Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (21 page)

Elena stared at the unruffled man. “I will tell the queen regent of Lord Arran’s treachery and your support of him.”

Lord Randolph shrugged. “And I will give Marie a perfectly copied rendition of the letter to Queen Mary explaining exactly who you are. Then you can explain why you kept your secrets to an already suspicious regent. Either you will be exported to Queen Mary or Marie de Guise will think you a traitor and execute you here. Better to come away with Lord Arran who sees you as valuable instead of as a threat.”

Elena kept her face a stone but behind the thin layer of skin, her soul shook. What would Marie de Guise do if she discovered that Elena had been hiding much more than her relationship with Roger Lyngfield? Would she think Elena was a spy from England, working with Lord Arran, like Lord Randolph suggested?

A grinding of boots in the pebbles outside the door made Elena jerk around.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Elena!”

Searc!
Before she could say a word, the door slammed inward, splintering on the once squeaky hinges. Searc charged into the small cottage, his head brushing the beams in the ceiling as he ducked. Elena stood as he took two giant steps to grab Roger Lyngfield by the throat, his short sword pointed at the man’s gut.

“Are ye well?” Even though Searc spat the question as he stared into Lyngfield’s bulging eyes, she knew the question was for her. She thought of her raw wrists but knew the answer to save a man’s life. After all, he hadn’t murdered her like she’d thought him capable.

“I am unharmed.” Elena glanced around, realizing Lord Randolph was no longer in the room. He must have slipped out the back at the first alarm. “Lord Randolph—” she started but Lyngfield’s garbled words broke into her statement.

“Would not help me see Elena,” Lyngfield squeaked. Searc dropped him to stride over to Elena while the fiend rubbed his neck. “I was desperate to have her visit, to just talk over a hot cup of me famous brew.”

Searc grabbed her shoulders gently, peering at her, but Elena could only stare down at the crude little table that now only held two cups instead of the three from moments ago. Smooth enough to grab his own cup on the way out the back, Randolph was not one to be frightened easily.

Searc followed her gaze and then turned to Lyngfield. “Why?” he demanded. “Why are ye desperate?”

Lyngfield cocked his head and frowned. “I thought I could convince her to help get me job back at the palace.”

Elena didn’t agree nor disagree. Several castle guards now filed into the cottage. Searc stared at her sternly and she glanced past him without meeting his eyes. “I…I would like to go back to the castle.”

“Milady,” an elderly guard near the door asked. “Were ye taken against yer will from the castle to this place?”

“Yes, I was, but I am unharmed.”

“The man took my wife. Do ye allow this type of behavior among the residents of Edinburgh?”

“Nay, we do not.” The guard signaled two others to take Lyngfield. The horrid man raised one eyebrow at Elena. Would she let him be taken? Questioned? Perhaps tortured to find out his true intentions for meeting with his pretend cousin?

“A misunderstanding,” Elena blurted out. She swallowed as all eyes turned to her and she looked down at her hands, pulling the edge of her sleeves over the cuts on her wrists. “I knew he wished to meet with me, and he sent a man. I was unaware that we were coming here at the moment or I surely would have left a note telling you not to worry.” She cast a quick glance at Searc’s closed expression and then moved back to her hands. “No harm was done, and I do not wish for him to come to trouble for my misunderstanding.”

A tense moment hung.

“Like I said, I’m eager to get my position back,” Lyngfield added. “I beg pardon for causing an uproar.”

“Bloody waste of time,” one of the guards toward the back groused.

Lyngfield leaned over to see the man and grinned. “Excellent practice, though.” His grin turned caustic as his gaze moved to Searc. “In case there are any more damsels to rescue.”

Another guard cursed under his breath and Elena felt her blush grow at Searc’s silence. What could he say? He’d apparently rallied the castle to find her. A noble act, without the jeopardy, made him look ridiculous and overzealous.

Elena opened her mouth even though there wasn’t anything she could say without revealing her lie. But she didn’t have to say anything. Searc grabbed her wrist, his fingers closing on the sore spot as he turned to the men. She tensed at the stab of pain.

“Every one of ye sought to protect the lasses of this city. I thank ye for yer honor.” With that simple statement, he pulled her through the throng of what must have been a dozen Edinburgh soldiers. She tried to nod her own thanks to them but had to hurry to keep up with Searc’s long strides. Dearg stood beside the row of houses. Several rough-looking characters were near the fine mount, but one look of Searc’s brutal traipsing toward them and they slunk back into their shadows.

In a quick lift, he placed her upon the horse’s back and climbed on behind her, still without saying a word to her. Dearg began a quick walk through the winding street, his ears flicking as if he sensed the thickness around them. How could he not? Elena was nearly choking on it.

…

Searc stared out over Elena’s hair as he held her before him. She’d lied. He had felt it mixed with guilt and embarrassment as she said it in Lyngfield’s house. She’d lied and when he’d turned to take her away she had flinched. The small movement had stabbed him deeper than the condemning stares of the men. Did she think he would harm her or rebuke her before them? Punish her for leaving without sending a message? Take the blame off himself and lower it heavily on her shoulders? He didn’t know which was worse, the fact that she’d lied or her flinch.

She sat tense before him as Dearg carried them back up the cobbled hill to the castle. As various small groups of guards saw him with Elena, they jogged behind to retake their positions. Silence built a stone wall between them. Och, he would find out what was going on. If Elena wouldn’t trust him with the truth, he’d have a private visit with Roger Lyngfield and shake it out of the fool.

Searc stopped in the bailey where Henri and Marie still stood. They looked genuinely happy, though they did not know the details as of yet. Searc jumped down and lifted Elena’s statuesque body off Dearg. As her feet touched the ground her green eyes caught his gaze. Tears sat in them, making the green vibrant, riveting. He couldn’t look away.

“I am sorry.” Her whisper, so full of torture, squeezed his heart.

He waited but nothing followed. No explanation, and although the three words brimmed with truth, they were still just three words. He stepped back and took Dearg’s reins to lead him to the stables, leaving Elena standing in the bailey.

Since he hadn’t taken the time to saddle the horse, it took him but a moment to put Dearg back in his stall with instructions to the water boy. When he returned, Elena stood talking with Marie and Henri near the arched door to the great hall. Marie was frowning. Despite the deception, he wouldn’t abandon Elena to the regent’s ire. He strode across the bailey.

“So it was a vast misunderstanding, completely my fault,” Elena was saying. “I am hugely remorseful at having taxed your guards.” She glanced sideways at Searc as he walked up. Marie turned her sharp gaze on him, assessing but remaining silent. “Please see that Searc is without any fault for this.”

“
Non
.” Henri’s nasally voice held cutting indignation. “What I see is a man who wasted our resources on a foolish errand. What I see—” his voice rose, “—is a—”

Marie held up a hand, cutting him off. “Is a Scot who, with a few heartfelt words to my soldiers, was able to incite and rally an army bent to a single purpose in less than five minutes.” She glanced at Henri with one raised eyebrow. “
Oui?
” She turned back to Searc with a respectful smile. “You have the passion of the French, Searc Munro, the raw might of the Scots, and the intelligence to weave them together to mobilize men.” She smiled fully. “Perhaps I can persuade my Highlander to become my general.”

“I would not take the place of Lord Cleutin,” Searc answered diplomatically.

Marie tapped her finger on her red-stained lip. “Perhaps in the Highlands then.
Oui?
My general and ambassador of the western mountains and islands.” Her gaze tipped up to the lowering sun as if trying out the sound of the title.

“Your grace.” Searc steadied Elena as she wobbled slightly on her feet. “The ambush and misunderstanding have been too much for my wife. I would see her to our room.”

Marie clapped her hands and one of the French ladies, ever lined up somewhere nearby, came forward. He recognized the maid who had tried to help him earlier. Marie spoke rapid French as the lady took it all in.

“And a bath?” Marie said to Elena.

“
Merci
,” Elena answered and followed the maid, hopefully back to their room. His legs nearly moved on their own to follow her.

“
Non
,” Marie ordered, seeing his intent. She called some more French orders out and two other ladies followed Elena. “Give her space to bathe and rest. They will watch her for you. I would talk to you about what you saw at Lyngfield’s cottage.”

“Aye.” Searc stepped forward to follow her and Henri into the great hall. From his position, Searc watched Marie find a pocket tied inside the many layers of her royal gown. Her hand disappeared and then slid out, pulling with it a folded parchment with stains along the outside.

She didn’t look back but waved the letter over her shoulder. “We should also discuss how this letter found its way from poor Jacqueline into a pig’s trough.” She looked at him over that same shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “And of course, what is written within it.”

Princess Elena,

I have supporters awaiting you at the north gate whenever you wish to discuss your duty to your country and its people. This is your chance to be more than a burden to those who harbor you. Your heritage, courage, and intelligence will make you the strongest of leaders, like your father. It is time for you to return to your rightful home, not as a plain girl hidden amongst servants but as the true queen, one who is kind and tolerant instead of lethal and led by a foreigner. Come before you make the grave mistake of legally binding yourself to that Highlander.

I await your wise decision.

T. R.

Elena leaned back in the small wooden tub, though the warm water did little to ease the tightness in her shoulders. She’d asked to be alone, sending the two Frenchwomen out to guard her from the hallway. Not that two, one-hundred pound French girls could stop anyone who wanted to enter. They had taken the key and locked her in.

Elena rested her forehead on her knees just above the soapy surface of the water. Only in solitude would she allow the tears to come, sliding against her wet skin to blend in with her bath. The note lay on the mantle where she’d left it. It had been on her bed when she returned to the room, along with a locket. The chain from the golden oval which held two miniature pictures dangled from the mantle, catching the flicker of firelight in the darkening room. An inscription with her given name on it was etched on the back into the hard silver.

What am I to do? Thomas, what direction would you have me take?
Whenever any political possibility had reared its ugliness while she hid at Grimsthorpe, she’d send right away to her guardian. Thomas had always come galloping to the rescue to discuss possibilities and strategies, most of which were far flung and ridiculous.
You are a princess. When the time is right, you will rule England, Elena.

Elena squeezed her eyes tight, pushing out the last of her tears. “No more.” She leaned back, letting the water hold her body, and banished the sign of weakness with a wipe across her eyes. She breathed fully, in and out, calming herself.

The death of Thomas had been heart rending, but with it, Elena had thought herself safe from political manipulation. She but wanted to live simply without being an unwelcome responsibility to anyone. Despite Thomas’s insistence, she had no royal plans. Her father hadn’t wanted her and her mother hadn’t been strong enough to fight for her. Unfortunately her mother had written a letter to Mary Tudor telling her of Elena’s existence, a letter that had survived and was probably found in Thomas’s estate along with the locket. She glanced at the chain. The damning thing even had her name inscribed on it.

“What to do?” she whispered into the room. The silent stone walls seemed to lean in as if waiting for her to answer. She could go to the gate and meet with Lord Randolph, letting him and Lord Arran pull the puppet strings from which Thomas had been forcibly cut away. She would sneak away so that Searc couldn’t find her. They hadn’t wed; they hadn’t even gotten around to her ruination. Lord Randolph would be exceedingly pleased about that. Certainly he would guard her virtue to sell it to a prince to rule England beside her. Or, more likely it would all come to naught, and she’d end up on the butchering block. But as he’d said in the note, either way she would be useful, no longer a burden on anyone.

The water was cooling, yet Elena didn’t move more than to look at the wrinkled skin of her fingertips. The key turned in the door and opened. “I am almost finished,” she spoke in French and scooped up the soft bar of rose-scented soap, running it briskly along her arms. She lifted one leg and let the slippery suds wash over her with her hands. Her hair had been washed with help from the maids and was drying over the back of the tub.

When she didn’t hear the maid leave the room, she glanced over her shoulder and stopped all movement like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights. Searc stood by the door, his gaze strong but without any emotion. He stuck the key in the inside lock and turned it, sealing them in together.

She watched him walk into the center of the room, his movements fluid and silent despite his height and muscle. He was like a grand beast, full of barely leashed power and overwhelming strength. Her pulse quickened.

He walked over, looking down at her. He must be able to see her body shadowed through the water, certainly her breasts breaking the surface. But she didn’t look at herself, only followed his face. His gaze moved over the tub, stopping on her hand where her fingers curled around one edge. He grasped it, pulling the hand closer.

“Yer wrist.” He looked to the water where her other one rested on the bottom of the tub. “Yer hands were bound at Lyngfield’s.” His voice was rough, forced. Elena barely breathed. “Ye flinched when I took your arm. I hurt ye.”

“You didn’t know,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes for the count of two of her breaths. “Because ye didn’t tell me.” Even though the volume of his voice was softer, the tone pierced her more. He continued to hold her hand gently. She wondered if he’d let her pull it back if she tried. He waited. For an explanation? Did she have one she could give?

“He knows things about me, Roger Lyngfield…” She swallowed. “And Lord Randolph.”

Searc’s inhaled fully as if holding tight to his control. He seemed to grow larger there over her. “The English ambassador was there.”

She nodded very slightly. “They know dangerous things. I couldn’t let Lyngfield be questioned. I…I’m so sorry I let the guards think…” she trailed off.

“I don’t give a damn what Marie’s guards thought,” he nearly yelled, but then seemed to tighten his control. He looked closer at her wrist where the skin had been rubbed raw by the tight rope. “Except that it will be harder to rally them in the future if needed.”

“Oh,” came out of her on a breath as he ran his thumb softly over the chaffed skin.

“The other one,” he ordered and she raised her left arm from the cool water for him to inspect. Her breasts sat above the surface now, pert with the chill of the room. Yet Searc’s gaze remained on the rope burns as he turned her wrists this way and that. She barely breathed and her stomach flipped. Never before had she been naked with a man. Yet she didn’t want to hide. For once in her life she yearned to reveal herself.

His shoulders became very still. “Which one bound you?”

“Lyngfield.”

He looked to her mouth, his eyes hard like blue stones set in granite. “Ye have a cut at the corner of yer lips.” His eyes shifted as she touched her mouth with a finger. Tender. “He…gagged ye.” Searc’s words were barely whispers, so cold that she shivered. His jaw worked as if he ground his teeth.

“Only because I wouldn’t stop screaming,” she whispered and then wished she hadn’t. Searc dropped her hand and rose as quickly as a sword being drawn.

“I’ll kill him!” His roar swelled with such passion she could easily imagine his teeth sharpening into the lethal maw of a wolf. He turned to the door, his sword drawn as if the blade was famished and gleeful for blood.

Elena jumped up, sloshing water over the edge, and hopped out of the tub. She grabbed the bathing sheet the maids had left. “I screamed only because he was taking me inside his house against my will!” She ran, blocking the door. “He didn’t touch me otherwise.” She met his ruthless gaze. Sparks of red jumped in the backs of his blue eyes. “Lord Randolph had him untie me when he came in.”

She reached a hand up to his chest.

“Do not touch me, Elena.” A warning. What would happen to her if she touched him while he was so enraged? While his eyes held an ember of fury?

She leaned back against the door, her bare, wet toes curling against the stone floor. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

“Step aside,” he ordered.

“I’d rather you stayed.” Elena traced the hard angles of Searc’s face with her gaze. She’d come to know those lines over the days since he’d rescued her in the forest, come to trust the man behind them. For the first time in her life she didn’t want to hide herself anymore. She had today, and it had cost her so much, too much. “Don’t leave me.” One by one Elena opened her fingers that clutched the bath sheet. The damp linen dropped to her feet.

“Elena—”

“I am unhurt,” she interrupted. “But—” she raised her hand timidly toward his face. He didn’t move away. “I don’t want to be alone.” He still hadn’t looked down at her body, but held her gaze locked to his. Her hand crept closer. “I don’t want to hide anymore.” The pads of her fingers hovered near his jaw, the stubble giving him a roguish look. She held her breath and touched him.

He closed his eyes and inhaled as she lay her palm along his face. When he opened them again Elena’s breath caught at the intensity there. The red spark was gone, but another spark made her heart beat inside her like a bird within a cage. She left his jaw and took his hand, placing it on her exposed collarbone where her heart beat insistently. “I will do everything I can not to have you look at me again like you did today in that filthy cottage.” She slid his hand down her chest to her breast.

“Nay.” He shook his head, pulling his hand away. “Ye will not make amends this way, Elena.”

She stepped closer to his warmth, her naked back cold in the chilled room, completely vulnerable. “No, I mean…I’m done hiding from you, Searc.” She shook her head. “It is too painful to keep secrets. I’d rather… After today, your look. It would be less painful to die then keep them from you.” She felt her eyes watering up but blinked the tears away. “I want you to know me, everything about me.” She pressed close against him to wrap her hands around the back of his neck. “Starting with this.” She kissed him.

His exhale was half groan, half growl, yet still he resisted. “Lass, ye don’t need to do this.”

She frowned at him. “Damn it, Searc, stop being so noble.” His eyes widened slightly. “I want this. I want you, and if you turn me away after I’ve thrown myself literally in your hands naked—”

Searc cut her off, grasping her face, angling it to press tightly against his lips. His one hand wrapped around her back, running down the chilled skin covering her spine, pressing her to him. The feel of him, so completely aroused, melted her worry away. He did want her. A hot ache shot down through her body.

He kissed a sizzling trail to her ear where he rasped. “The letter said to guard—”

“I don’t care what it said.” She clung to him. “I want nothing unknown between us, Searc Munro. I want you to know me, every inch of me, outside and within.”

His gaze devoured her but still he held back. “Searc.” She must convince him. “Of this I am absolutely certain. By claiming my maidenhood, you are protecting me. I am much more valuable to those who seek to use me if I remain a virgin.” At the words she glanced down at his squared chin instead of meeting his eyes. Would he think she was merely using him?

Searc moved his hands to the sides of her head, gently cradling it, tilting it so that she must meet his gaze. “Who are ye, lass?”

She felt herself trembling yet still met his stare. Drawing in a deep breath, she swallowed, blinking back tears. “I am…” It was there on the tip of her tongue, her secret she had held all her life. She could say them. Surely he wouldn’t cast her away, throw her to the English who sought her for their own purposes. Her eyes watered up. “Searc, I am—”

He stopped her with a kiss, hard and hot. “My wife.” He pressed the words against her mouth, engulfing her, drawing her into his warmth. Large arms encircled her shoulders, hands flat along her bare back.

“But Searc, I must tell you.”

“You are trembling. Nay.” He shook his head and kissed her again. He held back enough to look into her eyes. “Right now it is just Searc and Elena, a man and his lass.”

In an instant, Searc shrugged out of his linen shirt and hugged her to him. His skin was hot compared to hers. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Elena wondered briefly how much it hurt to be scorched. The worry washed from her mind as Searc’s lips descended, teasing hers open. His heat infused her and flooded down through her trembling body. His large hands spanned her back, stroking downward to rub along her flared hips, molding her to his strength.

Elena clung to his neck, and he lifted her off her toes. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat. It was as if she were flying as he carried her across the room to the bed. He lowered her, grabbing a fur throw and wrapping her up in it, soft side inward. He stood back, unbuckling the belt that held the pleated kilt in its place slung low on his hips. Her eyes feasted on his sculpted stomach and chest, covered by a sprinkling of hair. His bronzed skin showed he’d spent time without his shirt. Nothing short of hours of daily sword practice could have created such obvious strength. The thought of him swinging his sword, bare-chested in the sun made Elena’s stomach flip and heat rush below. Her eyes roamed upward to his massive shoulders and down his powerful arms. Never had she seen such a man, such a warrior.

Searc paused, his loose belt in his hand. “Yer eyes are very round, lass.”

Elena blinked and looked up at his familiar face. “You are so large.”

His lips quirked into a half grin. “And I haven’t even dropped my kilt yet.” He moved to the side of the bed and sat, his kilt still around him. “Ye are sure?” His grin disappeared.

Elena met his gaze and nodded. “Of course. Yet…you are larger than most men?”

The fur around her tickled her sensitive skin. “Aye,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her. “But I am at yer command, Elena.” He pulled back to look in her eyes. “I will do as ye ask. Ye are in control.”

“I am?” He nodded. “But I’m a maid.”

“I’ll give ye some hints.” His hand snaked around behind her head to tangle in her hair. His mouth opened against hers and she felt her own lips give way, tasting him back. A groan rumbled up from his throat as he tilted her face, deepening the kiss. Elena held his shoulders to stop from falling backwards and felt the coolness of the air as the fur slipped from her.