What had she done today? Where were these feelings stirring from? And where the hell was she now?
“Larissa!”
Panicked that Silus might have found her, his steps quickened. Turning furniture on end, he sped through the house, unsure where she might have gone.
If she was, in fact, missing, he prayed she disobeyed him and went to her parents’. At least she would be mildly safe there with Jonas gone.
It filled his stomach with acid to imagine another man touching her. He should have never waited to address The Council about their union. She should have been his first priority.
His gaze fell on the attic door. It was the only room he hadn’t checked, but why would she be up there? There was nothing but dusty boxes and old relics on the third floor.
The knob opened with a click and the scent of her hair clung to the air. The steps creaked underfoot as he crept through the dark, his eyes shifting and scanning the shadows for danger.
The unfurnished attic smelled of old books and dry air. Stacks of old ledgers cluttered the corners. There was no reason for Larissa to visit such a space, yet her scent grew stronger.
“Larissa, answer me.”
A pristine swatch of white caught his eye. He walked toward the back of the house, mindful of the low peaks and dormer windows that cramped the space. His heart unclenched at the sight of her sleeping on the floor.
Then he frowned. Why on God’s green Earth was she sleeping on a dusty attic floor?
He ducked and pushed a large chest out of the way. Her body was tucked in front of the tiny window, draped in silver moonlight, and appearing all too childlike and innocent.
He brushed a finger down her cheek to wake her, but she hardly stirred. She must be exhausted.
Glancing out the window, he noted the view. She had probably come up here to watch when The Council members dispersed. He should not have left her alone so long, but his long absence from the farm made it impossible to get away. Everyone had questions and concerns for him to hear and no one gave him a moment to himself.
Her pale face rested on her arms curled about the sill. His head cocked at the sight of her swollen eyes. Had she been crying?
All other concerns dissolved as he scooped her off the floor and into his arms. She mumbled something he couldn’t make out and snuggled close to his chest, and something tumbled from her lap, landing on the floor with a thump.
Eleazar frowned at the spray of papers spilled around his shoes. He’d return tomorrow to tidy it. For now, he needed to see to his mate.
Holding Larissa’s sleeping form firmly in his arms, he carefully carried her down the winding stairwell and back to his bedroom. When he reached his room, he pulled back the quilt and lowered her to the bed. Her face pressed against the pillow, and she sighed.
Gently lifting her shoulders, he untied the back of her apron, then removed the pins from her hair. Ebony waves rippled like a river around her face, covering the pillows and framing her beauty.
Sliding her arms from her dress, he carefully stripped her, leaving her only in a chemise, and as he folded her clothing, something crumpled in the front pocket. Fishing his fingers inside, he withdrew a creased wedge of paper and recognized his handwriting.
He unfolded the pages and bitter regret consumed him the moment he realized what he held. Moving toward the window and the silver moonlight, he read over the familiar contract, trying to imagine what Larissa felt when she found it.
* * *
It’s on this third Tuesday of September, that I, Bishop Eleazar King, hereby consent to the marriage of Brother Silus Hostetler, son of Damascus Hostetler, descendant of Nicodemus Rocke, to Larissa Hartzler, daughter of Jonas Hartzler, descendant of Ezekiel Hartzler. It’s in good standing that the female is in agreement with the union and has made no protests known to The Council. It’s for such reason that I accept said betrothal as legal in light of The Council’s divided vote, finding the union favorable seven to two, hereby overriding the call for unanimous agreement among The Elders.
* * *
The bride is of forty-eight years. The parents of the bride have testified to being of firm belief that Larissa Hartzler’s virtue remains intact and that she is healthy, with no reason to assume she shall face difficulty conceiving. It’s placed upon the groom, Silus Hostetler, to fortify the link of the Hartzler and Hostetler lines.
* * *
Silus Hostetler has testified to a full understanding that his bride of choice is by no means his true called mate. If, by the will of God, Silus is someday called to his true mate, his marriage to Larissa Hartzler shall be considered null and void and the female’s transgressions shall be forgiven, if not overlooked. Any children conceived under the protection of this contract within the bounds of this union will be considered legitimate from here on.