Page 48 of Fearless Heart
“Friar, I cannot wed him.”
Hemm turned a disapproved glance at him. “Why not, lass? Do ye not love Heath?”
She nodded. “I do love him, but—”
“If you love him then why do ye not wish to wed him?”
“I don’t want him to be miserable.”
“You think I’ll be miserable?” He was astounded by her assertion.
“You shall be. I won’t be the cause of your unhappiness.”
A glint shone in his eyes, for he was about to do the unthinkable. “Friar, we consorted and slept together beneath the same covers, akin to what husbands and wives do. Tell her that in God’s eyes we must wed.” Heath felt lowly for speaking of such personal business in front of Hemm, but there was no other way to get her to accept him.
Lillia elbowed his arm and her face flushed with brightness. “Shush, don’t speak of such matters here of all places. Why are you telling him that?”
“If this is true, my lady, then ye are already wed in the eyes of the lord.” Hemm smiled lightly and made the sign of the cross before them. “’Tis just a matter of formality now.”
“Oh God,” her voice pitched.
“Do you wish to speak to God, lass? We can give ye a few moments.” Hemm grinned.
Heath almost laughed at Hemm’s jest. He had to gain her acceptance and thought for a moment. “Lillia Hunter …”
She lowered her gaze and wouldn’t look at him. “Aye, Heath Fraser.”
He raised her chin with the tips of his fingers and forced her up. “You gave your heart to me, did you not? I heard you tell the friar you love me.”
“Aye,” she whispered, and lowered her gaze to her hands. “I gave you my heart long ago when we were but children.”
“If that is so then I’m not giving it back. You’ve given your heart to me and I’m keeping it. You must wed me. We were meant to end here as husband and wife. I’ve known that since the night you kissed me beneath the willows when all the fireflies surrounded us.”
She wiped a tear that trickled over her cheek. “You’re correct in that. Please, Heath, promise me you won’t regret this, even if you never come to love—”
“I won’t regret it.” He clasped her hand and bounded their joined hands with the cloth of his tartan. “You may begin, Friar.”
*****
Their wedding celebration lasted well into the night. By the time he sought his bed, Lillia had been asleep for hours. He decided against waking her. As much as he wanted to consummate their union, he reasoned he’d put her through enough for one day.
When he awakened, he found her gone. It wasn’t like him to sleep late, but he had been one of the last at the table. From the slight pounding of his head, he realized he might’ve imbibed a wee bit much.
Heath sobered quickly when he thought about their conversations. It wasn’t like him to share his view or past with his comrades. But last eve, he’d done more than that. Drink loosened his lips more than he was wont. He flinched when he remembered some of the words.
He ambled to the table and pushed away the trencher of food. His stomach couldn’t withstand a bite. He scowled at Graeme who sat across from him, his wee William on his lap and a grin on his face.
“You look like shit. I suppose marriage doesn’t agree with you?”
“I blame you for this.” Heath never should have let Graeme talk him into drinking the harsh brew gotten from their good comrade, Rohan, who owned the largest mead hall in Dumfries.
Graeme chuckled and set his son on his feet. “It was high time you stopped being a devout arse. Others will serve God, Heath, not you. You were meant for grander things. Brew is good for the soul.”
Brodin groaned from the end of the table. “Och but not for the head.”
Heath added, “And definitely not for the stomach.”
As they sat there in misery, except for Graeme for he’d only raised his cup when they toasted the marriage, he wasn’t partaking since it was his turn to look after his son in the morn. Liam hadn’t taken part in their drinking either because he maintained someone needed to be on watch.