Vivienne didn’t know how long she sat on her bed, staring in a numb stupor at the door beyond which Kieran stood. After what felt like an hour but was probably only a quarter of that, she forced herself to stand on trembling legs.

With wooden fingers, she unlaced her ruined gown and carefully laid it over the chair in front of her dressing table. Though the gown was likely unsalvageable, at least a few kerchiefs or mayhap a headdress could be saved from the undamaged silk.

Distantly, she realized she must be in shock, even as part of her mind tumbled on with disturbing normalcy, planning out practical uses for the gown that had been destroyed when she’d nearly been killed.

She donned a simple dress of gray wool, then splashed water over her hands and face. As the water in the basin turned muddy from the dirt on her hands, an overpowering exhaustion came over her. She stumbled to the bed and dragged back the coverlet, climbing in without bothering to remove the dress she’d just put on.

But when she closed her eyes, the gardener’s face swam before her, his hazel eyes menacing as the shears came toward her.

Blessedly, Kieran’s low, gruff voice suddenly drifted to her through the door. The King must have just arrived, for she heard his sharp, worried voice as well.

To her astonishment, Kieran didn’t immediately admit the King to her chamber. He must have been waiting for the Queen to arrive as well. If Vivienne had been in her right state of mind, she would have been horrified at the idea of Kieran making the King himself stand outside and wait to see her, but as it was, she didn’t have the energy to care.

Soon enough, the Queen’s voice filtered through from the corridor, and then the door swung open and Kieran was there again. He stepped aside and allowed the King and Queen to enter, then closed the door, his hard features even grimmer than normal.

Vivienne struggled to throw back the coverlet and untangle herself from the bedding so that she could greet the King and Queen on her feet, but Kieran shot to her side, laying a hand over hers to still her.

“Be at ease,” he said softly.

It felt ridiculous—if not downright treasonous—to lie abed instead of rising and curtsying to her monarchs. Yet neither the King nor the Queen seemed overly concerned with formalities at the moment.

The Queen moved toward the bed, her brow creased with worry. “Are you well, ma chère?”

Before Vivienne could answer, King Philip moved to his wife’s side. Like the Queen, his brown eyes were tight with concern. “What happened?”

“I-I was walking in your hedge maze, Majesté,” Vivienne began.

“Start before that. Ye nodded to the man—the gardener,” Kieran interjected.

Vivienne abruptly realized that Kieran must have been watching her closely even as she’d tried to slip away from him into the maze. A sudden flood of gratitude hit her like a blow. If he hadn’t been so attentive, she might be dead now.

“Oui,” she said, her throat tight with emotion. “I didn’t recognize him, but I assumed he was a new member of the staff. He nodded and smiled. Then I entered the maze and wandered until I heard something behind me. It was…it was him.”

The Queen took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, silently urging her to continue.

“He raised his shears as if to stab me, so I screamed. I ran as fast as I could, but I tripped on my skirts. He was about to strike when Kieran appeared.”

Kieran jerked, his body going rigid where he stood beside the bed. Vivienne realized it was the first time she’d called him by his given name.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Kieran crossed the chamber and opened it, but instead of admitting whoever stood outside, he slipped out and spoke quietly with the man. When he stepped back inside, his face was set in stone.

“Yer captain of the guard has had a look at the bastard’s body. He confirmed that the man has never been seen before, and no one was hired recently.”

King Philip muttered a curse, running a hand through his hair. “We will get to the bottom of this, Lady Vivienne,” he said.

“Och, I am at the bottom of this.” Kieran’s voice bordered dangerously on insolence, yet he didn’t seem to care. “He was one of de Soules’s men. He had to have been.”

“How can you be sure?” the King asked.

Kieran turned to Vivienne. “The man didnae try to steal from ye or—” his hands clenched so hard at his sides that his knuckles blanched, “—or touch ye, did he?”

“Non.”

“I watched him enter the maze. He did so with intent, checking to make sure no one saw him. And he only aimed to do one thing—kill Lady Vivienne.”

The Queen returned her attention to Vivienne. “Did the man say anything, ma chère? Anything to give him away?”

Vivienne shook her head. He hadn’t spoken a word. Nor had his appearance been in any way out of the ordinary.

As if reading her mind, Kieran spoke. “The bastard wore yer servants’ livery, Majesty. The palace has been compromised. And I dinnae give a damn how, either.” His gaze locked on Vivienne, his eyes as cold as ice. “All I ken is that I am getting Lady Vivienne the hell out of here come first light tomorrow.”

Vivienne pulled in a breath, but to her shock, neither the King nor the Queen reprimanded Kieran for his foul language or challenged his decision to remove her. Instead, the Queen nodded sadly and the King muttered another curse.

“I have failed your King Robert, mon ami,” King Philip said quietly to Kieran. “I promised to stand with him in all things, yet someone he wanted protected nearly came to harm in my palace.”

“Non, husband,” the Queen cut in. “The failure is mine. It was I who refused to let Monsieur MacAdams take away my dear Vivienne. I exposed her to danger, and you to the displeasure of our Scottish allies.”

“It doesnae matter,” Kieran said.

From the storm brewing behind his eyes, Vivienne imagined that he struggling under the burden of his own share of guilt for what had nearly happened, despite the fact that she had been the one to wander away into the maze. Worse, she had questioned him at every turn, challenging the very idea that she was in danger, and making his job more difficult by refusing to leave court with him.

“All that matters is getting Vivienne to safety,” he went on.

“Agreed,” the King said. “And be assured, mon ami, I will not rest until the last of de Soules’s allies are eradicated from my court—from all of France.”

“I’ll leave that to ye. And ye leave her protection to me,” Kieran responded gruffly. “Och, and apologies for destroying yer hedge maze, Majesty,” he added as an afterthought.

“That is nothing,” the King replied quickly. “Lady Vivienne’s life is far more important.”

The Queen bowed her head somberly as the King and Kieran clasped forearms. Then both the Queen and King quietly exited the chamber, murmuring wishes for Vivienne to rest well.

When the door closed softly behind them, Vivienne couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Everything was happening so fast. First the attack in the maze, and now the decision that she would leave court.

Not that she would argue with Kieran about staying any longer. The fact that someone had managed to get all the way inside the palace’s walls and had nearly succeeded in killing her shook her to the bone. But the knowledge that her whole life would now be turned inside out had her stomach in knots and her throat closing on a sob.

What would happen to her position at court? And her father, who counted on that position?

Suddenly Kieran was beside the bed again, his large frame appearing to wobble through her tears.

“What is it?” His voice was soft yet insistent. “Did that bastard hurt ye after all?”

She shook her head, her throat too tight to speak, and tried to swipe away the tears.

“What can I do?” he asked, his tone now edging toward desperation.

“Just…” She couldn’t find the words, so instead, she reached for him, circling her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her.

Though his strength was far greater than her own, he didn’t resist. He allowed her to drag him down until he was perched on the edge of the bed. She buried her face into his chest and let one sob, then another, and another, escape.

He sat frozen for a moment, solid and warm yet rigid, before at last his arms came around her and he held her against him. His embrace was so hard that she had trouble breathing, yet she refused to ask him to loosen his grip. This was the only place she felt safe—enfolded in his powerful arms.

When the tears ebbed at last, he began to pull away, but she held him close.

“Please…don’t go.”

“Bloody hell, lass,” he practically growled. “Ye dinnae ken what ye are doing to me.”

Though his voice was rough and harsh, she knew he was not angry with her. Non, from the way his fingers sank into her waist and he inhaled deeply against her hair, he was fighting the same battle she was.

And losing.

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. His pale blue eyes harbored a tempest of emotion as he stared down at her. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she knew they would both be bested by their unspoken desire.

He lowered his head until their lips brushed, a feather-soft contact. Vivienne’s breath caught. It wasn’t nearly enough to quench the longing within her.

When she deepened the kiss, he made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded feral and hungry. He claimed her mouth then, his tongue sweeping over hers. One of his hands sank into her hair, tangling in the arranged and pinned plaits. His fingers gripped her locks, sending pricks of sensation from her scalp across the rest of her skin.

She let her hands slide along his shoulders and down his arms. He was so hard and large beneath her palms. She imagined distantly that he’d been forged in an unforgiving wilderness and honed in battle just for this moment, for this kiss and her yearning caress.

At her touch, he growled again, his mouth and hands growing more possessive. With one hand still tangled in her hair, the other rose from her waist up her side to the slope of her breast. When his large, warm hand closed over her, she inhaled and arched. It had been so long since she’d known a man’s kiss, his touch. She felt like a beggar starved for affection.

Her blood warmed and began to course faster through her veins. Heat pooled low in her belly as he further deepened the joining of their mouths.

When he circled the peak of her breast with his thumb, an aching pulse awoke between her legs.

Without realizing what she was doing, she leaned back against the bed, pulling him with her. One of her legs rose along the outside of his hip, and suddenly she could feel the hard length of his manhood wedged between them.

He hissed, a sound that was somewhere between ecstasy and agony, then abruptly released her, pulling himself away.

Without his heat and powerful form over her, Vivienne felt exposed. She sucked in a breath, realizing what they’d just done—and what they’d almost done.

He swore softly, raking a hand through his hair. “That was a mistake.”

Hot shame flooded her face. Oui, he was right—giving in to her desires so recklessly was the last thing Vivienne should have done. Still, it stung to know that he felt the same way.

“Forgive me,” she murmured, her voice coming out strained. “I wasn’t thinking clearly and—”

“Aye,” he cut in brusquely. “We neednae discuss it further.”

He rose from the bed, and Vivienne couldn’t help but notice the evidence of his desire beneath the wool folds of his plaid. He had been just as swept away by the moment as she’d been.

Vivienne knew her own reasons for regretting her rash wantonness, but why had Kieran halted so abruptly? Despite spending so much time in close proximity to each other, Vivienne knew little of the man behind the gruff, hard shell.

And perhaps it was better that way—better to douse this mad spark between them before Vivienne did something she truly regretted, something that would ruin her carefully controlled life once and for all.

“Be ready to leave come first light tomorrow morn,” he said, his voice brusque. He hesitated, glancing down at her. His gaze was unreadable, yet he gentled his tone. “I’ll be right outside yer door if ye need aught.”

With that, he strode out of her chamber, leaving her alone with a stomach full of knots and a head swirling with confusion. Thankfully, she was so exhausted that after only a few moments, the blessed oblivion of sleep claimed her.