The Scotsman in front of Cedric wasn’t prepared for the reaction to his words. The man’s feet dangled while Cedric held him by the scruff of the neck and shook him. “Ye will apologize. This is a gentlewoman, worthy of honor, and respect. Ye will refrain from speaking in such a manner in her presence again. In fact I don’t think I want ye to speak in her hearing at all, do ye understand?”
Amos struggled to apologize for his comment but it wouldn’t go past his closed off throat.
While he tried to croak out an apology, Sarra wiggled through the thickening crowd and laid a hand on Cedric’s arm. “Cedric, he cannot apologize if he cannot breathe.”
Cedric let go of the man and he fell to a crumpled heap on the floor. The offending Scot peered up at Sarra with moisture in his eyes. Sarra bent down and handed him a cup of water.
“Sorry, I didna realize what I was sayin’.”
“Apology accepted. Let’s get you to the table so you may partake of the refreshments an English castle has provided.”
Cedric watched as the man realized he had tried to bite the hand which fed him. “Again, I am sorry, lass.” Amos hung his head in shame and walked to a seat at the table.
Cedric continued to fume over what Amos had said. How dare the man insinuate the mistress of the keep was a tainted woman? The mistress was to be his future wife. Although he’d yet to meet the woman himself, the woman the whole of England described as a shrew and a witch, he wouldn’t allow others to go around defaming her. Had Sarra not been in attendance, Cedric might have beat Amos on the spot. Large hands hidden under the table transformed into fists, rubbing one hand over the other, itching to hit something.
The men ate like hogs, throwing their scraps on the floor. They cursed and swore, not seeming to understand respect of another’s household.
Cedric sat at the head of the table, enjoying the feel of the great chair. He could get used to this position. But looking around at his fellow Scotsmen some things became painfully obvious. The men paid little attention to the fact a lady was in the room, which made Cedric even angrier. No wonder the world considered them barbarians. This would have to change.
****
Before the men were served, Sir Henry had found Sarra in the kitchen and relayed the events from the field. The explanation about the raiders taking the sheep then Cedric stepping into the group to try to stop them had set Sarra’s pulse to pumping at double its normal rhythm. It had taken all her willpower to keep from fussing at the Scot and his dim-witted actions. Did he want to get himself killed?
Sarra continued to listen attentively as Sir Henry explained the battle and the extra Scotsmen who had arrived to help Cedric rescue the keep. Sarra hadn’t known what to say. At least knowing these things had eased her concern over inviting the group within the keep’s walls.
Now as Sarra watched the group in action, she didn’t respond. Temper barely held in check, she couldn’t decide who she was the most irritated with, Cedric with his way of defending her or the unnamed Scotsman for judging her, the mistress, without even knowing her.
The fruit which had fallen to the floor needed to be taken to the kitchen and cleaned. However, it was too late. Duncan and some of the other men had already picked up the fruit, placed it on the tray, and laid it on the table. Immediately, the men began partaking of what they obviously considered a feast.
Cedric disappeared from her view. Sarra searched the room, seeking his towering form and dark hair, finally spotting him at the head of the massive table. He had taken up a position of authority, letting the others know he was in charge here and they would do well to respect his position in the household.
Sarra reviewed her feelings. How did she fell about Cedric’s display of power? For now, it kept the Scots under control. But this was not a permanent situation, and surely Cedric must realize this. Even though her feelings for Cedric were growing, she wasn’t quite ready to hand over control of her land and her life to him.
And what had the Scot meant when he said, Cedric was marrying an English harlot for land? Sarra stared at the offending man. He rubbed his throat as he reached for the food Cook had spread out on the table. The others seemed to be oblivious to the confrontation which had taken place just moments before.
Sarra had heard in Scottish families, such fights were quite common. But witnessing one firsthand had left her feeling a little unsure of herself.
As Sarra served ale, the men began to jest with one another, telling battle stories and stories of conquest. Sarra watched as the men threw their scraps around them. A mess was quickly developing in the eating hall. Sighing, she realized she would be helping the servants clean after the meal was over.
Duncan, who appeared to be the leader of the group, was almost as tall as Cedric and as broad. He was a handsome man with green eyes and brown hair. He seemed to be a fair fellow. When the Scots took to storytelling, Duncan began the first story. “There was a time when I was young I did a mite bit of traveling. I’ve seen France, and Italy, and of course, Greece. Aye, the women I saw. Most of them foreign women were scantly clad and they thought a man in a kilt was the most attractive thing they’d ever seen. So of course I felt the need to accommodate them. I think I had me about six in one…”
The story was interrupted when Cedric slammed his hand on the table, stood up and shouted, “Enough!”
“Now, Cedric, there is no reason to get surly. I was just talking to the family.”
“Nay, ye are not.”
“Aye, ye mean the serving wench. Well now, after this story she might want to visit me for a spell,” Duncan leaned back in his chair, laughing heartily.
Cedric strode purposefully over to Duncan, grasped him by the front of the tunic and pulled him in real close. In a loud, booming voice Cedric spoke, “Enough! She is not a serving wench. This lass is a… It doesn’t matter what she is. Ye are eating from the fruits of her mistress’ table and ye will instruct your men to become respectful and gain some manners this instant, or I will personally take all of ye to the lists and teach ye some manners myself.”
Sarra bowed her head in embarrassment at Cedric’s manners.
When Cedric was finished speaking, Duncan glanced at her and gave a weary nod. “I didna realize ye was so important, lass. I do apologize and the whole lot of us will straighten up, right lads?”
“Aye,” the crowd said in unison.
Cedric settled back in his chair at the head of the table, appearing satisfied at the response from his countrymen. Finally, a little respect, his body seemed to say. He leaned back and was in the process of getting comfortable. Even though his eyes remained half closed, she could feel the heat of his gaze as she served.
Her hair spilled over into her face as she leaned over to refill cup after cup of ale. She brushed it behind her ear to keep it out of the way. No one said anything other than thanks to her, apparently preferring to ignore a mere maid’s presence as much as possible. After a time, the men became more relaxed and they began exchanging stories.
Again Duncan, being the apparent leader of the group, began the storytelling. “Me sister was just about three when she comes tiptoeing into the room and says, ‘Da, why is the sky blue?’ Well of course me da didna know the answer to such a question, and he told her so. Then she begins to wail and me ma up and says to da, ‘Now, tell the child what she wants to know so we can go back to sleep’. Well, what was da to do? He just told her it was blue because that was the color of her eyes. So the next day, she asks me if I like the green sky and I tell her but the sky taint green and she said, ‘Well of course it is, because the color of yer eyes is green!’”
All the men at the table laughed at the ridiculous nature of the story. Even Sarra found a smile gracing her lips. She had taken up residence on a stool in the corner, trying to stay awake enough to help serve until the men took their leave. If they ever took their leave.
Her head bobbed and she jerked awake. But her eyes were heavy. The men began to laugh again, even more l
oudly, jarring Sarra awake again.
Enough was enough. She was tired. Sarra didn’t speak. Instead grabbing an empty tray from the table, she headed to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, she deposited the tray on a table.
“Done are ye, my lady?”
“Oh, Cook forgive me. I can’t stand a moment more.”
“To bed with ye. We will clean up the mess they make.”
Sarra nodded and ascended the back stairs to her room. The purple silk gown landed in a heap on the floor. The cool sheets of the bed covered her frame as an influx of tears poured down her cheeks.
What was she going to do? She had no doubt she was developing romantic feelings for Cedric. But what did he want? Was he here to claim the land by marrying the mistress? And if so, how could she find out for sure? And if he was only after the land, what would she do about it?
No doubt Sarra would have to find Cedric tomorrow and apologize for her rude behavior and the unexpected departure. She sighed, wiped away tears, and smothered a big yawn. Getting comfortable, sleep overcame her while her mind wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Chapter Eighteen
Now the Scots were alone in the great hall, Cedric pulled Duncan aside for a private conversation. “It is truly great to see ye again.”
Grasping Cedric’s forearm in a type of privately shared greeting, Duncan spoke, “Aye, it is great to see ye as well, my ol’ friend. How long has it been since we tourneyed together?”
“Too long.”
“Aye, it has,” Duncan said. He scratched at his head looked around the room to ensure they were still alone before speaking again. “Cedric, I mean no offense to ye new station in life. But what in the world are ye doing in an English castle thinkin’ on marryin’ an English lass?”
“Duncan, it is a long story and a sad one. And I don’t ache to share these distresses with ye. However, most of them ye already know, and the rest I don’t wish to discuss, if ye don’t mind. But what of ye?”
Duncan shrugged in a manner of avoidance. “As ye say, I have me own distresses I don’t wish to share with ye. I will tell ye my da passed on and Cainneach is now leader of the clan. Don’t get the idea he ran me off. He just gave me free rein to leave if I felt led. And I did.”
“Aye, Duncan I am sorry to hear about yer da. He was a good man. I am sure Cainneach is doin’ a fine job of running yer clan. And yer other personal issues are yer own, but we do need to discuss why ye are here so early. I told Barney to tell ye to wait for my signal.”
Duncan scratched a place between his brows. “I canna get over it. I seriously thought ye were dead. Imagine me surprise when Barney shows up and says he has work for us. I couldn’t hardly believe me ears when the man said it was ye, Cedric MacNeil, who wanted us to steal a flock of sheep and ferry them away to another field so ye could ride in and save the day. Which is what we were comin’ to do. Imagine me astonishment,” Duncan added, shaking his head, “when we arrive and someone else was already doing it for ye. Of course, I didn’t know they weren’t yer friends till I saw ye with yer blade.”
Cedric shrugged. “As ye can see, I’m alive. But I might not have been had ye not shown up.”
“Who were those other raiders?”
“I don’t know. Between the two of us there were none left to question.”
Duncan puffed out his chest, pleased with himself. “Another question, if ye weren’t expectin’ me then how did ye discover them?”
“The noise! They were makin’ so much racket they could have heard them in the King’s court!”
Duncan laughed. “Guess they had a mite too much ale on the gold they received.”
When Cedric’s face took on a fierce scowl, Duncan raised his hands in a defense posture. “Now before ye go and get too upset, maybe we can find a way to put this to yer advantage.”
Cedric snorted under his breath. Duncan was notorious for tormenting people. If he had a plan then Cedric wanted to hear it. How they were going to turn this to Cedric’s advantage was beyond him.
Finally, all the Scots were ready to go outside and settle down for the night. Cedric saw them safely outside the castle walls, and instructed the night watchmen to keep the gate closed unless the Scots needed in before morning. His whole plan had been ruined! But truthfully he had helped stop a real raid. Maybe Duncan was correct and this could work to his favor.
Cedric went back to Megean’s spare room. He undressed quickly and slid naked under the sheets. As he lay staring up at the shadows playing across the ceiling, his mind drifted to Sarra. The way her hair shone in the candle light, the feel of her soft lips. He enjoyed her lack of inhibitions about sharing affections with him in a public setting.
He was infatuated with her. Indeed she was an intoxicating woman to be around.
Cedric was determined to learn more about the faith Sarra spoke of. The way Sarra explained the mistress’ father and his passion for the book in the library, learning about this faith could be the way to the mistress’ heart. If her maid was taking newcomers through the castle and sharing the book, then surely the mistress held even greater feelings in this area.
His thoughts drifted back to Sarra. Cedric had never met another woman like her. Generous and loving, the woman did everything for her mistress. Even the knights loved, respected and protected her. She knew things about God and His laws Cedric had never even heard.
Rolling to his side on the thin, straw-stuffed mattress and placing his arm behind his head, Cedric peered through the cracks in the wall. The wind whistled and howled outside. He needed to stop thinking about Sarra. He wasn’t here to become enamored with a mere maid. He was here to garner his land. He was here to become Lord of Greenbriar. Determination filled him. Tomorrow he would find the mistress and thank her for allowing the Scots inside her home. He would introduce himself and state his business. This had gone on long enough. No more plotting. No more scheming. It was time for the truth.
Cedric rolled over, his eyelids drifting toward his cheeks. As he fell into a deep sleep, thoughts of a young maid ran through his head.
Chapter Nineteen
Sarra awoke to a dark room with a sense of foreboding. Pulling a coverlet around trembling shoulders, she made her way to the window and pulled back the shutters. Rain pelted her face, wetting her thin chemise.
Feet planted, Sarra pushed with all her strength to close the wooden shutter against the howling wind. Once the shutters were closed, she leaned upon the wall and sighed. The rain was bound to drive people to the keep.
Rushing to ready herself, she was dressed and downstairs in record time. The great hall was already full to bursting with people. Ella was busily rushing back and forth from kitchen to great hall with platters of food, blankets, and other essential items.
Her counterpart, Shelly, was just as busy. They needed help. Sarra raced back upstairs and found an old ribbon lying on her desk and wound it tightly around her hair. When she passed the looking glass, Sarra stopped. The clothing spoke of a maid, right? There was no time to do anything but maintain the ruse for now. Part of her hoped to tell Cedric her secret. But with so much activity below, she needed to focus on the people for now.
After heading back downstairs, Sarra went to work. All the villagers with leaky roofs had come. Parents came with flocks of unhappy children. They whined and wailed at being held in one place.
“But Mum, I’m tired of sitting.”
“Jacob, just wait until the rain lets and ye can go out and play.”
“I don’t believe ye. Ye won’t let me play in the mud,” the small boy intoned with arms crossed upon his small chest.
“If ye don’t quit pestering me I might let ye play with the wolves.”
“Humph,” responded the little boy.
Sarra repressed a giggle. In the library was a small box of wooden toys. Heading there now, she found what she sought and brought it back to the great hall. The box was gingerly laid in the middle of the room and Sarra began to pull the small toys out,
placing them on the floor. Slowly but surely, the mass of children moved in their direction. There was a collective sigh of relief from the worn-out mothers.
One child didn’t go to the toys but rather stopped by Sarra’s side and tugged on her skirt. Looking down, Sarra saw the child’s spindly arms were reaching up to her. “Ball?” came the words through the child’s gummy mouth.
“Aye, babe. Alas I have no ball.”
The small head hung low. Sarra scooped the child up into her arms, ready to give her a hug when the doors to the keep blew open. The villagers in the room who had just gotten warm from the fire set into complaining, until they saw the huge mass of flesh which stood in the opening.
“Please come in and shut the door,” one villager rang out.
“Aye. Get in. We were warm until you flung the door back,” said another.
“Not sure if we’re welcome to enter or not. Looking for the mistress.”
Sarra shrunk backwards. What now? Who could be looking for her in such weather? Should she wait until the villagers gave her up or should she announce herself? What to do?
Before Sarra had a chance to do anything, an aged voice said, “I’m the mistress here. How can I help ye?”
The stuttering and stammering from the group of Scots who had slept the night on the nearby hills was a sight to behold. With much trepidation the leader spoke up, “May I and me men shelter inside until the rain slacks?”
“Aye,” said Charism.
The men, about ten in all, entered the keep and closed the door behind them. They found an empty wall on the east side of the room and slid down. Sarra glanced at them briefly. Beckoning Ella and Shelly. she said, “I’ll deal with the Scots. You keep the villagers happy and quiet.”
“Aye, my lady,” they answered in unison.
Sarra didn’t want anyone from the keep getting too close to the Scots and telling them the truth about the mistress. The only way to accomplish such a feat was to take them on herself.
There Your Heart Will Be Also Page 10
