Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (23 page)

She blinked open, narrowing her eyes as she stared at him, frustrated at his short sightedness. “You were a child with a weapon that could be used for good once you learned to use it. Like a sword or bow.”

He kept the arm across his eyes. “I went to the horse.”

Elena held her breath, thinking of Searc’s love for animals.
I won’t abandon an animal
. “What happened to the horse?” she whispered.

“It was in so much pain. I think its leg may have been broken. My father might have put him down had he been there, but I knew that if I could get it to my mother, she could heal it with her magic. I only meant to lift its leg, try to help it.”

Elena stroked his chest and quickly wiped away a tear that had gotten by. She waited and watched Searc squeeze his lips together.

“I lifted him easily with the strength of the other man running through me. It surprised me and I lost control, dropped him on his bad leg. He was screaming terribly. Have ye heard a horse scream?” He lifted his arm to look down his length at her.

She shook her head, sliding her chin on his chest.

“It’s bloody horrible.”

She squeezed him. “What happened?”

“I killed him. I couldn’t carry him with all the thrashing and he was frantic. I unleashed the same magic I’d used to stop the peddler and pulled enough life out of him to end his pain.”

Oh Searc. Oh heavens no.
So many sentiments sat on her tongue. He’d been a just a boy, a lonely boy who knew very little about his magic. He had no one to turn to, no one to help him mourn and he’d ended up only hating himself. But she couldn’t say all that. He would only take it as pity. “You did what was needed.”

“I had no bloody idea what I was doing. I hid the peddler’s clothes and left everything. My father found the horse and abandoned wagon and assumed the peddler had left them, wandering off. I kept to the woods for days until the strength completely wore off.”

“Was that the first time you realized you had this magic?” She firmed her voice to keep any pity from it.

“Aye, though I had always been able to feel dark emotions: pain, fear, fury, lethal intent. He pulled his arm from his eyes and turned his forearm upward so she could see the long line that snaked around his skin. “I’ve had the mark since birth.” She reached up to trace it with her fingertip. He let her follow its swirling tail up his arm and the lines that wrapped around across the top. She studied it, tracing the pattern. It was the first time he’d let her examine it.

She glanced up. “It is a dragonfly.”

He glanced at his arm. “Nay.”

“Look,” she said and traced the long sweeping lines as it circled in a rough outline of wings that wrapped around themselves bending back around his arm. “It is just very large and wraps around itself.”

Searc sat up in the bed, twisting his thick arm back and forth. Elena tucked her knees under her to hover over his arm. She traced the lines again to show how the lines connected.

“I’ve…I hadn’t seen that,” he admitted.

“You are so close to it. It’s hard to see something when you can’t stand back and look. I suppose you haven’t let anyone else take the time to examine it either.”

“As a child, my mother must have, though it didn’t darken on my skin until after the peddler.”

“Hmm…the first time you used the power.”

“My mother has a dragonfly mark from birth, but hers is small and colored in. All the females in my line have it and their light is blue and heals.”

“Amazing.” She followed the trailing lines again. “Your power is from the same source.”

“But it kills.”

“So does a mending needle if used in a specific way.”

“Ye have a very skewed view of my magic.” He dropped his arm and fixed the blankets over them, pressing her back in the pillows with a slow kiss.

Perhaps he was just trying to stop her from talking. She kissed him anyway until he leaned back, tucking her against his side. Elena yawned as she settled against him in the warm bed.

“Ye need to sleep, lass.”

She sighed. “So do you.” She turned on her side with him spooned against her back. She felt him kiss her head and sighed. Her muscles languid, her body warm, the feel of strength and…possibly affection at her back. Elena drifted on her breaths to sleep.

…

The warm, dark world rocked under Elena. “What?” she mumbled and stretched out under the covers. Her hand brushed her bare breast.
Naked?
She blinked at the daylight filtering in the window slits and saw Searc walking across the room.
Naked.

“Did I wake ye?” He turned without a shred of embarrassment.

Elena pushed up on her elbows, feeling the new aches from a night she’d never experienced before. “I needed to wake anyway. It must be well past dawn.”

He stalked to the press, scooping up his kilt along the way. Elena watched the muscles of his backside and legs as he moved and felt a flush begin to heat her inside once more. He was truly magnificent. A powerful beast who could be gentle one moment and ravishing her the next. The small pebble of desire in her began to grow. So much for thinking to only assuage her curiosity. She wanted more.

Elena slid off the bed with the fur around her and saw the telltale sign of her maidenhood across the linen. She grasped the end of the sheet, tugging.

Searc halted her hand. “If ye are safer with it known ye are no virgin, then leave it for the maids. Word will spread to those interested.”

“But I’ve lied to Marie and Father Renard about us,” she said.

Searc shook his head. “A maiden’s mistake.”

“All night long?” she asked, unconvinced.

He let a small grin lighten his eyes. “Ye’d be amazed at what I could do to ye all night long, even without taking ye fully.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow. The thought only added fuel to the pleasant sensation teasing inside her.

She looked back at the sheets. He was right. Let Lord Randolph find out her value as a potential royal bride was tarnished.

Searc caught her up to him, turning her away from the bed. “Ye fell asleep fast last night.”

“Several times if I remember correctly.” She grinned.

But his face was serious. He leaned in and kissed her, then leveled her with a searching look. “I wanted ye to have last night as Elena only.”

Elena breathed deeply. He’d shared his secrets with her. Now he wanted hers.

“Now, lass. Who are ye exactly?”

Her gaze drifted past him to the hearth and he turned to follow it where the gold chain hung undisturbed.

The clopping of boots filtered through the door from the hall.

Rap, rap, rap
. “Lord Munro?” came a man’s voice.

Searc moved to the door, his sword drawn. “Who is asking?” He tipped his head toward the clothes press. She ran for it and threw a clean chemise over her head to poke her arms into the holes. She drew out the beautiful blue gown Marie had given her for dinner the first night at court.

“I am page to the queen regent. She has sent for you and Mistress Elena to come to St. Margaret’s Chapel at the top of the hill.”

The chapel? Elena paused but then continued to shrug into her stays, running back to Searc and turning her back. He re-sheathed his sword and began to nimbly brush down her back, tugging and tying.

“We are not dressed to be received by the regent,” Searc called.

“She commands your immediate attendance. Come dressed as you are.”

“We are not dressed at all,” Searc said. Elena spun and glared at him. He shrugged and pointed back to the bed where the gown waited.

“We will wait to escort you both to the chapel. Make haste.” It sounded as if the man leaned against the door.

Elena threw the gown over her head. When she surfaced Searc was by the hearth, wrapping the sash of his kilt over one shoulder. She ran her fingers through her wild curls as she sought her slippers. Searc came to her, turning her to fasten her buttons and tie her sleeves into place. He worked so efficiently she cringed inside.

“Please tell me you have a sister whom you helped dress,” she murmured.

“Only two brothers.”

“Then how are you so knowledgeable about a woman’s dress?”

His lips sent a shiver down her neck as they rested near her ear. “Ye may know all my secrets, Elena, but do ye really want to know about my exploits with other lasses?”

She spun, her face red, and opened her mouth, but the rapping at the door stopped her from whatever retort had fled her mind.

“Nearly finished.” Searc’s face grew hard and lethal as he checked his blades. From what Elena could see, he had at least three planted about his body. He handed her a short, black-handled dirk. “It is a
Singh dubh.
It is made to be hidden easily within yer bodice. Just don’t pierce yerself.” She spent several more minutes finding a suitable folding of material within her pocket to sheath it.

Searc turned the key once she’d found a spot. Elena glanced at the mantel, her heart jumping to her throat.

“It took you long enough.” The guard stood in front of a small pack of armed men.

“Are we under arrest?” Searc wore a scowl despite his casual voice.

“Not unless you refuse the regent’s command.” The guard glanced in at Elena, eyeing her barely pulled together appearance. She hardly noticed, though, with her throat so tight.

The locket. The note from Lord Randolph. Searc must have taken them from the mantel. He wouldn’t have had time to examine either of them. She glanced at him as he held out his hand to her. Good Lord, Searc was now holding her most guarded secret.

…

The one-room chapel had been constructed by Scotland’s King David in the eleventh century to honor his mother, later named Saint Margaret. The small, pale stone chapel sat at the top of the spiraling cobblestone walk in the center of Edinburgh Castle walls. The climb was easy, though Elena leaned heavily on Searc’s arm. He felt the apprehension rolling through her, but there was no opportunity to remind her that he would protect her. He had told her so before and claiming her with his body made the pact even more binding.

He wrapped her delicate hand in his rough one as the cool, near-autumn wind blew against them. Och, she was so much smaller than he, yet her courage matched any great warrior. Delicate in form, but resilient in spirit.

Despite their physical differences she fit him perfectly. The briefest memory of the night before caused him to be thankful he wore a loose kilt instead of the tight English trews. She had tasted as good as she smelled, her skin as silky as it looked. Her voice, husky with need, had answered his prompts, divulging how his touch sent her spiraling. If he could only get her to divulge her secrets. He hadn’t had time to examine the locket, nor the note, but he knew they were pieces to the riddle that was Elena, and he’d be bloody damned if he relinquished them.

The gray clouds skitted with the growing wind overhead. Elena’s hair, unbound and without a hood, swirled around her like a temptress from an ancient legend. The muted sun caught the gold hidden within the reddish hue of her curls. It twisted like fire around her delicate features, beautiful even in her worry. She held her head up, eyes forward, delicately curved chin raised slightly, giving her the regal look of a queen. She didn’t even need the crown. Her courage and strength of spirit radiated out from within her. An itch rolled up his back, a niggling thought that fought to surface, and he sunk his hand into his hidden pocket at his waist where the locket lay. His thumb brushed the hard surface, feeling an inscription.

Two pairs of guards reached the arched door cut into the far side of the modest chapel wall. Searc let Elena enter first but kept his hand on her elbow as he ducked to follow through the low doorframe.

“
Je ne suis pas d’accord
.” Henri Cleutin spoke with fierce vindication to Marie of Guise who stood at the altar next to a frowning Father Renard.

“And I,” Marie countered, “am the Queen Regent of Scotland and will do what I feel is best for my daughter’s country.” Said as a dismissal, she turned toward Searc and Elena, replacing her bared teeth with a full smile, though her eyes remained snapping with fire-like fury. She opened her arms wide. “
Il est petit
.” She indicated the small room. “But quaint,
non
?”

Elena curtsied so Searc followed with a nod. “It is simple and lovely, your grace.” Elena glanced around. Filtered daylight came through several narrow stained glass windows depicting saints in bright colors. The low ceiling arched with blocks of pale stone overhead along the entire room, and a step lifted up to the altar. The raised sanctuary looked like it could only contain four people at a time, three if one was as large as Searc.

Searc pivoted at the sound of rustling near the door, his hand moving toward the sword at his side. Three of Marie’s ladies hurried in with bouquets of late summer roses.

“There should be no weapons in a house of God.” Father Renard held his crucifix in his hand as if it were a holy blade. Searc looked pointedly at Henri’s sword strapped to his side. Marie ignored the priest and ushered her ladies toward her, directing them to place the roses near the altar. One lady whispered into the regent’s ear. Marie nodded, glancing at Elena.

The sweet smell of the roses infused the dusty air. One of the ladies had a circle of wildflowers threaded together and hurried back to Elena.

“What is this?” Elena’s voice remained casual, belying the panic Searc felt beneath her skin. The lady placed it on her head, threading several of her curls through it to hold it within the glorious mass.

“It is a wreath for your hair,
mon enfant
.” Marie clasped her hands together as if in joy. “Now you are
très belle, oui
.”

Father Renard opened a large bible. “Are we ready to begin then?”

Henri made a tisking sound and stepped out of the smaller alter area to lean against one of the sunken window arches. Marie frowned at him and flowed out of the vestibule to stand with her ladies. Only the priest remained. He waved Elena and Searc forward.