There Your Heart Will Be Also (4 page)

****

“
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.”

C
ook 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
.
O
f 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
t
o
ne
became
serious
.
“
A
s 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
G
ood
B
ook says so.”

“I disagree.
I'm doing just fine on my own.
If
F
ather w
ere
alive…”

“If ye
r
father was alive
,
he would
'
ve had y
e
married and living in another keep by now.
Y
e
'd probably have ye
r
own
little house full of babes as well.
But ye
r
father ain't alive.
And King
Edward
has
be
en
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
b
ackside of a paddle.
One of these days
,
ye is goin
'
hav
e 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.

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
simpl
y
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 kee
p 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
plant
ed.
S
eeds 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 f
eet angled toward
the noise of their own
volition
.
When
the lists were
reached
, the scene s
hocked
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.
S
hift
ing
in the heavy chain mail
, the lass
pivoted,
and
lost her footing
.

She toppled forward.

A vision of the future assailed
Cedric
's mind
. T
he 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
and
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 b
rown
hair was
lying lo
o
se and fluttering with the breeze
.
S
leeves were rolled up past
his
elbows, showing
well-muscled
and tanned forearms
.
B
reeks 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
g
i
v
ing
herself a push to get off the ground.
B
ut as
Sarra
went to stand
,
a
twisted
ankle gave way and
caus
ed
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 rest
ed against the muscular chest
.

“Fine, h
u
mp
h
.
I doubt it.
Direct me to ye
r
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?”

A
n excellent question
,
w
here 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 dropp
ing
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
.
C
all 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
.

W
ho was this man
with the winsome smile and the gentle hands
?