“I do not believe she was, Colt. I know this might be hard for you to accept but I do not think Theodora wants to be with you anymore. If she had the heart to tell you herself, she would have been here to, but she must have feared to anger you.”
“I shall find her and be certain that she is not kidnapped. If she is safe, I would like that she explains the writings in this letter to me herself,” Colt said as he walked away from her. “And I wish to see the face of the man that has stolen my bride away.”
Angry with the day, Colt got onto his horse and rode for Embleton. He needed to speak to Naomhan. He needed to talk to someone, anyone, lest he would lose himself to rage.
The long ride did nothing to dull his anger. Father Damian seemed to be shocked to see him when he arrived.
“Where is Naomhan, Father?” Colt asked the priest, still mounted on his horse.
“He is gone from here, home,” the Father told Colt.
“Home,” Colt asked. He realized that Naomhan had never talked much about himself. Colt made a mental note to ask more from Naomhan when their paths did cross again.
“Scotland,” the Father told Colt, who was taken aback in shock. This did not last long as his thoughts were on other things, on finding Theodora. He had hoped to speak to Naomhan, who would have surely calmed him and come up with a better approach to the situation.
“What about Theodora? She is gone from her home. Do you know where she might have gone? I know you are a priest and you are not friends but—” Colt held his hands up.
“I do not know, son,” Father Damian replied truthfully. When Theodora had mounted her horse in the early hours of twilight, she had wanted to tell him where she was headed but he had told her not to, as he did not want to lie to anyone.
Colt thanked the Father before he rode away. Thinking now, he realized that he had wasted precious time riding to Embleton. His first turn should have been to Emily’s house. She was Theodora’s best friend and confidant as well. If anyone would know for certain where Theodora was, she would certainly. He knew he would need more incentive to make her talk. He was already tired of hearing people telling him they did know what he asked.
Some small town in England, en route to Scotland
Naomhan looked around at the inn, thinking of a warm meal. He had supplies but fought the urge to delve into them so early in his journey. He was still amongst people and that made the urge for a good warm breakfast even stronger. However, he passed on this and continued his ride, slapping himself for easily being dissuaded. He had a brother to return to, enemies to fight, and a woman to return to. He had no such time.
Years ago, he had been but a wanderer in those parts, a man so downcast that he had sought out his own death. This time, he was a man who was in love. He felt stronger than he had ever been in his life.
By late noon, he desired to stop at an inn for rest through the night and a last hot meal before he resorted to his rations, lest he would faint on his horse. He handed his horse to the stable keeper, then he walked into the town inn for a meal and rest. The town was much bigger and noisier than Embleton and he did not like it much. Once, a time that seemed too long ago, he had enjoyed noise but being a deacon had changed that.
“A room for the night and a hot meal,” he told the innkeeper, as he came in with his bags. The innkeeper told him the cost and Naomhan paid. He had saved up quite a little from what the priest forced him to accept as payment for his work around the church and the homes of people for his domestic help whenever he saw that they needed.
“A traveler, hmm?” The innkeeper asked Naomhan as he offered him a cup of water.
Naomhan thanked the innkeeper and wet his throat. He did not know how much he had needed it until he had drunk.
“Being riding a while now?” Naomhan nodded. “Where to?”
“I am sorry but I cannot say,” Naomhan apologized to the kind innkeeper. The innkeeper laughed at his unusual politeness.
“You are handsome and mysterious. My daughters would like you. They have never truly met interesting men. They only follow the local loggerheads. Would you like to see my daughters? A lonely traveler like you might have stories to tell,” the innkeeper asked him.
With a polite smile, Naomhan rejected his offer.
“I have a woman who I shall return to someday. I hope I have not offended you,” Naomhan asked the man who laughed once again.
“You are too polite, even for an Englishman,” the innkeeper said, before handing Naomhan a plate of potatoes, some soup and some steak, “because I like you. What shall I call you till the morning when you set out on your journey again?”
“Naomhan,” he replied to the man.
After his meal, he followed the innkeeper up to the vacant rooms to make his choice. Naomhan chose the one closest to the stairs so he could leave as soon as he was awake again.
A knock woke Naomhan much later in the evening. He looked outside the window and saw the moon in its shiny glory and the sun nowhere in sight. He realized that he had slept a while. The knock came at the door again.
“Naomhan, there is someone downstairs here to see you,” the innkeeper told him.
“Who is it?” Naomhan asked. He had no idea who could have come looking for him at the inn. No one even knew he was there.
“The person did not give a name,” the innkeeper replied behind the door.
“Thank you, I will be down shortly,” Naomhan said, and heard the innkeeper leave for the stairs. Naomhan pondered on the identity of his visitor as he put on his shirt. He stared at his boots for a moment, finding himself too lazy to put them on, he headed out of the room barefoot and came to the wooden rails trying to find his visitor before he was seen.
He searched the crowd downstairs. There was a woman whose face was hidden from him, perhaps one of the innkeeper’s daughters, and there were men who he had never seen before. He wanted to head back into the room to pick up his boots when he heard his name called from beneath him. He turned back to the rails and searched for the person who had called his name.
“Theodora—”
York, England
“I have always liked you, Emily. Theodora always spoke of you in high regard and I would like to hold you in such esteem. So, please Emily, have some pity on a man with a broken heart and tell me who Theodora’s secret lover is. I deserve to know,” Colt asked her.
Though his eyes were red with sadness, she could not help herself from looking at the horsemen behind him, armed with swords as he was. There was no sadness in the faces of those men, just bloodlust. She could not help but think that if Colt did not get the right answer from her lips, they would set upon her and her household.
“I have no idea. Theodora was so secretive about—” Emily tried to be brave but Colt shushed her, pressing his cold finger to her lips.
“I am the son of a Duke, Emily. Sometimes, I say things and men obey. Other times, they just do things in my name because they want to please me. I should be angry in this situation but I am not. You think I am angry. I can see it in your eyes. If you look behind me at those men, you will find them angry and eager to please me. Please, help me set things right, Emily. Tell me who Theodora went away with,” he asked her again. His politeness never left his tone, even though his hand was firmly on her shoulder.
Emily looked back at her parents who stood in the doorway to their home and tears streamed down her face. She had loved Theodora as she would have a sister.
“Naomhan,” she told Colt, who was taken aback by her answer. His hand left Emily’s shoulder and he waved for her to leave his presence. Emily hurried off into the arms of her parents. Colt turned around to his men, who were eagerly awaiting his orders.
“Where do we ride to, sir?” One of the men asked and Colt raised his hand to shut him up.
It was quite hard for Colt to believe what Emily had just told him. It made no sense to him yet she had no reason to lie to him. He had known Naomhan for two years, during which their friendship to one
another had blossomed. Many times, he had offered to take Naomhan along with him to balls where he would meet young attractive women but Naomhan would always turn him down. They would walk along the streets and see attractive women but Naomhan would never give them second looks. He had always seemed to lack interest in such things.
Colt realized that he had misjudged a lot of things about his friend. He had entrusted Theodora to Naomhan’s hands, and he had in turn stolen his bride-to-be. Colt was mad with rage. He felt betrayed and required some penance served.
“We are on the hunt for a Scottish deacon,” Colt said, and his men laughed in satisfaction. They kicked their horses and rode out of the courtyard.
“I am sorry,” Emily muttered under her breath, hoping that the wind would carry her words to Theodora wherever she was, but Theodora was too far. She was too far to know what Emily had done.
24
They spent their night at the inn. Naomhan had not spoken a word to her since she had revealed herself to him. He was clearly angry at her defiance.
“I will not apologize if that is what you are waiting for,” Theodora said to him. Naomhan turned to her, red-faced.
“I told you to wait for me and that I would return to you. Do you think me a liar?” he asked her, raising his voice more than he had intended. He was about to apologize for his outburst when Theodora climbed onto the bed on her knees as angry as he was, even more so.
“If I thought you a liar, I would not have agreed to marry you. You think yourself a man because you ride out into a danger that might kill you. You think you are being strong and kind and leaving me behind. I bet you think it is to protect me—”
Naomhan got up to his feet and stared down at her. “Of course, it is to protect you. I did that to protect you from any harm that might come.”
“You think everyone else needs your saving?” she asked him, not letting up.
“You are here despite my words. Of course, you need my saving, from yourself,” he yelled back at her.
“Maybe I need your saving but who would save you?” She asked Naomhan and his brows eased up in their anger. “You are going to Scotland to face an entire country of people who think you are a criminal, who think you plotted to kill their queen. Who would save you if I do not? Who would save you from yourself?”
Naomhan looked at the eyes of the woman he loved and he saw tears well in her eyes which she withheld from him. He held out his hand to her but she slapped his hand away, wiping her face with the bottom of her cloak. He knelt on the bed also and made his way towards her.
Theodora turned her face away from him even as he held her arms in his and apologized to her. She did not want him to see her face. It hurt her the way he had taken her gesture. It should have been easy for him to see that she had done it because she loved him. His descriptions of his fate in Scotland would have been enough to scare any woman away from wedding him but she had persevered. Nothing could scare her away from him.
“I am sorry, Theodora. I just—” he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face against hers, “—I was scared when I saw you down there. Of course, I am happy to see you. Even though it seemed that I am so eager to embark on this journey, this quest of mine, I am scared. And I do not want to be scared in front of you,” he told her. He shifted back when she moved her head to face him.
“Then we will be scared together,” she told him, cupping his face in her hands. He laughed when she moved her fingers around in his beard.
“You do not play with a man’s beard,” Naomhan said playfully, as he pulled her hands away from his facial hair.
“If I do not play with yours, whose then do I play with?” she asked him with a sheepish smile that melted his resolve away. How did I get so lucky? Naomhan asked himself as he looked at the beautiful woman in front of him.
“Mine,” he answered her, as he put her arms around his neck and pulled her slim waist towards himself. “So you rode all this way to find me, hmm?”
“You, oh no, I came looking for my husband,” she replied laughing.
“After I kiss you till there is nothing left of your lips, then we shall seek your husband,” he told her as he kissed her mouth. Theodora tightened her arms around Naomhan as she leaned into him, kissing him passionately. It had only been hours, less than a day, and she missed him so much. It had been torture thinking of how long she might have had to wait for him had she obeyed his wish.
She cupped his swollen groin in her hands, rubbing his thickness with her fingers, feeling him swell even more within the confines of his pants.
Suddenly, Naomhan pulled away from her and off the bed. His face was flushed and his hand over the bulge in his pants.
“You must be famished. I should go downstairs to get you something. I think they have potatoes, some steak, and—” Naomhan’s words were caught in his throat when Theodora started to take off her clothes. “I guess we could do without lunch for a while. Night is nigh,” he said, before latching the door locked.
Naomhan took his shirt off as he turned back to face Theodora, who was not having so much luck with her blouse. He took off his pants and got onto the bed to help her. She stroked his groin as he helped her with her blouse. She could not help her laughter as she was pressed onto her back on the bed, his prisoner to do his bidding. She could never mind as she was in love with her jailer.
“This bed is bigger than yours,” she said between giggles. He kissed her mouth to stop her from talking. Her hands reached and grasped onto his broad back as he pulled her stockings off. He pulled his lips away from hers with a question on his face.
“What is the matter?” she asked him, as he looked at her.
“You want me,” he said as his fingers busied themselves under her gown.
Theodora wanted to speak but her words were choked out by her own gasp for breath as Naomhan pinched her between his fingers. He went ahead to rub gently as he kissed her nipples. Theodora dug her fingers into his thick hair as he pleasured her.
She could not help the moans that escaped her lips as he slid his middle finger into her wetness. It excited him, the ease with which it slid into her tightness. He stroked her insides with his finger, slowly at first as she clasped her thighs together to squeeze his finger between her walls.
Naomhan kissed the nape of her neck, which he knew made her moan even louder. He nibbled on her delicate flesh and basked in her scent, stroking her faster with his finger, making her arch her whole body towards him. He enjoyed pleasuring her hearing the sound of her moans. They were as music to his ears.
“I want you inside me,” she begged him in words that he could barely hear.
Pulling her gown further up her torso, Naomhan pushed his member into her slowly, watching her to be sure that he did not hurt her. Her wild eyes encouraged him to thrust his full length into her. Naomhan did and she hugged him, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to adjust herself to his size.
Slowly, Naomhan thrust into her, trying to be gentle. She was so delicious that it took his every resolve not give in to her passion, right there and then. Every part of her made love to every part of him. It was their dance, the dance of love under the very watchful eye of the romantic moon.
“Faster,” she begged him, gripping onto his arms tightly. Her mouth was beautiful as she bit down on her lower lip trying to muffle her moan. Naomhan picked up his pace slowly. She squeezed her eyes tightly as he rode her faster. Her whole body trembled as her body accepted him as her heart did.
Her nails dug into his arms as she fought to restrain his overwhelming thickness and the pleasure that riddled her. It was a mixed experience. There was the slight discomfort that she knew well enough would not be a problem and there was the wash of pleasure that made her forget even the pain.
She wanted him to be inside her forever, stroking her insides with his member. Her eyes were closed but she could feel her body rocking with his on the old bed that threatened to break under them. His heavy breaths warmed up against her
bare flesh. She grabbed his right hand and put it on her breasts. Naomhan squeezed her breasts and her nails dug into his flesh still.
Neither cared about the tiny hurt that glazed their lust and ecstasy; they just moved in sync, panting and pushing themselves. She smiled and wanted to reach for Naomhan’s face as he smiled down on her, thrusting himself deeper and deeper into her wetness. He kissed her hand when it touched his face. Her hands fell back to her side in fatigue.
Suddenly, she gripped onto Naomhan’s arms again as she bit down hard on her lips. Her legs trembled as Naomhan thrust even faster into her, seeing the familiar signs. She bit back harder on her lips as she tried to fight the overwhelming surge. It was a new feeling, unlike none other she had ever felt.
Naomhan leaned onto her, pressing his weight onto her smaller frame as he covered her mouth with his. Her body was overwhelmed with him as her heart drummed his name into her ears as did the cold night breeze. Tears streamed down her eyes when she stopped. Her breasts rose high and fell despite his weight on her.
Under a Highlander's Spell: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 16