Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart (25 page)

He pushed into the room first, glanced around, and then released her, shutting them in. He went to the wooden table that sat near the hearth and removed her locket and note from his vest, placing them unopened on the table. “I believe these are yers.”

“You can look at them.” She crossed over to the bed. “I was going to show you. There wasn’t time when Marie ordered us to the chapel.”

Searc ran a hand through his hair. Elena sat on the edge. The sheets had been removed and the coverlet folded. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Searc, I am sorry. I meant to tell you before. Last night, or this morning. I’ve hidden who I am for so long.”

He walked to stand before her and pulled her up. “Ye are a royal princess of England.”

Her eyes shut as she pushed her tears back into herself. “I don’t want to be.” She spoke softly and opened to look at him, her handsome, fierce warrior.

“What do ye want?”

You
, filled her mind. Her lips opened but nothing came out.

“Ye don’t trust me.” Subdued anger and betrayal shadowed his words.

“I do,” she defended.

His face firmed. “How could ye? My own clan doesn’t.”

“Your parents do. I can tell just by meeting them.”

He didn’t say anything for a multitude of heartbeats. “Elena.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw and stared past her. “Ye are mine now. I am sorry for that.”

Her heart dropped as if it was a bird turned to ice, plummeting to the ground. “You are sorry?” The words hurt her throat.

He refused to meet her gaze. “Ye were a princess of England, yet I’ve bound ye to me, a simple Highlander.”

Her chest burned for breath that she couldn’t take. Finally she inhaled. “First of all, Searc Munro, there is nothing simple about you.” She shook her head, cold fury giving her strength, lighting her words with a lifetime of subdued anger. “And I was
never
a princess of England! Thomas wanted me to be, but I wasn’t. I hid from it so much that even Lady Suffolk stopped treating me as anything more than a servant.

“Through the years I’ve learned what it means to be royal, the scheming, the danger, how to play the game.” Her voice had risen much higher than it should, but Elena didn’t care. She also didn’t care that tears squeezed from her eyes.
Searc was sorry that he’d married her.

“And I just took ye, not caring what that meant for ye.”

She wanted to shake him. She grabbed his arms and tried. “You are not listening to me. You saved me, you big dolt! It’s more like I threw myself at you! If I was a virgin, an unmarried virgin, Lord Randolph and his supporters would likely carry me off to wed some ruthless prince to try and oust Queen Mary. There’d be civil war. I’d either be flung onto a blood-drenched throne or beheaded at the tower.”

She held tightly to his vest, glaring up into his face, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

“And ye didn’t trust me enough to tell me this.” He nodded as if accepting some great fault of his own.

She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that she’d believed in him from the start, but she wouldn’t lie to him. She hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t trusted anyone. “I do now.”

The look on his handsome face was stony as he nodded. Did he believe her?

She should be happy, but her heart remained in the pit of her stomach. No words of cherish; no words of love. She needed so much more than a nod. Lord help her! When had she fallen in love with Searc Munro? How could she have allowed it to happen? The realization twisted her stomach into a nauseous lump.

She looked down at her blue court gown. She hadn’t had time to attach the decorative belt that held her eating knife and a few borrowed trinkets. “I should finish getting dressed.” Her words sounded deflated, without emotion.

“I should speak to my parents.” He moved toward the door. “I don’t know why they came.”

She spun toward him. “They came because they love you.” The word love nearly tripped on her tongue.

“My mother, aye. My father would have followed her of course.”

She huffed and shook her head. “That man who stood beside you, ready to defend a woman he had never met before, didn’t just follow his wife here. He came to reclaim his son.”

“Ye don’t know that.”

“You are so stubborn,” she hissed.

“I am not the only one with a stubborn bent.” Searc checked the weapons holstered on his powerful body. “We will have to learn to survive one another.”

She felt foolish tears behind her eyes so she turned away. She wouldn’t let him see her weakness. “I’m sorry, Searc. I never meant to bind you. I will not be a hindrance to you and as soon as we can…you can convince a priest to annul the union.”

If she thought he had the ability to vanish, she’d turn to see if he’d indeed dissolved on the spot. His hand on her arm made her jump as he gently turned her to him. His gaze searched her face and then bent, touching her lips with his own in a firm kiss. It was neither gentle nor frantic but more like the sealing of an oath. As he broke apart, he didn’t step back but rather brushed her cheek with his own to reach her ear.

“I’m sorry too, Elena.” His whisper held guilt. “Ye are bound to me now.” She blinked, her eyes focusing on the curl of his dark hair. “Ye will never be free of me.”

…

Searc clipped down the corridor. A Tudor. Elena was a royal Tudor princess by blood, and she hadn’t told him. He shook his head. He’d known she was special, hiding from powerful foes, but Henry VIII’s daughter?

She’d married him while still hiding. Of course she would want an annulment now that the truth had come forward. He frowned, remembering her stiffness when he’d told her the truth, the truth that she would not be able to escape him. It was as if all her muscles had clenched to ready her to run. But it wouldn’t do her any good, for he wasn’t letting her go. No matter who she really was. If she ran, he’d track her down, find her and bring her back to him. “Aye,” he muttered to himself. The thought became a conviction, an oath to her and to himself that he wouldn’t let her walk away. Somehow that promise lightened the weight on his shoulders. No matter what, he would do what must be done to keep Elena forever.

He braced himself into the wind to cross the bailey, knowing more with each step that she was his match. She knew of his darkness and didn’t flinch from his touch. In time, she’d learn to trust him even with his terrible power. He’d be gentle with her, coax her body like the night before, and her mind would eventually follow.
Och! It will be so
.

Searc stepped into the great hall where his father and mother spoke with Marie of Guise and Henri Cleutin near the hearth. As he strode toward them, Searc’s frown relaxed when his father rubbed a hand across his sweating forehead. Aye, Alec Munro only stood by a hearth in the bitter winter. When he saw his son approaching, he took the opportunity to escape the heat and met him half way.

He grasped Searc’s arm in greeting. That was twice now the man had touched him. His father smiled. “Congratulations, son. She’s a bonny lass.” He leaned forward. “And a princess at that.”

“I wouldn’t mention that to her, Da. She can shoot a moving target at fifty paces.”

“Good.” Alec chuckled and dropped his arm. “Ye need a lass to keep ye on yer toes.”

His humor slowly faded as he met Searc’s silent gaze. “Yer mother, she couldn’t live not knowing where ye were.”

Searc nodded. “And ye came with her.”

Alec’s look was fierce as he stared back. “
I
couldn’t live not knowing where ye were, lad, knowing I’d—”

“Come closer,” Marie called out from the table by the hearth. “Where is your bride?”

“She wanted to finish dressing.”

Marie leaned toward the three ladies who stood near her and flapped her hand at one to wave her out of the hall. “Madeline will help her. And I have several new gowns for Elena as a gift. Her retinue is sorely lacking.”

“That is quite gracious. Thank you,” Rachel answered for him.

Searc bowed his head silently and proceeded his father to the sweltering end of the room. He’d give the maid half past the hour to return with Elena. After that he’d fetch her himself. He leaned against the cool, stone wall so that he could watch the doorway.

Marie looked straight at Searc. “When I remembered Elena at Grimsthorpe, I had Henri question a few people from Lincolnshire. There were rumors about her lineage there. Even though Henri doesn’t completely agree with me, I find I like having a Tudor wed to a loyal Scot.” She tapped her finger against her lip. “Do you believe that she is Mary Tudor’s sister?”

Searc considered the question. “She has never been claimed as a Tudor, and she does not, in any way, wish for the connection or a title. I would not force it upon her.” He shook his head. Plus, a simple English maid would be easier to keep as wife.

Marie’s sharp eyes considered him as she tilted her head. “We are all born with our familial responsibilities, our duty to uphold. You would have her turn her back on hers?”

“If that is her wish, then I support it.”

Marie tisked and stood, pacing before the fire. “I have options here. Henri?”

The French ambassador had stood with her. “Lord Randolph has only repeated what he said in the chapel.”

“He is working with Lord Arran,” Searc added and Marie whipped around. “He arranged to have Elena taken to Lyngfield’s house so he could threaten her. She did not say so because he threatened to expose her.”

“Lord Randolph is a traitor then,” Marie pronounced. “He will die.”

Henri spoke low in French, making Marie pace harder, nearly running the man over in her clipping heels. “His word against hers,
mon Dieu
! Then send him away if he won’t confess, but I will not have him at my court. Make certain he leaves in a most uncomfortable state, thankful for my mercy that he still breathes.” She threw one arm wide. “And find Arran! I will not bring my daughter here until the man is depleted of all support or better yet, twitching on the end of a blade.” She switched to French again and raged for another minute while Henri wisely nodded.

The door opened, but it was just Father Renard. The priest stepped purposely down the long hall as if bringing the proclamation of war. Searc could feel dark emotions rolling off him as he approached, like a wave before the prow of a boat. The uptight man nodded to Marie.

“Queen Regent, I have been informed that this woman before you, Rachel Munro, may be an unholy witch.”

Before Searc could even twitch, his father’s sword sung as he drew it. Searc followed and stepped before his mother. She continued to sit proudly in her chair.

Marie looked between Rachel and Father Renard. “Why she has only just arrived. How is it that you have heard this about my Highlander’s mother?”

“I investigated Master Searc when he first arrived. His mother is known in the Highlands and is called the Witch Munro.”

“She is a talented healer.” Searc stood firm, his legs in an easy battle stance. “And she goes to mass and prays for our souls like any good woman of a great house.”

“I saw her heal the cuts on Mistress Elena’s wrists. In the chapel.” Father Renard moved to step closer, but the point of Alec’s sword stopped him.

“Ye will cease yer slander of my wife, unless ye wish to feel Scottish steel through yer heart.”

Marie frowned. “The fact that she healed within the holy chapel of St. Margaret, a legendary healer in her own right, tells me that whatever you saw was done with God’s help, not the devil’s.”

“But she has spawned a demon too.” The priest’s gaze touching on Searc.

Marie frowned. “How is my Highland ambassador a demon, Father? Certainly he is handsome enough to have seduced a princess out of her virginity, but that only makes him a rogue, not a devil.”

Father Renard stared at Searc with narrowed eyes. “I have just spoken with the priest from Culross. The constable arrested Searc Munro, but he used unholy means to escape from the jail. And Peter spoke with a man visiting town that swears Searc Munro reduced his friend to ash with a touch and sucked years from his own life.”

“And what of his lady?” Marie stared coldly at Father Renard. “Was
Madam
Elena with
Monsieur
Searc when all this occurred?”

Father Renard met her gaze without flinching, confident in his knowledge. “It is said so. She should be questioned.”

“Yet she wed with him just now, after he supposedly turned a man to ash and escaped from a locked cell.” Marie sat straight on the edge of her chair. “How unusual for a woman.”

“Mistress Elena is not of the true faith.” Father Renard’s gaze continued to focus only on Marie. “If she was raised at Grimsthorpe, she was raised Protestant. Another reason for her to flee England and her Catholic sister. She may not care if he is in league with the devil.”

“Enough.” Searc’s voice rang in the vaulted room. “Say what ye will about me, but do not slander my mother or my wife.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Elena stepped in. She wore a new gown of cream and gold, the perfect backdrop for her long, unruly hair. Even without unnatural senses, she should be able to feel the great tension in the room. Elena continued forward, stopping several steps back from them and dipped into a curtsey, the voluminous folds of rich material pooling around her. The maid had braided the front of Elena’s thick hair and pinned it in an intricate pattern around the hood that cascaded from the crown of her head.

“Ah,
Madam
Elena. I see the gift fits your form well.” Marie smiled though her eyes remained distant.

“Thank you, your grace. It is lovely.” And
she
was lovely, the loveliest Searc had ever seen, though he still preferred her naked lying on a fur.

Marie waved her forward. “Come closer and warm yourself.”

Searc stepped up, nearly through the priest who backed out of the way hastily. Searc took Elena’s cold hand and placed it on his arm.