Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (9 page)

He braced his legs apart as if in battle. “To fill the role of Highland ambassador one must look like a Highlander.”

Marie grinned and sipped her wine, her gaze once again taking in his height and shoulders. “
Vous êtes magnifique, mon
Highlander.” Her tone bordered on a purr, and Henri frowned. Marie shook her head and laughed softly. “I didn’t think I could get a Highlander in trews.” She flapped her ringed hand. “No worries.”

She held her hand to the side. “Henri, I’m certain that this palace has a room for our newest friends. ’Tis true I prefer Linlithgow Castle to Holyrood.”

“
Oui, ta grâce.
” Henri pointed at another man, a page, who scurried off to make a bed or load a hearth with peat.

“Jacqueline,” Marie called out and a comely lady with blond hair stepped forward. Marie spoke in French while the maid nodded and Elena rose to follow her.

“Where are ye going?” Searc turned.

“I may have a warm bath.” Elena gave him a genuine smile. “And then a gown.”

“While you and I” —Marie motioned to the chair across from her— “will discuss the politics of the Highlands. I want to know all your neighboring clans and where their loyalties lie.”

Searc lowered himself into the wooden chair as his gaze followed the gentle waves of Elena’s hair that peaked from under her hood. She turned at the archway to glance back at him. Had she felt his gaze? A brief smile softened her mouth. A sign of forgiveness for lying about them being wed? He dared not think it could mean anything more, not when she’d made it clear her kiss had meant nothing. She turned back and headed into the dim corridor.

“Very well, Searc,
mon maladif
but handsome, Highlander.” Marie of Guise leaned forward a bit, her eyes searching, her lips softening into a teasing smile. “Tell me all your secrets.”

…

The maid, Jacqueline, spoke in a mix of French and accented English. She’d apparently come back from France with Marie de Guise. Luckily Elena had taken to the lessons Thomas had insisted she be allowed to attend with Lady Suffolk’s sons.

“
Merci
,” Elena thanked Jacqueline as the woman left to order her a bath and to find an acceptable gown for her to wear to supper. She’d never worn a gown in the stylish French cut. A bath, lovely gown, and a pleasant Frenchwoman to help put her together. Despite the luxury after sleeping for weeks in the forest, Elena still felt trapped. Could it have something to do with suddenly finding herself married to Searc?

She snorted softly and sat on the edge of the blue coverlet draping the bed made for two. Two, as in she and Searc. She unlaced her tight boots, letting them drop with a thud. She huffed. He’d lied, said they were married, to the most powerful woman in Scotland. Of course, Elena’s other options had been slipping like water through her fingers, but to say they were wed…

“
Mon Dieu
,” she whispered and closed her eyes. They would have to keep up the farce, whatever that entailed. And now Katherine Parr’s nephew wouldn’t take her, not with her being wed to the man who’d exposed his laziness. A chill puckered her skin.

How much did that angry man in the courtyard know about her? Would he contrive to buy his silence on her lineage? How much had Lady Suffolk revealed about Elena’s parents? The woman hadn’t told Elena about the letter until after it was sent so there’d been no chance to read it.

Elena sighed and forced herself to stop twisting a strand of her hair. For now, being in a false marriage, to a man who could wield unnatural power, was her only option. A knock sounded on the door and she rose to let in the maids with buckets of water for her bath. The only thing she seemed to be in control of at the moment was how clean she could become.

After the maids left, Elena finished undressing behind a privacy screen set around the tub. She stepped into the overly warm water and sighed. At Grimsthorpe she’d rarely been allowed a hot, leisurely bath though she was held to the same clean standards as Lady Suffolk’s children. But maids didn’t haul water for servants.

Elena sunk to her shoulders. Her knees bobbed on the surface that barely covered her breasts. She rubbed the provided fragrant soap along her limbs, enjoying the aroma. The tingling heat softened the tight muscles of her calves and she thought of Searc massaging her limbs that morning. It had been decadent, and she wondered if she’d ever feel something so incredible again. She let her eyelids lower and rested her head on the curved back of the tub, her hair tumbling over to pool on the wooden floor. It didn’t need washing, so she would just enjoy the luxury of the soak.

Her mind flitted and skimmed along memories. Thomas’s smile as he tossed her high when she still lived with Lady Parr. His charm with the maids always won her extra sweets when he visited. He was the only one who told her she was pretty and a princess. A tear, the same temperature as the hot water, seared a path along her cheek to drip into the tub. She had loved him, no matter what Lady Suffolk’s waspish tongue said of him when he left and Elena was once again relegated to being an encumbrance.

Elena breathed deeply, realizing how tired she still was from her long journey. Embraced by the heat of the clean water, her mind faded into oblivion.

…

Searc opened the door to the room to which he’d been shown and frowned. A murderer on the loose, a poisoner and saboteur in the palace, and the lass hadn’t locked the door. His heart thumped hard when he stepped into the empty room. “Elena?” No answer. Could he have the wrong room?

His eyes fastened on her green gown across the bed. Bloody hell, she was naked somewhere.

The fire spit in the hearth and he saw the reflection of a tub against the screen set before it. He walked around the screen and froze. Elena, in a bath, her head laid back exposing the long column of her throat with her red, golden hair pooling over onto the floor. The water reflected the firelight, a calm surface over her naked body reclined in the deep tub. Her knees poked up like twin islands to match her breasts, the nipples pink peaked and jutting out of the water.

He swallowed hard, unable to drag his eyes away from the amazing loveliness spread out before his gaze. The water cradled her curves, sinking and discovering every inch of her expanse. He took another step closer, his eyes delving into the water to drink in the lovely landscape. She was beautiful, like a sleeping angel carved of pale, smooth stone. He ached to lift her from the water and dry each bit of her. He closed his eyes, trying to regain control.

The dry peat crackled in the hearth and Elena shifted. Searc watched her blink. He should have moved then before she realized that he stood there, but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

She straightened. “Searc?” she murmured and then gasped, her legs kicking up with a splash. She slipped, her head sliding completely under the surface. Her feet lost their grip and shot upward, exposing her legs up to mid-thigh as they fell over the end of the tub. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub. Och, the lass would drown herself.

Searc reached into the fragrant water and grabbed her arms, hauling her upright so that her head surfaced. Half her hair had submerged and lay over her face.

She spit water and struggled against his grip, a hand pushing the wet hair from her eyes. “Searc! I’m in my bath!”

He stepped back, his arms, chest, and boots now soaked. “Ye were asleep. Ye could have drowned.”

“I’m not that lucky! Get out!” She covered her breasts with splayed fingers while glaring at him. She took one hand away long enough to cup water and hurl it, soaking his groin. “Out!” He took several steps back behind the screen, giving her privacy.

“Ye didn’t even lock the door,” he pointed out. “I could have been anyone coming upon ye asleep in yer bath. It is truly amazing, lass, ye’ve managed to stay alive.”

“Errr!” she growled and he felt that lightness again, making him almost smile. Firelight illuminated Elena’s form against the screen as she stood. His slight grin melted with the heat that raced straight down through his body at the curvaceous silhouette displayed. Breasts, perfect mounds, jutted out from a trim waist. Below the inward curve, her hips flared out to taper along shapely legs. His hands ached to anchor onto those hips, guiding them, claiming them.

Too quickly, the dark, perfect form was interrupted with the shadow of a bathing sheet which Elena draped around herself. “You could have said something to wake me, not just stand over me—Good Lord!—stand over me gawking.”

Searc supposed he had been gawking, though it hadn’t seemed nearly long enough. “I was making sure ye were breathing.”

He watched the draped silhouette slip as Elena nearly fell back into the tub. “Be careful, lass.”

“Let me get dressed in privacy,” she snapped.

“Ye are behind a privacy screen.” He clipped to the far end of the room to set his sword and dagger by the bed. Och, the bed. Comfortable, large bed. He frowned, knowing that he’d be anything but comfortable trying to sleep next to Elena in it now that her naked form was etched in his memory.

“My new shift is out there.” He saw the shadow of her slender arm point behind the screen. “I can’t retrieve it with you in the room.”

He saw the white lace undergarment and scooped it up. Her shadow had backed away from the screen, close to the flames. The room felt hot to him, but to a lass in a bath, it probably prevented shivers.

The fire crackled again and he heard the quick intake of Elena’s breath. “Oh no!” she yelled and snapped the sheet. Searc dodged around the screen. She’d edged too close to the hearth and a flame licked up her bath sheet, scorching the dry parts of the linen, feeding on the fibrous fuel. The burning heat neared the delicate skin of her legs as she whipped it back and forth, trying to put it out, but her motion only fed it.

He leapt forward and grabbed the flaming linen. With a flick of his hand, he unwound Elena until she nearly flew off the other end, bumping into the chair by the tub. He stomped on the flames as she righted herself and gasped, naked and frantic, running to find covering. She toppled the screen, lunging for the shift he’d thrown across it. Searc got a clear, luscious view of her perfect, round backside as she bent over to snatch it up and whirl away with it brandished in front of her.

Her eyes were wide saucers and the panic she felt hit Searc hard. Had her fear for the fire turned to fear of him? The thought doused any desire he may have felt, and he pivoted to face the hearth. He would never take an unwilling lass and Elena, after seeing his curse, would never be willing to share herself with him.

“Dress, Elena.” His voice was rough, low. “Before ye catch the ague or fall and break that lovely head, or trip on a dagger and pierce yerself through.” He could have gone on. The woman found disaster in the most innocuous places.

He heard the whisper of material floating around her form to the floor. He wadded up the charred remains of the bath sheet, dropped it to mop up the water around the tub, and kicked the cinders back into the hearth. The maids would probably wonder about the destruction.

More swishing of petticoats and material followed. After many minutes of staring at the fire and seeing none of it, her voice reached him. She huffed. “Without Jacqueline here, could you tie the back and latch the buttons?”

Searc turned. The dress was cut differently than the one she’d commissioned in the village. The square neckline was bedecked with a line of pearls. The medium blue fabric was lighter in weight than the wool worn in the Highlands and parted down the front to show a decorated fabric of paler blue. The skirt flowed down from a simple flounce around Elena’s hips which sculpted upward into a narrow waist, accentuated by an embroidered corset. He stepped up to her, forgetting to block the assault of her rose garden smell.

“It is a lovely costume,” Elena murmured and turned to give him her back. The slice of pale, soft skin peeked in a vee to reveal her straight back. Och. “I must return it when we leave,” she continued. “It is much too rich if it is a gift, not that I think it is. It’s just Jacqueline didn’t say if it was or wasn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder and clamped her lips shut as if she’d realized she was babbling.

“I do not know.” He wasn’t sure what they were talking about or if there was a question for him to answer. His fingers brushed against her skin, and the warmth drew him closer. Suddenly clumsy, he focused on the ties around her waist. Bloody hell, he could probably span her middle around with his two hands together. She must have practically starved over the three weeks in the forest. He would find her more food.

“Thank you,” she murmured when he was done fastening the last hook. She stepped away and turned, sending the full skirt to bell around her. Exquisite.

Elena turned to him. “Jacqueline brought you two crisp, bleached shirts.” She nodded to the bed. “Your hair is wet?”

“I found fresh water near the stables.” He picked up one of the shirts. In a swoop, he pulled his semi-clean shirt over his head and turned with the new one in his hands.

Elena’s gaze halted him. She stared at his naked chest for a moment before reaching his eyes. Her cheeks burned, and she looked down at the belt fastened at her waist. “Not a scar on you. I would like to meet your mother someday.”

“That may happen, lass.” He re-tied the kilt around his waist with the clean shirt tucked under. “Roger Lyngfield isn’t a safe relation. He certainly didn’t look at ye like a cousin.”

Elena sighed softly and sunk down onto a small bench, her skirts fanning out around her. “That’s because I’m not his cousin.”

How was he not surprised? “Well then, I’m certainly not leaving ye to the clutches of a strange man who looked at ye like ye were a lush, sweet bun he’d just been given.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “He did not.”

Searc raised one eyebrow in challenge. “The man nearly salivated in anticipation.”