme is afoot tonight, I will nae give ye up. Nae while I draw breath. I swear it.”
She reached for him, her hands landing on his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his body.
“I will trust in that, Keir.”
“Och now, lass, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He pressed a hard kiss against her lips. It was a promise of many more, a declaration of his intent to keep her. She rose onto her toes to press herself tighter into his embrace. Desperation was beginning to rake its claws across her, dark foreboding filling her thoughts. She kissed him back and sighed when he broke away. Firm resolve filled his dark eyes.
“Pin yer hair up now. I’ve a mind to be finished with this court business.”
There was so much courage in him. She took solace in the firm resolution she witnessed in his eyes. Reaching for her hairpins, she coiled her braid while her husband retrieved her cloak.
Whatever it was, they would face it together.
“That’s a bloody lie.” Keir didn’t add any title onto his statement. He stared at his king, his body seething with rage.
James Stuart rubbed his jaw. “Your signature is on the letter ordering his death, man.”
“But nae my seal.”
Lord Ronchford looked at his king. “This man comes from a family of violent men.”
“Violent? I’ll tell ye what is violent. You trying to kidnap a woman on the street because you and her brother had some manner of arrangement.”
“I don’t know what you are trying to insinuate, Scot.”
Keir pointed at the man. “I’m saying it plainly enough. You tried to steal Helena away the night before I was set to wed her. It was my men that beat ye off her.”
“So you admit to setting upon men in the street now?”
“Enough!” James slapped the arms of his throne. His guards already held their pikes in a lowered position, most of the points aimed at Keir.
The English lord fumed, but what drew Keir’s attention was the look on the faces of the king’s personal guard. In spite of their position of duty, you could see condemnation of him in their eyes. It was English against Scot, as it had been for hundreds of years. He forced his rage down, searching for diplomacy. He might be a Scot but he wouldn’t prove to be a barbarian. Sometimes, using your brains was more important than winning the fight.
“Anyone could have written that note, sire.”
“And the wool?”
Ronchford sounded too arrogant, making Keir’s fist itch to knock the man down. Keir raised an eyebrow. He pulled on the end of his belt before Ronchford figured what he was doing. James understood and a hint of suspicion entered the monarch’s eyes.
“There’s my kilt, man, there is nay an inch missing. Nor a single repair. Kilts are woven in one length, never cut. Never sewn.” Keir held it up and watched the guards’ eyes shift to it. Ronchford flushed, his eyelids fluttering. Keir stared at the telltale action. The man was covering something up.
“That proves nothing. You might have a dozen kilts.”
“My wife was with me every second since I left the queen’s chambers.”
Several guards nodded, but Ronchford drew in a stiff breath.
“She likely conspired with you so that her sons might inherit the Kenton earldom!”
Keir sent his fist into the other man’s face. The guards didn’t react fast enough and the other man went rolling over his own body. The pikes appeared inches from his throat but he remained still and looked at the king.
“Leave my wife out of this. I’ll nae listen to any man blacken her name. Ye want to fight, man, ye fight with me.”
Ronchford stumbled to his feet. A trickle of blood marred his chin. Fury flickered in his eyes but the king held up a hand.
“I was not aware that you and Edmund Knyvett were such good friends that ye would stand in front of yer