Labor of Love

by Felicia Rogers

  Perplexed, but still grinning in case someone watched their discussion, he said, “I don’t understand. Maybe ye should just tell me what ye want me to do.”

  Her hands placed on her hips, she stared at him. “I want yer plate, and I want ye to sit down.”

  Grant handed her the plate then found a place to rest. He watched her backside sway as she fussed, and muttered under her breath while she filled the plate. A smile remained fixed to her face the entire time. If he didn’t know her, he wouldn’t have realized how furious she actually was.

  Finished piling the plate with food, she brought it to him, and dropped it on his lap. It was a rush to grab it before the contents littered the ground. Certain they weren’t getting any undue attention, she held her skirts aloft and sat in a proper fashion.

  Her lips spread into a grin, her voice dripped with concern. “I didn’t have any idea what ye liked so I gave ye a little bit of everything.”

  “I see that.”

  “Sorry if ye aren’t satisfied with my pickin’ for ye, but ye couldn’t get yer own food, or I would be disgraced.”

  Grant didn’t respond. The only way to repair the damage was to eat every bite she brought him, even the things he didn’t necessarily care for.

  “Aren’t ye goin’ to eat, lass?”

  “I ate while ye were workin’.”

  “Ah.” Grant ate, silently hoping he wouldn’t burst.

  When the men finished, the women cleared the dishes, and the tables were shoved aside. Musicians pulled out their instruments and began to play. There were stringed instruments, lutes, recorders and many other musical devices. Couples stepped out onto the flat ground and danced. Grant pulled Sorcha to her feet.

  He took her hands in his, walked her out into the other couples, and began to fling her around to the lively tune. Her eyes rolled back in her head like she was dizzy, and Grant wondered if she was going to swoon.

  “Come, lass, and sit down. I will get ye a drink. Ye look parched.”

  Sorcha gladly accepted the offer of respite. She plopped to the grass as gracefully as her body would allow, removed her borrowed shoes, and rubbed the soles of her aching feet.

  When Grant returned, he was surprised to see Sorcha was missing. Searching the crowd, his pulse quickened, then he heard it. A voice floated through the air with an enchanted quality. When he found the source, she stood amongst the musicians with an instrument in her hand. The bow placed to the neck of the instrument and pulled along its taut strings. As she played words flowed from her lips, it was a song of lost love and tragedy. His gut twisted with remorse as he felt the pain she had suffered in her young life.

  Just when Grant thought his heart would burst with sorrow, the tune changed and became more upbeat. Sorcha stopped singing and played in time with the other musicians, adding foot stomping. The couples that graced the ground jumped and danced to the happy jig.

  Sorcha was full of surprises. She sang like an angel, played like a learned musician, and used a bow and arrow like a seasoned warrior.

  The flow of the music ran through her body and she swayed. A couple more tunes were played with the group then she bounded off the stage, and ran toward him. His arms opened and he caught her, lifting her off the ground in an embrace. Not wishing to hurt her, he set her down easy. Excitement flushed her face.

  It took her a moment to gain her balance. Standing firm, Grant couldn’t stop staring. Before he thought about the consequences, he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. Her eyes widened as shock registered. Then her lips lowered at the corners as if a sudden sadness overcame her.

  Instead of talking, she sat upon the ground and picked at the grass. Grant followed suit. Together they watched the other couples as they moved to the music.

  As the sun set, Maude found them. “Ye have the cabin at yer disposal anytime ye wish.”

  Grant nodded. Sorcha opened her mouth, as if she was ready to protest, but he squeezed her to his side. Maybe she wanted to tell Maude they weren’t married, but he didn’t know if that was a good idea. Too many people having the facts could increase their danger.

  Reluctant, Sorcha allowed him to pull her along. Sorcha entered the cabin first. He followed close behind closing the door. When she turned to face him, his greatest wish was the ability to read minds.

  ****

  Sorcha was terrified. She had kissed him in a bold manner and acted forward toward him in other ways. Perhaps he thought he had a right to take liberties.

  The last two times they’d shared a space he’d been gentlemanly. But what about now? What was she going to do?

  Grant stood at the door like he was expecting something. She stood in front of the bed and waited. Perhaps she should speak but all she could think about was what she wanted most, which was to strip to her underclothes, crawl in between the covers, and sleep forever.

  The hope would be to wake in a different world, one where she met Grant as one untouched. A place where there was no Festus or Lorcan. A place where they were safe.

  However as long as Grant stared at her, she was going to be unable to do anything. Not undress, not crawl into bed, and not sleep.

  “Grant, could ye please refrain from leering?”

  “Is that what I’m doin’?”

  “Aye, it is.”

  “Well, I apologize, but I can’t help but stare at ye. Ye never cease to amaze me.”

  “Amaze ye?”

  “Aye. Every time I think I have ye figured out, ye pull out another surprise.”

  “What surprise?”

  “The stringed instrument, lass. And the singing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Where did ye learn to play?”

  Sorcha sat on the bed, her wobbly legs refusing to hold her up any longer. “My Da taught me.”

  “What happened to yer da?”

  Grant moved to a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down. While she struggled with an answer, he was transfixed by the flames. The story of her talent was really simple. However, she hated speaking of it because it held such finality. “He died when I was little.”

  “Sorcha?” he turned and looked at her.

  Lifting her head, she said, “Aye?”

  “Would ye like to rest?”

  “Aye, I would,” she said.

  “I will step out and allow ye time to prepare yeself.” Nary another word was spoken as he left.

  Instant regret filled her over letting him go. Part of her would have loved to share her losses with him in greater detail. For some reason she had a feeling Grant would understand. But she didn’t call out to him and urge him to return.

  Instead she hurried and readied herself for bed. Crawling beneath the cool covers, she wished Maude and the others had been correct. If she were married to Grant Cameron, then maybe she wouldn’t be so chilled.

  Chapter Thirty

  Out from his hiding place in the thick foliage, Festus peeked and tried to discern where Sorcha had gone. Perhaps she was in the cabin, in a nice soft bed all snug and cozy next to that Scottish man of hers. Aggravation soared with the waiting. His girl waited on him at home. Who knew how long her Pa would wait before giving her and the heifer to someone else?

  Reaching his hand behind him, he scratched his rear. No, he wasn’t happy.

  When Festus first found the tracks leading to the cabin, he wasn’t sure he had found them. There were many people about and it was hard to spot who he was looking for. Then he heard Sorcha singing. He remembered her singing in the barn the first night they had become acquainted.

  Festus searched for her with his eyes, and when he confirmed his superior hearing skills were correct, he ran back to Nigel’s closest man. The man was snuggled against a tree with his sword held high, whining to himself. All Festus could hear was some mumbling about wanting his ma. He slapped the boy a couple of times to get him roused enough to move, and sent him out to the next man on the line. Then he rushed back to his own hiding spot.

  He looked arou
nd for Sorcha trying to spot her again. Hopefully Nigel would move fast enough and they wouldn’t lose her another time.

  ****

  Fear played across Sorcha’s face. At times, she acted almost loving toward him, but something held her back. Why would an unmarried woman, who was pregnant, fear having intimate relations with a man? Was it because he was Samuel’s brother? Or was there another reason? He had wanted to hold her through the night, but when he decided that was impossible, he backed off and gave her space.

  Grant waited outside the cabin on the wooden porch. Several husbands walked by and clicked their tongues. They obviously believed he had been ousted by his young, pregnant wife. If only that was the case.

  He ran an agitated hand through his corded hair, releasing it and breathing a deep sigh.

  After a few more moments, he reentered the cabin. Searching, he found Sorcha lying under the covers, peaceful and content, a soft snore escaped her lips.

  Although the cabin was dry and cozy, and offered a bed for Sorcha, it lacked everywhere else. The one room hut hardly afforded him a place to turn around. Since he led everyone at the celebration to believe they were married, he couldn’t leave the cabin without facing censure and ridicule. He was stuck. Certain if Sorcha had wanted his company in her bed she wouldn’t have let him leave, he guessed the only recourse left for the evening was a stool.

  Braced against the wall, Grant sat. Flames of orange and red danced in the fireplace. Sparks flew upward toward the outside. Hands behind his head, he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. It had been an interesting day. Drowsy, he closed his eyes and wondered what tomorrow might bring.

  ****

  Knock, knock, knock…

  Sorcha peeled her eyelids open. She looked around the darkened cabin and saw nothing that might have caused her to wake. Her heavy lids fluttered shut once more. Just as sleep settled upon her, she was picked up by the shoulders and shaken.

  “Sorcha, ye must get up,” urged a rough whisper.

  “What, what is it?”

  “Nigel and his men have found us. We must leave.”

  She jumped from the bed trying to locate her shoes. Grant thrust them toward her. “Ye must hurry, lass.”

  Maude made a crack with the door and slipped through. “Pa is stalling them but I don’t know for how long.”

  Grant answered, “Thank ye.”

  Maude fumbled around rubbing her hands together. “I don’t know what ye gone and done to have a mob of armed men after ye, and I hope I don’t regret helpin’ ye, but I am here to do it anyways.”

  A rug was lifted from the floor and a concealed rope was pulled. A patch of the floor rose, revealing a set of wooden stairs buried beneath the house. “My man put this in a number of years ago just in case we ever needed to hide. He is verra creative, ye know. Anyways, just follow the tunnel until ye come out at the other end. It will bring ye to a small river. From there follow the flow of the water, and ye will come out close to Dublin.”

  Sorcha cried and gave Maude a hug. Tears fell from Maude’s eyes as she pushed Sorcha away. “Go on girl, and save yerself. Godspeed.”

  “I will never forget ye and yer kindness. I will pray for ye every day.”

  “Oh, lass, I will do the same for ye and yer little family.”

  Sorcha sent one backward glance at Maude as Grant descended into the tenebrous earth. She followed directly behind him, watching as the small light from his one candle lit their way.

  ****

  The Irish farmer scratched his head and rubbed his chin. “Now whatda ye say they look like? I had so many couples and families here the other day I canna rightly recollect if I seen them or not.”

  Nigel observed Festus as he fidgeted. He was speaking privately to Lorcan. “Why are we waitin’? I done told ye they are in the cabin! I seen that Grant fellow go in and I haven’t seen ‘em come out. I don’t need this old man to tell me whether they was here.”

  “Festus, Nigel has to be proper about these things. He canna just barge in without reason.”

  “Humph, I seen ’im do it when it suited his purpose. He busted in on that preacher, he did. And he sure didn’t have a reason.”

  Nigel cringed as Festus grew louder with every spoken word. The old man in front of him acted like he was hard of hearing, but Nigel saw him wince at the thought of a preacher being barged in upon. Nigel redirected his focus back to the old man.

  “Sir, it is imperative we find the pregnant lass and her companion. Ye see, she is my relative and her traveling companion is a lecher. He has taken her against her will and I must retrieve her and bring him to justice.”

  Nigel thought he might have struck a chord with the man until Festus opened his mouth.

  “What is he talking about, Pa? I thought we were burning her at the stake for those religious offenses.”

  The smile remained plastered on Nigel’s face, as he imagined how many ways he could torture Festus. Boiling tar to sear the flesh, a swim in the privy, a leech infested bath —

  His musings were interrupted by the old man. “Like I said, I am not quite sure they are about these parts, but ye are welcome to look for them. Take yer time.”

  “Much obliged,” said Nigel, urging his men forward.

  They combed the grounds. Nigel was eager to search the cabin but attempted to down play the desire. Finally, at last, he gave the order.

  Festus ran to the door, arriving first. He flung it wide. With sword raised, he stepped over the threshold. Nigel waited patiently. He was sure this was his time, until he heard a fierce cry, then he knew — they had escaped again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Grant carried a small wax candle. The dirt walls absorbed the light, reflecting their shadows in an eerie glow. Finally when she thought she could take it no more, the tunnel opened up. All the way through, she thought about all they had lost — the two horses and their supplies. It was sacrificed so she could sleep in a soft bed for not even a full night. What would they do now? She would never be able to walk the whole way to Dublin.

  They reached the end and the light seeped through, her despair bordered on anguish. She heard something. It was the sound of a horse whinnying. Grant held her back, perhaps he thought Nigel and the others might be waiting.

  Out first, he beckoned her forward. Outside the tunnel waited their two horses, their gear, and the musician from the night before.

  “I found yer goods and thought ye might need them,” he paused looking a tad embarrassed. “What ye did for me yesterday by playin’ and allowin’ me a chance to dance with me girl, well, I just had to repay ye.”

  Sorcha would have hugged him and thanked him, but Grant pulled her along. “Thank ye, lad.”

  “Ye are welcome. Ye best be on yer way. It won’t take them long to discover ye are no longer nearby.”

  Grant placed Sorcha on her own horse and rode off. She followed close behind. They rode continuously, only stopping to relieve themselves, then remounting and heading on.

  Just when it seemed the long journey would never end, they arrived in Dublin. They were filthy, their clothes tattered, their hair limp with oil and dirt. Sorcha would have given much for a hot bath and a decent night’s rest. But after the last time she begged for a brief respite, and they had been discovered, she refused to ask to stop until they were safely away, no matter how nasty she might become.

  Grant must have felt the same way, for he stopped when they came to a tavern. He pulled her inside and found a boat captain, booking immediate passage to Scotland. He asked about smaller ports, perhaps landing at a place belonging to an individual rather than the large town of Ayr. The captain understood. He directed them to the dock in one hour.

  An hour didn’t leave a lot of time to dally. Sorcha thought they would head straight to the docks and wait to depart, but she was mistaken. Grant rode through the middle of town. He dismounted at a hitching post, tied up his horse, then reached for Sorcha’s mount and did the s
ame.

  He helped her dismount. His hands remained on her waist for longer than necessary. Her pulse quickened at his touch.

  “Sorcha?” he began in a ragged voice.

  “Aye?” she answered breathlessly.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “Aye,” she responded. She wanted to kiss him, melding her body to his, she wanted to —

  “I want to take ye shopping and buy ye a new gown. Then I want ye to have a nice hot bath before we leave Ireland.”

  At the mention of clean clothes and a bath all other thoughts flew away. She embraced him quickly, aware of her own nastiness and jumped back as if she had been scalded. “Oh, Grant that is wonderful. Where do we begin?”

  He laughed and pointed in the direction of the shop windows. She walked by and gawked. She had never seen such beautiful items in all her life.

  ****

  Grant watched the range of emotions that flitted across Sorcha’s face. She seemed in awe of her choices, and he wondered if she had ever shopped before.

  “Sorcha?”

  “Aye,” she said, as her hand stroked the pane glass window in front of her.

  “Have ye ever been in a store before?”

  “Nay. I have never been in a store. My ma sent for bolts of fabric and she made all my clothes.” Sorcha looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “I have only been in one other town, on one other occasion, and that was while I waited in jail for my burnin’.”

  Grant felt sorrow for the lass at all she had missed. How could someone seem so world wise yet be this innocent? “Well lass, I am happy I can share in yer first real experience, but we are really goin’ to have to be quick to make it to the dock on time.”

  He expected protest, or moaning and groaning, of how a thing like this couldn’t be rushed. Instead she pointed her finger to the store directly in front of her. “I would like to see that one.”

  They walked inside the shop, the little brass bell ringing above them as they opened the door, alerting the store they had a customer. Before Sorcha made it to the dress on display, a well-made up woman stepped in front of her, barring the way.