There Your Heart Will Be Also

by Felicia Rogers

Cedric was losing patience with his hired hand. Barney must have noticed because he rushed ahead with the rest of his explanation.

  “I remembered what ye said about not eatin’ the food, and I asked to use the privy. While I was there, I needed to go. Couldn’t help it. Being scared does that to a fellow. After I breathed real slow a few times, not the best place for it, of course, but I had to catch me breath. Anyway I pulled aside me kilt to relieve myself. But I have this habit of looking in the hole before I, well ye know. One never knows where a spider might make its home. And ye’ll never guess what I seen there.”

  Cedric raised an eyebrow.

  “Well don’t you want to know?”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Well it sure wasn’t no spider! It was a head!”

  “A what?” asked Cedric, squinting his eyes.

  “It was a head. Didn’t have a body. Was just floatin’ around in the first level garderobe. I never seen anything like it.” Cedric went still and stared up at the crystal clear sky as something dawned on him. Since when was a garderobe on the first floor?

  Cedric paced, tapping a finger to his lips. He asked, “Did the lady give you her name?”

  An intense look of concentration knitted Barney’s brows together. “I don’t think so.”

  Cedric pondered the information. “You did well, Barney.”

  Barney reached out his hand as a coin flipped through the air and landed in his palm. “Do ye need me for anything else?”

  “Not yet. Ye may go back and wait with Duncan and the others until I send for ye.”

  “Aye, Laird Cedric.”

  ****

  “Way too much excitement for one day.”

  Sarra clapped her hands in delight. “Charism, you were wonderful!”

  Charism made a low bow, sweeping an arm out in front of her like a maid at a royal ball. “Aye, great fun it was. I dinna think I’ve ever seen a man run quite so fast before.”

  “Nay, neither have I.”

  Cook entered the room shaking his head. The filth-laden clothes had been removed. Clean and spotless was his new attire. No longer were his teeth black, but now shone a pearly white. Before heading back to the kitchen, Cook removed the pig intestines and the weevil-infested bread from the table.

  After Cook’s departure, Charism asked, “Where is James?”

  “I don’t think the lad has come down yet. With his added moaning, I was beginning to wonder if this time he’d injured himself with the banging instruments.”

  “The spookin’ did a real number on the man. Face as pale as a sheet, it was. But the garderobe is what did it to ’im. Never did see a child run like that.”

  “Matthew did an excellent job. We weren’t sure if he could get in the library and have his head in the hole in time or not. One never knows if my ‘suitor’ will need the garderobe. Of course with Cook’s … hmm … usual brand of talents it is almost a foregone conclusion they will need the facilities for something.” As Sarra spoke she was fighting a grin.

  Charism’s tone became serious. “As fun as it was to run off yet another suitor, ye do know eventually ye will have to accept one of the men who are put to ye. Besides all women need a husband. The Good Book says so.”

  “I disagree. I’m doing just fine on my own. If Father were alive…”

  “If yer father was alive, he would’ve had ye married and living in another keep by now. Ye’d probably have yer own little house full of babes as well. But yer father ain’t alive. And King Edward has been more than generous with ye. Why, if he knew what ye was up to, scaring off all the suitors bein’ sent to ye, I bet ye’d be on the backside of a paddle. One of these days, ye is goin’ have to accept the fact a woman has to have a man around to run a keep.”

  Sarra cringed. Charism had been like a mother for as long as she could remember. Although hating to disappoint a friend, there was no way she was marrying some dandy sent by the King. If a man couldn’t win her on his own, he didn’t deserve her.

  Chapter Four

  From his position outside the keep wall, Cedric noticed a caravan of merchants. Staying close to one of the wagons, he slid inside the gates unnoticed. Between what he’d discovered before leaving England and the information Barney had supplied, Cedric thought he knew what was going on.

  It was obvious to anyone who was looking. The lord of the keep had perished unexpectedly. The mistress had taken control of the people and the land. As far as Cedric could tell, she’d done so quite adequately. A woman of such strength and character wouldn’t want just any man to come in and tell her what to do.

  Therefore the Lady of Greenbriar had enacted a plan. It appeared every suitor who visited the keep was run off. The King would’ve done better to simply ask the lass if there was a gent she preferred, rather than forcing one of his patrons upon her. But since the King had not asked, the mistress of the keep had taken it upon herself to keep the jackals away. The plan had been successful. Until now.

  Slipping through the wooden gate with the large crowd, Cedric blended. The decision to trade the kilt for a pair of well-worn breeks appeared sound. His claymore was hidden in a rolled coverlet and held to his side. As Cedric glanced around the keep, the sight gave him pause. Barney was correct. The place was in good working order. The report of hovels and crudely built huts had been nothing more than rumors.

  The grounds were well kept. The soil in the garden was tilled and planted. Seeds were just starting to sprout and there were little furrows of green. The lord’s house sat in the center of the stone walls, sturdy and imposing. Cedric was drawn to the building. It reminded him of happier days in his childhood home. Sighing deeply with regret, he continued to walk forward with the crowd.

  The merchants picked a place in between the village homes, opened the wooden flaps on their wagons, and set up their wares. The villagers came out in droves to see what might be available. Cedric watched as several small girls asked their mothers to purchase ribbons for their hair. The mothers pulled coins out of their pockets, purchased the ribbons, and handed them to their daughters, who bounded off. Little boys gawked at wooden swords dangling from the top of the traveling wagons. Men who had sons were proud to purchase such an item.

  As Cedric watched the people behind the keep walls, he heard the sound of clashing metal. The excitement of swordplay tugged at him, and his feet angled toward the noise of their own volition. When the lists were reached, the scene shocked him. A woman covered in chain mail from head to toe stood in a fighting stance, giving directions to a group of assembled children.

  “You must hold the sword in front of you just so,” the armed woman said. Cedric watched as she proceeded to enact a pose for the students to emulate. Shifting in the heavy chain mail, the lass pivoted, and lost her footing.

  She toppled forward.

  A vision of the future assailed Cedric’s mind. The young lady lay upon the ground, a sword protruding from her breast. The light from her eyes diminishing as she vanished from this world and passed into the next. Unable to move, he watched, afraid to take a breath. The wind laid and the birds no longer chirped. It was if the world was afraid to act. Time stood still.

  ****

  “Just so,” Sarra said, ignoring the sweat currently running in rivulets down her neck and gathering in a pool in the valley of her breasts.

  Without warning, her foot slipped. The ground loomed closer. The flash of her blade was in the way of her final destination. Then suddenly she was no longer headed downward. Her ribs felt ready to pop from a crushing embrace. The helmet was flung aside, making a clanging noise as it hit something hard, yet soft. Her dark waves, now released from their prison, were stroked as someone murmured words she could not understand.

  Sarra reviewed what she knew. First, everything seemed to be attached. And all parts were working properly. There were no warm spots indicating blood. But her ankle did feel quite odd. Mostly what she noticed was an odd scent filling her nostrils. Her nose was buried against a muscular body an
d a musky smell was weaving around her head, leaving her a bit faint.

  With small hands placed firmly on the rescuer’s chest, Sarra pushed. “You're crushing me,” she said, a little breathless.

  “Pardon lass, are ye all right?” the man asked, while placing her on the ground.

  Sarra brushed hair back off her face and stared at him. Blue eyes sparkled and twinkled from a bronzed face. Shoulder length brown hair was lying loose and fluttering with the breeze. Sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, showing well-muscled and tanned forearms. Breeks were stretched taut across firm legs as they rested in a squatting position. A coverlet lay nearby, a sword tip exposed. Gulping deeply, Sarra tried to hide her fear.

  “Aye, I will be fine,” she said, while giving herself a push to get off the ground. But as Sarra went to stand, a twisted ankle gave way and caused another collapse.

  She winced. The handsome stranger bent down and Sarra found herself staring at the top of his head. Without waiting for permission, his arms were placed under her knees. Lifted off the ground, her slight weight rested against the muscular chest.

  “Fine, humph. I doubt it. Direct me to yer quarters, and I shall see ye attended to.”

  Sarra couldn’t think clearly. What was she going to do? What if this man was a spy of the King sent to scout out the keep? Was it safe to reveal her true status as mistress of Greenbriar? What if he worked for any one of the men jilted by Charism in her role as the mistress? Why, she didn’t even know his name! Gnawing a full lip with worry, she continued to fret silently.

  “Well, woman, where do ye belong?”

  An excellent question, where did she belong? Sarra was having trouble thinking in this current position. Finally, she made a decision.

  “Would you please refrain from calling me woman? And how on earth do you expect me to have a coherent thought while I am crushed up against your manly, musky-smelling frame!”

  His arms shifted, almost dropping her.

  She bit her lip. Manly and musky! Had she said that out loud? Why had she been so forthright or transparent about her thoughts to a man she didn’t even know? The fall must have addled her brain as well as twisted her ankle.

  If Sarra was lucky the stranger would save her some embarrassment and not comment on what she said.

  “What name shall I call ye by then, my lady?” asked the stranger, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  She said hesitatingly, “Sarra. Call me Sarra.”

  “Sarra...” he said, rolling his r’s heavily in a Scottish burr.

  Sarra felt her name reverberate through his immense chest. Who would have thought just hearing a name could cause such a flush to the body, such rousing of one’s spirit? Sarra swallowed.

  Who was this man with the winsome smile and the gentle hands?

  Chapter Five

  Cedric cradled the lass. The helmet which was previously crushed to her head was lying against the wall. Taking a good look at the woman named Sarra, he noticed a rosy hue covering her cheeks. She was no doubt embarrassed by her outburst. He, however, was quite pleased.

  If he could have shared his thoughts about her, he would have said she smelled like a field full of the finest Scottish heather and was as beautiful as the moon on a starlit night. He would have said, quite honestly, that the black curly locks of hair gracing her head smelled of lilacs, and her smile could stop an army.

  In truth, the lass’ black hair was matted and sweaty. It clung to her neck and Cedric resisted smoothing it away. She stared at him with green eyes, more beautiful than any emerald he’d ever seen. The corner of her lips shifted upward in the barest hint of a smile. Cedric wondered what it would be like to place his lips upon hers.

  Her sweet voice drifted to him, “Sir, may I ask your name?”

  “Aye.”

  When he didn’t answer Sarra waited, a frown marking her brow. “Well, what is it?”

  “What’s what?”

  “Your name,” Sarra repeated, her fingers tapping out an irritated rhythm upon his chest.

  The lass’ frustration caused Cedric to smile. A petite hand rested over his heart. Could she feel the flutter of its wildly erratic beating?

  As a flurry of emotions displayed across her face, Cedric realized he’d yet to answer the question. He’d meant to answer. But found he’d forgotten the question asked yet again. The beauty of the lass was a distraction he’d not anticipated.

  When Cedric took too long to speak, Sarra said, “Oh, never mind. May I sit up please?”

  “Aye.”

  Cedric placed Sarra down again. He helped her sit up straight in front of him. She looked odd sitting upon the ground, hands folded demurely in her lap, while covered in chain mail and dirt.

  Again she asked, “Sir, what is your name?”

  “Want to know, do ye?” Cedric held back his smile. The game was proving to be quite enjoyable.

  “Aye,” Sarra answered, rolling her eyes. “If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t continue to ask you.”

  “Verra well. My name is Cedric MacNeil.” Good. He felt much better. He’d remembered who he was. Sarra extended her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Cedric MacNeil. I’m, I’m—“

  “Sarrrrra, aye. Ye said that.”

  “Aye. Sarra. Now if you wouldn’t mind helping me off the ground.”

  “I’d be glad to help ye. But I think you need to stay off yer foot.”

  “You do?”

  “Aye. I don’t see any bruisin’, but ye did take a tumble.”

  “I’ll just go home and rest a bit. I’m sure it will be better on the morrow.”

  “Can I help ye home?”

  “Nay. But thank you just the same.”

  Sarra gave him a genuine smile as Cedric stood and helped her to her feet. A grin split his face as he watched Sarra hobble toward the village. He studied the sway of her hips as she moved. They had a habit of swooshing back and forth in a most alluring manner. Aye, this maid Sarra was a fair woman to look upon.

  All things considered Cedric wouldn’t mind being this lass’ husband. But this wasn’t why he was here. He wasn’t here to find just any wench and settle down. No. This land belonged to him. And the only way to stake his claim was to find and marry the mistress. Nothing could be allowed to distract him from the goal. Not even an emerald-eyed beauty.

  ****

  Cedric walked at a leisurely pace through the village, searching for a place to spend the night. It would take time to convince the Lady of Greenbriar he was the best man for Laird of her keep. And he needed a place to stay while doing so.

  Cedric entered a hut with an open door. Maybe it was an inn with a pub attached? Taking a seat in a dark corner, he watched and waited.

  Two elderly men sat at a table, mugs of ale in their hand. Ignoring everyone in the room, they spoke loudly to one another.

  “Used to be back in my day, things were different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, Angus, I tell ye. I think some of us ol’ men should have strayed a bit farther from the village to find a woman.”

  “I don’t think I am gettin’ ye?”

  “If we’d strayed a little farther we might have had more of a variety. As it is, well, Angus, what I mean is, these gels we have around here is just plum ugly, that’s what I mean. Our sons ain’t goin’ have nary a choice when it comes to weddin’. They’ll be gettin’ an ugly lass and that’s that.”

  “Well, I think I should take offense at yer statement, with me having a gel and all. What about me Gertrude?”

  “What about yer daughter, Gertrude? She ‘appens to be one of the ugliest ones!” The old man shouted and guffawed, while striking his thigh.

  “Aye, ye be right. Me wife makes me say those things. I mean she makes me say Gertrude is pretty. She’s all about making the wee lass feel good about herself.”

  “It’s like I says, things is different. Our sons will just have to close their eyes and think of merry ol’ England.”

&n
bsp; Cedric head shook at the conversation. A serving girl brought a tankard of ale to the table. He gave her a nod of thanks and pressed a coin onto the table. She reached for it and stuffed it down the front of her gown.

  Maybe the old men at the other table had some eyesight issues or maybe they just hadn’t noticed the specimen right under their noses. He could see nothing amiss with this lass.

  Cedric took a deep gulp of the tepid brew, still eyeing the girl in front of him. She gave him a big grin and ale spewed from his mouth clear across the rough wood hewn table. The lass had but one tooth in her whole mouth!

  The old men in the room hee-hawed. The nameless one glanced at Angus. “Now ye see what I’m talking about? Ugly!”

  The waitress slammed their refills down in front of them and stalked off to other waiting customers.

  The nameless patron directed his gaze toward the newcomer. “Ye must be new here.”

  “Aye.”

  “Are ye passing through with the merchants or are ye coming to stay for a wee bit?”

  “Ol’ man, ye know it ain’t none of ye business,” replied Angus.

  “Angus, if the lad don’t want to answer me, I reckon he can tell me so. I be accepting of it. Shush and give him time to answer.”

  “I’m hoping to stay a while.”

  “Aye, that’s good. We be needing some more men around here. Most of the single men left when the master died. Ran out to be somebody, ye know? Have ye found ye a place to stay?”

  “Nay. I was hoping to find an inn.”

  “An inn? This ain’t a town, lad. We ain’t got no inn. There is a lady hereabouts has an extra room for the lending though. If yer interested.”

  “Aye. I am.”

  “Just let me finish up here, and I’ll show ye where to go.”

  Cedric lifted the tankard of ale in salute. Not bad for his first day, if he said so himself.

  Chapter Six

  Sarra took a circuitous route back to the keep, the whole time peering over her shoulder, expecting the newcomer to follow. Who was that man? She’d never seen him before. Perhaps he was traveling with the merchants, merely passing through. Whatever the case, her day of training was over. Her twisted ankle throbbed intensely causing her to hobble worse with every step.