her. “Forgive me, lass, but I cannae suffer knowing ye are unsafe. Whoever killed yer brother did it to get to you. I have nae doubt.”
He kissed her, refusing her the chance to reply, his mouth taking hers with no concern for the eyes watching them. Time stood still for that moment, his kiss pulling her into a world where nothing existed but the joy that touching him produced inside her. It was a perfect utopia, but fragile, too. A harsh grunt shattered it, sending everything down to the ground in a shower of silver rain. Keir released her hands and she shivered. Bitter cold clamped around her as she watched her husband give a final look to his men before turning in a swirl of his kilt. The royal guards fell into formation around him, the light glittering off the deadly tips of their pikes. Their steps bounced between the stone walls, merging with the ghosts of other men and women who had been taken off to the Tower, so many of them noble, so many of them losing their heads.
She stiffened her resolve and walked down the hallway as gracefully as her mother had taught her. She didn’t do it for her parents or their idea of what she should be to benefit the family name.
She did it for Keir, for the laird that he was and the man who refused to place his own desires above those of his clan. She was his wife, so she kept her chin level even when she crossed the great hall and heard the whispers begin.
She was Lady Hurst, and would not be seen as anything but worthy of that name.
News travels quickly, and bad news even faster still. The servants lined up for Helena’s arrival, even in the dead of the night. Their lips bloodless from being pressed so tightly together, they cast their gazes toward the floor. Farrell didn’t remain in the stable. The man followed her along with another at whom he snapped his fingers when she walked toward the front door.
“You must begin looking for Raelin.”
Farrell’s eyes flickered with approval. But he shook his head. “I cannae. My laird charged me with yer well-being.”
“Very well. I shall accompany you.”
Farrell looked more approving but swallowed roughly. “I cannae take ye into harm’s way. Wherever that poor lass is, there is sure to be trouble.”
“We cannot leave this to chance.”
Her voice rose and she shut her mouth to regain her composure. Farrell agreed with her. She could feel the man’s impatience radiating off him. He looked at the walls of the house like a cage.
“I cannae place ye at risk. My laird charged me with yer safety, my lady.”
Plenty of people had called her lady. As far back as she could recall the title had been used by everyone, save her immediate family. She had learned to detest the word at court, but tonight it was different. Farrell spoke it out of respect and she had no doubt that she had earned it.
“Yes, you are correct. He did say that.”
Her mind was racing and her feet moving as she tried to think of some solution. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, one of the maids hurrying past her to open the door and light the way with a lantern. The candles in the chamber had died down and the fireplace was now cold.
A shiver raced down her spine. The room was as unwelcome as a cell. In fact it was a prison now that Keir didn’t share it with her. Her belly tightened until it ached, the horror of the night digging into her like iron spikes.
The maid lit the candles and light flickered over the turned-down bed. Nausea sickened her when she looked at it. Understanding filled her, Keir’s words replaying in her mind. She hadn’t really grasped what she felt either, not until it was taken from her.
That was love.
The gripping claws raking along her belly at their separation was that most elusive emotion, the thing that playwrights tantalized their audiences with and physicians treated with bitter tonics. It was the thing that noblewomen were warned against because their marriages would not be forged on the rhythm of the heart.
Yet every now and again, fortune smiled on some. She was in love with her husband and it was a treasure that she had not the wits to see until treachery snatched him away.
Oh, Edmund…
Try as she might, there was no remorse in her for her