“Naomhan is in a dark place. Even men such as we go through times when we are tested. He has had a very rough past and recently, his father died. Like most young ones who think they are in control of their destinies, he blames himself, believing he could have stopped his father’s death—”
“No one can stop death. It is inevitable. We can only pray for a long life,” Mrs. Kent cut in and the Father nodded in agreement with her.
“He is grieving and battling with his soul. I believe that was what led him to the fight. I believe he seeks some kind of punishment,” Father Damian said with a shrug. Even though he knew what Naomhan was trying to do, he still could not fully understand it.
Though Naomhan had come a long way since he had come to Embleton two years before, he had not changed much. As much as he wanted to embrace the calmness that came with being a deacon, he was the same impatient, sword-swinging Highlander who had been brought to Father Damian’s doorstep.
Mrs. Kent apologized to the priest more out of instinct than a need. She felt bad for assuming that there had been something more between her daughter and the deacon. Theodora had simply been her usual caring personality while the deacon had been descending down a rabid hole of grief.
Theodora’s approaching footsteps were regarded as the end of the conversation by the both of them.
“He is awake,” she told Father Damian. He excused himself from Mrs. Kent’s presence and followed Theodora back to the room. Without her help, he would have been lost. He would not have been able to find the room in which Naomhan rested in, amongst the many rooms in the house.
Naomhan seemed to flush when he saw Father Damian behind Theodora.
“I will go and get you something to eat. You missed breakfast, so you would need a heavy lunch,” Theodora said before hurrying off. She was long gone before Naomhan could stop her. He didn’t want to be a burden to either her or her family but she didn’t seem to care at all. Yet, it made him uncomfortable.
Father Damian looked at him, full of sympathy that made Naomhan even more uncomfortable.
“I am sorry, Naomhan. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I had no idea that your father had passed away. I only saw the letter from your brother after you left Embleton without a word,” Father Damian said with a bowed head.
“You have never done me wrong, Father Damian. I am sorry I did not listen to you. I just needed to be by myself. I needed to grieve the only way I know how to. My father never cried. He never allowed us cry. Whenever we were sad, he would tell us to take up our swords and fight one of the guards until we either won or lost so many times that we were too weak even to be sad,” Naomhan said in reminisce.
His face ached from the smile but it could not be helped. He loved his father and missed him.
Father Damian came closer to the window and looked out at the garden. “The town folks think you a hero, though you lost your fight. They say that no one had lasted that long in a fight against that man in a very long time—” he waited to continue when Naomhan smiled proudly “—some even say you would have won if you did not want him to beat you up.”
Naomhan’s smile disappeared when the priest’s eyes narrowed. “They say you yelled at him, taunted him, and shouted to ‘punish me’,” he continued his narration.
“There are two things you should know, Naomhan. One of them is that there was nothing you could have done to save your father’s life. You would think that if you were back in Scotland, you could have prevented his death but you could not have.” Naomhan’s heavy sigh showed that he did not believe the Father. He listened, however.
“The second thing is that you cannot escape your sin of the heart this way. Punishing the body does not do enough to the mind. You are in love with Theodora—” Theodora stopped by the door when she heard her name being spoken “—your best friend’s fiancée. If it was not outright dangerous that her fiancé is the son of a Duke, it is wrong because she already belongs to another. Talk to her and learn to be friends with her, because it is all the two of you can be.”
Naomhan nodded. “I understand your words and cannot wait to return to the church. This place is too crowded and comfortable with all the servants and—”
Theodora knocked on the opened door to announce her presence as she walked into the room with a tray in hand. She had freshly baked bread and some soup with chopped pieces of a roasted rabbit. He thanked her and accepted it onto his lap.
She retreated and watched him, waiting for him to eat. He scoffed at her, embarrassed, with some bread in his mouth.
“I cannot eat well while being watched, ma’am,” he told her politely.
Theodora folded her arms across her chest. “I have to be here to make sure that you eat it all and take the medication as given by the physician. So, I think I would rather stay here,” she argued.
Naomhan could almost tell her how beautiful he thought she was while trying to tame her stubbornness. “You could always come back after some time, ma’am, to check up on me.”
“What if you need water then, sir?” she asked him.
“I am certainly not worthy of the title ‘sir’, ma’am,” he answered her, unwilling to back down from the adamant shade of her blue eyes. Her mouth was pressed in an angry pout that made her more beautiful than angry. It pushed Naomhan to want to break out in laughter because he could tell that wasn’t what she had intended.
“Neither am I of the title ‘ma’am’. It makes me feel old. Do I look like an old lady to you, Deacon?” she asked him, almost irritated by the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His face was still healing but he was so beautiful that she had almost lost her resolve to stare back at him.
“No, ma’am—no, Miss Theodora,” he corrected himself.
“Now that we have gotten over your etiquette and the way you should address a proper lady, Master Naomhan, I would propose that you start to eat,” she told him sternly.
Even though her forehead furrowed a little, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
The only one amused was Father Damian, who just burst into laughter and rose to his feet.
“I shall be outside. You should eat for your strength, Naomhan. I will remain here until evening,” he said before heading out, leaving the two alone. They would have made a funny couple had it been right and possible, Father Damian thought to himself as he left them.
“The soup will get cold,” Theodora broke the odd silence between the two of them after the priest was long gone.
“Might I say you look beautiful when you are angry, Miss Kent?” Naomhan said, with a mouth full of munching.
“Do you always talk when you eat? It shows a lack for etiquette even for a deacon,” she replied with hostility. She wasn’t mad at him for doing her any wrong except that she had overheard that he wanted to leave.
“I apologize. The meal is wonderful and I think the cook deserves my love for an eternity—” He watched her eyes keenly as he said those words but she kept a bland face. “I do not always eat as such. I just believe there are words that deserve to be given voice as soon as they are thought.”
He saw her eyes soften a little for the first time since she had gotten him the meal. It gladdened him greatly to have his words affect her so, to make her folded arms slip apart in a moment of nervousness about him.
“So, you plan to leave for Embleton today? I think it would be a difficult journey for you, given your wounds, but I would not be the one that stops you from going home if it is what you want,” she said raising her hands up in surrender.
Naomhan looked, trying to be certain that she meant more than she spoke. He could not read her as easily as he had thought he could initially.
“Yes, I will go home today, if you would allow me. I can never fully repay you for your kindness but I could try. There is not much a deacon such as myself owns but I could teach you to read Latin, the tongue of the monks and scholars,” he offered Theodora.
She seemed to take a moment to
think on his offer before she accepted it. He extended his hand to her and she took his larger hand in her smaller and softer hand. There they stayed, holding each other’s hands, until they heard Father Damian enter the room once more.
“Is something the matter?” The priest asked when he saw the startled look on both their faces. As though with one mind, Naomhan and Theodora burst into laughter.
“Please excuse me, I shall go get our coachman to take the two of you down to Embleton when you both are ready,” Theodora said as she left the room.
Father Damian looked to Naomhan who simply shrugged. What he did not feel right to point out then was the energy and aura about Naomhan, which had changed so much in the few minutes that he had left the two of them alone.
“Do not fall for her, my boy,” Father Damian begged of Naomhan, who was too chipper at that moment to care.
“I understand your worry, Father,” Naomhan replied to the priest and he knew he lied.
17
Theodora had never been inside the inner rooms of the chapel. Naomhan had led her inside to go through the Latin scripts that Father Damian had in the church storehouse. There were so many scripts on the shelves of the little room that Theodora felt overwhelmed. It had always been her dream to be in such a room, surrounded by ancient scrolls of knowledge.
“I felt the same way you feel now when I first came into this room,” he told her, noticing the spark in her blue eyes. The first time Father Damian had brought him in, he had also been taken by the room. There had been an ancient and wise aura about the space. The area was dimly lit and smelled of lamp oil.
“I feel like I could live forever in here with all these scrolls. Did you feel the same way?” She asked him as she ran her fingers along a row. She stopped when she sensed Naomhan’s hesitance. He didn’t want to stop her. Instinct told him she was quite the meticulous type, despite her boyish nature, but Father Damian was always strict about handling the scrolls. So, he instinctively acted the same way with Theodora.
“Sorry, I am being like Father Damian. He is always too careful about these scrolls. And no, I did not fancy scrolls so much growing up,” he replied with a bow that served as an apology.
“I understand and I apologize as well. I would admit that I got a little excited. What was your childhood like? Everyone has silly tales about their childhood except perhaps me. I have stayed indoors for most of my life,” Theodora asked him.
Naomhan wanted to answer her. He wanted to tell her all about his childhood, running atop the hills and hunting prey in Scotland but he could not risk it. He and she were kindred spirits, he could feel it, but he could not risk it still.
“It is a tale for another day. I owe you for saving my life and in return, I shall pass down my knowledge onto you like an old wise wizard.”
“And I shall be your trusty apprentice,” she replied easily.
He smiled and pulled out the only chair in the room for her to sit on. There was always a single chair in the room and a small desk upon which Father Damian laid out the scrolls and read from them while Naomhan stood and followed the words. She bowed slightly as she took her seat. Their eyes lingered a little long as she took her seat. They both turned away from one another at the realization of the ominous silence in the room. They were alone in a very small room after all.
Naomhan took out a scroll from the shelf and spread it out in front of Theodora.
“It is beautiful,” she said in excitement, as her large eyes ran through the letterings.
“Our tongue was gotten from the Latin words. A lot of times, you will find similarities.” He could feel her look up at him as he spoke and it made him nervous, so he kept his eyes on the scroll alone.
Theodora was quiet for most of Naomhan’s lecture. She had known Naomhan was wise. It could be taken from his calm demeanor and the way he spoke. Learning a new language from him was a different experience and one that she enjoyed. His face was more handsome when his brows were furrowed and he was focused on a single task.
“I am famished,” she told him as she leaned away from the table.
“I would admit to feeling the same way but I did not want to be impolite,” he replied with a sigh, as he rolled up the scroll. She had been a quick learner and was certain to learn the language in half the time he had taken. It didn’t make him jealous. However, it was beautiful to be so close to her. She smelled of the hills, of beautiful flowers, and of the rivers.
He believed himself lucky that she had not caught him staring at her. She also believed he had not caught her while she had stared.
Naomhan walked to the door and froze there.
“What is the matter?” Theodora asked him.
“I think we are locked in,” he admitted.
Theodora apologized but Naomhan simply laughed it off. He had told her to leave the door open after they had entered but it had skipped her mind and the door had slid shut.
Time and time again, he had tried to keep his distance from her lest his desires got the better of him. Yet, there he was, locked in a room so small that they could not ignore one another.
“What is going to happen to us now?” Theodora asked him.
There was only one thing that could be done. “We have to wait for Father Damian. He comes here every evening,” Naomhan assured her. He tried to put her mind at ease but he could see himself failing woefully.
Theodora did not like small spaces. Her mind had not been on their situation because she had been greatly distracted, by his company, the sound of his voice, and the slight giveaways of his body beneath his robe. Suddenly, her breathing became uneasy. She looked to the little window that was the only source of light and air into the room.
Perhaps if I am close to the window, I will feel better, she thought to herself but the window was too high. As she reached for the chair to help her climb, Naomhan took hold of her hand and held her back.
“I need air,” she begged him with wet eyes.
“Sit by me and breathe,” he told her, as he squeezed her hand in his. Theodora’s every instinct tore at her. She knew she had to be closer to the window but she trusted Naomhan. Something about his firm grip of her hand and the stern stare in his eyes made her believe there was another alternative. She sat on the desk next to him quietly as she focused on slowing her breathing.
“I think it would help if we talked about something. What would you like to talk about?” he asked her. Theodora shook her head in response. She had no idea.
“Your childhood then, what mischief did you get up to? Or how many offspring do you plan on having?” he asked her and she smiled for the first time since she found out that the door was locked.
“I love you,” he thought he heard her say and that made him freeze. His hand never left hers.
“What did you say?” he asked her, wanting to be certain that he had heard her properly.
“Have you ever been in love before?” she repeated herself. Naomhan let himself rest easy.
Rose, he recalled. “There was a woman once. She was a wild spirit and was very beautiful but we were never meant for one another,” he said.
Theodora felt bad for bringing up the subject but it was a topic that had been nagging at her for a long time.
“So you have never been in love?” she asked him.
“I just told you a story about a woman I was in love with,” Naomhan argued.
“I do not think you truly loved this woman you speak of. I can read your face and it was not that of a man in love,” she told him.
Naomhan shifted on the desk so that he could face her. He thought to pull his hand away from hers but since it did not matter to her, he left it as it was.
“Tell me, oh wise lady, what love is about?” he asked her.
She looked at the small window as though deep in thought and her face brightened up at the thought of it, love. “It defies all sense. You just do things that puzzle even you. It makes you another person. It makes you hollow on the inside, as though you cann
ot survive without that person. Everywhere you look, you see the person. Even your dreams are not free of this beautiful torment,” she said before she paused.
Theodora was not sure if she had misjudged Naomhan but it seemed as though he had leaned a little towards her. Closer, he moved his face towards her. His grey eyes held her stare and she found that she could not move. She wanted him to kiss her, even though it went against everything she believed in. She closed her eyes, just as she had dreamt it would be, and awaited the savor of his lips upon hers.
Closer and closer he came until she could feel his hot breath against her face. It was going to happen. They were going to kiss and—
“Naomhan, are you in there?” They both heard Father Damian’s voice and pulled away from each other, almost knocking themselves over.
Under a Highlander's Spell: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 12