Forbidden Kisses

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She’s afraid.

  His gut clenched. When she turned to look directly at him, her obvious nervousness did nothing to detract from her loveliness. His mouth fell open. She turned back to the stall, reaching up to point to a particular ribbon. The merchant handed it to her. She raised her arms. The playd fell to her shoulders, revealing the flame red bounty of her hair. Aidan’s breath caught in his throat. For once he was glad of the shapeless robe when his shaft turned to a rod of iron.

  She replaced the shawl quickly and paid for the ribbon just as four or five armed men came into view, sauntering through the market. He did not recognize the devise they bore on their tunics. The woman lowered her head, turned away and hastened in the direction of the stall selling mead.

  Jesu. She’s coming this way.

  ~~~

  There was only one place Nolana might find safety. The tall young monk she had espied must be from Lindisfarne. He had long hair—a postulant, but that was of no consequence. There were four monks, one of them elderly and seemingly in charge, the abbot perhaps. She would beg for sanctuary if the men pursued her. They were not on sanctified ground, but surely holy men would not allow her to be dragged off.

  The postulant looked nervous. He wiped his hands on his robe, backing away from her. She dared not steal a glance to see what her pursuers were doing, but the young monk was looking beyond her. Without warning, he lurched forward, a tumbler in his hand. “Mead...mistress?” he stammered, his eyes still on the men.

  Then he looked at her. A spasm of desire snaked through her for the first time in her life. Those beguiling blue eyes and long black lashes couldn’t belong to a man who had given his life to God. He was handsome too, and tall, though in need of a bath. She tried not to wrinkle her nose. He sensed she had to evade the men. The question in her eyes asked if they were still there. He smiled and the tingling in her breasts became intense. Heat surged in her body. It was madness. He was a monk. She gripped the edge of the stall, fear and longing a potent mixture in her heart.

  He leaned towards her and whispered, “They’re gone.”

  Before she could stammer her thanks, the older monk suddenly appeared at the postulant’s side, elbowing him out of the way. “Get thee gone, mistress, if you don’t intend to purchase.”

  She experienced a moment of panic. The younger man was poised to retaliate. He glared at the older monk, his jaw and fists clenched, but then turned and walked away.

  She looked back at the monk whose self-important air convinced her he was the Abbot of Lindisfarne. She had hoped to confide in him, seek advice or sanctuary. A cold chill swept over her. Compassion would not be one of this man’s strengths. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  He shook his fist. “Be gone, I say.”

  Afraid his raised voice might attract unwanted attention, she turned to leave. Someone grasped her elbow and panic returned, until she heard Jennet’s voice. “Why are ye shouting at my niece, ye scurvy monk? She came to get my honey from thee.”

  The abbot spluttered his apology, but his eyes betrayed his annoyance. “A thousand pardons, Jennet. Here is your pot.”

  Jennet paid for the honey, linked her arm in Nolana’s and escorted her niece away from the stall. “We’ll walk slowly, so’s not to arouse interest.”

  Nolana did not recall much of the long walk back to the cottage and only took a deep breath once she was safely inside its walls.

  ~~~

  From the shadow of the market cross Aidan watched the two women walk away, desperately trying to control his breathing. He had looked into the depths of green eyes and seen fear. An overwhelming desire to protect this unknown young woman swept over him, but the pompous abbot had shoved him out of the way. The man was lucky Aidan hadn’t slain him with his sword...but he no longer had a sword, was no longer a man of action.

  He sank to the ground, his back sliding down the cool stone of the obelisk. This was another test of his resolve and there would doubtless be many more thrust before him. His shaft still throbbed mercilessly, and there was no hope of relief here in the crowded market. He had never believed in love at first sight, though his father had often boasted of being smitten the moment he set eyes on Agneta. Aidan recalled how disdainful he had been of Blythe and Dieter and their instant attraction to one another. He grappled with what had transpired. Why did he want to throw his arms around the green-eyed beauty and make her his?

  He raked his hands through his hair, fearing he was losing his mind. It was obvious she had been disgusted by the odor of his body. It disgusted him. She likely considered him a stammering imbecile, cast off by his family and hidden away in a monastery.

  The abbot’s voice roused him from his stupor. They were loading the cart. Wearily, he came to his feet and trudged back to help. No doubt he would receive a stern lecture once they regained the abbey.

  ~~~

  Nolana fretted for two sennights. Safety lay in the Fells. Her father’s people would take her in, protect her. But such a journey would be impossible alone, and there was no home to return to.

  Jennet told her to stay as long as she wished, but there was no future in such a life. She would live in fear of discovery. Her stepfather was too close.

  It seemed the abbey was her only hope, but the elderly monk had put the fear of God in her in the wrong way. Then there was the young postulant. She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts.

  He was woefully in need of a bath and a shave, but she sensed he was aware and ashamed of it. Inexplicably, she'd wanted to run her hand over the stubble of his beard. She daydreamed of shaving him, something she had never done for any man. The notion filled her thoughts, resulting in a puzzling pool of moisture in her woman's place and an embarrassing new habit of drooling.

  She was a stranger to him, but he had risked the displeasure of his abbot to assist her, quickly sensing the danger.

  Despite his unkempt appearance, she had been struck immediately by his male beauty. And those eyes. Why had he shut himself up in a monastery? His bearing bespoke a man made to sire children, virile, strong, capable, a warrior who had spent many an hour in training fields, practicing swordplay. He had spoken only four words to her, but his manner of speech indicated he was of noble blood. What was he doing on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne?

  Her preoccupation annoyed her. It was of no importance if a handsome young man closed himself off from the world, probably to atone for something. She resolved to stop obsessing about him and decide what action to take to resolve her own problems.

  But at night she dreamed of him, of long muscular legs entwined with hers, of strong arms wrapped around her. She felt stirrings of longing she had never felt before in unmentionable places and awoke each morning with her hand where it should not be.

  WEARY

  “I grow weary of the wait, Maknab. I’m not a young man. Time is of the essence.”

  Neyll Maknab resisted the urge to take Baron Grouchet by the scruff of his scrawny neck and point out he was the one who was weary of the auld man’s constant harping and weary of chasing his wilful stepdaughter. When he caught her, she'd rue the day she had led him on this merry dance.

  He straightened the cuffs of his doublet. “She is in Northumbria, I am sure of it. We will find her and you shall have your bride.”

  Grouchet spat. “Bah. Northumbria is vast. She might be anywhere. You haven’t had any success. Perhaps I should look elsewhere. I want an obedient woman.”

  It was a threat the fool had made before, and Neyll determined not to rise to the bait. Though he desperately needed the coin, he must not let Grouchet know it. “She will obey you, if I have to thrash it into her.”

  Grouchet spluttered. “Sir, I am capable of disciplining my own wife. Wouldn't be the first time.”

  Neyll bowed his head. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply...”

  The baron waved his hand in dismissal and slumped into a chair. “Think on it no further. I am anxious to have her wedded and bedded. I must hav
e an heir.”

  “And you shall. Nolana has few options open to her. She might think to flee north, but no one will accompany her there. No lowland Scot will risk my wrath by aiding her. She has only the Church to fall back on. I have instructed my men to watch the villages near the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. My gut tells me that’s where she’ll be found.”

  The baron did not reply. To Neyll’s disgust the auld fool had fallen asleep.

  ~~~

  Aidan feared he was going mad. Perhaps the grief of his parents’ death had been too much. No matter what he was doing...praying, reading, chanting, eating, collecting honey, washing clay vessels...no matter where he was...indoors, outdoors...whether on his feet, his knees, his backside or his bed...the memory of those auburn curls wouldn’t leave him. If he thought of aught else, it was the green eyes.

  Why did she fear those men? Who was she? She was a Scot, for God’s sake. His family had a long standing mistrust of lowland Scots. His Kirkthwaite grandparents had died at the hands of marauding Scots, along with Aidan’s namesake.

  It was a test...a supreme test he must not fail. He would be rid of his preoccupation with this woman, whom he would likely never see again. He would not be permitted to go into Beal for the next market after the dressing down he had received, a lengthy admonition about the temptations of the flesh.

  The desire that spiralled through Aidan whenever he conjured an image of the young woman was more torture than temptation. He prayed for guidance. It did no good. She filled his thoughts.

  He wished Ragna and Edwin would come to visit. He would charge one of them with finding the woman, seeing to her safety. But the abbot had probably forbidden it, and the perceptive Ragna would know instantly there was something wrong.

  He worried about them managing the estate without him. His uncle, Baudoin de Montbryce, the Earl of Ellesmere, would take care of any problems at Shelfhoc Hall, situated as it was not far from his own castle at Ellesmere in the Welsh Marches. Kirkthwaite Hall, close to the Scottish borderlands, needed a strong hand, and Edwin...well...

  And what of the Sussex manors their grandfather had left to his illegitimate son, Aidan’s father?

  God would provide. Aidan had been called to serve Him. But it was hard not to be concerned.

  ~~~

  Nolana fidgeted with her playd. “Nay, Jennet, I cannot accompany you to the market again.”

  Jennet drew heavily on her pipe and blew out the smoke slowly. “Ye must. The Church is yer only choice now, lass. Ye must speak with the Abbot of Lindisfarne. I’ll put in a good word for ye.”

  Nolana paced, fingers clenched in her hair. “But my stepfather’s men. They may still be there.”

  Jennet blew smoke rings. “Nay, they be long gone. ‘Tis safe now. It saddens me, but ’tis the Church for ye.”

  Nolana chewed her lip. “But there is no convent at Lindisfarne.”

  Jennet nodded. “No, but the abbey is a cell of Durham Cathedral. The abbot will get you there safely.”

  Nolana hugged her arms tightly around her breasts. If she had to be a nun, at least there would have been some solace in being close to the young postulant. God would surely punish her for these impure thoughts. This was no time to be dreaming about a man, especially one impossible to attain. Perhaps that was the attraction. He was no threat. She hoped he would not be at the market, though she longed to see him again.

  FACE TO FACE

  Aidan was pleased the abbot had grudgingly allowed him to come to the market a second time. At least he was in the fresh air, among people, and his headaches had eased of late. He had striven to suppress the persistent desire to see the green eyed girl again, convinced the chances of her being at the market were nonexistent. She was fleeing someone and would be long gone by now. He prayed she had evaded the men who pursued her. He shuddered, hefting the last of the mead from under the canvas in the back of the wagon. He’d been instructed to leave it there until they needed it, to keep it cool.

  He hoisted the cask to his shoulder and turned. Suddenly, the girl who filled his thoughts was there in front of him, breathless, frantic, looking over her shoulder. His mouth fell open. Their eyes met. She stopped dead. Without a second thought, he lowered the mead and gestured to her to climb under the canvas. She didn’t hesitate, lifting her skirts. He glimpsed bare ankles. Blood rushed to his groin. She struggled into the cart and he put his hand to her elbow. A tingling jolt ran up his fingers and into his arm. She turned to him, wild-eyed.

  She felt it too.

  “Quickly,” he rasped, “under the canvas. I’ll distract them.”

  She crawled into the hiding place and he straightened the edges, ensuring she was covered. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He picked up the cask, poised to hoist it onto his shoulder, when the breathless men appeared. One of them, sweat pouring from his brow, strode to Aidan’s side. “Good brother, hast seen a young lass, red hair?”

  This man was definitely a Scot, a borderer. Aidan assumed the pose of an imbecilic monk. “A lass? Nay, I’ve seen no lass.”

  One of the other men snickered. “Yon mon wouldn’t know a lass if he saw one. Let’s go. She canna have gone far.”

  They hastened off. The canvas moved slightly. “Stay where you are. They may come back. I’ll deliver this mead to the abbot then return. Don’t move.”

  He walked away slowly, then turned back. He had to know, in case she decided to flee. “What is your name?”

  “Nolana,” she whispered. “Nolana Kyncade.”

  He mouthed her name. Nolana. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard. He hurried off back to the stall, berating himself for his weakness, and frantically plotting how to get her to safety.

  ~~~

  Despite the heat of the day and the stuffy confines of the canvas cover, Nolana shivered. She gaped in disbelief after stumbling upon the monk, the same man she hadn’t stopped dreaming about from the moment she had first seen him. Was the hand of Fate at work? She had been careless, believing the Maknab men would have given up the chase. As soon as she espied them across the field, dread filled her. She would be caught. There was no hope.

  Now she lay hidden, fear thudding in her throat, but feeling strangely safe. The monk had not hesitated to aid her. His commanding voice instructing her to hide had been a lifeline rescuing her from drowning. This was no mewling monk without a brain. Here was a decisive man of action. Her body warmed and she felt her face flush at the recollection of the sinful things she had dreamed of doing with him.

  Sounds came to her from the market, but no sign of her trackers. She should flee, but her monk had told her to stay where she was. How would he get her to safety? Strangely, she trusted he would. But he was a monk...a postulant, without authority. One against many if the men reappeared. She did not believe the abbot would be on her side if they were challenged.

  Her breathing slowed. Her eyelids grew heavy. She curled up under the canvas and dozed.

  “Nolana.”

  She opened her eyes and squinted when a shaft of late afternoon sunlight crept under the edge of the canvas. Her monk peered at her, his face full of concern. “Are you all right?”

  She yawned and stretched. “I fell asleep.” She remembered where she was and why. “I must go. It should be safe now.”

  He lowered the canvas, then raised it again. “No, they are still about, idling by the market cross, flirting with women from the village. They seem to know them by name. They’ve been here a while, waiting for you.”

  “And I walked right into their trap. I’ll never be free.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I’ll make sure you’re safe from them, Nolana.”

  She frowned. “But I’m a stranger to you. I don’t know your name.”

  Her monk hesitated. “I am Brother Christian.”

  She was strangely disappointed. “Brother Christian,” she whispered.

  “But my real name is Aidan.”

  His name was Aidan. At last she could call him by n
ame. “I planned to seek sanctuary today, Aidan. I have no choice but to enter a nunnery.”

  ~~~

  A wave of revulsion hit Aidan. He knew what it was to be shut away and could not abide the vision of this beauty enduring the same fate. It had been his choice to leave the world. She would be forced. “No. I won’t permit it.”

  Her mouth fell open and he instantly regretted his outburst. “I mean, no, believe me you don’t want to spend your life locked away in a convent. You’re too beautiful.”

  Hearing the abbot’s voice nearby, he lowered the canvas. “Hush. Be still. We will be loading the empty vessels soon for the return to the abbey. Stay hidden. Don’t make a sound.”

  Nolana protested. “But I can’t go there.”

  “It’s your only chance.”

  He turned to face the abbot, his heart beating wildly. What was he doing? How was he to smuggle a maiden into the monastery, and what was he planning to do with her once he got her there?

  He had no answer to these questions, but knew he had to help her get away from those men. Great evil would befall her if they caught her. It came to him that if he got her to the abbey, the powers that be would be unable to force her return once the tide came in.

  The abbot’s face was sour as he eyed the cart. “What took you so long, Brother Christian?”

  Aidan took the empty container from his Superior. “I apologise, Father Abbot, I was dallying, enjoying the pleasant afternoon sunshine. Let me help you.”

  He carefully placed the cask up against the bundle of canvas, then reached to take a second one from another brother. Little by little, he built a protective wall separating Nolana from the men once they climbed into the cart.