There Your Heart Will Be Also

by Felicia Rogers

  “Stewart even invited Duncan and the others into our home. Fortunately the group declined. I hate to admit it but me tired body couldn’t have been happier they decided to stay away. But I’m glad to have Stewart back home.”

  Megean spotted her husband and waved him over. Once he was settled, Sarra excused herself from the happy couple.

  ****

  Sir Henry and Charism moved around the dance floor switching partners as the bagpipes played. A servant had discovered some bagpipes while cleaning in the library and told Sarra about them.

  Sarra suggested one of the visiting Scotsmen could use them during the wedding ceremony. Duncan willingly volunteered but said he would need some practice before the wedding. So he was playing at the pre-wedding festivities. Duncan swore his playing was rusty, but Charism and Sir Henry floated again and again across the floor anyway. Charism seemed to be pretty spry for an old woman and Sir Henry was out of breath when the dance was finished.

  “I didn’t know you could move like so gracefully my lady,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. He added, “Especially since the famine and the pox got a hold of you.”

  Charism lifted a shy hand and pushed her flying hairs away from her face. “Aye, I can move pretty well. Fortunate for ye the famine didna completely lay me up.”

  Sir Henry and Charism laughed together. They moved to the table and filled up a plate of food before sitting down to enjoy the meal and a brief rest.

  Cook and the other household servants took turns filling the table with the food provided by the villagers. Between their turns, they enjoyed themselves by partaking of the food or dancing.

  Cook grabbed Ella around the waist and took her for a twirl around the floor. She was giggling so hard at the attention she bumped into one of the guests.

  “Oh, pardon me, sir.”

  “Watch where you are going, you twit.”

  Ella glanced at the man with a disgusted look, then shrugged and went on dancing.

  ****

  Wilt had donned an inconspicuous costume of wool breeks and a dark blue shirt. Raiding a nearby hut had provided him with a used wig, and he’d taken special care to make the wig look greasy and unkempt. He had also made sure his body odor was strong. If anyone got too close to him, it was to be hoped they would soon depart.

  His mood was not appropriate for a wedding feast, but the object of his desire twirled in front of him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Sarra. She was dazzling tonight, arriving in a blue silk gown which seemed to be a little too low in the front, but that suited him just fine.

  Her hair had been braided down her back and little strands of pearls and green leaf sprigs had been woven throughout the dark mass. He quite honestly couldn’t wait to take her as a wife. He would let her live until he got tired of her, of course.

  Sarra’s laughter carried to him across the room. Wilt twisted his hands, imagining her throat within them. He must get control of himself. His time had almost come. All he needed to do was get the lass alone and take her away without anyone being the wiser. Once they were married then nothing could change his claim.

  ****

  While Charism was detained by Sir Henry, Cedric and Sarra danced in each other’s arms. They took short breaks to refresh themselves. Cedric wasn’t the only man she danced with. In fact, she had taken the arm of every man in the house at one time or another. Sarra shared a smile with all of them, making Cedric’s ire rise.

  After a few hours of afternoon merrymaking, the parson arrived. Grunting with disapproval at the sight before him, he sought out Sarra. “I see you are honoring the Scottish traditions of a pre-wedding celebration.”

  “Aye, we are. Charism thought it best.”

  The parson nodded. “Now I have you seated and alone, I would like to ask what you plan to do for the ceremony tomorrow?”

  “Alas, Charism and I have not discussed wedding details.” Sarra face flushed.

  “Hmm. My child you know this will never do.”

  Sarra heard the parson’s words as she watched Cedric lift Charism off her feet and sling her around the room in a mock dance. Her face was flushed and exuberant. Cedric set a teetering Charism down and then picked up a small child and did the same.

  The little blonde-headed girl squealed with delight as her dress flared out around her.

  Sarra returned her attention to the parson seated before her. “You know, in the beginning I didn’t want to get married. Not to anyone. I felt threatened by a man in the keep. But now, since I’ve had the opportunity to know certain people…” She grunted and shifted from her discomfort before continuing, “… I am looking forward to being a wife.”

  The parson seemed elated with this information. “Splendid news. When will you tell the lad the truth about your identity?”

  “I will tell him.” But when, she didn’t know.

  While the parson took his leave, Sarra continued to sit and rest. She’d filled her belly full, yet a tankard of ale rested upon the table beside her and a block of cheese was in her hand as she watched Cedric enjoy himself.

  Shelly ran up to her with a sense of urgency. “My lady, my lady, there is—there is a man asking for ye.”

  Sarra frowned. “Very well, who is it?”

  “He didn’t say, must be a villager because he is here for the wedding, and there is one other thing.”

  Shelly’s secretiveness was becoming old. “Shelly, what is it?”

  “Forgive me. But he smells.”

  Sarra watched as Shelly wrinkled her nose. “Smells. How?”

  “Bad.”

  “You are telling me a bad smelling villager wishes to speak with me, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He is in front of the library, waiting in the alcove.”

  “Very well, I will go see him.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  “Shelly, go help with serving the food. I will be fine.”

  Sarra walked to the alcove and sure enough there awaited a smelly man. His odor was so foul she didn’t know if she would be able to get close enough to speak with him. Upon approach a husky voice asked, “Sarra?”

  She walked closer, pinching her nose closed. Why did the voice sound so familiar? Sarra stopped, worry setting her heart to racing.

  “Can you come closer?” came a hoarse whisper.

  “Sir, I will be honest. I would like to come closer but your stench is preventing me.”

  There was a shuffling of movement. “Very well, I will clean up and meet you later.”

  Sarra wrinkled her nose as she watched the figure slip away. What an odd encounter. With a shrug and a shake of her head, she went back to sit on her chair.

  When Cedric finally came to rest, he fell down beside her. “Are ye enjoying yourself, maid Sarra?”

  “Oh, Cedric this was a grand idea. I think Charism and the others are having a wonderful time.”

  Cedric face was swathed in a happy expression. Sarra fidgeted with her gown as curiosity pulled at her. She had asked about Cedric’s family once before, but only in the vaguest of terms and even then, had not received many answers.

  Because of her newly discovered feelings, Sarra wanted to know everything about his life from before. What was driving him to come here and commandeer her land? Why would he marry Charism, a woman by all accounts old enough to be his grandmother, for nothing more than property? Sarra needed to know if there was an underlying reason. Why did he deserve a chance to know her true identity?

  “Cedric, would you mind telling me why you are marrying an English woman at the behest of the English king, instead of marrying a Scottish lass from your own village?”

  Cedric hesitated a little too long with his answer. Sarra got the feeling he didn’t want to answer, so she interrupted his thoughts. “I am sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have asked you such a personal question. I’m glad circumstances led you to me, I mean us. You are the first man I have ever met who has captured my hea—I mean y
ou have captured Charism’s heart,” she said quietly bowing her head in embarrassment.

  The desire to tell him she was falling in love with him was staggering. Oh, to tell him the truth. But not at the risk of being hurt. Tomorrow the stranger would stand before the parson, and the villagers, and marry Charism. When the wedding was over, Sarra would tell him the truth. He was sure to be irate. By then he will have married Charism for naught. What would happen then? Would he become furious and burn down the keep? Would he throw Sarra over his shoulder like a caveman of old and haul her off into the woods until she married him?

  Of course he would leave posthaste and have his marriage to Charism annulled. The King would be on his side, having granted the land to Cedric in the first place. Though the King would be on his side, he would no doubt still be the laughingstock of London.

  Who was she kidding? There was no way Charism would marry Cedric. The woman had clearly told her as much. Sarra was surprised she’d agreed to go ahead with the wedding festivities. She probably believed the celebration would change Sarra’s mind and drive her to tell her secret.

  Over the rim of Sarra’s cup she peered at the Scotsmen. Even if the wedding went on, all those thoughts about Cedric would never come to pass. He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known. Perhaps the truth was the best option. If she told him now then he would… what? Would he still leave Greenbriar in anger? Would he ever be able to trust her again? Either way it went she could lose someone whom she was coming to respect, and love.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The festivities for the day were over. Sarra had retired to her room. There would be no worrying about tomorrow. That was the solution. There were enough worries for today, and tomorrow would take care of itself. This was fast becoming her favorite phrase.

  Moving around her room humming to herself, Sarra realized how much about the day she had enjoyed. It had been perfect. As she had danced around the main hall in Cedric’s arms, she’d felt completely safe. What would tomorrow be like?

  This intrusive thought ultimately led back to the wedding and she frowned. The goal from moments before was fast forgotten as she gnawed at her lip. Maybe the activities for tomorrow couldn’t be completely erased. They seemed determined to invade her thoughts no matter what her goal.

  Sarra dressed for bed and snuggled under the covers. Perhaps when she closed her eyes she would be able to forget. Beneath the silence, she heard a shuffling. The noise sounded as if someone was moving around in her room.

  When Sarra sat up and glanced around, she saw nothing. Goose bumps tickled her flesh as breath hit the back of her neck, then a hand clamped over her mouth. She started to scream and yell but a voice whispered, “I’m back.”

  Wilt Hotham. Her heart stuttered then picked up a maddening pace, the blood pounding in her ears.

  As Sarra struggled trying to get away, Wilt held to her all the more. He leaned in close, his hot, rancid breath hitting her ear. “Do not struggle, Sarra. It will all be over soon. We will be married.”

  The moonlight filtered through the small slit in the shutter, highlighting Wilt’s eyes. They were large and unfocused, and appeared to glitter black in the night. A body stench like the smell of a hundred privies wafted up to Sarra, making her eyes water. The hair on his head stood on end like it had been electrified.

  His appearance was that of a crazed madman.

  “I’m going to remove my hand and you are going to be perfectly quiet. Do you understand?”

  Sarra nodded in agreement. But when Wilt’s hand left her face, she screamed. Never noticing the fist until it connected with her face, Sarra’s eyes watered and her vision blurred. With a groan, she fell back against the bed. Then the world went dark.

  When Sarra awoke, she wasn’t on a soft mattress of down feathers, nor was she warm or comfortable. No mass of servants huddled about her looking to her well being. She lay on a cold, wooden floor.

  Placing a hand underneath herself, Sarra attempted to push up, but her head felt like it was weighted down and she dropped back to the floor with a thud.

  After a few moments, she opened her eyes and peered around the room. It appeared she was in a small cabin. The stone comprising the walls had deep gaps, allowing a cold wind to filter through. The fireplace was dead, with nothing but ashes from a long-ago fire settled there. She heard no sounds of snoring or breathing other than her own. As she continued to listen and look, Sarra heard a tiny scurrying sound, probably indicating the presence of rats.

  With her hands resting in front of her body, she was startled by the brush of something furry. A glance down revealed she’d been right about her companions. Indeed, a rat the size of a cat eyed her hands like they were a feast.

  Ignoring the pain in her head, Sarra sat up and scooted into the corner. There had to be a weapon of some kind close by. A broom, perhaps?

  Her eyes finally adjusted to the light, but a glance around the cabin revealed nothing she could use. As the furry rodent scurried closer, she swore she saw a delighted gleam in its little black eyes. The pest made sounds as it edged ever closer. Sarra’s only hope was the tiny creature wasn’t calling the family to dinner.

  Think, Sarra, think.

  There had to be something she could do to protect herself. Looking about more thoroughly, she realized just how abandoned the cabin truly was. The bed had caved in on itself and lay on the floor in two equal-sized pieces. The blankets, which had once graced the bed were tattered and contained so many holes one touch would cause the material to fall apart. The table which might have once housed a family at meal time was nothing more than a tabletop littering the floor. All the legs had been removed and perhaps burned for extra firewood. Nothing else graced the room save a few blades of grass poking their way up through the floorboards.

  The door! Of course. Sarra would run out of the cabin and away from the animal which had come to devour her.

  But where was Wilt? Why had he brought her here and then left? Despair threatened to overwhelm her. Why had she not told Cedric the truth? Then today would have been her wedding day. Today she would have walked down the aisle in matrimony. Perhaps in time, Cedric could have come to love her. Perhaps in time, everything wouldn’t have been about the land.

  But it was too late. Was she to die here in this cabin, alone?

  As the creature came closer and closer, Sarra huddled down in the corner and pulled the thin chemise tightly around her ankles, trying to protect herself from bites. The rat’s whiskers rubbed the tender skin and Sarra jumped and yelled out.

  At her squeal, the rat retreated a few feet. Had she scared the animal? Was it possible to yell loudly and flail her arms and scare the animal away until she could escape this prison?

  Standing up and raising her arms high above her head, Sarra screamed like a banshee. So busy was she in running away the rat, she didn’t hear the creak of the opening door.

  “Well, my wife, welcome to your new home.”

  Startled, Sarra spun on her heel. Wilt’s bulk filled the doorway, holding an armload of wood. A huge smile covered his face. He walked forward and placed the wood in the fireplace. With a piece of flint a spark was created. After several minutes, a flame ignited and the new wood took light.

  Sarra moved away from Wilt. He was completely different. Instead of the frilly clothes of a nobleman covered in dirt and grime, now he dressed like a commoner. He wore the clothes of a farmer—breeks and a tunic free of dirt. Even his face was scrubbed clean and fresh. The beard which had graced his face, scraggly and intimidating, had been washed and trimmed.

  Sarra’s mind focused on one word above everything else and she said, “Wife?”

  Wilt’s smile, shrugged, and replied, “Of course it’s not official yet. But it will be. As soon as the priest arrives, we will take our vows. We will only live here until you understand there are no other options.”

  Sarra didn’t like the sound of this. She had to get away. She would not marry this lunatic, now or ever. Sitting ba
ck down in the corner and placing her cold hands out to accept the warmth, she wondered how close Cedric was to finding her.

  ****

  As dawn approached, a slow drizzle began. Cedric rose from his bed. Walking into the landlady’s kitchen, he enjoyed an early breakfast with her family. They were subdued this morning. Even the kids didn’t seem willing to talk. Cedric guessed they felt awkward having their future laird dine with them.

  After eating, Cedric went to his room to prepare himself for the ceremony. He requested a bath, and one was promptly set up for him. The wooden tub was a tad small, but he pulled his knees up to his chest and got in anyway.

  The clean, hot water left him feeling refreshed. After bathing and washing his hair, he got out and dressed, tying his hair back with a strip of leather. Next he donned his best tunic and his plaid. He made sure his sporran was around his waist, and the ring he would use to wed the mistress was safely tucked inside.

  He took a final glance at himself in the looking glass, and then sat down on the bed to wait until it was time to go to the chapel.

  ****

  Sir Henry paced. “Where could she be? This is not like her.”

  “Aye. I’m afraid something is wrong.”

  “Charism, what will we do?”

  “I think we should tell the lad the truth. Tell him I’m not the mistress. Tell him Sarra has gone missin’.”

  “Has she gone missing?”

  “She must have! Sarra wouldn’t leave me to marry the man she loves.”

  “Loves?”

  “Aye. She loves him. She just ain’t sayin’ it because she doesn’t want him to pick the land over her. Which by intendin’ on marryin’ me is exactly what he’s doin’, but she loves him. Now if we could just figure out where the lass has gotten herself off to, then we could get them together and stop this farce of a marriage.”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Nay. Perhaps we will find something in her rooms to tell us where she’s gone.”