Free Bedding the Enemy by Mary Wine Page B

her back on him. There was no point in staying.
    Nor was there any point in worrying about his threats.
    She drew a deep breath once her door was closed. It really was only an illusion of security, but for the moment she would indulge herself in enjoying it. Edmund was master of the house. He would invade her privacy any time he chose, but she slid the small bolt across the metal brackets anyway.
    She sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders. Or at least a portion of it. Things were not as settled as she might wish for. Edmund never forgave and he never forgot. But she knew that. Had understood it very well. She straightened her back and began disrobing.
    A soft knock on the door sent her teeth into her lower lip. She scolded herself for jumping. Edmund wouldn’t be knocking softly. Not in his current rage. She slid the bolt to allow the door to open.
    â€œMa’am.” The younger maid curtsied before coming into the room far enough that the door might close. She held a basin of fresh water in her hands, and a length of clean toweling was draped over her arm.
    There was no conversation. The pair of them were together in their need to escape the notice of the master of the house. Neither might help the other; the only thing they could do was take comfort in each other’s company. In spite of blood and station they were both women, struggling in a world controlled by men, leaving them with the task of outthinking the man who believed himself master of the house.
    But the water was welcome. Helena drew the toweling over her face, enjoying the feeling of her skin being clean. The endless requirements of court pressed in on her. Just like the tiny room, she felt as though there was so little of herself in anything she did. It was a helpless sensation, one that threatened to sink her into a lake of despair.
    She stiffened her resolve. Pity was a poor thing on which to spend her energy. Tomorrow she would think of something to do that would lift her spirits.
    Without warning, Keir McQuade’s face invaded her thoughts. Her cheeks heated up and the sensation traveled down her body. It seemed to ripple all across her skin, awaking it in a manner that she had never experienced. She was suddenly aware of the way her breasts felt without her long stays pressing them up into position. Lying in her narrow bunk, she could feel her nipples drawing into points. The darkness seemed to grant her permission to focus on the reaction of her body. She was fascinated by the idea that just the thought of him might draw such a response from her hours later.
    What would his kiss do to her? A true kiss, that is. One placed right on her mouth….
    Helena shivered and drew the bedding up to her chin. She was toying with dangerous ideas. Ones that might see her heartsick. Keir McQuade would never have permission to court her, much less wed her. Not after tonight. Lingering in the sensations that he caused would only make her unhappy when she faced the man Edmund gave her to.
    She would never know his touch unless she wanted to join the other noblewomen who sought satisfaction outside their wedding vows. She didn’t want to think of him that way. A bitter taste filled her mouth because she wanted to think of him as noble and above breaking commandments.
    Like a knight of the round table. Faithful to his honor above all earthly temptations….
    She sighed and closed her eyes. Childhood was behind her. Her blushes were not the innocent sort that young girls had. No, the way her nipples drew into hard buttons was proof of that. It was time to be practical and banish Keir McQuade from her mind. Along with dreams of men with honor and noble character. They only lived on the pages of books.
    However logical her thoughts might be, they left her cold and unhappy. Compared to the warmth Keir McQuade kindled inside her, it was a bleak night that promised to become frigid.
    Â 
    â€œPut it down.”
    Edmund’s voice startled her.