Highland Hearts 03 - Crimson Heart by Heather McCollum

convinced him to let me journey with him though he says I will slow him down. I dare not be left behind again in case there is a need for my healing. Please keep in touch with Fiona as she will be taking charge of any healing here at Munro Castle in my absence, yet she does not have our gift from God.
    May God lead us to our son so that he can come home, for our sake and for yours.

Rachel Munro
    Searc listened to the French woman curse at the groom in the flowing tongue of her native country. With such strong and regal bearing, she could only be Mary Lorraine, Duchess of Guise, or as she was known in French, Marie de Guise, who ruled as regent for her daughter. She remained in Scotland to persuade the people to support her daughter’s rule and alliance with France. The woman was known for her sharp political sense and had managed to wrestle the regency away from Lord Arran, who pressed for an alliance with England.
    Searc had instantly felt the anxiety boil in Elena as they heard the name of the groom. This would not be a simple introduction of family members. Searc moved to Elena’s side behind the furious woman. “Don’t say anything,” he whispered near her ear.
    “Highlander!” the woman yelled and he stepped in front of Elena, blocking her from view.
    “Aye, yer grace?”
    “Is there any way those nettles could have accidentally found their way under my saddle?” She glared at the groom flanked now by several guards.
    “Nay, yer grace, but it would be more than foolish for the one responsible to actually attempt to publically seat ye on the mare,” Searc responded evenly. “I believe this man would be the least likely suspect.” The woman turned her blazing eyes upon him, but he could see his logic clear the fury in her steely gaze. She exhaled slowly, silently gaining control of her temper.
    “You know who I am, oui ?”
    Searc bowed and then stood tall. “Marie of the great house of Guise, mother of our Queen Mary Stewart.”
    “Who are you?” One eyebrow raised in obvious interest as she let her gaze take him in. No one moved, not wanting to miss a single word or gesture which they could likely tell later over ale.
    “I am Searc Munro of Munro Castle in the western Highlands, yer grace.”
    “How did you know about the nettles?” a smartly dressed man, who’d come to stand near Marie, asked in a thick French accent.
    “I didn’t,” Searc said with a casual shrug. “But I know horses and could tell the mare was in pain. Her ears flattened when I placed my hand on the saddle and she kicked.”
    The silence remained thick with unease as the courtyard waited. “Do my people of the western mountains support Arran’s rule of their land?” she asked without preamble.
    Since she knew he must answer nay to her face, he spoke slowly, genuinely. “I have lived all my life in the vast Highlands, your grace, and we have always supported King James’s rule and therefore the rule of his daughter, the rightful heir. Ye are her mother, and therefore the one who would look best after her interests above all others. Lord Arran has not proved to me nor my father, chief of the Munros, that he does so.”
    She considered his words and then a slow smile lit her face.
    “ Tres bien , Highlander.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Come with me. I have need of a Master of the Horse and an ambassador for the proud people of my western lands.”
    Bloody hell! The woman meant to suck him into court. And the dark look of Roger Lyngfield made him wonder if he’d just taken the man’s position as head of the regent’s stables.
    “Thank ye, but I am just a visitor to Edinburgh, yer grace.”
    She frowned and snapped her fingers, which brought several guards and two other ladies close behind her.
    “Then you can visit with me, non ?” She gave him an enticing smile, her rouged lips pulled up over white teeth. She began to walk toward the palace doors, obviously expecting him to follow.
    Searc wouldn’t leave