Seductive Secrets (Secrets of the Heart Series Book 2)
Seductive Secrets - Book 2
Secrets of the Heart Series
Elizabeth Rose
RoseScribe Media Inc.
Contents
To my readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
From the Author
Excerpt from Ruthless Knight
About Elizabeth
Also by Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
RoseScribe Media Inc.
Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Edited by Scott Moreland
To my readers
Secrets of the Heart is a series about the daughters of the bastard triplets from the Legendary Bastards of the Crown which is followed by Seasons of Fortitude. This series can be read as standalone books, but if you prefer to read them in chronological order, I have listed the series below.
Legendary Bastards of the Crown:
Destiny’s Kiss – Series Prequel
Restless Sea Lord – Book 1
Ruthless Knight – Book 2
Reckless Highlander – Book 3
Seasons of Fortitude Series:
Highland Spring – Book 1
Summer’s Reign – Book 2
Autumn’s Touch – Book 3
Winter’s Flame – Book 4
Secrets of the Heart Series:
Highland Secrets – Book 1
Seductive Secrets – Book 2
Rebellious Secrets – Book 3
Forgotten Secrets – Book 4
Enjoy!
Elizabeth Rose
Chapter 1
England, 1386
“Willow Douglas ye’re stealin’ from a dead woman!” Morag exclaimed as Willow snatched up her late mentor’s ring and bracelet and slammed shut the wooden box.
“I am not,” Willow sniffed, replacing the box on the dusty shelf of the cottage. “Imanie would have wanted me to have these things. She said so at one time, but just never had the chance to give them to me before she died. I need them since the earl’s annual autumn festival starts tomorrow and I want to look my best. Now that Fia is back in Scotland, there will be more men who will want to dance with me. The better I look, the more enticing I will be to the visiting barons and earls.”
“What ye mean to say is that ye want all the men to yerself,” spat Morag. Her long, wavy, golden hair reached all the way to her elbows. Morag and her sister, Fia were raised in Scotland, but the rest of the cousins grew up in England. The girls were the daughters of the triplets of the late King Edward III. Their fathers were known as the Legendary Bastards of the Crown.
“The earl already told me that he has invited at least a dozen single, titled men who have requested to meet me,” boasted Willow. “He also said some of them are bringing gifts. Perhaps the gifts are for me. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“No gift is enough to convince me to dance with men I don’t know,” grumbled Maira from the doorway.
“Me, either,” added Morag.
“Good,” said Willow flipping her long, flowing hair over her shoulder. She, by right, should wear it tied back, in a braid, or under a wimple. But Willow liked to leave it loose. “If you two refuse to dance, there will be more men for me to choose from. I heard that Baron Chester of Ashington, as well as the rich Sir George of Canterbury, will be coming to Rothbury. So will the very handsome Sir Bedivere of Gaunt. And to top things off, Earl Stanley Alnwick is passing through on his way to see the king, with a ruby for King Richard that is supposedly the size of his hand!” Her eyes opened wider. “Can you imagine how that stone would look hanging from a chain around my neck?”
“Willow, that’s a gift for the king, not for you. You live in a dream world,” Maira scolded.
Willow met her cousin in challenge. “Better a dream world where I’m adorned with expensive jewels and fine silks and surrounded by handsome men, then the empty, sad lives you two live. Now, hold the lantern higher, Morag. I don’t want to stumble in the dark. I have to look my best tomorrow, and I can’t fall and become bruised.”
They were in a small cottage in the late Queen Philippa’s secret garden that had at one time been Imanie’s home. Imanie was the old woman who mentored the girls in secret these past few years. Willow and her cousins, Fia and Maira, had been chosen by the queen to join a secret group of strong women called the Followers of the Secret Heart. Morag was naught but a tagalong. But before Imanie passed away, she made Morag a member as well.
“Morag’s right,” said her cousin, Maira. She held her sword in one hand and a lantern in the other. “You shouldn’t be taking things that aren’t yours. I can’t believe you convinced us to be a part of this deceitful act.”
“Fia always said that Willow could convince the king himself to listen to her and act on her suggestions if she so wanted.” Morag made a face.
“It’s my talent,” said Willow proudly. “Imanie said I was good at persuasion and there is nothing wrong with using my skills to bring about certain outcomes.”
“Well, I dinna remember Imanie tellin’ ye that ye could have her jewelry,” Morag complained.
“Imanie has been dead for over a year now,” Willow reminded her. “If I don’t put her things to good use, they’ll only be stolen by bandits sooner or later. I’m actually surprised no one has ransacked the house or garden by now.”
“That’s because no one kens about this secret garden but us,” Morag told her.
“That’s not true,” answered Willow, taking the second lantern from Morag and heading to the door. “Branton knows.”
“Willow’s right,” agreed Maira, still keeping her watch at the door. “Plus, don’t forget some of the castle guards know about it now, and so does Laird Alastair MacPherson.”
“Alastair isna goin’ to steal anythin’. He’s Fia’s husband now.” Morag had seemed lost without her sister for the last year, ever since she married and moved to the Highlands. Willow almost felt sorry for her since she was Scottish, being raised in England. She was also the youngest of the girls. But even with Fia gone, Morag continued to be a pest. Possibly even more so now.
“You are so immature, Morag.” Willow stopped for a moment to put on the ring and bracelet and then pushed past the others out the door.
“I’m no’ immature,” spat Morag, following her out into the garden. It was night, and a full moon shone down, illuminating the grave of Imanie. The large wooden cross they’d constructed in her honor marked the spot. A dark shadow from the head marker covered the ground behind the grave while the moon bathed the cross in an eerie glow.
Alastair had buried the old woman after she dropped dead from a bad heart last year. The girls all missed their mentor tremendously. Without her, they were the last of the members of the Followers of the Secret Heart. Or at l
east, they didn’t know of any more members since Imanie kept that a secret.
“I’m the same age as ye, Willow. I’m seven and ten years of age now,” Morag reminded her.
“I’m closer to eight and ten than you are, and I still say you are immature.” Willow felt as if sometimes Morag was only there to irritate her and to cause trouble.
“Stop it,” said Maira, scanning the grounds, always watching for intruders. She gripped the sword her father had given her, ready to use it if need be. Her father, Rowen, was a strong warrior and, at one time, a pirate. Maira was a small girl with blond hair, but her courage and her rebellious attitude made her seem larger than life. “We need to hurry up and get back to the castle before Lord Beaufort realizes we’re gone.”
“Too late,” came a voice from the gate of the secret garden. Branton, the earl’s page who was hoping to become a squire, rode into the garden atop a horse. “The earl sent me to fetch you.”
“He kens we left?” asked Morag.
“You told him,” Willow accused the boy.
“Of course, the earl knows, and I didn’t tell him,” Branton answered with a puff of air from his mouth. “Everyone knows that you three sneak off here whenever you can. Who could miss three noisy girls leaving in the middle of the night?”
“It’s not the middle of the night,” Maira corrected him. “The sun set only a few hours ago, so stop exaggerating, Branton.”
“All right, so it isn’t,” agreed the boy. “But it is dark and cold and looks like it might even snow. The earl sent me to protect you three.” Branton sat tall atop the horse, running his hand over the hilt of his new sword.
“Protect us?” asked Maira, handing her lantern to Morag and pushing her sword into the sheath attached to her back. “You honestly think you can protect us better than I can?”
“Of course, I can. I’m a man.” Branton’s smirk in the moonlight wasn’t missed by any of the girls.
Maira reached up and, in one motion, pulled Branton off his horse and to the ground. He landed flat on his back with the air knocked from his lungs. Before he could even reach for his sword, the tip of Maira’s dagger rested under his chin. “Think again,” she told him. “You’re only a boy of five and ten years of age. That’s a far cry from a man.”
“That wasn’t funny, Maira!” Branton jumped up, pushing her away. His face became red with embarrassment. “What are you girls doing in the garden this late anyway?”
“Willow’s stealin’ Imanie’s jewelry,” Morag blurted out, never knowing when to keep her mouth shut.
“I’m not stealing anything. I’m . . . borrowing it,” said Willow, holding the ring up in the moonlight to admire it. “After all, the earl has his annual festival starting tomorrow. The men – I mean, the guests will be arriving first thing in the morning. I want to look exquisite this year so I am sure to be noticed.”
“Who could miss ye?” mumbled Morag under her breath.
“Willow, for a girl who says she never wants to marry, you sure do care a lot about making a lasting impression on every knight, duke or earl that visits Rothbury.” Maira shook her head.
“She wants them to bed her,” said Morag, handing Maira one of the lanterns.
“Nay, I don’t!” Willow truly was curious about the acts of lovemaking, but she didn’t want to admit it. Or at least not with Branton standing right there. Plus, if she admitted anything, it would be to Maira, and not to Morag. “After all, we see what happens when someone makes love. Morag, look at your sister. Fia is pregnant from coupling with Alastair. I will never end up with a stomach bigger than my breasts.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Branton, holding a finger in the air. “Lord Beaufort also told me that your father will be here first thing in the morning, Willow.”
Willow’s head snapped around in surprise. “My father is coming to Rothbury?” This was the last thing she wanted to hear. The festival started tomorrow and would continue for an entire sennight with more titled men arriving each day. Willow had planned on meeting and dancing with as many men as she could during that time, receiving as many gifts from them as possible. If her father were here, he wouldn’t let her attend the festival let alone leave her chamber. “I don’t want him here,” she said defiantly.
“Why not?” asked Maira. “Is it because he won’t approve of the way you dress? Or don’t you want him seeing you flirting with all the men?”
“Mayhap, he’s comin’ to Rothbury to send ye to a convent like he threatened to do as soon as ye started noticin’ the laddies.” Morag sounded as if she were trying to hold back a laugh.
“Enough!” spat Willow. “Let’s get back to the castle. The wind is picking up, and I’m cold.” She clutched her cloak to her neck, trying to close out the late October chill.
“No’ yet. We need to pay our respects to Imanie before we leave.” Morag headed over to the gravesite.
“Nay, we don’t.” Willow no longer wanted to stay in the garden now that she had what she had come for. “You only said that because you are feeling guilty again for being the one to kill her, aren’t you, Morag?”
“I didna kill her.” Morag looked up with tears in her eyes. Her hand shot up and covered the heart brooch she wore that symbolized she was one of the Followers of the Secret Heart. She wasn’t chosen by the late queen and therefore had no right to be a member. It was Imanie who gave her the brooch right off her own bodice and let her join the order. However, the old woman had mentioned that the last time she brought someone into the group, there was a death. If she brought anyone into the secret group that was not invited by the queen, this could happen again. It did. Imanie gave Morag the brooch, and then she died.
“Let’s stop at the grave and quickly pay our respects,” suggested Maira. “After all, Imanie was our mentor. We owe her that.”
“If Fia were here, she’d make us all get down on our knees and say a prayer for Imanie,” Morag announced.
“I’m not kneeling on the ground in this gown, and neither am I staying out in the cold any longer than I have to,” retorted Willow. “If we’re going to pay our respects then let’s do it and be on our way.”
The three girls stood with Branton, holding out their lanterns and looking down at the grave of Imanie. Willow’s eyes and mouth dropped open when she thought she saw a shadow pass over the grave. She spun around to look behind her, but there was no one there.
“That’s enough. Let’s go,” she said, hurrying for her horse, anxious to leave. There was a presence here, and she wasn’t sure if it was an intruder or perhaps a ghost. Or, mayhap, it was only her imagination. Either way, it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to get back to the castle because she felt as if someone were watching them.
Chapter 2
“Willow, wake up!” Maira shook Willow by the shoulders. “Your father is already here, and he says he has some exciting news.”
“Aye,” agreed Morag. “He arrived over an hour ago and has been waitin’ for ye to get out of bed before he tells us. Hurry up, I canna wait any longer.”
Willow opened one sleepy eye and sat up and yawned and stretched. “Father is here?” she asked, trying to get her bearings, hoping she had heard them wrong.
“That’s right, I’m here, and I’m no longer willing to wait in the great hall.” Willow’s father, Rook, burst into the room. Maira’s father, Rowen was right behind him. The two men, along with Morag and Fia’s father, Reed, were triplets and also bastards of the late King Edward III. The only way to tell the men apart was by the color of their hair. Rook had hair like a midnight sky. Rowen was blond like the shining sun. And Reed had bright red hair like fire.
“Father! Uncle Rowen!” Willow pulled the blanket up to her chin to hide her night-rail. “What are you doing here? I am not even out of bed yet, and certainly not dressed.”
“I can see that, and it disgusts me that you have become so lazy, Willow.” Rook marched over to the shutter and pulled it open, letting in the sunlight as well as a
cold breeze. “Your mother is not going to like it when I tell her that our only daughter has been acting as if she thinks she’s a queen.”
“Father, close the shutter,” complained Willow, sinking down into the covers. “It’s cold in here.”
“What’s the news?” asked Morag anxiously. “Tell us, Uncle Rook, please. I canna wait any longer.”
“It’s about your sister,” Rowen spoke for him.
“What do ye mean? What about Fia?” Morag clutched the bedpost, and her eyes opened wide. “She isna ill, is she?”
“Nay,” said Rook with a shake of his head. “She –”
“She’s had her baby,” Rowen interrupted before Rook could tell them.
“I was getting to that,” growled Rook, throwing his brother a daggered look.
“She has a bairn!” Morag excitedly jumped up and down. Once again, as far as Willow was concerned, Morag was acting childish.
“Was it a boy or a girl?” asked Maira.
“A girl,” answered Rowen. “They named her Oletha after Alastair’s mother. Reed is boasting that he has not only the first grandchild but also the most girls in the family.”
“Aye. We’ll never hear the end of it,” agreed Rook. “Thank goodness he doesn’t have the most boys, or there’d be no living with him at all.”
“I am so excited,” said Morag. “I canna wait to see Fia and the baby. Can we leave right away?”
“That’s why we’re here,” said Rowen. “We’re going to escort you three to the Highlands, leaving today. Fia requested that you three be there to help her celebrate.”