The Saint by Monica Mccarty Read Free Book Online

was kissing her. Passionately. Every bit as passionately as Helen had longed to be kissed. The woman’s enormous breasts were crushed against his powerful chest. Helen couldn’t look away from her fingers. The way they dug into his wide, muscular shoulders as if she couldn’t get enough transfixed her.
    The lash of pain that sliced through her was white hot, slicing the flesh from her bone. Nay, slicing was too clean. This pain was jagged, crudely wrought pain with little finesse.
    “We might need to change his name, eh, Gordon?”
    The king’s words snapped her out of her stupor. He obviously hadn’t noticed her reaction. She turned to her new husband. Perhaps, he hadn’t either—
    She stopped. Their eyes met. One look at William’s face and she knew she’d not been so fortunate. He’d seen her reaction. His gaze shot to Magnus. She could see the fury in the white lines around his mouth.
    Oh God, he
knew
.
    When William answered the king, however, he hid his reaction with a tight smile. “Aye, I think you are right.” His gaze locked on hers. “I wonder what could have caused such a change.”
    Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried to cover her anxiety with a question. “Name, Sire?” Her voice barely trembled.
    The king smiled. “A wee jest,” he said, patting her hand. “That’s all. It isn’t much like our friend to uh … celebrate so enthusiastically. I’d begun to think we really might haveone of the Templars hidden in our ranks,” he said with a mischievous wink to William.
    It was rumored that Bruce had given sanctuary to many of the Templars when the order had been disbanded and excommunicated by the pope—the same pope who’d excommunicated Bruce for the killing of his rival John “The Red” Comyn before the altar of Greyfriars nearly three years ago.
    “I always thought there was a woman,” William said slowly. His gaze pinned hers.
    Me. Oh, God. Had Magnus avoided other women because of me?
    “Well, if there was,” Bruce said, “I guess there isn’t anymore.” He chuckled and, thankfully, changed the subject.
    With William temporarily engaged by Lady Anna on his other side, Helen ventured one more look in Magnus’s direction. The woman was still on his lap, but to her relief they were no longer locked in a passionate embrace.
    He was looking at her. His gaze shifted away, but for one moment their eyes caught. And in that instant of connection, in that hard stab of pain, she knew the full horror of this day.
    A muscle twitched under his eye. Something she’d seen only once before. And in that one small betrayal, she knew:
He still cares for me. He lied
.
    But it was too late.
    Dear God, what have I done?
    Lady Isabella—Bella—set the comb down on the small table beside the bed. “You look very beautiful.”
    “Your hair is exquisite,” Anna added. “The way it catches in the candlelight. It looks like liquid fire shimmering down your back.”
    Not even the rare compliment about her hair could rouse her. Magnus had loved it, too, she remembered.
    “William will think himself the luckiest man alive,” Christina said with a broad smile.
    Helen doubted it. She wanted to thank them, but feared if she opened her mouth, she would “baa” like a lamb to the slaughter. Instead she nodded with a smile that she hoped they interpreted as shy and not panicked.
    The women had escorted her from the feast to the chamber she would share with William to prepare her for her bridal night. She’d changed from her gown into the fine linen chemise that had been richly embroidered for the occasion, and her hair had been released from the intricate crown of braids and combed until it was smooth and glossy.
    She saw Bella exchange a look with Christina, who nodded. A moment later, Bella sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. “Your mother passed when you were a child, did she not?”
    Helen’s brows drew across her nose. “Aye, not long after my first saint’s day. She died