Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart

by Heather McCollum

  Elena nodded. “I am so sorry. Was she a friend to you?”

  Hannah nodded and her round eyes grew glassy.

  “I fear for the safety of all the women here,” Elena added. “You should not walk the halls alone.”

  “I will escort ye back to the main hall,” Searc volunteered, his voice grim.

  “No need, sir. I will go directly there,” Hannah replied, her hand fluttering at her neck. “I’m expected.” She nearly ran from the room. Elena looked between the door and Searc. His eyes hardened. The girl was skittish. And Searc was quite intimidating with all his muscles and stunning good looks.

  “She doesn’t know you,” Elena tried to explain. “She would be frightened of any new man at court. Her friend has just been murdered. I’m sure—”

  He interrupted her. “The maid looked to the hearth. Three times in two minutes.”

  …

  Searc held Elena’s elbow as they walked behind the page who had returned to fetch them for the midday meal. “Why would Hannah put the letter in our room?” Elena whispered. “She has nothing to gain and no authority.”

  “Perhaps the killer convinced her to do so.” Searc held her hand where it sat on his arm as they walked. “Or she saw it in the hearth earlier and realizes that it must be what the whole palace is searching for it.”

  “We must talk to her.” Elena’s fingers curled into his arm. “And we must get rid of that letter.”

  Marie de Guise’s receiving chamber was painted a pale blue with fine wood work flanking the bottom half of the walls. Before the tiled hearth was an intimate round table, three of the chairs empty and two occupied by the queen regent and Henri Cleutin.

  Marie sat a space apart from the table, her lap covered with two furry dogs. As Elena and Searc approached, one dog jumped off, growling at Elena. She stopped in mid-stride.

  The dog was obviously the dominate of the two pets.

  “Hush, ma chérie,” Marie called but didn’t move to stop her dog from threatening them. The other dog in her lap sat up, watching and wary as she stroked its head.

  Animals either bowed down to Searc or chose to fight for dominance. The beast on the floor was clearly outmatched, but didn’t back down. In its sheltered life it most likely hadn’t encountered a more dominant animal. It lunged on its small paws, an obvious warning not to step too close to it or its mistress. Searc didn’t detect a real threat, but a tendril of fear tightened inside Elena.

  Searc let his power rise up smoothly from his gut. Under the sharp barking, Searc loosed a low growl, exposing his magic on some invisible level to the annoying dog.

  “He’s quite protective,” Marie called over the shrill yaps just before her pet suddenly stopped its tirade. Searc looked directly into the little beast’s brown, glassy stare. The dog’s eyes seemed to bulge a bit more. With a quick whine, it retreated, jumping back into Marie’s lap to hide against her arm.

  “Mon Dieu.” Marie glanced at Searc.

  He shook his head. “Animals either like me immensely or decide I’m someone to steer clear of.”

  “I’ve never seen him react that way.” She cooed over the little dog, kissing him until he settled back on her lap. Marie called for one of the servers to take the dogs away to her bed chamber. She quirked her head to the side as she regarded Searc. “You frighten animals? Why?”

  Searc pulled up to the wooden table, trying to avoid the center supports underneath, but his long legs made it difficult. He took the bread offered him.

  “I think it is my stature that intimidates them. Your mare doesn’t seem to dislike me.” He bit some of the sweet butter on the rich herbed fare.

  “Thank you, your grace, for inviting us to dine with you.” Elena bowed her head where she sat.

  Marie’s mouth tightened. “Father Renard said that you would have need to speak with me.”

  Elena nodded. “I beseech your forgiveness, your grace,” she started. “I am not related to Roger Lyngfield by blood. His aunt, Katherine Parr of Sudeley Castle in England, raised me until I was thirteen and she was taken to be queen. Her close friend, Lady Suffolk, took me in after that. She felt that the queen dowager’s nephew should take me in as I could not accompany her family to Europe. With her own sons lost to an outbreak of the sweating sickness, she said she no longer wished to be responsible for the guidance of youthful pride.”

  Elena looked back up, her cheeks stained pink. Searc wondered if this extra information was true or just something to add unprovable details to her story. Either way, Elena looked like she was revealing a painful truth.

  Elena shifted in her chair, but met Marie’s hard gaze bravely. “She said I should say he was truly my cousin, to everyone, so that he would feel obligated to help me. I am very sorry for my transgressions and only hope that you believe I did so with no intent to disrespect or fool your grace.”

  “You have no other family then?” Marie’s voice held firm despite Elena’s performance.

  “None who would acknowledge me, your grace.”

  Marie wiped her pursed lips. “Well, you now have your Highlander, although I understand that the two of you need to be properly wed within the church.”

  “We are wed within the customs of my people,” Searc answered.

  Marie’s eyes snapped to his. “Your people are my people.” Her thin fingers curled into a fist. “And the west needs to adhere to the practices regulated by this government and church.”

  As if on cue, the door opened and Father Renard entered, his eyes even and unsurprised at finding them in the queen regent’s private quarters. He took the remaining seat.

  Marie continued as if Father Renard had been listening. Perhaps he had. “Until the time when he can bless your union, he feels it best if Elena resides at the abbey.”

  “No,” Searc said before Marie could take another breath. “That is unacceptable, especially with a murderer running loose within Edinburgh. Elena will stay at my side until I can assure she is safe.”

  “We have a curfew in place and extra guards patrolling every corridor and common room around the palace,” Henri assured him. “The abbey is adjacent and guarded.”

  Father Renard set his wooden crucifix on the table. “Surely she will be safe in the care of the abbey.” He spoke smoothly and took a sip of wine. Pompous arse.

  Elena shifted in her seat and Searc watched her produce the handkerchief from her skirts. Her plans for it had apparently changed.

  “When I was in the confessional after mass this morning,” she said softly, “I found this dropped in a corner.”

  She set the dainty cloth before Marie who leaned over it, Henri’s head nearly brushing hers to do the same. She murmured in French and said Jacqueline’s name in her thick accent. Henri placed his hand over hers and her gaze rose to meet Elena’s. “Jacqueline’s handkerchief.”

  The priest grabbed the material off the table. “It could be anyone’s handkerchief.”

  “How many ladies with a J starting her name are here at court?” Searc asked. The elderly man frowned fiercely.

  “Mon Père,” Marie asked. “Did Jacqueline come to confess before she disappeared?”

  Father Renard sat still as a hare in a falcon’s sight, but then seemed to relax as if remembering. “I was unwell during the day yesterday. I asked Brother Peter to witness confession if anyone came in. I will ask him. Perhaps the poor girl mentioned where she was going afterward.” He turned his authoritative gaze on Elena. “Though this has nothing to do with your safety in staying at Holyrood Abbey. You will be completely protected in our care.”

  Searc turned to Marie. “Unless ye arrest me—” which would be bloody difficult, “—Elena stays with me.”

  “Your grace,” Elena spoke up softly. “As a great woman in power, you are strong enough to withstand such frightening tragedy in your midst. I am sorry to say, I am not so brave. I humbly request your permission to stay with my husband. He saved me from thieves in the forest and I feel safe only with him. I
f that means another chaperone must sleep in the same room as us, then we can accommodate that requirement.”

  Searc swore beneath his breath. Marie smiled, looking at him. “I doubt your Highlander would appreciate that arrangement. I’ve heard he’s recovered from his infirmity.”

  “Another reason I insist the woman stay within the shelter of the church,” Renard argued.

  Infirmity! Bloody blasted hell! “I would rather,” Searc practically snarled, “say our vows right here, right now before Father Renard if ye would grant us a license instead of waiting for the banns to be posted. No one here in Edinburgh even knows of us. Elena has no family to cry nay to the nuptials.”

  “What if she is running away from another marriage back in England?” Father Renard pressed.

  Elena turned to meet the man’s suspicious eyes. “On my soul, Father, I am attached to no other through word or deed.”

  “I will back her oath with one hundred pounds if she is lying about being promised to another,” Searc said with calm assurance. A fortune. Hopefully the lass hadn’t failed to mention some heartbroken swain in England.

  “The two seem adamantly certain.” Henri set his palms on the table. “And since the marriage has already been consummated, most heartily, a license to wed in haste should be granted.” Henri looked to Marie. “Perhaps we should take them to Linlithgow Castle with us, keep them together and under our watchful eye.”

  Marie tapped a tapered fingernail against her neutral mouth. Father Renard opened his thin lips, but she held up her hand to stop his rebuttal.

  “I need one who can care for my mare. She seems to trust no one at present. Perhaps since you saved her, Neige will trust you.” Marie gave Searc a considering look.

  Searc nodded. “I do believe, your grace, that Roger Lyngfield cares about the wellness of your mount. He was visiting her today to make certain her back was healing.”

  “Or he was here to dispose of Jacqueline’s body,” Henri suggested with a frown. Marie closed her eyes for a moment and Henri rested his hand back on her small fist. “Je suis désolé. I am sorry, madam. She was a lovely friend.” He continued to speak in French with low, soothing tones.

  Marie straightened further in her seat, once again the tower of strength. “Perhaps when we return and you, Highlander, must return to your people with my good impression, I will consider Lyngfield. Until then you will help me with Neige.” She looked over at Elena and then Searc. “And the two of you will attend me at Linlithgow.”

  Father Renard began to sputter, bringing her gaze around to him.

  “Either issue a license now for them to wed or post your banns and wait to unite them in a fortnight at Linlithgow. Lord Randolph can stand in for one of her kinsmen.” Marie smiled wickedly at Elena. “He is the English ambassador tasked with keeping an eye on me.”

  Father Renard’s lips tightened. “I will accompany your retinue, your grace. To perform the mass for you and to wed these two. My monk, Peter, can post the banns immediately, but considering the compromised, sinfulness of their relationship, I will draw up a license.” His hooded eyes moved to Searc. “The church could certainly use one-hundred pounds if she lies.”

  “Quite wise, father.” Marie smiled and raised her arched brows at Elena. “Linlithgow is a lovely castle. ’Twill be beautiful for your wedding.” She clapped her hands. “What a magnificent diversion.” Spirit lit her tired eyes, banishing a bit of the strain there.

  “Merci, your grace.” Elena bowed her head. “Your generosity is great.”

  Marie indicated Elena’s untouched plate. “Manger, mademoiselle. We must make you soft and round for your wedding night, oui?” She laughed and Henri joined her. Father Renard continued to swallow his wine.

  …

  Neige stood still while Searc checked her back. She flinched but did not move away. The midday meal had last two hours as Marie and Henri questioned him about the Western clans and their loyalties. The entire time, the letter about Elena sat against his skin just inside the drape of his plaid. If they’d found it on him, he’d likely be in the dungeon for killing those women or he and Elena would be on the run, a trail of dead people behind them.

  “That wasn’t a meal. It was an inquisition.” Elena’s voice came from farther down the stalls where she fed a small apple to Dearg. She walked closer and lowered her voice. “You still have the letter?”

  Searc nodded.

  “Lord, I was a nervous hen sitting there, knowing it was on your person. It would have been horrific if they’d found it.”

  Maybe the lass could read his mind. “We will get rid of it now.” Searc glanced around. He could leave it in the stables but they’d been seen too much around them.

  “The sooner the better.” Elena sighed. “I am so glad we are out from under their stares and questions.” She breathed deeply. “Thrilled to be out in the fresh air.

  Searc let a grin turn up one corner of his mouth. “Ye weren’t so thrilled when I found ye in the fresh air of the forest.”

  She cast him a dubious eye and walked closer. “The bee balm helped the mare?”

  Searc ran his fingers over the slope of the mare’s white-coated back. “The nettle stings have healed. Horses have thick hides compared to a man. The nettle would have hardly affected her if it hadn’t been squashed so long under the hot saddle.” Searc rewarded Neige with an apple too.

  Elena’s arm brushed his as she held her hand timidly out toward the mare. “Would she have thrown the queen regent if she’d tried to sit her?”

  Searc paused, trying to recall her question. It was hard to concentrate with her so close. “Nay, though she was causing more fuss than she felt pain so her mistress wouldn’t be able to climb upon her.”

  “Smart beast,” Elena whispered to the horse as Neige pushed her nose into Elena’s palm.

  Searc watched Elena’s gentle hand, her long fingers tapering to little white nails. How would those nails feel across his bare back? He cleared his throat and looked back to the horse. “Animals are far more intelligent than most people believe. They listen and see the world with all their senses so they tend to understand more about the souls around them.”

  “I wonder…,” Elena trailed off and turned toward him, “if Neige saw who moved Jacqueline’s body beyond the stable.”

  Searc stared into the lashed glossy eyes of the mare. “She certainly knows who put stinging nettle under her saddle.”

  “Who did it Neige?” Elena whispered. The mare’s ears twitched and Elena seemed to wait for her to answer. Neige pushed her nose against Searc. “She certainly trusts you.” Elena glanced at him. “As do I.”

  “Then ye are too trusting.”

  She gave a little snort. “I’ve been raised to mistrust everyone, Searc, yet…” She shrugged. “I do trust you.”

  “I am cursed with dark magic, Elena.”

  Her eyes met his evenly. “A weapon is neither dark nor light on its own, Searc. It is the heart of the wielder of the weapon that colors it one way or another.”

  He watched her soft lips moving. She placed her small hand on his chest but didn’t push him away. It sat there, warming through the thin material of his shirt as she continued. “And your heart is good.”

  “Are ye sure of that?” He moved closer, her touch pulling him like a warm beacon. She tilted her head back to look up his tall body to meet his gaze. She seemed small, delicate, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her to keep her safe. Never before had he felt such need to protect a person.

  “Yes.” The simple answer was evident in her eyes. She truly believed he was good despite being able to kill with a touch. An ache in his chest relaxed as he met her smile with a grin.

  “And I am bloody hell not infirmed.” He glared, making her smile wider.

  “A ruse no one believed.” She laughed.

  “Except for the maids within the palace who whisper that they can cure me with one touch,” he groused, having escaped one in the corridor just
that morning.

  “What? Who is whispering to you?” She frowned fiercely.

  “All lasses like the challenge of fixing a man.”

  “Well you have nothing to fix.” She waved her hand as if scuffing out the problem in the dirt. “So just be…unchallenging.”

  “Jealous lass?”

  She huffed. “You are my husband. Those women should not be saying anything to you.”

  He stared, mesmerized by the way the blush brightened the apples of her cheeks. “Elena, I am not yer husband,” he whispered, his voice rough. His words surfaced from a deep need. “Though I ache to play the part.”

  She blinked, her eyes widening. Damn! She must think him a lustful cad! He shook his head. “I will not dishonor—” he started.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, play the part,” she offered.

  He shook his head slightly. She didn’t know what he meant by that.

  Elena closed the space between them and rose up on her toes to wrap her hands around the back of his neck. Bloody hell, maybe she did. The heat from her body pressed against him and ignited the rush of blood coursing through him. Perhaps…he would give her just a kiss.

  Searc stepped up against her, his arms coming up to catch her to him, his mouth meeting her softly parted lips. He caught Elena’s cheek with one hand while still holding her up and tilted her face to sample her sweetness. She tasted of wine and heat and smelled of flowers. His fingers found the silk of her hair under the small veil and raked against the pins holding the neat weave. Her heavy tresses unwound down her back and he threaded through the soft curls. She should always wear her glorious hair down. A whispered purr started in the back of her throat, rippling through his body.

  Bloody hell, he ached! He hugged her closer and felt her nimble fingers creeping from his hair down his shoulders and then between them to his chest. She dug into his shirt, clasping her to him. He paused for her to catch her breath though their lips stayed close together, their foreheads leaning into one another as they breathed.

  “We must stop,” he said though his body shouted a bloody denial.