Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart

by Heather McCollum

Henri Cleutin, Ambassadeur Français en Ecosse

  Elena jumped to the floor while Searc drew his sword. The song of metal sliding free added to his lethal look, changing Searc instantly from lover to warrior. He stalked, like a large predator, toward the door. It was unlocked already and with obvious strength he yanked it open, his sword poised. Someone in the hall squeaked.

  Elena stepped quickly to see around Searc’s mountainous frame. A short, roundish woman stood in the hall, a hand at her mouth, eyes round with fright. She pointed downward.

  In a quick gesture, Searc re-sheathed his weapon. He bent forward to retrieve whatever was on the floor and turned.

  “’Twould seem I’m being thanked for saving the puss.”

  Elena jumped as a flash of gray fur ran around Searc’s legs and into the room. She stared at the dead mouse hanging from Searc’s fingers, her gaze moving to the cat inspecting her from the hearth.

  “It brought you a dead mouse?” Elena laid her hand on the maid’s back to usher her in.

  “A share of his bounty.” Searc disposed of the rodent in the privy that sat behind a curtain in the corner.

  “Je suis désolé,” the woman apologized in French. “Les petites beasties, they frighten me.”

  Elena smiled and held one cool hand against her own flushed cheek, hoping the maid wouldn’t notice her severe blush. “Were you looking for one of us?”

  Searc bent to stroke the cat as it curled around his well-muscled calves.

  “Oui, madam,” the woman said. “I have been sent to pack your belongings to journey to Linlithgow Castle and to tell you that the queen regent requests your company to discuss wedding plans. I am Madeline.”

  “Where is Hannah?” Elena’s heart jumped into her throat.

  “She has left the palace,” Madeline supplied. “I am to see to your needs now.” She executed a little dip of a curtsey, head bowed.

  “She left? Did anyone see her leave? Was she by herself? Why did she go?”

  Elena’s head began to throb. Could Hannah have been taken? Because she knew who asked her to plant the letter?

  Searc came to stand with Elena which seemed to make the maid nervous. Or perhaps it was the rapid line of questioning being thrown at her like dirks at a target.

  “I didn’t see her go, non, but another lady of the queen regent’s ladies said that Hannah needed to go home to her family. Perhaps someone is ill. She asked to leave and the regent had Lord Cleutin pay her wages.”

  “Do ye know where Hannah’s family home is?” Searc’s hand stroked the small of Elena’s back. “Is it close?”

  Madeline shrugged as she looked between them. “I will ask aux autres filles, the others.”

  Elena sat on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do. They were to go to Linlithgow the next day. There wasn’t time to thoroughly investigate. What could she do? Hannah could already be dead, sliced up and down her body with evil designs like the others.

  Only the sound of the cat purring infiltrated the silence. Madeline waited.

  “My wife has a gown to be repaired,” Searc switched topics. “She fell in the mud earlier.”

  “Oui, monsieur. I will see it done.” Madeline bobbed her head and retrieved the gown. “Shall I let the queen regent know that you will be joining her soon?” She looked at Elena. When Elena nodded, numbly, Madeline smiled and turned to quit the room with the gown. When the door shut with a minor click, Elena rested her face in her hands, all ardor chilled away by the fear for the young maid. She should have sought Hannah out right away. There just hadn’t been time.

  “She may very well have really gone home, Elena.” Searc bent to look in her eyes. “Whoever passed her the letter may have frightened her so much that she decided to leave.” Elena exhaled long. He guided her to sit on the bed.

  “I can feel worry and fear rolling off ye,” he said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to ye.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry we keep…stopping.”

  “Elena.” He trailed off the sound of her name like a caress. His fingers moved forward and touched her cheek. Elena flinched when the cat jumped up on the bed to squeeze between them, the soft fur brushing the back of her wrist. Searc withdrew his hand and an ache squeezed her heart.

  “Ye need to make sure, Elena.” His voice sounded like a gentle rumble of summer thunder. “There is no going back for a lass.”

  “I know how it works,” she rebuked though her voice sounded too breathy to hold much bite.

  He stood. “’Tis a good thing to know the physical consequences, but I’m talking about more than that.”

  She stared up at him. Was he teasing her? There was mischief in his eyes. “More?”

  “Aye.” He walked over to the hearth, and the cat followed. She watched his firm, warrior-like stance. The muscles in his back stretched his linen shirt tight as he inspected the spent ashes. “There’s more for a lass when she comes to ruin.” He gave her a cocky grin. “Ye see, once ye’re with me, yer heart will never be free. And what will ye do then?”

  Elena grinned at his attempt to lighten her worry. She stood as they were once again summoned. “Perhaps it will be I to ruin you.”

  She took his arm as there was no more time to verbally fence. Marie de Guise seemed to crave their company. Well, there was a wedding to plan. Her wedding. She felt her heart tremble once again and ignored it.

  …

  Searc sat Dearg on the narrow trail through the last of the scattered cottages on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Elena rode snug up before him on his mount as the rest of Marie of Guise’s horses carried her trunks and furniture. Elena’s skirts bunched up and pressed into his groin. He tried to ignore the rocking gait and aroma of flowers that seemed to infuse the air around her. He’d slept in the stables with Dearg last night, half to give the lass time to come to her senses and half to come to his own. If Elena wanted an annulment after their forced wedding, they shouldn’t consummate the arrangement. If he took her virtue, they’d be forced to lie to the priest back home.

  Father Daughtry would sponsor the annulment, but Elena would never be able to make an honorable match after that. She said she wanted to be ruined, but how could a lass still so young wish to be alone. He frowned. Nay, she wouldn’t be alone, not being so bonny. Men wouldn’t care about her status, not with her beauty and spirit. Och! The thought of her with another man…Eric or Gavin or Cedric. His back teeth ground down upon the others.

  Elena shifted to point at a bird, and Searc swallowed hard as she rubbed along his parted legs. She looked at him. “You are frowning fiercely,” she pointed out.

  “I am a fierce, grumpy Highlander.” At least he used to be before Elena’s quips and teasing had him grinning like a merry lad.

  She searched his expression, and turned back to face the front. He could admit he wanted to lay her down on his plaid in the ferns and devour her, but he wouldn’t persuade her to ruin. She’d have to arrive there all on her own, though it just might kill him in the process.

  They rode in a line of two with Henri and Marie at the front on their fringe-bedecked mounts. A scout galloped ahead to make sure the roads were clear. The sun had made an appearance though clouds rolled across from the west. Searc caught splashes of a gray beast weaving between the trees, following them at a distance. Never to be left behind, Cheò knew to stay well away from the soldiers.

  Father Renard road slightly ahead of Searc on his own horse. And the English ambassador, Lord Randolph, rode before him.

  Searc frowned at the straight back of young Lord Randolph. The Englishman had stared through the morning at Elena. Even though the lass seemed unaffected, something tugged at Searc’s senses. He didn’t trust the man; he was English and reeked of hidden strategy. Searc breathed deeply.

  “Is something wrong?” Elena asked. “Besides the obvious.” She glanced up into the trees.

  “There is always danger when one rides with royalty through disgruntled countryside.” He kept his mouth close to her ear.


  “I didn’t know the Scots disliked Marie de Guise,” Elena whispered.

  “Some support her and her daughter for their royal lineage but some only because she is not English. Then there are others who wish an English alliance. They’ve been promised lands and arms against their rivals. It is best to stay alert.”

  Lord Randolph slowed his horse, letting Father Renard move ahead of him. As the priest approached Marie from behind, her mare snorted and tried to pick up the pace. Perhaps the horse disliked the thick smell of incense that seemed to engulf the priest.

  Lord Randolph moved back next to Searc, pulling his attention. The man had a pointy beard and close cropped hair. Very English and very annoying. He ignored Searc, looking only at Elena.

  “Do you enjoy riding, Lady Elena?” Lord Randolph asked.

  “I am not vastly experienced, though I do enjoy it.”

  “I would think an English gentlewoman like yourself would be quite schooled in horsemanship. Didn’t your father take you riding as a girl?”

  Elena stiffened though she kept a calm tone. “My father did not visit me much at Grimsthorpe Castle, Lord Randolph. With my responsibilities I rarely had time to indulge in learning to ride well.”

  “And what precisely were those responsibilities?” He held his horse tightly, keeping it close to Elena.

  “Why are ye asking?” Searc spoke from behind her.

  Lord Randolph gave a small shake of his head. “Just interested in the lady. Conversation makes the journey seem shorter, though I’d hardly think a Scot from the west would understand.” His eyes turned to Searc. “It is my experience that Highlanders grunt more than they talk.”

  “There is not much use for talking when we are sinking our swords into those who trespass on our lands,” Searc answered with a casual tilt to his head. The sudden ruddiness in the ambassador’s cheeks indicated he was bright enough to know Searc meant English trespassers.

  They rode along in stiff silence until Randolph turned back to Elena, a composed smile on his face. “You lived with Lady Suffolk then, at Grimsthorpe? I understand she has fled the continent now that Queen Mary is seeking out Protestants.”

  “Yes, and yes,” Elena said simply.

  A hint of a frown marked the man’s face but he persisted. “I must admit, milady, you have me quite curious. You seem to have the fine breeding of a gentlewoman in the way you speak and carry yourself, though the regent says you were a mere servant in Lady Suffolk’s home. Who exactly were your father and mother?”

  “William Wyatt was my father and I was told that my mother’s name was Mary. More than that, I do not know, milord.”

  “Are you certain you—”

  “She has answered ye,” Searc interrupted. “Do not—”

  Randolph waved his hand as if batting a gnat and cut in. “Ordinary curiosity,” he countered and stared hard at Elena. “It is just that you have the look of greatness about you, milady. Red in your locks, intelligent eyes, aristocratic nose.” He stopped and squinted. “Have you had the honor of meeting Princess Elizabeth?”

  Elena hesitated only a fraction. “As a child, I saw her once when my father took me to London for a festival. She rode by the stands.”

  Randolph smiled broadly and shook his head as if perplexed. “The two of you could be…sisters.”

  “Hardly, milord.”

  “Though I must say,” he lowered his voice, “that you acquired a much comelier visage. A slightly darker tone to your red hair.” Randolph looked front toward the regent and Henri. “I would keep a close watch on your wife, Highlander. Lady Elena could be very valuable indeed.” Without waiting for a reply he kicked his mount and trotted to catch up to the front of the line.

  “Horrible man,” Elena seethed. “Talk about me like I’m some prize mare to be guarded for the coins it could bring.” Rightful indignation on the outside, but with her squeezed against him, Searc could feel the fear roiling within her. It was amazing she could control her outward emotions so well.

  Searc wrapped one arm in front of her waist, holding her securely between his legs. “Elena.” She turned in her seat, her narrow waist sliding through his loosened hold. Unease glistened in her eyes. It transformed her face into one of a beautiful tragic heroine, hardening his resolve. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Whoever ye are, whatever is chasing ye, it doesn’t matter, lass. As long as I am breathing, I will keep ye safe.” He meant every word. “I swear it.”

  The fear in her ebbed some. She nodded. “Then we must keep you breathing.” She pulled back from the close contact, turning forward again. “However I won’t be a burden to you.” Again with the burden. He almost groaned in frustration.

  “Ye don’t know much about Highland warriors, do ye now.” His breath tickled against her ear so that she scrunched her shoulder upward. “We are raised from the cradle with our mothers telling us that we must always protect a lass in need. ’Tis no burden. ’Tis our purpose in life.”

  “With all the battling I hear Highlanders do, there must be a right many lasses in need here in Scotland,” she quipped back.

  Searc’s grin froze as he caught sight of Cheò running close through the forest, slightly ahead of them. His wolf wouldn’t risk others seeing him unless… Searc scanned the woods, his senses prickling. Up ahead the small group would need to pass single file through a narrow formation of rocks rising upward on both sides on hills topped with thick foliage. A perfect place for an ambush. Searc’s instincts roared in his ears, his magic punching its way free, readying itself to act.

  “Hold on.” He clicked and Dearg picked up his pace as Searc guided him along the line of guards. “Keep watch,” Searc warned as he passed Lord Randolph and then Father Renard to catch Henri Cleutin beside Marie.

  “Lord,” Searc called from behind. “The pass.” He pointed as Henri turned in his saddle and pulled his sword free. The front guard rode between the boulders. “’Tis a perfect place for—”

  A man dropped on a long rope from a tree as soon as the guard went through, separating him from Marie and Henri. The guard grunted loudly as another man swung down and kicked him in the head, flipping him off his horse. The first bandit ran through the narrow pass, his arms and sword waving to startle their mounts.

  Searc pulled Dearg back. “Ambush!”

  Chapter Nine

  11 September 1554

  Comrade and patriot,

  I beseech your help in reclaiming my role as regent of Scotland, until that time when Mary Stewart is old enough to take her crown. If she dies in childhood, as many are wont to do, I am next in line for the crown as my great-grandfather was King James II of Scotland. I am currently reestablishing my diplomatic agreements with the new English monarchy and leave loyal patriots outside and within Edinburgh to continue my work in ousting this viperous Frenchwoman, Marie de Guise. I hope that when the time comes, I can count on you to aid me in my righteous pursuit. You will be rewarded greatly when I am reestablished on the throne of Scotland. I will be in further touch.

  James Hamilton,

  Duke of Châtellerault and 2nd Earl of Arran

  “Surround the regent!” Henri drew his sword and slashed at a man dressed in dirty garb who ran forward with an axe.

  “And her confessor!” Father Renard added and spurred his horse forward with Marie. Neige whinnied, her front legs pawing the air. Marie yelled briskly in French and drew her own short sword.

  Elena tensed. “My bow.” She twisted in her seat as Searc guided Dearg around the mass of guards rushing in to assist. A swarm of bandits jumped through and over the pass. Outnumbered.

  A tree with sturdy limbs sat back in the forest. He urged Dearg to it. “Ye must climb again.”

  “Give me my bow!”

  He reached back and grabbed it off Dearg’s flank along with the quiver of arrows. Safely around her shoulder, Elena stood in the saddle. Searc lifted her up to the first limb. “Don’t fall,” he yelled.

  “Go!
Go!” She stepped to the next limb, her little boots slipping and then finding purchase on the wet bark.

  He turned Dearg into the fray. Marie, Henri, and Father Renard were surrounded. Lord Randolph fought back to back with another young guard and seemed to be holding off his opponents. One even took a look at the ambassador’s blade and went the other way, joining those around the queen regent.

  With a tightening of Searc’s knees, Dearg charged forward, breaking the line of bandits with his barrel chest. Trained to take hits against his body in battle, Dearg turned easily, knocking several men to the ground. Cheò leapt onto a man raising his sword against the horse.

  Searc’s warrior training took over, and he easily swung his sword from his stance in the stirrups, cutting several down on one side and then another. Dearg continued to move his large body, knocking into the brutes who dared to come close to him. The war horse could kick behind while Searc battled those on each side.

  The bastards circled closer to Marie, their obvious target, but the woman held her white mare in check. If she let Neige run out through the forest, she’d be chased and she and her mount would be shot or surrounded. The queen regent spewed furious French while Henri guarded her as best he could. With her flashing eyes and wild arms, one would think she meant to bring the wrath of God down on the enemy.

  Father Renard threw a dagger he had strapped to his leg, but the blade bounced off a man and fell into the deep ferns. The guards surrounding them were overwhelmed, battling not only for their regent, but for their own lives. Cheò ripped into one bandit, and the man sent up a blood-curdling scream. Another took aim at the wolf, but before Searc could reach his friend, an arrow shot down from behind him, over his shoulder and into the bandit’s arm. The bandit’s bow flew into the undergrowth. Another arrow followed, skewering a man who had neared Marie. He staggered off gripping the shaft that protruded from his shoulder. Aye, Elena could shoot.

  Like having a guardian angel overhead, her arrows flew through the leaves to pierce foes around Dearg. Searc grinned and shook his head, glancing back over his shoulder. She was taking all of his work from him. He could only see the very tips of her boots balanced on a thick branch high above. Her green gown blended in with the foliage.