“Ye daenae have to make him feel like a stranger,” Torquil said to his wife. Isla said nothing until she watched Stephen get on his horse and ride away.
“Ye cannae trust him. I look at him and I see his faither. He is no different,” she told Torquil, who seemed angry at her. She offered her hand to him and he accepted her help back to his chambers.
She helped him into his bed and gave him his medicine. A few minutes and he knew he was going to nod off from its effect, as it often took a toll on him.
He grabbed Isla’s hand before she could leave. “Ye should give Stephen a chance. He is a good lad,” he said to her.
“I cannae change who I am and what I feel,” she replied to him.
Torquil managed a weak smile. “I love ye.”
“I love ye more,” she said, before planting a kiss on his forehead and pulling the sheets over his body. She left to seek out Logan.
Her maid told her that Logan had gone out into the woods to hunt with friends. Isla said a prayer for the safe return of her son before she went about her routine.
The Grant men always threw themselves into pastimes to run away from the burden of emotions. Logan went out into the woods every single day after the death of his father to hunt. He took out his anger on the animals of the forest. Even his friends who had often accompanied him could see hunting had become a tool for pain and vengeance.
He would hunt relentlessly and would not leave the woods until he had caught something, until he had found an animal to poison with his anger and grief.
Isla was helpless. She wished Naomhan had been there with them. She fought the impulse to write him to return home, just as she knew Logan did. She knew she had to be strong for her son and herself. She had not argued with Logan when he had decided that he was going to write his older brother about their father’s death.
Logan was out with his friends one fateful day, armed with his bow and arrow. They had not caught any game all day. Some joked that Logan had killed all prey in the woods but his ears were not theirs. He ventured alone further into the woods. Though he was only a young adult, he was quite skilled with the bow and arrow, having learnt by tagging along with Naomhan and Stephen when he was much younger.
Alone, he could listen to the sounds of the forest and pick out the location of his prey.
“Ye have to be quiet, nae a sound,” Logan knew Stephen would have told him had he been there also. Stephen was the expert hunter, without the skills of an archer.
“Daenae mind Stephen. He would take an entire day to kill a squirrel,” Naomhan would have said, before pulling back his bow and striking his target dead. Logan idolized his elder brother and found it hard being alone without him. But he knew Naomhan was a brave man, and he sought to be like him, for their mother and their people.
He stopped when he began to hear the squeaks of squirrels ahead. Silently, his bow was loaded with an arrow. He closed one eye just like Naomhan would have, exhaled quietly before releasing his arrow. His grip on the string had been wrong and he staggered as the arrow was airborne. His bow almost struck him in the head as his keen ears picked up another sound to his left; the sound of an angry wind, the sound of an arrow.
Logan screamed as the arrow drove into his left shoulder. Had he not staggered, his temple might not have been so lucky. He turned in the direction of the arrow but there was no one. Bleeding, he ran for his company. There were footsteps closing in quickly behind him. He could not turn around to see the face of his assailant for he feared that it would only slow him down.
He leapt into the midst of his friends when he found them. Then he turned around but there was no one behind him.
“What happened to ye? An arrow. Where did that come from?” They clamored as they saw the blood and arrow in his shoulder.
“The forest shot back at Logan,” one of them still managed a joke as they got on their steeds. They wanted to hurry to the castle but Logan told them to get him to Stephen’s home which wasn’t so far away.
Stephen was asleep when they got to his cottage by the woods. He stayed there more often than his father’s home in the town. His weary eyes had glimmered in alarm when he had seen the arrow sticking out of Logan’s shoulder. He had hurried them in and sat Logan by the fireplace. Logan had to bite down hard on a belt as Stephen had pulled out the arrow and had closed up the wound with a stitch.
Stephen had then thanked his cousin’s friends and had sent them off on their way.
“Did ye see the person that shot ye?” he asked Logan. His usual calm was gone and replaced with anger.
“I daenae,” Logan replied, as he sat back in the chair. “I didnae want to go home lest me mother would have been worried without end.”
“She wouldnae like ye being here. She does nae trust me or like me,” Stephen stated the other part Logan had not thought of. “I ken she is yer mother but she could even think I did it, shot at ye.”
“Ye would never. Mother does nae know ye like I dae. We rode to yer house. There is no way that ye could have gotten home before us,” Logan assured him.
Stephen allowed himself to breathe easy. “Please do well to tell yer ma that when ye return home, but who would want to kill ye? Yer faither just is nae even buried yet.”
Logan shook his head. He was still dazed by the ordeal. He had never known fear like that before. He had come to Stephen’s cottage because he knew that was the only place he could let his fear show without feeling guilty.
He rested a while in Stephen’s cottage before heading back to the castle, where he met his mother in tears. She had heard about the attack from his loose-mouthed friends.
“Why did ye nae come home?” she asked him. His mother had removed his shirt the moment they had been alone and had taken a good look at his wound.
“Ye had me worried, why did ye dae that to me?” she asked him. Logan pulled himself away from his mother’s grip.
“I daenae come because I did nae want to worry ye. I am a man now, Ma. I can protect meself,” he said, beating his chest. Isla would have laughed at his gesture had she not been crying minutes before.
“I wish Naomhan was still here. This wouldnae have happened if he was with ye,” Isla said, before sitting onto her son’s bed. Logan came to kneel in front of her.
“He would want me to protect ye if he was nae around. I will protect ye, Ma,” he promised his mother. Isla kissed her son’s forehead before she got up and bid him a good night. She had not mentioned her suspicion of Stephen to her son because she knew he would have fought her on the matter. It was a cross she was willing to bear alone.
When his mother was out of his room, Logan sat down by his table and pulled out a paper and some ink to write a letter to his brother. He needed his brother to come back home. He would be Laird soon and would fight the Crown, if it meant he would have his older brother by his side.
11
Embleton, England
Naomhan was caught off guard by her question. Those weren’t the words he had expected at all from her. If she believed she was in love with another man, he wondered who it was. Who was the man who owned the heart of the beautiful Theodora Kent? He wondered if it was him, as he knew most men would.
“I fear I might be in love with another man,” she had said, and he had tried to remain as impassive as he could. He did not want to judge her, but then his face had appeared as such.
Her flawless face fell as she saw the look upon his face. He tried to reach for her, to assure her that he had not judged her, but stopped himself. Naomhan knew he could not touch her.
“I do not judge you and I would understand if you choose to say no more,” he said to her. Naomhan had taken charge of confessions in the past as a proxy to Father Damian but with Theodora, it was different. It felt personal, too personal, and made him feel incompetent to help her.
“Please, I need to talk to you. I cannot tell anyone about this. They will not listen, not like you can. After all, you are bound not to speak of the things I tel
l you to anyone.” She searched his face for the truth. Naomhan nodded and she knew she could believe him.
“Then, there is a lot I have to take off my chest,” she said. Naomhan nodded and led her towards the chapel. On his way, he got his shirt and put it on. It could have been his forbidden lust, but he felt her eyes on his body. Perhaps it was just his body reacting to her, he wanted to believe. It was the only way he could feel better about himself.
They sat in the chapel and he tried to keep a reasonable distance as he saw she kept from him also. It was safer that way, for the both of them.
“What is love, Deacon?” she asked him.
“Naomhan,” he corrected her. It felt awkward hearing her refer to him as a deacon. Her face held a familiar frustration, one he knew.
He had once been where she was, wondering to himself what love had really meant. Unconsciously, he had shifted closer to Theodora as he had wanted to answer her question. She had not shifted away. Her blue eyes had held his as though she hung on his every word, even though he had not begun.
It was his duty as a deacon to tell her the truth and help her find clarity in herself, despite himself and despite Colt, who had left her in his care.
“I grew up in a place where love was thought to be like the old tales of magic and mages. It was supposed to be the purest kind of magic done but like most tales we were told, they were only half-truths. They were told to pass messages, to speak deep truths to the old, and keep the young hopeful,” he began. He noticed at that moment that Theodora often put her hands together whenever she was trying to focus.
“And where do you fit in, Deacon—Naomhan?” she asked him, quite curious to hear his tale, what he believed.
“I can tell you that you fall in with the young,” he said with a smile. It was the closest thing to a compliment that he could dare give and yet he hoped she did not see it as such, for she was engaged to his friend.
Theodora had wanted to point out the obvious, that he had not answered her question, but she had been shushed by his reply. She could feel that he had wanted to compliment. He did not want to disrespect his friend who was her betrothed, nor did he want to go against his beliefs.
He thinks I am beautiful, she could see in his eyes. She let his dodge slide. She quickly found that she enjoyed listening to him, the way he spoke, and the wisdom and subtle poetry of his words.
“Love wanes with time and at that time, it beats upon the strength of those it has infected,” he continued.
“Long suffering is something my mother has mentioned to me also. But whatever happens to the spark of fire between two souls—” She stopped herself before she mentioned the ‘butterflies’ fearing she might have sounded silly to him, but his eyes told her otherwise. He knew of what she spoke of.
“Love is supposed to defy all, age, country, lineage, title—” Theodora spoke on with so much passion that she had risen off her seat without her knowledge. It was the smile on Naomhan’s face that stopped her short. She comported herself quickly and sat back in her seat.
“Love does a lot of things, drives men mad even, but love does not deceive. It does not betray. You are engaged to Colt now. He is young and so are you. You both have to be certain of what you feel before you wed. This time is a period of doubt and such thoughts would come to you,” he told her.
“I would not tell you to discard this test—this period of doubt. I would tell you to use it, think hard on it, and be certain that you are making the best decision for you. You are the daughter of a wealthy man and would be expected to wed into nobility, or even royalty, but as you said, love defies all. I would advise that you spend this period meditating because marriage is lifetime commitment. There is no going back from it.” There was a dread in his tone that Theodora caught.
It was a great weight, a great question, which he had no answer for her. The truth was, that if he didn’t have the answers, then she was probably the only one who could answer it herself. That was a burden she wanted to run from.
Even though she had not found the clarity she had sought when she had ridden to the church, she had found an inner peace, a quiet to her questions and doubts. She arose from her seat and thanked him with an extension of her hand. Naomhan shook her hand quickly and their contact ceased as soon as it had happened.
Naomhan could not hold her hand long because his hand trembled whenever she was too close to him.
Theodora could not hold his hand long because her heart stopped whenever he was too close to her.
There were no proper words to use to say good-bye to one another. They just stood there staring at one another, until it became so awkward that they had to laugh at the silence between them.
Their laughter was quelled the moment they both heard the sound of Father Damian’s weak lungs. They seemed to jump away from one another as he walked into the chapel.
“Evening to you, Miss Theodora,” Father Damian said to Theodora with a smile that Naomhan knew all so well. It was a smile that worked to ease tensions and induce calm wherever he went but it always came after he felt someone was doing something bad.
Naomhan wanted to tell the Father that they had been doing nothing wrong but he kept quiet in front of Theodora, who was smiling more than he had come to know as usual. She was flustered.
“I hope Naomhan has helped you with what you sought. Or I might be able to step in,” he offered. Theodora declined politely.
“It is getting rather late, Father. I should head back before my father sends men to bring me home,” she joked, as she headed for her horse.
“It will be a long ride, not one to take on an empty stomach. So what do you say, Miss Theodora, join us for some supper?” he asked her.
“Yes,” Theodora said.
“No, she—” Naomhan answered at the same time.
They both looked to one another, both asking the other inaudibly what would be convenient.
“No, but I promise some other time, Father,” Theodora said finally, with her flustered smile.
She got onto her horse and bid farewell to Father Damian, and the handsome and wise Naomhan who stood behind him. The Father waved while Naomhan’s response was more subtle. He did not need to do much to show his delight at spending the afternoon with her, as she had also with him. She kicked her horse and galloped away.
“She will be back. The both of you are not so different, both souls seeking answers they know all too well, and yet cannot find the confidence to accept,” Father Damian said, as he watched her gallop away. Naomhan heard the Father but said nothing, for he feared he might speak the wrong words.
“I am proud of you, Naomhan. You are as wise and righteous as I had taught you to be. I heard your talk with her. You did the right thing, helping her find clarity in herself,” the Father commended Naomhan but his unspoken words echoed. He knew there was an attraction between the two youthful souls but he trusted both to stay apart. More so, he trusted their circumstances to keep them apart.
Theodora was a young woman who was bound by duty and status to wed someone noble. Naomhan, on the other hand, had so many secrets that kept him from the wiles of falling in love. Father Damian trusted the walls that closed in around every human to keep them apart; guilt to keep them safe from destroying themselves and those around them.
“Come, come, let us have supper,” Father Damian asked Naomhan.
“I shall join you in a moment, Father,” Naomhan answered, as he walked to the fields.
Naomhan did not have supper that night. He worked himself until the crickets were out. Father Damian came out to check on him but understood that he was trying to rid himself of his taboo desires, so he left him to it and went to bed saying a prayer for Naomhan.
Naomhan worked himself harder than he had ever worked himself since he had come to England. When his limbs could move no more, he pushed himself, still hoping it would rid him of the pain in his chest. It did nothing.
He crumbled finally onto his knees and stared up at the stars, stars
he knew saw Theodora at that moment. Save me, he begged them. All he saw was her staring back at him.
As Naomhan lay down on his shirt in the field to sleep that night, he realized something that bothered him. He had thought nothing of his friend Colt.
That night under the stars and moon, Naomhan slept with a heavy heart, torn between what was right and what felt as natural as the air that he breathed—an attraction that might as well have spelt his end.
12
Theodora got home rather late to find her mother preparing to get into a carriage to come after her.
“I was worried. Where did you head off to? Your father and I have been worried. I would have gone to the Sheriff,” Mrs. Kent said, as she pulled her sweaty daughter into a hug. She sniffed the fatigue off her daughter and grimaced.
Under a Highlander's Spell: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 8
