There Your Heart Will Be Also

by Felicia Rogers

  A look of hurt crossed his features and she almost changed her mind. Almost. Instead of worrying about his feelings, Sarra walked over to a Scot named Boyd and held up a hand.

  Boyd was a fair-haired man with blue eyes and an enigmatic smile. At the dinner table a couple of nights before, she’d noticed he was a forthright man. He’d flirted shamelessly with Ella and Shelly. But now she couldn’t seem to read his thoughts.

  As Sarra wondered what his expression could mean, he reached forward and assisted her into his saddle. Her legs lay on the side of the beast as Boyd’s arms snaked around her midsection to grab the reins. As the animal lurched forward, Sarra settled against his chest in preparation for the ride.

  From under her lashes, she chanced a glance at Cedric. An angry frown darkened his brow. His hands were clenched into fists around the reins and his knuckles were white with the strain.

  Clicking his tongue, he forced his horse to move ahead of the group.

  So, he apparently didn’t wish to see her in another’s arms. And yet he’d had no trouble telling her of his plan to wed the mistress of the castle. What was she to think of that?

  With Cedric’s back to her, Sarra noticed the rigidity of his muscles. Before they reached the keep, Cedric would be saddle sore for sure. He needed to relax and allow the horse to carry him. What did he have to be tense about, anyway? She was the one in danger of being taken by a madman again. Was it possible Cedric cared about what happened to her? They had shared some tender moments over the past few weeks. But he’d given all those special moments up to gain his land. Hadn’t he?

  Thinking about the danger she could still be in brought her mind around to the man responsible for such worries. Wilt Hotham. Who would have believed he could have changed into such a desperate creature? Out of all the men who had pursued her land, Wilt’s brother had been one she had considered giving into. At least by looks alone.

  George Hotham had shown up at her keep under great distress, or so it had appeared. Within walking distance of the keep, his wagon had become stuck in the mire. He’d sent a servant to request assistance and Sarra had sent a few men from the keep to help him. Once the wagon was free, George had come to the keep to thank the mistress of Greenbriar. Thinking it was nothing more than gratitude being sent her way, Sarra had been unprepared for the events that occurred. Instead of pretending to be the maid, Sarra had actually allowed herself to be the mistress.

  At first she’d been impressed by George. His hair had hung down to his shoulders in blond curly locks. His blue eyes twinkled like the bluest lake water. Long lashes framed his eyes. He wore frilly court clothing and pointed shoes, which Sarra found difficult not to laugh at. The man was completely out of place inside her walls.

  No sooner had Sarra introduced herself than George had immediately whipped out a piece of parchment from the King. He made his declaration known before Sarra could utter one word. He’d informed her straight away he was there to claim Greenbriar. His exact words had been, “Don’t try to get out of it for it will not work. This land is mine and I intend to claim it.”

  The whole time he’d spoken, Sarra had noticed how the blue of his eyes darkened with resentment. Sarra had been aghast at his behavior. Had her men not just helped him? How dare he come into her home in such a manner?

  With as much grace as Sarra had been able to muster, she’d ordered George Hotham to leave her keep and never to return. Naturally, he refused. Stubborn lad that he was, George had some of his men stand before him with swords ready as if to fight his way to ownership. But George’s men were no match for Sarra’s and eventually the young man had left in disgrace.

  Although gone, he didn’t stay away for long. Remembering the day of George’s return, Sarra shuddered. George had attempted to come back to the keep but this time Sarra was ready. Charism appeared and told him she was the true mistress and Sarra had been fooling him. He’d taken one look at Charism and ran back to his horse, jumped astride and headed back to London. Sarra hadn’t been aware of what happened to George after his departure.

  Such a sorry state to be in when wealth was your treasure. Somewhere in the book of Matthew, Sarra remembered reading, Do not ye treasure to you treasures in earth, where rust and moth destroyeth, and where thieves delve out and steal…

  If only she could have spoken with George. If only Wilt would have listened to reason. But it was too late now. George was gone. And Wilt had made his choice. All Sarra could do now was pray Wilt would give up on revenge and go back to London before it was too late.

  With the slow, rhythmic movement of the horse, Sarra’s eyes began to drift downward. The sun would soon rise again. The call of a tub full of hot water sitting in front of a roaring fire was all Sarra could think about as they clopped along. Boyd’s heartbeat soothed Sarra and soon she was fast asleep.

  ****

  Cedric’s head throbbed and his muscles ached with every step his horse took. If he could relax upon the beast most of his pain would dissipate. But how could he relax? Sarra was in Boyd’s arms. The lass was so comfortable she’d fallen asleep!

  Gritting his teeth, Cedric kept going. The temptation to stop his horse, dismount, and take Sarra into his arms and onto his own mount was great. But what would such actions accomplish?

  Running a hand through his hair, Cedric glanced at the sides of the road. Just because her captor had been alone at the church didn’t mean he had no friends in the woods waiting on him. They must be vigilant until Sarra was safe inside the keep walls.

  The mistress, Charism, would expect no less of him as the new laird. It was his duty to protect his people. This was what he was doing, of course. His desire to protect the lass came from duty. She was to be his subject. There was nothing more to it.

  But as the horse came into view of the keep and Cedric moved his head to take a glance at the sleeping beauty in Boyd’s arms, he knew there was more to it. Try as he might to fool himself, the feelings for Sarra remained.

  Cedric slowed his mount to pull abreast Boyd and the lass, studying her. Long black hair lay across her face, hiding expressions from his view. If only he could reach forward and move it aside. He wanted to look upon her face. To stare into her green eyes and feel the warmth in their depths.

  The smell of roses wafted through the air and his heart felt empty. This was not the way it was to be. The land. That was the fulfillment he sought. Not the love of a maid.

  Furrowing his brow, Cedric kicked his heels into the sides of his mount. The horse leapt forward, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. No one complained as Cedric rushed forward to the keep’s gates.

  “We have returned. Open.”

  The gatekeeper took one look at Cedric and opened the gates to him. Charism and Sir Henry appeared at his side before he could turn around and dismount.

  “Where is she?” the knight demanded.

  “She is coming.”

  “Is she well?” asked a worried Charism.

  “Aye.”

  “And her assailant? Was he caught?”

  Cedric shook his head.

  “What an outrage! I allowed you to retrieve the mis—maid because I thought you would be competent enough to bring back the captor as well. Now you return without him. Where is he?”

  Cedric’s own anger was barely restrained as he replied, “Duncan and the others pursued him but he got away.”

  Sir Henry looked as though he was on the verge of saying more, but Sarra entered the keep walls and he apparently changed his mind. Charism and Sir Henry rushed to Sarra’s side. The knight lifted the lass down to the ground.

  Tears of joy ran down Charism’s cheeks as she hugged Sarra.“Are ye all right lass?”

  “Aye. Cedric rescued me,” said Sarra with a look from under lowered lashes.

  “Fat lot of good it did to rescue you and leave the captor at large. Now you are still in danger. I’m telling you, mis—maid from now on we will be shutting the gate. Anyone who wishes to enter will have to be approved.�
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  Sarra gathered her skirts in knotted hands as she stumbled toward the keep’s doors. Ella and Shelly emerged, hugging her fiercely. Sarra leaned back and patted them affectionately. As a smile lit Sarra’s face they offered their arms to her in support.

  Cedric watched Sarra take her leave and turned his attention to Charism, wondering at the way she seemed to look on Sarra as more than a maid. He’d never witnessed such warmth between classes. Perhaps he would ask Charism about her treatment of the maid at a later date.

  As Duncan came up from behind him, Cedric became aware of Sir Henry sending looks of antipathy his way, hostility apparent in the way his eyes narrowed in Cedric’s direction.

  Taking this to mean he wasn’t welcome to the reunion, Cedric gathered his friends about him and went to the stables. Duncan, Boyd, and Filib were quiet as they walked together. Once they arrived, Cedric dismissed them and walked Windchaser inside.

  After stabling his mount, Cedric went to his new lodgings. The new landlady was full of information. The village rumor mills had been working while Cedric had been gone and she had much to share. He learned all about Sarra’s captor. Wilt Hotham, brother to spurned George Hotham.

  “The mistress wouldn’t marry him. Told him to get out, she did. People say he went back to London and hung himself on a pole or threw himself in the river. Who knows? But point is he lost it all. Greenbriar was the man’s only hope of keepin’ up his lifestyle, they say. Tell me why does a man do it? Why is fancy clothing and riotous living all a man has to look forward to?”

  Before Cedric could find a voice to answer, the landlady continued, “Don’t matter none. The fact is Wilt is trying to avenge his brother. They said ye found him at a church. Guess he thought if he married Sarra then he could get his wish. Nothing but a fool, I tell ye.”

  The woman began to cook all the while shaking her head. Cedric could sympathize with George. Had he fallen into the trap Charism had set? Had he visited the keep and been offered the food, been scared by the head in the garderobe? Something must have happened to send him back to London without claiming the land.

  And Wilt? How could he take the wrong woman? What good would it do him to marry Sarra, the maid? Maybe the man thought Charism would give up the land to get back the maid. Charism did seem mighty fond of the young lass.

  Cedric stared into the blazing fire. The flames shot upward, licking at the wood, mesmerizing him. Who was in danger from Wilt now? Would Wilt realize he took the wrong person and come back for the true mistress? If Charism was taken and harmed before the wedding, would Cedric lose his chance to gain his land? The bigger question was did he care?

  Chapter Thirty

  “What happened?”

  Sarra tried to answer Charism’s questions as quickly as they were asked, but the terror of the day before was clouding her mind.

  “Does he know?”

  “Does who know what?”

  “Does Cedric know ye are the real mistress?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Sarra, ye have to tell him.”

  “Nay.”

  “What? Sarra this has gone on long enough. Ye are in danger. If ye tell Cedric the truth then ye can marry him and he will protect ye.”

  Sarra laughed. “Do you honestly think I want to marry Cedric?”

  “Aye.”

  She knitted her brows. “How can you say that?”

  “I seen how ye look at him. And I may be old but I’m no fool. Ye have love written all over ye.”

  “Love? Surely you jest. I feel nothing but…but…”

  “Love. Stop denyin’ it. This is the first man I’ve ever seen ye look at for more than two seconds. Why, ye swooned when he asked to marry me.”

  “Shock, nothing more.”

  “Oh!” Charism bristled.

  “Not because someone would want to marry you, Charism.”

  “Humph.”

  “But because Cedric proposed in the way he did. For awhile I thought maybe he knew my true identity and he thought I would confess once he proposed but now I don’t think so. I don’t think he suspects I’m the real mistress. Even with the feelings he has for me, the Scot is willing to marry you just to get the land. Don’t you see? The man doesn’t want me. No one ever wants me. It is all about the land. Nothing more.”

  Charism’s hand rested on her forearm. “I know ye are hurt. But Cedric needs a chance. He did go after ye and bring ye back.”

  “Aye, he did indeed. But I believe it was done to satisfy his future bride.”

  “But—“

  “Did you not ask him to go after me?”

  “I don’t rightly remember. But whether I did or not, I believe he would have gone anyway. My request would only have given him a more legitimate excuse.”

  “Let it go, Charism. He is going to marry you.”

  “Well then we have to stop him!” she said with a horrified grin.

  “Why would we do such a thing?”

  “I am not marryin’ the lad, Sarra. I’ve done many a thing for ye since ye mother and father passed on. But one thing I willna do is marry Cedric. Ye have but one week left to figure out what ye are going to do.”

  With those words Charism left. Sarra walked to her window and peered out. Now what was she going to do?

  ****

  When the crazed men jumped from the bushes earlier, Wilt had run, leaving the stuttering priest behind. He’d hidden in the trees and watched as robed men poured from the stone church and lifted swords.

  After the short skirmish ended and explanations were given, the Scots looked for him. However, it didn’t take long for them to give up their search. When they left the church Wilt snuck back to the side of the building. Around and around he looked. The muscles in his face twitched. Where was Sarra?

  When he couldn’t find her, Wilt sent out a whistle. Within a few moments he retrieved his horse and headed back toward Greenbriar. Along the way he stopped and hunkered down into a ditch.

  Waiting by the road, Wilt whittled a stick. When he was a child he’d been able to create beautiful things with a knife and wood, but now nothing came to him. Angry, he threw the stick upon the ground and stood.

  Stretching out his tired muscles, he heard the snort of horses. Ducking down behind a bush, Wilt arched his neck above the foliage in time to see a group of four horses. Scots. Four of them. What luck! It was the very same men who’d jumped him before he could carry out his plan to marry Sarra.

  Each horse carried one overly large kilted man. One horse carried a man and a woman. Sarra. So the lass had survived. Good.

  Wilt allowed the group to get ahead of him. Racing back to his own waiting mount, he threw himself astride and followed behind at a great distance. He had no doubt of their destination. Greenbriar keep. The group had no reason to go anywhere else. Now all Wilt had to do was bide his time and wait to take Sarra again. This time nothing would get in his way.

  ****

  The days before the wedding passed in a complete blur. Sarra walked around the keep in a daze. She’d yet to tell Cedric how she felt or about her true identity. Because of her silence, Cedric and Charism had continued to plan their wedding.

  Although they weren’t in Scotland, and many of the Scottish wedding traditions wouldn’t be followed, the couple agreed to start the wedding celebration a day early. The day before the wedding would be filled with feasting, drinking, and lots of dancing.

  Today was the day of the pre-wedding festivities. A secret message had circulated amongst the villagers, warning them not to speak the mistress’ name. Everyone was to be called by their name, no titles. This, of course, was bound to make the people curious. As the villagers entered into the hall, they glanced around.

  Sarra and Charism had made certain nothing was out of place. The great table was pushed to the wall and piled high with delicacies. Wooden chairs lined the walls to give dancers a place to rest their weary feet.

  A glance around the room revealed to Sarra that all t
he villagers had come out in their finest clothes for the event. Since there was nothing of consequence, only a party to enjoy, everything but the event was forgotten.

  As Sarra studied the crowd, she noticed some of the villagers. Angus and a friend strode in wearing their finest clothes. Not meaning to eavesdrop, she couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

  “Well, I guess ye cannot be expecting to find a lass for yer boy in this heap of bodies can ye?”

  “Well I was thinking along those lines, Angus. My son is a fine man and he needs a fine woman.”

  “I believe yer boy is hung up too much on hisself.”

  “Not my boy. He is fine.”

  As Sarra studied the room she saw the boy they spoke of. Said boy had dressed in his finest breeks, which just so happened to be smeared with mud. His shirt contained rips which had no doubt been repaired multiple times by his ma. His dark brown hair held a greasy cast, which probably hadn’t been washed. But according to his father, he was the best the village had to offer.

  Sarra hid her smile behind a goblet as Angus mumbled something about Gertrude’s prospects looking grim.

  Not wishing to be rude, Sarra moved away from the two men and came closer to Megean. She sat in a dark corner and sipped at her ale.

  Sarra sat down beside her and asked, “How are you Megean?”

  “Ah, mis—Sarra, I’m well.”

  “You appear distracted.”

  The woman fidgeted and twisted her hands.

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Ah, I don’t need to be ruinin’ the festivities for ye.”

  “Nay, please. Maybe I can help.”

  “Do ye see me children?”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Ah, to be like the young. To dance around without a care in the world. Alas, I wish I was in the same shape. Stewart, me husband, came home. And he is none too happy with me decision to take on a boarder. But his attitude did change a mite when I told him how Cedric had saved ye, I mean the mistress. He had a change of heart, he did. Came into the main room, propped up his feet, made himself at home and said Cedric could stay until the wedding was over, if he so desired.