only fetched them what they wanted if there was a large bribe attached to the request. Farrell eyed the trunks with suspicion.
“What are ye planning, my lady?”
“To begin acting like a wife.”
The Scot raised an eyebrow. He planted himself in front of her, his hands settled on his hips. None of the McQuade retainers moved to pick up the trunks. They waited on his command. Farrell stood silently staring at her.
“Do you think your laird is being treated any too well in an English stronghold?”
“I’m trying nae to dwell on it or I’m likely to find myself run through when I charge the bloody bastards with keeping an innocent man prisoner.”
“There are other things that might be done.”
The Scot raised an eyebrow again and his fellow clansmen shifted closer to make sure they heard what she said.
“Noblemen have rights in the Tower of London. I plan to ask the king to allow me to take these trunks to my husband.”
“And do you think Jamie will be agreeing to that?”
“Only if I catch him in the hallway after morning prayers and alone.”
Several throats cleared. Farrell narrowed his eyes. “Nae alone. You will nae be alone while it’s my duty to see to ye.”
“The king will bestow many things on a weeping bride that he might not grant to a woman who is surrounded by men.”
Helena abandoned her stiff composure and widened her eyes. She wrung her hands and allowed her lower lip to tremble. Farrell’s complexion darkened. Alarm flickered in his eyes before she shook it off and regained her poise.
“Och well, now that’s a low bit of trickery.” Relief coated his voice. “But it just might work.”
A gleam entered his eyes. He glanced at the horizon to judge the hour.
“We’d best make our way to the palace.”
The men behind him picked up the trunks a moment later.
“And you shall leave me alone?”
“It will look that way.” Farrell aimed a solid look at her. “But I swear on my mother’s sweet head that McQuade eyes will be on ye at all times.”
The palace was already filling with nobles. Another day of competing for the king’s favor showed on their faces. Helena tightened her resolve and resisted the urge to turn her head when the whispers began around her.
Her thoughts were on her plan and she hurried past the great hall and into the maze of corridors that connected the palace buildings. Each monarch added to it, and newcomers often became confused.
She glided easily to where she knew the king would pass. A shadow of guilt descended on her as she recognized that her brother was the one who had taught her the hallways.
Well, she would use something of Edmund for a good purpose. There was only the living to consider and she was all too aware of how quickly her husband might join Edmund in the afterlife. Without proof to clear his name, Keir might face the headmen’s ax. Someone’s blood would be spilled over the murder of a peer. Every lord on the privy council was no doubt anxiously awaiting the king to demand it.
They needed Raelin. Helena refused to allow herself to think about how she wanted her friend found. The idea of her death was too difficult to consider when she needed her composure.
Pain raked across her heart. Helping her friend was going to prove a difficult task, but she would do it. Helena cast a look around and discovered that Farrell was a man of his word. There wasn’t a McQuade in sight; only the shadows of the early morning. But every corner might conceal someone. Her heart accelerated and her senses became acute. She heard the king and his entourage before they drew close enough to escape the gloom of the stormy morning.
The royal guard was not amused by her presence. They rushed ahead of their king to lock their pikes in front of her.
Helena sank into a deep curtsy.
“Your Majesty, I beg your permission to visit my husband.”
It was all too common a request from a wife who was soon to be a widow. Helena allowed the fear to bleed out into her voice. The king strode forward and eyed her. He waved his guard back. The men hesitated, earning a frown from their monarch.
“What do ye think the lass is going to do? Slay me with her tears?”
They withdrew but the king shot her a hard look. “Which I noticed ye do not have any of in yer eyes.”
Helena recovered, standing firmly in the