Bedding the Enemy (15 page)

It would be very easy to begin thinking like a piece of property instead of a person. But she refused to give up that single thing that was still hers. Even if it might be far simpler to drift along with the currents that were dragging her.

“I
've spent a fair amount of time thinking about you looking just like that.”

A man's voice shouldn't be able to send such excitement through a body. At least it would be much better if Helena didn't find Keir's tone so delicious, so husky and steely strong. She was tempted to allow it to help hold her up.

He had bathed as well, the firelight that danced off the water making his hair shiny. He moved forward, his steps silent. Only the fire crackled and a faint howl of wind came through the closed shutters. It was a luxurious room, to be sure, but all she seemed to notice was the man intent on sharing it with her.

His gaze moved over her hair. It was dry and she'd brushed it into a fluffy mass of silk lying over one shoulder. She had never considered her hair anything unique. Blond and red hair gained attention. Hers had always been too dark. But Keir liked it. His face reflected his pleasure. He reached out and fingered a lock.

“I hope ye never put those things back in it. Ye're a fair bonnie sight now that all that powder and paint is nae on yer skin to hide the beauty beneath. I am drawn to ye as ye are, no' some ideal made up by men who spend too much time judging the people around them.”

It was by far the most tender compliment she had ever received. No rhyming couplet or comparisons to Greek goddesses. It was simple, and for the first time she believed it.

“I suppose it is a good thing you like who you have married.”

He frowned but didn't answer quickly. Instead he walked toward the bed and leaned his sword up against the wall, leaving the brass handle within easy reach of the bed. He'd taken the side nearest the door, and she noticed it. Another ripple of emotion went through her. No one had ever placed themselves in front of her unless they were paid by her father to do so.

Keir did it because of who he was.

He'd shrugged into his shirt while still wet. Patches of the linen stuck to his torso, giving her a glimpse at the hard ridges of muscles beneath the garment. Heat licked over her skin and it had nothing to do with the fire burning near her feet.

He turned and caught her looking at him. Her fingers fumbled the brush handle and she set it aside before she embarrassed herself further by dropping it.

The man's ego didn't need that much stroking.

“I suppose I cannae blame ye for nae trusting me, even if I wish otherwise.”

“Trust?” Her voice was a whisper, but full of emotion. It would be so easy to believe in him, but that would only set her up for misery when he left her for a mistress. She didn't doubt that it would happen. The man had won her playing at cards and her worth was in parchment and what she brought him. Once she was breeding, he'd be finished with her. It was normal and expected, but it hurt her to see Keir standing near the bed she would lose her chastity in. She had wanted to keep him in her heart as her gallant knight. Reality would shatter that dream tonight.

“Aye, trust me, lass.”

He reached for her but she struck his hand away before contact was made. His eyes flickered with his displeasure and her temper gave her the strength to banish her longings.

“I do not
have
to trust.” She hugged her arms over her chest, covering her nipples. The conflict between the longings of her flesh and the irritation in her mind was becoming so loud, she wouldn't be surprised if she woke up insane once the night had passed. “Trust is the only thing that is mine to give. Everyone is so intent on telling me what I must do, what I shall do and what is expected of me. But trust is not something that is given,
husband.
”

She drew a stiff breath, banishing the stinging tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks again. “Even when your men and my king ensure that I am yours for the taking, my trust is the thing that shall be locked away from you all.”

She forced her arms to unclasp. Reaching down, she grasped her chemise and drew it up and over her head. She felt the brush of the night air against her skin from head to toe, and the heat from the fire behind her. “But the maid who dallies with the stable boy is far richer than she ever imagined, for I envy her wealth of choices.”

His face tightened. A muscle on the corner of his jaw twitched. She held her chin level. She wasn't afraid of him, only sick of conforming to everyone's dictates. His gaze touched on her face and the resignation there. He didn't care for it; she witnessed it in his eyes. He wanted something more from her.

“Well now, that is where we disagree again, because trust is something that is given. 'Tis a sweet gift.”

“You are speaking of surrender.”

His gaze left her face. He tried to fight the urge to look at her nude body but lost. It fascinated her to see him so beaten by his own urges. Somehow it hinted at a power she hadn't thought she held. Some small form of controlling influence by which he was weakened.

“Aye, lass, I am talking about surrender, but nae a cold one. I didna go searching for yer brother to win ye. I went looking for him to smash my fist into his face for hitting ye. But I am no' going to quibble over how I gained what we've both been dancing about since looking at each other. I witnessed the desire burning just as hot in yer eyes as I felt in my own blood.”

After all the subterfuge and deceit of court, the simple honesty of Keir's words sparked an undeniable need for him, and she regretted her harsh words. She wanted him and it was allowed now. Letting the details interfere would only hurt her and Keir. He watched her, his dark eyes stormy and unhappy with her. She felt it keenly.

“I'm…not cold…toward you, Keir.”

The muscle on the side of his jaw flexed. She stared at the little throbbing point, her hands moving up to cover her bare breasts. She felt exposed now that she'd admitted she wanted him.

He captured one hand, gripping it in his larger one.

“Nay, I'm the one who's doing things badly. I'm acting like a lad instead of showing ye the way to proceed.”

He carried her hand to his lips. Turning her hand over, he pressed a kiss against the tender skin of her inner wrist. A moment later he grazed that delicate skin with his teeth. She gasped, a startled sound passing her lips. She jerked her arm, but not out of any true desire to be free. It was simply a reaction, her body moving without any thought behind the motion.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Aye, you are nae cold to me.” His thumb rubbed over her inner wrist, smoothing through the tiny wet patch of skin.

“A bit uneasy, to be sure, but that's my duty to soothe. A pure delight, because it tells me that ye are pure. 'Tis a gift that I am humbled by, lass. Never doubt that.”

He meant it. His tone was tender but determined. She let herself get swept up in that tone. It was the one her gallant knight used in her dreams.

“I promise to spend more time courting ye, Helena.”

He swung her off her feet, drawing another gasp from her. “Why do you pick me up? I'm not trying to avoid my duties.”

“I enjoy carrying ye.” He placed her in the center of the bed, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “But the idea of chasing ye is interesting, too. I do believe I'd enjoy following ye a great deal.”

He sounded like a boy—a naughty, mischievous one, at that. “I run fast.”

“So do I, but I confess that I just might slow up enough to trail behind ye for a good long while if ye're planning to run as ye are.” His gaze swept down her bare length. “Nude.”

“Stop your playing.” She reached for the turned-down covers. But her husband taunted her by lying down across them. She suddenly felt on display, and drew her knees up to conceal her breasts.

“Dinnae do that. Ye are stunning, Helena.”

He sat back up and hooked his fingers into his shirt. The collar was already open, allowing him to pull the garment over his head with one smooth motion. The unveiling of his skin captured her attention, drawing her thoughts away from her own modesty. He was covered in muscle—hard ridges of it ran over his chest. Dark hair coated the wide expanse, trailing down to where his kilt covered him. His belt was undone but still lying around his waist. Her cheeks colored when she realized that he'd unbuckled it while she was lost in admiring his chest. But he'd left his kilt in place to avoid spooking her.

The fact that he felt she needed coddling annoyed her. She realized that she didn't want to lie back and be taken. Ideas swirled through her mind, touching off demands from her body. Keir watched her, his dark eyes focused on her. But his hand was gripping the covers beneath his hand.

“Go on.” Her voice had turned husky.

He raised one dark eyebrow. Helena sat up, facing him. She kept her arms down, so that her breasts were fully visible.

“I'm not a coward.”

“I didna think ye were.” His expression turned hard. “But there is no reason to rush.”

“If you are so relaxed, why are you twisting the bedding?”

His fingers tightened even more. “Because I'm trying not to pounce on ye.”

Helena laughed. Keir looked perplexed by her amusement, but he was not annoyed. Confusion covered his face and she shrugged.

“Men do not pounce.”

“Maybe nae in England. But be very sure that I am a Scot, lassie.”

His voice had deepened, along with his brogue. It was the only warning she received. A mountain of muscle surged toward her, the bed swaying beneath her back as he pinned her down.

“We Scots tend to be a wee bit more physical.”

“I…see…that.”

She turned her head from side to side, completely overwhelmed by the contact of skin on skin. His chest pressed against her torso, covering her. But he caught most of his weight on his elbows, leaving just enough to send need coursing through her.

“I was hoping to be able to prove it to ye. One touch at a time.” His lips grazed the side of her throat. She quivered, never having suspected that one kiss might cause such a riot of feeling.

“But I'm a selfish man. Impatient it seems, too.”

“What?” His words confused her. Speaking annoyed her. She turned her head to lock stares with him.

“I want yer hands on me. I swear I'll wait all night if that's what it takes for ye to relax enough to touch me like ye were in the carriage.”

Her hands moved up his arms instantly. She didn't think about it—she didn't need to. His eyes narrowed with enjoyment, and as she stroked up to his shoulders, she watched the way his face reflected his delight.

“I did that after you kissed me.”

“Och well, if I'd done that again, waiting would be out of the question.” His voice was playful but she saw a contradiction in his eyes. Passion burned there and it touched off an answering hunger deep in her belly.

“I agree.” Her lower lip was dry. She licked it and froze when his eyes moved to follow the tip of her tongue.

“Do that again.” His voice sounded strained, as if his control was being tested. “On second thought, allow me.”

He leaned down, closing the distance between them. She suddenly felt as if she had waited forever for his kiss—had, in fact, been anticipating it since the moment the carriage arrived at the palace.

It was worth the wait.

His mouth teased hers, the tip of his tongue sweeping across her lower lip. Sweet delight rippled down her body, igniting the hunger he'd left her with earlier. There was no question about it. Passion rose hot and thick to claim her back into its grasp. The hair on his chest felt good against her skin. She noticed how hard he was compared to her softness. Her breasts gently compressed beneath the body of her lover. It felt so good that she wiggled, gently rubbing herself against him.

A low growl shook his chest and his kiss changed. It deepened, his tongue thrusting into her mouth to slide around her own. A shiver shook her, sending a soft moan past their joined lips.

Heat radiated from him and from her as well. Even with the fire far across the room, she didn't feel the chill of the night. The wool of his kilt was tangled between them. Her skin was alive with a magnitude of sensations, all of them heightened to far above normal. The fabric felt coarse and she lifted one leg to escape it. Keir reached down to grip her knee and bring it farther up. It spread her thighs, giving his hips a space to settle into. Her other knee bent, making room for his larger frame.

He didn't rush to penetrate her. His fingers smoothed over the skin of her thigh, rubbing in a slow motion that sent pleasure racing toward the open folds of her sex. At the top of her sex a point began to pulse. It throbbed with longing, begging for Keir's hand to move toward it.

“Yer breasts are beautiful, lass.” He moved down her body, placing soft kisses on her neck and then on her collarbone. “I swear it's a good thing we're wed because I've spent too much time thinking about sucking these sweet nipples.”

His breath teased her nipple and it drew even harder. He cupped it, gently closing his hand around the soft mound. When his lips closed around it, she moaned. His mouth was so hot it burned, but she arched upward, offering her nipple to him.

Keir took complete advantage of her invitation, closing his mouth around her nipple. He sucked hard on it, the drawing motion increasing the heat. Desire pooled in her belly, making her aware of how empty her passage was. She was achy with the need to be filled. The fabric of his kilt frustrated her because it separated her from what she craved. She writhed beneath him, seeking to slip between the fabric and his warm skin. Reaching down, she grasped at the wool, tugging on it with fingers curled into talons.

“When we agree, 'tis a glorious thing, lassie.”

His voice was dark and full of promise. He rose up above her and yanked his kilt aside with a long sweep of his hand. He didn't give her a chance to view his length. He covered her again, settling between her spread thighs. She reached for him, running her hands up his arms, her fingertips exploring the hard ridges her eyes had enjoyed so much. Feeling them was tenfold more enjoyable. Everything about the moment was a feast for the senses. Thought disappeared while touch, scent, and emotion took command. Lifting her head, she kissed his neck, pressing her lips against the skin that felt so warm and smelled so very male.