“Did ye send him to kill me? Speak the truth, yer life might well depend on it,” Naomhan warned him. His hands shook from the weight of the blade.
“I did and I am sorry. I wanted to be Laird. It made me faither bitter all his days before he passed. He should have been the Laird. It was me birthright as much as it was yers,” Stephen dared to raise his voice when he saw the lack of conviction in his eyes. He knew Naomhan was not going to kill him.
“There is the real traitor,” Isla shouted from her seat.
The elder stepped up close to the ring, with Theodora behind him, looking at Naomhan. Everyone wanted to know his next course of action. Stephen had surrendered but it was dependent on Naomhan if he was going to spare Stephen’s life.
“Would ye accept his surrender?” The elder asked him. Naomhan looked to Theodora. She nodded her head and Naomhan understood her. He turned back to Stephen.
“Nay,” he said. Stephen opened his eyes, defiant of Naomhan’s words. Naomhan was not a killer—he wished he was still right about that one thing.
Naomhan turned the sword and jammed the butt hard against Stephen’s temple, knocking him out cold. Theodora jumped over the rope and came to help Naomhan up off Stephen’s unconscious body.
“Everyone kens the truth now. I say we send word to the Queen, for me brother is innocent,” Logan declared and everyone cheered in response. Theodora had to force her way through a crowd of happy and repentant people to get Naomhan back into the castle. She was by his side until his wounds were treated.
“Ye scared me,” Theodora told him with a smile on her face. Naomhan smiled and cupped her face in his hands, reveling in her beautiful smile.
“I promised ye, did I nae?” he asked her, and she nodded her affirmation. “This is what I want every time, every day, for the rest of our lives, ye smiling at me,” he told her.
Theodora looked at the man she had travelled from England with and she felt love as she had never felt before for him. He was her lover, the man who owned her heart, her champion, and her protector.
“Ye have taught me true strength and true love, which is why I ask ye once more if ye would marry me,” he asked her. Theodora turned her face away from him, trying to bat away the tears that threatened her eyes. He pulled her back to look at him.
“The last time I asked ye, I wasnae a free man and yet, ye said aye. Now, I am a free man and might soon become a Laird. Would ye still be me bride?” he asked her. Theodora wanted to give him her answer but she feared that she would cry if she opened her mouth to speak, so she slapped his bare chest and Naomhan knew her answer. He pulled her down onto himself and kissed her.
Naomhan came down to the council chamber that night with Theodora as his help. All the elders of the clan were gathered, as well as Logan and his mother, who wore a proud smile on her face. Everyone smiled but no one spoke as he came to take his seat, as did Theodora next to him. Naomhan and Theodora looked about, at the people at the table, expecting someone to speak but no one did.
“What is goin’ on?” Naomhan asked, when he could endure no more. They all burst into laughter before Logan spoke.
“They were waitin’ for the Laird to speak,” Logan said, as he got up to his feet and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I called this council meetin’ because I have become quite tired of bein’ a Laird. It was a beautiful experience but I wish to pass it on to me successor,” Logan joked.
“Naomhan is yer older brother,” Isla reminded him. She was in a jovial mood as everyone was.
“We at the table speak for the clan when we say that Naomhan, me brother, deserves the title Laird,” Logan announced. Applause followed his words. Naomhan thanked them all.
“What happens to Stephen?” he asked them. He was apologetic about the question even though it quelled the jolly mood of the council.
“I ken what ye are thinkin’ but he is out of yer hands. Ye cannae save him. He is the Queen’s responsibility now. He is in a prison as we speak,” Isla told him.
“Ye have nae given yer people an answer,” Theodora reminded him. She nudged him out of his sober mood. She got up to her feet when Naomhan also wanted to, helping him.
“I accept the title of Laird,” he said, and the applause followed again. He waited for it to run its course before he spoke again.
“This woman standin’ by me side shall be me lady, the Lady Grant of Grant,” he said, and it took great resolve for Theodora not to raise herself on her toes to kiss his mouth. They just held hands in front of everyone.
“I shall let ye show yer appreciation when we leave here,” Naomhan whispered in her ears, knowing the signs on her face whenever she wanted him.
“I have so much gratitude to give. The question is if ye can handle it, me Laird,” she whispered back to him, drawing a daring smile from him.
Two weeks later, there was a feast to celebrate the return of the new Grant of Grant, their Laird. The hanging of Stephen some days ago did nothing to dampen the mood of the people. They came out in numbers for the celebration at the castle.
Theodora was dressed in a beautiful gown with petals sewn to the fabric. She wanted the color green but the Scots were quite superstitious about the color, saying it was associated with the fairies. So she went with cream.
“Ye look like a Scottish Lady. It makes me wonder what ye would look like on our weddin’ day,” he complimented her.
“Ye daenae look terrible,” she said, looking away quickly from Naomhan’s frown.
Naomhan was dressed in a red kilt beneath a white shirt, and long white socks, with the clan badge on his chest. To Theodora, he looked handsome.
“Ye are the only one that can speak to me that way,” Naomhan told her, as he waited for her hair to be finished so they could head out together.
“As it should be. I should be the only one that can speak to ye in such a manner,” she said and hugged him from behind. He pulled her hand and kissed it before they headed down the stairs for the feast outside.
“I have a surprise waitin’ for ye outside,” Naomhan told her, as they came to the door. A man became animate from his prior straight stare and opened the door for them.
“What is—?” Theodora’s words were not out of her mouth completely before she saw the surprise that Naomhan had spoken of. Seated at one of the long tables meant for she and Naomhan, sat her parents.
Bruce and Penelope Kent got to their feet to embrace their daughter as she ran into their arms. She hugged her parents as hard as they hugged her back. She had missed them so much. When she finally pulled away, she could see her mother close to tears.
“We were so worried about you. Do not scare us like that ever again,” Mr. Kent said, before pulling his daughter into a hug again. He let go of Theodora and left her to her mother when Naomhan approached them.
“Good day to you both. I am sorry for the trouble and—” Naomhan started before he was cut off. For some reason, he felt quite timid facing Theodora’s parents.
“I should be quite mad at you but I hear you are a ruler in these parts, a Lord?” Mr. Kent said.
“A Laird,” Theodora corrected her father.
Bruce scolded her with his eyes before turning back to Naomhan, who he was surprised to see on one knee, his head bowed. A lot of eyes fell on them to see the Scot kneel before an Englishman.
“I wish to ask for your permission to take your daughter as my bride. I know you must hold a grudge against me for taking your daughter away from you and the life you have built for her. I only ask that you forgive me for that. I love your daughter more than I thought I was capable of loving another. She is the love of my life. As her parents, I ask your permission,” Naomhan asked of Mr. and Mrs. Kent.
“We forgive you, if it is forgiveness that you seek. We trained our daughter well enough to know that she would not leave home if she did not want to,” Mrs. Kent told Naomhan. Naomhan nodded his thanks before turning his eyes to her husband.
“If I say no, what would you
do?” Mr. Kent asked Naomhan.
“If I must speak the truth, I will take her away again,” Naomhan said. There was a moment of silence between both men before Mr. Kent burst into laughter.
“I like him,” Mr. Kent said to his wife and daughter, before turning back to Naomhan. “You have our blessings,” he told Naomhan.
“And mine also,” they heard a voice behind them. Naomhan got up to his feet and pulled Father Damian into a hug. He had also come after receiving Naomhan’s invitation.
Naomhan thanked their guests for coming before he took his lady to their seat at the head of the table.
Epilogue
Naomhan and Theodora stood before Father Damian with their hands tied together with a piece of cloth, as was the Scottish tradition. Both knew it was as binding as the rings which they would use later. Given their courtship, they had the engagement and wedding ceremonies on the same day.
The couple looked back at their friends and families who had come to share the day of their union with them. Everyone was happy for them. Logan and Emily stood as their best man and matron of honor respectively. Emily’s smile seemed the biggest of everyone there.
Naomhan and Theodora looked back at one another. It seemed they had been like that for a long while, tied together to one another, each not being able to exist without the other. They had faced death more times than one person should face, as well as odds that would have seemed beyond them, but they had survived by saving one another.
“Ye are beautiful,” Naomhan mouthed to Theodora.
“I love ye,” Theodora mouthed back at him.
The days to the wedding, they had talked extensively about the wedding. They were disinterested in it but had to go through the ceremony as it was law. Their plan was to disappear the moment they were not needed anymore and start their plans to get two girls for Theodora and two boys for Naomhan. Four children, they had agreed on, to avoid conflict.
“Shall you take your vows?” Father Damian asked them. Naomhan went first and then Theodora went afterwards, both speaking the words of their hearts to one another, words that they had told each other every single day.
They turned around, raised their bound hands to the crowd, who cheered for the new couple; the Laird and Lady. Soon afterwards, their hands were untied and rings were exchanged. They were officially husband and bride.
They danced and entertained the guests until night came and the festivities went wilder with wine and dancing. Theodora stole Naomhan away into the castle.
“I want to be a proper bride to ye,” Theodora told him, as she led him by the hand up the stairs.
“And I want to be a proper husband to ye,” he said, as he swept her off her feet, into his arms, and carried her up the stairs to their chambers.
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Highlander’s Sinful Desire
About the Book
He saw the fire in her eyes and wished more than anything to play with it…
Raised among the nuns of Saint Martha’s Nunnery, Lady Rowena Cran is determined to dedicate her life to God. When her estranged father announces her impending nuptials to a distasteful man of means and power, she enlists the help of her fellow nuns and flees under the cover of night.
Taran Robertson, Laird of Frenich, is certain that a nun has no place among the English soldiers that ambush him while on his way to Scotland. Especially not one as beautiful as Rowena...
Tantalizing and unstoppable, the passion that brews between them is tainted not only by secrets but also by the manhunt launched to find them both. With Rowena’s intended looking to retrieve her and Taran promised to another, all hope seems lost.
But then, something else thought lost comes to light: a ring with a very familiar crest…
1
Rowena pushed a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she cut one more cabbage from its stalk. She had gone to the abbey garden to gather herbs and found Sister Prudence straining to harvest cabbages. Rowena said, “The garden is ripening early this autumn.”
Sister Prudence had paused. “Aye, and I have not had time to harvest it all.”
Rowena had taken the knife from her, saying, “Let me help you, Sister.”
“Thank ye, lass. Me strength fails me.” Sister Prudence held a sack open for Rowena.
“It’s my pleasure,” Rowena said, as she caressed Sister Prudence on her shoulder. “Please, save your strength for the cooking! You’re the best cook of all of us!”
Rowena moved to the next cabbage plant, sliced off the head and tossed it into the sack. She said, “And the way you are able to make enough for us and feed the poor folks. It’s impressive.”
Sister Prudence shrugged as if it was nothing. She said, “Times have been hard. Since the last wave of pestilence, so many people are goin’ hungry. Never have we had so many askin’ for food these days.”
Rowena nodded. “It seems to be a problem everywhere. Even my father . . . who, as you know, is used to getting what he wants . . . has complained that he cannot find enough laborers to work his fields. So many have died. And those who survived have been moving to the cities. They don’t want to do farm work for the magnates anymore. They want to learn a trade and make more money. Who can blame them?”
Once the cabbages were harvested, Rowena moved to the rows of herbs and flowers. She prayed a quiet prayer of gratitude for its bounty. Sister Prudence admired the beauty of it. She said, “Rowena, the garden is lovely. You seem to have a knack for the medicines and cures.”
“I do love that part of it.” Rowena said. “It’s amazing to me that God has endowed these plants with such healing powers. We have so much to learn about them. It makes me very happy to know that this little part of a dying rose,” Rowena held up the hip of a spent rose blossom, “can help ward off sickness.”
Sister Prudence shook her head in wonder. “Aye, tis’ a miracle.” She walked with Rowena down the garden row. Rowena picked some yarrow and then some echinacea for tea and tucked it into her heavy sack of vegetables. “Ye’ve learned all about this from Mother Lenora?”
“Yes,” Rowena said. “And from the books in the library. At night, when you and the other Sisters are sleeping, I like to tiptoe off to the library and study the books on medicine there. But you must promise, do not tell anyone about that, especially Mother Lenora.”
Sister Prudence chuckled, “Rowena, we all ken about yer midnight library visits!”
Rowena exclaimed, “No! You can’t know! How long have you known?”
“We’ve ken since ye were a child. Mother Lenora let ye dae it. She thought it was good for ye. She liked that ye loved to study.”
Rowena giggled. “And to think all this time I thought I was so clever. None of you ever mentioned anything to me about it! I don’t believe it!”
Rowena examined the plants and thought about why she loved learning about them so much. She said, “I suspect I love it because my mother died giving birth to my baby brother. She was in terrible pain for hours. The midwife came. And the physician. Nothing they did helped her. Her suffering haunts me even now. And the horror of the pestilence. I suppose I would like to find a way to cure people. Help ease their suffering.”
Sister Prudence said, “We all felt so sorry for ye. Ye were such a young lass. Ye were what, twelve, when ye came to here to us?”
“Yes. I miss my mother still. But my father. He could not b
e consoled. He never showed his grief in public, though. He had to keep up the façade, you know, being the Right Honorable Earl of Kensley, Alfred Cran, and all that.”
Sister Prudence chortled. “I guess when ye’re one of the most powerful noblemen in all of England, it’s important to keep up yer appearances.”
Rowena’s thoughts drifted back to those early days of her time at St. Martha’s abbey. Her father had insisted she come to St. Martha’s for her education. “I suppose,” she said. “It was seven years ago, and I was very spoiled, I now realize!”
“Of course ye were. Ye were Rowena Cran, Laird Kensley’s only daughter!” Sister Prudence laughed.
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