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

when whispers rippled through the village and the keep. His father and mother arguing behind their bedroom door. The memories twisted his gut. It was not something he wished to talk about.
    “And why have ye left Lincolnshire, Elena?”
    He knew she wouldn’t answer, but she didn’t push for him to supply one either. They rode in silence for several long minutes.
    “I’ve decided something.” She raised the blanket back over her head and around her face as if she were settling down to sleep.
    “And what might that be, lass?”
    She breathed fully and exhaled. “You are not a demon.”
    Searc swayed with Dearg’s gait, his arms easily resting around the lass, and let his eyes close momentarily. The conviction in her voice made him wonder if her statement were true. Either way, his magic was dark and deadly. There was no way it could be good.
    …
    Just before dawn broke, the outskirts of a town came into view. It had to be Edinburgh. As if sensing the end of a long journey, Dearg picked up his stride, moving with practiced grace through the already bustling streets.
    Searc lowered his mouth to the blanket. “Elena.”
    “Searc,” she mumbled back, her voice breathy with sleep. The sound of his name from her drowsy lips hardened him behind her. His body could only handle so much of the lass rubbing against him as they rode.
    He pushed back on Dearg, giving himself some distance. “We’ve arrived.”
    She straightened, lowering the blanket. “In Edinburgh?”
    He pointed through the close set houses toward thick walls spiraling up around a jutting, sprawling castle that seemed to grow out of a rocky crag. “That would be Edinburgh Castle.” He turned to point down the hill. “And at the bottom would be Holyrood Palace and Abbey where Marie of Guise resides.”
    “’Tis huge.” She glanced around, twisting slightly in her seat. “How will I find my cousin?”
    “Sleep and food first. Then we will figure it out.”
    Searc recognized the Netherbow Port towers from Father Daughtry’s tales of his travels to the city. The pale granite stones composing the towers loomed on either side of an arched gate through which the townspeople moved under the watchful eye of castle guards. Flodden wall, which was still under construction after fifty years of work, surrounded much of the city. Several gates led into it, but Netherbow Port was the central gateway that led straight to the main road, which would take them to Holyrood.
    One of the guards took note of them as they rode under the archway, his eyes following them. Searc felt the man’s gaze on his back but did not turn. He guided Dearg to follow a cart of sheep through the increasing crowd of vendors and turned left at the main thoroughfare to take them downhill toward the palace. All along High Street wool farmers from the surrounding countryside vied for space with fishmongers, flocks of chickens, and peddlers of candles and tin. Searc looped the reins over the saddle and jumped down from Dearg’s back to lead them. He spotted a woman hawking bread.
    “A penny for a sweet bun for yer miss.” The woman smiled, showing brown tinged teeth.
    “Is there an inn about?” He set a penny in her palm. She tucked his coin away and handed him a bun. He broke off part and handed the other to Elena.
    “A place suitable for a lady now.” The woman stared upward as if running through her vast knowledge of shelters in the city.
    “The Swan and Wolf.” She pointed down the long road. “Near the Abbey.” He thanked her and bought another bun after giving the rest of his to Elena. He led Dearg with Elena on his back and devoured the bread.
    “Does yer cousin know to expect ye?”
    “Lady Suffolk sent a missive to Edinburgh with his name on it. We hoped it would get to him.” She shook her head as she looked at the people. “How shall I find him?”
    “After we sleep,” he reminded her and wove among the carts and people.
    The Swan and Wolf sat solidly flanked by