Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (17 page)

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!”

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.

He nudged Dearg closer to Marie, trampling a man in his path. Henri stabbed at two men at once from where he sat his horse before the regent. Father Renard continued to sidle close to Marie but Neige pranced away. Searc reached Marie and grabbed the mare’s reins.

“Come!” he ordered. “Move!” he yelled to the guards fighting and plunged Dearg through the mass. He pulled the white mare beside him, using the swift force of the two steeds to punch through to the tree where Elena remained balanced. He tossed the reins back to Marie. “Stay here.” He whistled. Cheò lifted a bloody muzzle and sprang toward them. Marie gasped but held her mare. Elena fired down from above at two attackers coming close to their tree.

“
Mon Dieu
,” Marie swore, looking up. She held Neige’s reins short and hid behind a thick, wooden shield, keeping the horse within the range of Elena’s protective shooting. Cheò ran a wide circle around them. His large paws churned up the dirt and vegetation as he growled and snapped at anyone daring to cross the threshold he’d set. Searc jumped down from Dearg, leaving the horse to better defend the space from the ground. His sword rang against iron and steel as different bandits made their way toward their target behind him. Lord Randolph seemed to have run off and Father Renard yelled occasionally and kept his horse next to Henri.

Despite the original numbers being skewed in favor of the bandits, skill and stamina were winning the day. Between himself, Cheò, and Elena’s archery skill, no one could win the life of the queen regent.

“Bloody Highlander, fighting for the French bitch!” a bandit spat as he swung at Searc. Searc stabbed his blade into the rebel, catching him in his gut and sending him to his knees. Searc swung against another attacker, and another, as the bandits finally realized Marie was no longer in the center of the fray and charged toward their tree. Arrows came less frequently, probably because Elena was running out. Henri managed to ride through the remaining men, to attack them from the back.

“Call off your beast!” Henri yelled. Cheò snapped at him as he tried to pass to get to Marie.

“Best stay where ye are.” Searc lifted his sword and turned in a tight circle, his muscles tightened to swing again with lethal force. But no one was there to meet him. His gaze scanned out across the trampled green ferns to the bodies scattered about. Several bandits ran off through the pass and further into the forest.

“Catch one of them!” Marie ordered and rattled off more in French. Henri tore off, while Searc remained to watch for anyone returning.

“Are ye well, lass?” Searc glanced up the tree where Elena’s boots still perched.

“Quite! And you?”

“Quite.” He scanned the woods for further attack. Two of their guards had managed to survive and were inspecting the slain to see if any lived.

“I am well too,” Marie said with a hint of annoyance. “In case you were worried.”

“Of course ye are well, yer grace, as I stand before ye,” Searc replied.

Marie let out a quick bark of laughter. “
Oui! Vous êtes magnifique
, Highlander.” Even though Searc didn’t understand French, the tone was obvious approval in more ways than one.

“No one alive to question, your grace,” one of the guards announced as he came close and stopped, his eyes widening as Cheò growled. The wolf’s muzzle was stained with blood, making his white teeth stand out in horrific contrast.

“He is yours?” Marie’s eyes seemed overly large.

“A wild animal belongs to no one.” Searc moved around Dearg to ensure the horse was unharmed. “But we travel together for mutual gain.”

Marie peered up the tree at Elena. “It seems your bride is also an asset,
non
? You shoot quite well,
madam
.”

“
Merci
, your grace,” Elena called down.

Searc raised his sword at the sound of hoof beats coming back through the pass. The other guards held their weapons ready too, but they relaxed when Henri Cleutin flew back into the trampled field of bodies. He spoke furiously in French, spittle flying from his lips.

Marie tisked and shook her head. Henri looked to Searc. “The dogs got away. I think they hide somewhere close. I could not take the time to dig through the ferns to find their trail as I worried some may have regrouped to come back here.”

Searc whistled and threw his arm to one side. Cheò ran off into the forest.

“After we get Marie to safety, I will send guards to search as well as bring back our fallen,” Henri said, watching the wolf disappear.

Searc walked to the base of the tree. “Elena, can ye climb down?”

“Yes.” She lowered her bow and nearly empty quiver. Her boot stepped down to a branch level with Searc’s head and wobbled as she fought for balance with her heavy skirts. For an instant, Searc saw the pale slim line of her inner thigh rising high up into the darkness between her legs. Part of her petticoat caught on one of the smaller branches. He should look away, but couldn’t pull his gaze from the soft flesh.

“God’s teeth,” he heard her whisper just before she yelped and the leaves shook. Her second boot missed the branch and she tried to catch herself with her arms. “Ahhh!”

Layers of skirts and petticoats tangled amongst the branches as Elena fell through, arms flailing, making the branches quake. Her heel hit Searc’s shoulder, and he tried to gauge where she would land through all the chaos of the voluminous fabric. His hand slid up her bare leg, catching her nude hip as she fell completely into him. He couldn’t see as the green material covered his head. Elena struggled in his arms as he lowered her to the ground, her trapped body sliding along his own in the material. His hand slid with it, steadying her. She gasped when his palm found purchase on her nicely rounded, bare backside.

She twisted in his grasp and backed up as soon as her feet met the forest floor. He withdrew his hands and helped her right herself. Flushed, with hair sticking out of her coiled braids, her hood completely lost in the folds of her skirts, Elena huffed. She yanked her skirts down and into place.

“Good Lord.” She glared at him, but all he could do was grin. Her lips pursed in a frown. “For a fiercely grumpy Highlander, you certainly smirk a lot.”

He shrugged. “Ye seem to have a penchant for falling out of trees, lass.” This was certainly no time to be grinning with the forest around them imbued with death and treason. But the edges of Marie’s eyes wrinkled as if she found the display amusing.

“We will return to Edinburgh Castle,” Henri announced.

All humor left the regent’s sharp voice. “
Non
, I will not let these traitors ruin our sojourn.” Her gaze took in Elena. “We have a wedding to celebrate.”

Henri spoke in low French, each of his words making Marie’s face tighter.

“Your safety is far more important than my wedding,” Elena added in English. “I would not have my happiness put you in jeopardy, your grace.”

Searc let his gaze move through the dense forest. “Whoever planned this knew we were headed to Linlithgow. It is probable that the traitor has further treachery waiting for ye there.”

“Lord Arran.” Henri’s face darkened with hatred. “He must be behind this.”

The sound of a horse moving through the undergrowth made them turn just as Randolph trotted back into the clearing. He looked around and guided his mount around the fallen. “Thank the Lord you are well, your grace.”

“Where did ye run off to?” Searc asked. The man seemed to be handling the bandits quite well one moment and then abandoning them the next.

“I chased one of the scoundrels into the woods in order to capture him for questioning. But he got away, slippery devil.”

“Let us back to Edinburgh,” Henri urged. “I would have the queen regent safely behind the granite walls before dusk.”

…

Searc felt Elena stiffen as Dearg surged into a brisk trot, heading back toward Edinburgh.

“I’ve got ye,” he said close to her ear. “No more falling today.”

“I am very good climbing up trees.” She sounded like an outraged kitten.

“Aye, ye are.” He guided Dearg forward. “It’s the coming down that ye don’t seem to have the hang of yet. We have a right good number of trees to practice on in the Highlands.”

“You are mocking me.” She frowned at him, her bottom lip extending slightly. It’s pretty pink shade stopped his tongue for a moment.

“
Och
, nay,” he responded seriously. “Ye could be quite helpful in defense with a bow, lass, though I think some trews might be in order if ye plan to climb above a man’s head.” A blush rose into her cheeks, but before she could retort he asked, “Where did ye learn to shoot?”

She opened those lovely lips, shut them, then opened them again. “My…father, when he came to visit, he would take me out often. Lady Suffolk didn’t approve of him, and he knew it. So we spent a great deal of time outdoors at Grimsthorpe, and there was an archery range in the west field.” She turned back to face the front mostly, but he could see the gentle tilt of her lips. “When we were out there, well he seemed…more at peace. Just the two of us, trying to win the center ring on the target.”

“It is a fond memory.”

“It was the only time when he wasn’t trying to make me into…” she trailed off.

“Into?”

“A lady, a woman of value instead of just a drain on a household.”

“He told ye that? That ye were a drain?”

“No, Lady Suffolk did, often, but I knew Thomas had large plans for me if he could make me into a grand lady.”

She spoke without a drop of self-pity but rather simple reasoning. She’d been told she was an unwelcome onus her whole life. How different Searc’s life had been on Munro land. He’d been told from as young as he could remember that he was special, a proud Munro, a warrior. And after his brothers were killed everyone came to expect him to be the next chief. Expectations of greatness, aye, that he and Elena had in common. But he was never considered an affliction to his family, until the end.