attention was focused on Edmund, whose face didnât betray even a hint of remorse. Instead he looked at the guards with a small smirk on his lips. They broke under the weight of his stare, one clearing his throat.
âHe is the heir to the Earl of Kenton, a peer of this realm.â One Royal Guard member spoke quietly, his tone thick with warning. The Scot didnât even blink. His face remained in its disapproving expression. Edmundâs blood didnât buy him any tolerance from this man.
âWhat he is, is an undisciplined whelp who doesna know how to treat a woman with respect. Look at her, man! He ripped her dress down her body, and you English dare to call us Scots barbarians? Iâd lay one of me own clansmen low for doing the same.â
The whispers began again. They rose in volume until it felt like they were pounding against the inside of her head. The horror was too much to bear. Helena reached for her friend and felt the Scots girl clasp her hands in a crushing grip. Raelin held her chin steady but it must have cost her greatly.
âMake way for the king!â
The crowd gawking around them split apart, backing up to the walls. James Stuart didnât look amused. Everyone lowered themselves before him. But he only had eyes for Raelin. She tried to lower herself but wobbled on unsteady feet. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she hugged her ruined bodice over her exposed breast. The kingâs face flushed, rage flickering in his eyes.
âGet up. All of you! What is this nonsense?â
The kingâs gaze settled on Raelin. A frown marred his forehead. His expression quickly changed to one of anger when he turned to look at Helena and the Scot.
âMy chambers! Bring them all.â
Â
Raelinâs hand shook. She was holding Helenaâs hand so tightly, the tips of her fingers were beginning to lose feeling. But you wouldnât have known such from the way her friend held her faceâsmooth and composed. All traces of panic evaporated as though she was sitting down polishing jewelry in the queenâs chambers. No more tears fell from her eyes; she stood sure and steady with her eyes on the king.
The king sat in an ornately carved X-chair that was placed on a raised section at the back of the room. A costly Persian carpet ran beneath it and velvet curtains covered the wall behind him. It was a lavish display with only one purposeâto ensure that everyone entering understood that they were in the presence of the king.
More X-chairs were neatly lined up against the far wall facing the kingâs, but no one sat in them without permission. Such was an honor, and James was in no mood to grant that tonight. Everyone lowered themselves and remained with bent knees while their monarch surveyed them. James Stuart took his time, his displeasure clear.
âEnough. Rise.â
The room was so silent, Helena heard the servants moving behind them to light the candles. Large iron candelabra stood in all four corners of the room. They each held five candles in an X formation. The room brightened as the servants touched the wicks with flame.
âWhatâs yer reason for leaving one of my queenâs maids of honor looking like that, Edmund Knyvett?â
Her brother shrugged. His lips curved into a satisfied smile that shocked her in spite of how many times she had seen him behave selfishly. No hint of remorse or pity entered his eyes. Quite the opposite, her brother looked very pleased.
âPassion isnât very often soft. Some like it rougher than others.â He cast a look down the length of his nose at Raelin.
Raelin tightened her grip but made no other sign of her distress. Helena felt her own stomach twisting with nausea. Her brother had all but called Raelin a whore. James wasnât amused. His hand curled around one of the ornately carved arms of the chair.
âI heard a scream that didna sound like passion.â
Edmund flicked his
âHe is the heir to the Earl of Kenton, a peer of this realm.â One Royal Guard member spoke quietly, his tone thick with warning. The Scot didnât even blink. His face remained in its disapproving expression. Edmundâs blood didnât buy him any tolerance from this man.
âWhat he is, is an undisciplined whelp who doesna know how to treat a woman with respect. Look at her, man! He ripped her dress down her body, and you English dare to call us Scots barbarians? Iâd lay one of me own clansmen low for doing the same.â
The whispers began again. They rose in volume until it felt like they were pounding against the inside of her head. The horror was too much to bear. Helena reached for her friend and felt the Scots girl clasp her hands in a crushing grip. Raelin held her chin steady but it must have cost her greatly.
âMake way for the king!â
The crowd gawking around them split apart, backing up to the walls. James Stuart didnât look amused. Everyone lowered themselves before him. But he only had eyes for Raelin. She tried to lower herself but wobbled on unsteady feet. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she hugged her ruined bodice over her exposed breast. The kingâs face flushed, rage flickering in his eyes.
âGet up. All of you! What is this nonsense?â
The kingâs gaze settled on Raelin. A frown marred his forehead. His expression quickly changed to one of anger when he turned to look at Helena and the Scot.
âMy chambers! Bring them all.â
Â
Raelinâs hand shook. She was holding Helenaâs hand so tightly, the tips of her fingers were beginning to lose feeling. But you wouldnât have known such from the way her friend held her faceâsmooth and composed. All traces of panic evaporated as though she was sitting down polishing jewelry in the queenâs chambers. No more tears fell from her eyes; she stood sure and steady with her eyes on the king.
The king sat in an ornately carved X-chair that was placed on a raised section at the back of the room. A costly Persian carpet ran beneath it and velvet curtains covered the wall behind him. It was a lavish display with only one purposeâto ensure that everyone entering understood that they were in the presence of the king.
More X-chairs were neatly lined up against the far wall facing the kingâs, but no one sat in them without permission. Such was an honor, and James was in no mood to grant that tonight. Everyone lowered themselves and remained with bent knees while their monarch surveyed them. James Stuart took his time, his displeasure clear.
âEnough. Rise.â
The room was so silent, Helena heard the servants moving behind them to light the candles. Large iron candelabra stood in all four corners of the room. They each held five candles in an X formation. The room brightened as the servants touched the wicks with flame.
âWhatâs yer reason for leaving one of my queenâs maids of honor looking like that, Edmund Knyvett?â
Her brother shrugged. His lips curved into a satisfied smile that shocked her in spite of how many times she had seen him behave selfishly. No hint of remorse or pity entered his eyes. Quite the opposite, her brother looked very pleased.
âPassion isnât very often soft. Some like it rougher than others.â He cast a look down the length of his nose at Raelin.
Raelin tightened her grip but made no other sign of her distress. Helena felt her own stomach twisting with nausea. Her brother had all but called Raelin a whore. James wasnât amused. His hand curled around one of the ornately carved arms of the chair.
âI heard a scream that didna sound like passion.â
Edmund flicked his
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