Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart

by Heather McCollum

  “Why?” Heat surged again within him at her whisper.

  He growled low and encircled her with his arms, her cheek turned against his chest. Surely she could feel how much he didn’t want to stop. “Ye are an innocent lass.” He held his breath.

  She hesitated but then nodded. Thank the good Lord.

  “I will not be the ruin of ye,” he added thickly.

  “What if I want you to ruin me?”

  Och! Searc wanted to touch every sweet, soft inch of her right there. Find a secluded hay loft and lift her skirts. Devil! Nay. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Ye must decide that when yer blood isn’t hot and racing.”

  Her body shifted as she rose on tiptoes to tug his face down to hers. When she lifted, she nestled intimately against him and her eyes widened at the obvious proof that he was far from infirmed. She swallowed. “Actually I think it is best to decide that when one’s blood is hot and racing, as it gives one courage.”

  His tight face relaxed into a teasing grin. “Ye shot at villains from a tree. Ye left the only home ye knew and continued on even when yer journey was torn apart by mishap. Ye risked everything to help me escape the jailhouse. And ye went to mass with Marie of Guise. I don’t know many lasses with that much courage.” His words were giving her time to pull away and for him to let her, but she stayed pressed against him.

  He cupped her face and kissed her gently. She closed her eyes and when he pulled back, she looked like a sweet angel. And he was surely a devil.

  “I will not take ye in a stable.” Searc ran one hand up through his hair. Elena opened her eyes as he set her from him, adjusting himself.

  “Searc—”

  “As ye could surely tell, I can be convinced easily to ravish ye. But I will not take ye amongst horses and unmucked stables. Let us find a way to dispose of this letter,” he said low.

  She breathed deeply and nodded, the flush waning from her face.

  Searc took her arm and walked them out the stable doors before he changed his mind and threw her in the hay.

  “Where is there an unwatched fire?” Elena bent to inspect a flower in full bloom. She pointed to a bird in flight as if they were merely strolling the grounds.

  “Only candles at night and the fires in the smithy and kitchens.” And the fire in his blood. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Let us look about. Perhaps an opportunity will show itself.”

  “We could shred it,” she suggested.

  He nodded. “If we don’t find a way to completely destroy it, shredding will be an option.”

  Elena huffed. “Will Dearg eat it?”

  He snorted. “Doubtful, unless I coat it with apple tart.”

  “I don’t seem to have one handy.” She glanced around. “Where is there a sow when you need one?”

  “Toward the abbey.”

  They meandered casually through the bailey with Elena pointing and sniffing and smiling at flowers and the like. Just as he anticipated, guards seemed to be watching everywhere. Did they think to find another dead woman deposited in afternoon light? The thick page of paper, tucked inside his shirt, rubbed against his side as he walked.

  Beside the quaint gardens leading up to the abbey, several low barns and pens held animals. Two lads worked around them. One spread feed for the chickens, teasing them to run to various corners of the pen by throwing handfuls in opposite directions. Another grimaced as he raked out the soiled straw under the continuously munching cows. The pigs stood in a pen between, rooting through the mud and eating the slop in a low trough. He doubted they’d need a tart to entice them to eat the letter.

  Searc directed Elena toward the pens. He leaned toward her ear and placed a smile on his mouth. “One of us must make a diversion while the other puts the letter in the pigs’ trough.”

  “Hmmm…” she answered and nodded. “I have always wanted to milk a cow.” She looked at him, a question clearly on her face.

  And the woman thought she wasn’t brave. He smiled encouragement. “By all means.” His voice grew louder as they came up to the low fence. “Lad!” he called to the boy raking. “My wife has always wished to milk a cow. I have told her that it is much too dangerous.”

  The boy set his rake against the pen, happy to be distracted from his grimy work. “Lovely Bess here is quite safe.” He indicated one of the large bovines with big brown eyes. The cow’s eyes widened as she watched Searc, but she didn’t move or stop her chewing. The other lad dumped the rest of the chicken feed and climbed over the fence to join his friend.

  “Milking can be dirty work, milady,” the chicken boy warned. “But ’tis quite safe.”

  “Is there a less dirty place I could try? Perhaps over there?” Elena’s innocent smile left the lads blushing and jogging to bring the cow to the far side of the pen.

  “Do be careful,” Searc advised as she corralled her skirts into one hand. Elena laughed loudly as the lads helped her up over the small fence. Searc scanned the pebbled path winding toward the abbey. Every set of eyes had turned to the unusual sight of a nobly-dressed woman climbing in with two cows.

  Searc slipped out the folded cream-colored paper from his plaid. The gut inside a pig could surely handle the machinated cotton fibers as well as the small amount of dark walnut ink the letter seemed to be written in. The wax seal would simply mix and disappear with the beast’s slop. He held the paper in the loose folds of his kilt and chuckled as Elena balled her skirts before her so she could sit on the small milking stool. Had she ever milked before? When Bess’s tail swished the air near her, she jumped, nearly falling over. Milked before? Not likely.

  The lads smothered their laughter. “Bess won’t hurt ye, milady. She just thought ye were a fly is all.”

  Elena rubbed her hands together. “To warm them,” she explained, making the gathering crowd chuckle. Searc waited for a time to ease the letter into the trough. The pigs continued to chew but jogged away from him with a few snorts and flapping ears. The chickens also fluttered and flapped toward the far side of the pen. Even contained, his dark magic warned animals away. Elena glanced at him as she bent to grab the cow’s teats.

  Everyone was watching her. He would push the letter down into the trough. Right n—

  A ball of gray fluff sprang around the corner of the pen by the cows and apparently decided Searc was the devil himself. The cat leapt, claws out, landing directly on Bess’s sloped back. The cow sent out a shrill cry, snorting and shaking its bulk while the cat hissed. Elena screamed as the cow yanked to the side, pulling her underneath.

  Searc dropped the letter into the trough and jumped over the fence in with the two cows, the two frantic lads, Elena and the bristling cat. Anyone who was not already present ran to the fence. A guard jumped in to help but Searc reached the mass of chaos first, shoving the wild-eyed cow out of the way.

  “Are ye hurt?” Searc hauled Elena out from under the low hanging belly.

  She shook her head and groaned, looking down at her muddied skirts.

  The cat was yowling and the cow still crying and shifting, trying to dislodge the puss. The guard grabbed the cat by the tail and yanked. “Fiendish beast!” The man looked to throw the thrashing feline to several barking dogs who were adding to the commotion outside the pen.

  Searc caught the guards arm. “Let it go,” he ordered, his stare intent on the man’s angry eyes. Panic and pain sprung from the cat and Searc forced the guard’s arm lower so the cat’s paws could touch ground. It hissed and twisted, but still the guard held tightly to its tail. “I said,” Searc began and let some of his simmering fury show in the deadly narrowing of his eyes, “let the puss go.”

  The guard dropped the cat and yanked away from Searc. “Bloody hell! Did ye see his eyes?”

  Searc stood still, not even breathing, and felt the brush of Elena’s skirts as she moved in front of him, blocking him from the onlookers.

  “Pish.” She turned to him and grabbed his hands in hers. She moved her head as if examining his eyes. �
�A trick of the sun,” she called back over her shoulder as if chiding the man for his hysterics. She leaned in then, completely on her toes and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  Searc kept still, struggling to erect the containment around his magic. The fury that had erupted at the abuse of the cat, dissolved under the softness of Elena’s lips. As the kiss continued for more than a casual peck, he heard a couple chuckles. Elena released him, her cheeks flushed. He watched the crisp edge of her teeth rest on her lower lip as she blinked, and Searc fought to re-bottle the lust he’d subdued in the stable.

  With a small exhale Elena whirled around and leaned back into him. Searc caught sight of the guard who’d threatened to hurl the cat. The man shrugged and grumbled but strode off.

  “Now, is there a gentleman to help a lady back over the fence?” Elena asked. The entire line of bloody male spectators took a step closer, but Searc scooped Elena up.

  “Yer husband is more than able to attend thee.” Searc swept her over and lowered her on the other side, climbing after her to take her arm. “We should see to yer gown, wife.” He whisked her away, glancing back at the pens. The pigs returned to the slop trough as he and Elena strolled down the pebbled garden walk. The gray cat followed them.

  “Ye have a way with distraction, lass. How did ye ever manage the cat?”

  Elena laughed softly at his joke and glanced up at him. He almost choked. With her cheeks flushed, her hair tugged loose and a spark of mischief in her eyes she looked like she had just been tupped—tupped and damn happy about it. Her smile was warm and honest and made the beat of his heart feel lighter, more open to breath.

  “I have a penchant for disaster,” she quipped. She shook her head. “You saved that cat.” She eyed the feline as it ducked off into the barn.”

  “I champion the small and weak.” He smiled at her indignant pout as if he spoke of her. “I won’t abandon an animal.” His smile faded.

  “Were you able to…?”

  Searc gave a quick nod. “It is in the trough. Hopefully the pigs are hungry.”

  He felt her hand tighten on his arm and he placed his own large paw over it. Perhaps they should have continued to look for a flame. Elena was intent on destroying the letter and he would help her. It certainly pointed to secrets she would like kept. He understood secrets. He’d lived with them his whole life. Why then did her not trusting him with her own secrets tighten his gut?

  …

  Searc entered their room cautiously but everything seemed as they left it. Elena walked across to peer out the tall window. “This palace is not fortified.” She shook her head. “A killer could gain access easily. I hope Linlithgow feels more secure.”

  She took her turn washing her hands in the basin and then presented her back for him to unfasten, as if he truly were her husband. “And once again I am covered in mud.”

  He concentrated on the small fastenings down the gentle slope of her spine. Lord help him. He’d barely calmed since the stables and now he was undressing her in a room with a soft bed in his periphery. “Linlithgow may be safer, but ye may not like being prepared for a wedding ye do not desire.” His words sounded somber. The heavy, blue material parted, revealing the thin white linen of her shift, and he smothered a groan.

  She said nothing. When he stepped back, she turned, her hand holding the open gown to her chest. “I won’t take up more of your time than necessary, Searc,” she said. Her features were stiff. “As soon as possible we will annul the vows. Your Father Daughtry can see to it when we reach the Highlands, can’t he?”

  “Aye,” Searc nodded but the word felt heavy. Finishing what they had started before would complicate an annulment. She must know that. Perhaps she had changed her mind. “It may be…difficult for us to play our parts at the wedding,” he said. Bloody impossible to play the part of an indifferent newly wedded groom if she kept walking around half undressed.

  “’Tis but another role.” She shrugged and the gown slipped off one slender shoulder. The silk of her skin shone like a beacon. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding her dirty gown before her. Even in mud, she was beautiful. Her eyes were so green, like the thick, dark pines of home.

  He cleared his throat. “Ye have had to play many roles? That must make ye weary.”

  The air seemed to press out of her on a silent exhale, condensing her, making her appear smaller. She looked…sad.

  “Everyone plays a part,” she said softly. “To survive in this world, one must play the game.” Her lips were open as if poised to say more, but then she shut them. “I will have to wear my plain day dress until this can be repaired. It was worth it to get rid of the letter, though.”

  She stood to let the blue gown pool around her feet. Her stays tightened her already small waist, letting the farthingale slope away to hold out the heavy over skirts. She stepped out of the soiled gown and lifted the green day dress gently over her head to fall about the supports. Her slender arms poked through, and with a jiggle the dress fell into place. She pulled the sleeves up quickly. Once again she presented her back. “Please.”

  His fingers moved to the fabric-covered buttons that would hold the dress together over her body. “We have games in the Highlands,” he said casually. “Games of strength, children’s games too. They teach and test survival skills. Even though the battles ye have fought are of a different sort, I’d say yer survival depended on skills too.” She didn’t answer though her shoulders stood rigid before him. “Who taught ye how to play different parts, Elena?”

  “Thomas,” she whispered and he heard the hitch in her voice. Such a small word, yet the catch and the emotion that accompanied it told much more.

  “Yer father?”

  She hesitated, then nodded and moved away from him. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense the tensing in her frame, the hesitation meant more. And most daughters didn’t call their fathers by name. Damn. She’s lying to me.

  “Ye miss him.” Searc studied her as she moved to a polished mirror to check her reflection.

  “Yes.”

  “How did he die?”

  Elena’s finger froze where she’d tucked a curl back under the French hood she’d straightened. Her gaze met his in the reflection. “He didn’t play the game well enough.”

  Searc’s gut tightened at the sadness in her tone. He moved to stand behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around. Her chin was strong, yet her eyes glittered with unshed tears. He yearned to banish them, to pull back the joy he’d seen as they’d teased crossing the bailey just a short time ago. What could he possibly do to help her when she wouldn’t name her demons?

  “Elena,” he said, capturing her chin in his fingers. “Tell me what ye are running from. I can’t help ye if I don’t know what harasses ye.”

  They stood looking at one another for a long moment. One tear broke the dam of her lower lid and slid onto her cheek. She shook her head, making him drop his hold on her chin. She wiped the tear and gave him a forced smile. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Her beautiful features were stiff. Only the gentle blink of her lashes brought life to the sculpture before him. On an exhale she answered. “The first rule of the game…is not to tell anyone at what you are playing.”

  He stared at her, his mouth opening though he didn’t know what to say. “Elena—”

  She put her finger against his lips and suddenly stepped closer to him, throwing him off guard. “I’ve made a decision.” He waited, partly because all he could think of was that in one quick move, he’d have her dainty little finger in his mouth.

  “Right now,” she continued and stared straight in his eyes, “My blood is neither hot nor racing.” She met his gaze evenly. “I would like very much for you to ruin me.”

  Searc’s breath stuck somewhere between chivalrous refusal and adamant acceptance. She removed her finger so he could speak though that required breath. Her eyes were so wide and she blinked as if his hesitancy hurt. Did she think
he didn’t want to take her right there on the bed behind them? The slight wince of pain tightening those pink lips were too much for him.

  As she turned her face away, Searc grabbed her up in a hold so honestly brutal, he worried at first that he’d hurt her. But Elena wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down as he tilted her face up. Fire raced through his body even faster than in the stable. Already primed, each muscle and his very blood filled with life and intensity. His fingers ran through the silk of her hair, holding her head in the perfect tilt to fit his kiss. Hot and searing, their breaths mingled as they tasted and reveled in the feel of each other. More than a kiss, it was a ravishment on both sides, thirsty and desperate for the taste of one another.

  Searc molded her against him, cupping her hips through the skirts. A small moan escaped her, and he lifted her in a swoop up into his arms without breaking apart. “Och, lass, I want ye,” he murmured against her warm mouth.

  The bed was only three steps away. He set her on it, disentangling her arms from his neck.

  “Searc?”

  “I’ll lock the door, lass,” he managed to say and turned.

  A woman’s high-pitched scream cut through the thick oak. Searc’s heat turned instantly to lethal power as magic flooded his gut. He unsheathed his sword as a second scream penetrated from the other side.

  Chapter Eight

  10 Septembre 1554

  To His Majesty, Henry II, King of France

  I continue to support Marie de Guise, queen regent of Scotland, here in Edinburgh. I fear that Lord Arran works in secret with the English and plots Marie’s murder. There have been two attempts on her life in the last two months. Her wine was poisoned and her mount was tampered with. I agree with her desire to keep her daughter safely within your household. We move to Linlithgow Castle for a time for safety and comfort. I will continue to advise you regarding the queen regent’s plans. In answer to your previous letter, no, she does not seem open to remarriage.

  Most sincere wishes for happiness,