Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart by Heather McCollum Read Free Book Online Page A

nodded to her plate— “manners and kept the rain off yer head?” She paused for a long moment until he wondered if she’d answer.
    “A gentleman took me to a lady friend. She taught me to be a proper lady.” Her eyes glanced downward at her plate. What wasn’t she telling him?
    “Where is she now?”
    “She married and I moved to Lincolnshire with her lady friend. Then she died.” Elena’s voice dropped with her eyes as she pushed the turnips around on her plate. “The lady who had charge of me the last few years is leaving England, and I was encouraged to find my cousin.”
    Encouraged? What beast sent an unprepared girl out into the forest without escort? Searc’s jaw tightened as he watched the red, gold highlights in the top of Elena’s bowed head.
    “Why was she leaving England?” his voice a near whisper.
    Elena’s eyes shifted to the door as several towns people meandered in. “She feared for her freedom.”
    A Protestant. Someone fearing Queen Mary’s slaughter of reformists.
    “What of the gentleman?” he prodded.
    “He…is dead.”
    “I am sorry.”
    She nodded, and looked back to her plate. They ate in silence, she sipping down a full glass of wine. Music came from the open door as night fell around the small town. Searc watched the lass’s finger tap along the table. It was nimble and perfect, the fingernail now clean and shaped.
    When her fingers stopped suddenly he looked up and caught her eye. One of her arched brows rose higher. He’d been caught staring.
    Abashed, he asked, “Do ye like to dance?” He nodded to her hand. “Ye were tapping to the drum.”
    Her fingers curled into her hand. “I enjoy music. I used to sing in my garden when no one was about.”
    He stared at her lips as they moved, imagining how they must curve when she sang.
    “And I do dance,” she continued. “I know the steps to several, the Galliard, Pavan, the Canary, Torneo.” She kept ticking off dances on those slender fingers. “Yes, I believe I would like to dance.”
    Bloody hell! Had he just roped himself into dancing? Och , the lass was muddling his mind. “Doesn’t yer foot still pain ye, from the stings?”
    “Not overly much. The bee balm soothed it. The swelling has gone down. And the wine is making me rather merry.”
    She looked so expectant, and damnably happy. He exhaled and stood stiffly, willing his fists to relax against his sides. He’d merely wanted to justify his fascination with her fingers. He’d rather face a horde of English on the battlefield than jig his way through a line of dancers.
    She placed the very fingers that had tricked him into this trouble onto his arm, and he led them outdoors where the town celebrated the union of a lad and his thin-as-a-willow bride. A few wagons, set around the square, sold sweet breads, carved bowls, rugs, and candles. Bridal ale flowed freely. He’d definitely need some of that to get him through the next hour. Searc swiped a tankard off the serving platter of a maid who smiled provocatively even with Elena on his arm.
    “I thought we were going to dance?” Elena frowned and looked out at the lines of people facing one another.
    Searc took a long pull off the sweet ale and set the mug down on a table near the vendors. Her frown relaxed as he took up her hand. “Aye, ye did indeed think that,” he murmured and escorted her to the center of the square. She walked with graceful steps, floating now that she had slippers again. When he looked down and saw her smile, his stomach tightened. She was lovely. He smelled roses as she leaned close to his ear.
    “This is an easy one.” Her breath tickled his ear, stirring his blood. She was warm, and sweet and…a virgin no doubt. The thought should have quickly doused his fire since he preferred the uncomplication of experienced widows. But with Elena…the thought heated his blood even more. She smiled reassuringly. “Just follow me and the men to your sides.”
    Luckily he did know the