Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (5 page)

Luckily he did know the dance. His mother had taught him a few steps so he could join in at weddings, though it had been some time since Jonet had wedded the pirate, Will Wyatt. He’d managed to avoid such festive events since.

Stepping forward, Elena and he almost touched, but then they backed up and turned to weave down the line one space while the couple to their right wove up the line. The minstrels kept the dancers moving quickly and skirts belled out with each turn.

Elena laughed and raised her eyebrows as if pleasantly surprised that he could keep up. She spun in a fanciful turn, her hands clutching her full skirts. She was light on her feet, a graceful sway to her arms and hips. One more turn and they came together, but this time, Searc didn’t let her step away. Instead he kept her lush body up against his, and swept her back out of the line. The brush of her soft form against his chest thrummed through him. Och, why couldn’t she be a simple, lonely widow? He waited for her to pull back, but she stilled, her face lifted to his.

“You’ve misstepped.” Her lips remained parted as she breathed. Lightly arched brows gathered and relaxed, a questioning smile made her even more delectable.

“I’m a warrior, not a dancer.”
And who are you?
But the question melted away from his mind as her mouth tilted up even more and her small hand steadied herself on his upper arm. Had the wine made her tipsy? “I know. Thank you.” She rocked forward onto the toes of her slippers to press a quick kiss to his lips.

The jolt of sensation at that simple touch ricocheted through Searc. So soft, so fresh. Before she could retreat, he caught her up, tilting her face to deepen the kiss. Warm and timid turned to hot and lush in the flash of a heartbeat until his damned discipline took over and he gently righted her.

Her long lashes flicked open as she stepped back.

“Ye’re welcome.” His face relaxed into a half grin.

Lips parted, cheeks flushed, absolutely devourable. He looked away so as not to scoop her back up for another taste. He placed her fingers back on his arm. Bloody good thing he wore a kilt else he’d embarrass the lass further. He grabbed up his tankard. What had come over him? He was supposed to be prompting her to reveal herself. The wind shifted and Elena’s rose-scent reminded him just what had muddled his mind. Honey ale, roses, and a warm lass. A very bad combination.

Elena still hadn’t spoken. Perhaps he should apologize. Just as he turned to her, someone bumped against his arm. Glancing down at the buxom girl, he recognized her as one of the serving women. She smiled up at him with half hooded eyes, her bosom plumped upward to the limits of her neckline.

“Pardon me.” Her voice slid seductively from her rouged lips. She smiled at Elena too, a seductive smile, one that innocent Elena would know nothing about.

“No harm, lass.” He backed up.

“’Tis a shame, that,” the woman said and winked. “Perhaps I would like some harm done to me.”

Elena’s eyes snapped with annoyance as she replied. “That could be arranged.”

The woman smiled invitingly, her painted eyes going between the two of them, very much misunderstanding Elena’s statement. The woman actually thought Elena might welcome her into their bed, not that he was in Elena’s bed.

“Oh,” the woman purred, and Searc could smell the whisky on her breath. “What type of harm would a lovely like ye have in mind? Something hopefully involving this big man of yours. I’d say he’s man enough for two of us to share.”

Elena blinked, her face turning scarlet as she finally caught on. She leveled a hard look directly into the woman’s eyes. “Harm? I can hit a target at fifty paces, even when she’s running away.” Elena’s voice was so smooth and aristocratic that Searc wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. It seemed neither did the drunken woman. She stared in confusion for a moment and then turned to sway back across the square.

The heaviness that usually pulled at Searc seemed lighter. His face relaxed. “Ye have the tongue of a wild cat in a kitten’s face.”

“I have claws, too, when needed,” she boasted. “Was that woman asking if…?” She pointed between them and then to the back of the woman in question.

She sounded so astounded, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. “Aye, I believe she was.”

She shook her head and looked up, stilling beside him. “Do you realize you are smiling?”

His face tensed, ending the smile. “It is not unheard of for a man to smile.” He shrugged.

“Well you should do it more. Maybe even laugh,” she advised.

“I’m not an English dandy given to foolishness.”

“Apparently the Scots are given to foolishness as well. And English dandies frown a lot.”

“So ye’ve been to the English court?” Searc watched her closely. “Would that be Edward’s court, then?” His voice dropped. “He favored Protestants.”

Her humor faded, and part of him wished he hadn’t asked, had swept her back to him for another kiss. The other part of him wondered why he hadn’t forced more information out of her yet.

“I am a Catholic country girl.” She wrapped the end of the modest ribbon at her waist around her fingers. “Why would I attend a royal ball in the court of a Protestant reformist?” She turned to see the vendors as if something much more interesting caught her attention.

“Why indeed?” Searc mused. He led her in the direction of her gaze. Luckily his ale cup was where he’d left it. “Would ye like a drink of wine or ale?”

She shook her head. “But some cider would be welcome.”

“Stay here.”

She pointed. “I will talk with the rug maker. Maude mentioned that he has come from Edinburgh. Maybe he’d have a position for me. I’ve stitched many tapestries.”

Searc watched the peddler for a moment as he haggled over the price of one of his rugs with Maude. The burly man had an easy smile and a deep, throaty laugh. Even though no danger was evident, something plucked at the edge of Searc’s power. With so many about, and bridal ale and whisky flowing freely, there was probably a temper bubbling somewhere. Another glance assured him of no immediate threat to the lass. Searc walked toward the inn.

The wind shifted and he caught a whiff of something rancid. Perhaps the town had a dumping heap close by where they deposited their old meat. At Munro Castle no food ever went to waste.

Searc crossed the square and glanced back at Elena. The robust Maude was still with her. Perfectly safe. Between Elena’s sharp tongue and Maude’s meaty fists, the tapestry maker wouldn’t stand a chance if he were of evil bent. Elena pointed at the load of rolled rugs the man had on his wagon, probably asking to see more of his work.

Searc ducked into the inn and stepped up to the bar where Finny tended. “A cider for the lady.”

Searc took up the cider, leaving a twopence, which Finny snatched right up to tuck into his trews. Searc pivoted on his heel at the exact moment a scream ripped through the gay sound of the minstrels. The onslaught of panic and shock from the villagers tore through Searc, nearly slicing the restraint on his power. Dropping the cider, he charged out the inn door, his gaze locked on the tapestry maker holding Elena, her eyes as wide as her mouth while she shrieked. A large rug lay unrolled, displaying a dark red landscape.

In three strides Searc was near enough to realize the red landscape was not woven into the tapestry, but stained it. The smell of rot choked the air. He reached Elena, yanking her away from the vendor and into his arms, backing her away. For within the unrolled rug, pale and staring with vacant, clouded eyes, lay a girl, still as death.

Most Holiest of Fathers,

I humbly send this missive to inform you of a discovery at Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh. Upon burying Brother Simon in the crypt below the abbey, an alcove, no bigger than a poultry crate, was discovered guarded by the bones of past monks. In it was found a tome bound in leather with runic inscriptions upon it. It seems to be a text on acquiring power, both physical and political, in ceremonies involving the cutting of flesh. I am currently attempting to translate the tome but will do so with righteous caution. I will keep you informed of my progress.

With respect and love in Christ,

Father Renard, Holyrood Abbey

“Her name was Sarah MacKinley.” Maude shook her head. She and her brother sat across from Elena and Searc inside the inn. It was late, and the toll of the day lay heavy around Elena’s shoulders.

“How grim.” Elena rested her chin in her hands. “Had she kin?”

“Not anymore.” Finny dropped his dingy towel in a heap and sat down. “I knew her father before, but she was an orphan, working for the castle in Edinburgh, barely scraping by from what I’d heard. But a good, honest girl.”

“How did she end up in the rug?” Elena asked the question none of them could answer. “The tapestry maker seems to be such a jovial man.”

“To wrap his victim in his own rug would be foolhardy,” Searc pointed out.

“The constable says she had patterns cut into her wee body,” Maude shook her head in bewilderment.

Elena folded her trembling fingers together in her lap. She felt the press of Searc’s leg against her dress. He was close, which both comforted her and sent her heart racing. Their kiss. She inhaled. This was no time to think about the kiss.

“Who could do such a thing?” she murmured. “Why?”

Searc’s large hand moved over hers in her lap and squeezed. “I will not leave ye until ye are settled safely somewhere.”

Maude glanced pointedly between them, eyebrows raised with a surprised grin on her weathered face. “I would think a brawny Highlander could protect ye, lass.”

God’s teeth.
Would Searc think she wanted him to take care of her forever? Would he think she had schemed it from the first? Had tricked him into kissing her? She’d only meant to thank him for the dance. “I would never yoke a man in such a way.”

“Treat him right and he won’t see it that way.” Maude cackled and gave her a wink.

Elena’s face heated. “I think I will find my bed.” She stood and strode with dignity toward the creaky steps. She might not be able to control the circumstances around her, but she could certainly control how she behaved in them. She plied the cool, serene dignity that Lady Suffolk always wore as she planted each foot in front of the other. She needed time alone to think through her situation. Once again her whole world had tumbled upside down in a matter of hours.

She reached the top of the steps when she felt the brush against her skirts and whirled around, heart slamming in her chest. Searc stood there, as silent as he’d been in the forest, his face level with hers as he stopped two steps below. He studied her in the dim light of the wall sconce.

“I feel yer fear, Elena.” She meant to shake her head in denial but he shook his first. “’Tis part of my power, sensing dark feelings, fear being one.”

“Well…that seems rather impolite,” she breathed.

His face relaxed with the hint of a grin. “I will add being impolite to my list of sins.” His jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean to frighten ye with the kiss.”

She couldn’t quite swallow but managed a nod. Had he frightened her? She hadn’t felt fear. Far from it. If anything had been fearful, it had been her own reaction to his kiss. The heat that had ignited within her…

“If we don’t find ye a safe place in Edinburgh.” His one arm braced against the stone wall, the muscle large. “I will take ye back to the Highlands where the Munros will find ye honest work.”

Elena’s stomach turned with the familiar guilt she always harbored. “I do not expect you to take me on as a charity.” She willed away the sting behind her eyes. “I will no longer be another’s responsibility. I am strong and young, and I can work for my living. You do not need to look after me.”

His eyes stared into hers, calm, intense. “I won’t. After I see ye safely in Edinburgh or to Munro Castle, I will leave ye on yer own. I just wanted ye to know yer options.”

Options. Yes, she had some now for the first time in her life. She was free from Grimsthorpe, able to become her own independent woman. He would help her and leave her to care for herself. Why then did her heart feel so heavy?

…

Early the next morning, Searc walked through the village, noting the low conversations as people gossiped over the murder of the Edinburgh lass. One more day for Elena’s clothes to be finished and they’d move on. The unease within the small community itched just under his skin. He cursed when another set of suspicious eyes measured him as he crossed the square. A stranger who’d just come to town at the same time a lass turned up tortured and dead. He was surely suspected of sinister ways. They needed to leave before the villagers decided to act on their fear.

The murdered girl had not even been a score in years, her body crisscrossed with strange knife slices in evil lines. Would the second missing lass show up molested and killed in the same manner? Even though the girl had been raven-haired, Searc’s mind quickly pictured reddish waves with gold streaks. What if the killer had found Elena in the forest?

Searc strode to the church, his dark thoughts muting the clear day. He’d pay a penny to light a candle for his mother, knowing she mourned his leaving as the loss of her only remaining child. But there was no help for it. He couldn’t go on living at Munro Castle, not with the entire clan fearing him. And he refused to lead by fear. His father would have to choose a new chief amongst their people to follow him. If there were other contenders to challenge the choice, there could be conflict. Either way guilt sat heavy in Searc’s gut.

“I heard she was defiled,” a thin woman whispered to another before the church. “Satan must be among us.” Her uneasy eyes widened as Searc jogged up the steps to the arched entrance. Did she watch to see if he could enter the holy building? Damn if he didn’t hold his breath as he walked inside, wondering if the air would scorch him.

The coolness of the shaded interior washed over him instead, and he strode to the front where the candles sat. Could a demon invade a house of God? Perhaps his soul wasn’t yet lost.

He spent the rest of the day staying away from narrowed eyes by working with the blacksmith to sharpen his long sword, axe, and daggers. Fire-heat prickled across his skin as he honed iron in the red coals to fashion some shoes for Dearg. His muscles worked as he pounded the cooling shapes. Yet still the lass’s kiss haunted him. Perhaps it had been the wine that had made her melt into him when he’d responded to her spontaneous appreciation. He beat harder at the malleable metal until the blacksmith halted him before he ruined the shape. Nodding his thanks, he continued on and pushed the lass and her warm body from his mind. Och, but it would be a long, slow day.

Shadows were growing long as he strode across the town square, his hair still damp from the brisk swim he’d just taken to clean the sweat and soot from him. When he walked into the inn, he saw Elena immediately. Blue framed her curves and slender waist. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her fingers on the knob. Her gaze wandered as if choosing a table within the half-full common room. It rested on him and her lips softened into a tentative smile. A man rose in the corner, his eyes on Elena, but one glance at Searc striding across the room, and he sat back in his seat.

With only a nod to one another, Searc escorted Elena to a table at the front window. Maude brought over tankards and a platter.

The new dress Elena wore showed every lovely curve and valley on her. She looked full of softness and he imagined how they would fit intimately together.

“Everything fits,” she stated sweetly, and Searc choked on his ale. Elena frowned a little until he cleared his throat.

“Everything fits?” he repeated and rubbed his jaw. Could the lass read his mind? His mother could always tell when someone was lying but even she couldn’t read minds.

“The costume, my boots, everything.” Elena’s forehead furrowed as if she thought he wasn’t able to follow a simple conversation. “So we can leave for Edinburgh.” She flapped a hand at the bodice of her dress, causing his gaze to fasten on her breasts. They seemed perfectly sized for a man’s hands. He forced his eyes up.

“Do you see anything you like?” Her brows raised expectantly.

Luckily he didn’t have a mouthful or he’d likely spit it out. He liked everything he saw, but he wasn’t a complete fool. “Aye,” he said simply and she smiled. One-word answers were definitely the safest when it came to women. Let them interpret the word however made them happy.

“I’ve been sewing on the flowers all day.” She ran the tip of her finger across the embroidered ribbons that ran the length of her curved neckline. “I think they turned out well. Perhaps I should wear this tomorrow to show the designs I can fashion on fabric.”

“Aye,” he repeated, but the lass seemed to wait for more. “Ye are quite talented with a needle. Perhaps the tapestry maker from Edinburgh will take ye as an apprentice.”

Elena’s smile faded, her lips tightening. “I could.” Concern plagued her beautiful green eyes. She was remembering the girl in the rug.

“We will make certain ye are not alone in Edinburgh.” He met that gaze with a firm stare. “I will make sure ye are safe.”

The tension left her lips as she nodded. “Thank you. I would repay you for your help.”

He took a bite of his bread slathered thickly with freshly churned butter. He chewed, considering her statement, and swallowed. “Aye, my protection will cost ye.” He used his napkin.

She tensed. “I have some coin left and can send more to you once I acquire a paying position.”

“I don’t take coin.” He leaned back in his seat. “I require yer talents.” He let his eyes lower a bit into something of a leer and watched her cheeks pinken. Aye, she was an innocent, though her instincts had picked up on his suggestion. Again the virgin’s reaction should have chilled him, but instead it made his blood boil. He pointed to her embroidery. “I’d like some flowers along my tunic. Perhaps a birdie or two, hearts. Can ye do hearts?”

Her eyes opened wide, and then she whipped a frilly handkerchief at his face. He caught it easily, and inhaled her rose scent on it. “No hearts then.”

She laughed, a mellow sound that relaxed the knot he hadn’t realized was in his gut. He finished his ale and felt a contented grin grow on his face. It had been a long time since he’d felt so at ease.

The crunch of pebbles outside pulled his gaze, and his whole body tensed. The constable walked with four tall lads toward the open door of the inn. Two carried lit torches and two carried short swords. The priest from the small church walked behind them holding his string of beads. Another man shuffled along on his far side as if hiding in shadow. The stride of the group was determined, angry, and he easily picked up on the crackling of unease from the men. Searc’s magic sparked inside him, waiting to be called forth.

“Ye should go above stairs,” Searc said low and dropped a coin on the table for the meal.

“I was actually going to see if Maude had any tarts left.” Elena took another sip of cider, oblivious to the danger.

Searc shoved back from the table, standing as the constable barged inside. The man’s voice boomed, silencing the few diners in the room. “We have come for the Highlander.” His narrowed eyes latched onto Searc. “Ye are charged with the murder of Sarah MacKinley and Barabbas Campbell.” Searc noticed Geoff, the thief, standing rather close to the priest. The rest of the thief’s hair seemed to have fallen out.

Elena shot up out of her seat. Bloody hell, the lass would try to step in, say something and get herself sucked into the trouble. She didn’t know how damn difficult it was for people to keep him contained. “Slippery” his da had called him once. He preferred to think of himself as silent and clever. More like a wolf than an eel.

He took a step toward the constable and the men nearly fell backward on themselves trying to reverse out the narrow doorway. “Let’s go then.” Searc brushed past the constable on his way to the door.

“No.” Elena voice was strong and indignant. “He’s innocent.”

That was only partly true. Searc paused but didn’t turn. “Dearg is yours, Elena,” he called. He paused as he walked past Maude, her hands perched on ample hips. “Watch the lass…please,” he said low to her. When she nodded he continued out the door.

He’d expected the suspicion, being new to the village at the same time the dead lass’s body showed up. He hadn’t counted though on anyone believing a thief. Searc stared Geoff in the eyes as he walked past the priest into the square. The hunched man practically hid behind the cleric’s somber robes.

The small group kept their distance but relaxed somewhat when Searc seemed to be cooperating. He could end this here, but more would die. He’d wait until he was alone to make his escape, though his oath to see Elena to safety made things more difficult. Even more so now, she’d be better off without him. But he couldn’t leave her alone in the world.

Geoff scurried to keep up with the constable and Searc’s powerful strides. “I tell ye, kill him now. He’s a demon, I say, completely turned my friend to ash before me, nearly did me in too. His eyes burn with Hell’s fire. Gad! I’m only a score and ten, but I look twice as old. And I’ve bloody lost me hair.”

“’Twould seem that is yer word against mine, old man.” Searc pierced the thief with a glare.

“Culross is no ‘hang them first and ask later’ town,” the constable replied to Geoff. “We will sort this through in the next few days.”