“The men wouldnae speak to us until I become the Laird, until after Faither’s burial,” Logan said, before he began to dig into his Scotch pie. Despite the terrible news, she wondered how he had still been able to garner an appetite. Naomhan, on the other hand, had his meal untouched and did not seem like he would eat it any time soon. Theodora had her hand on his shoulder trying to console him.
“They insulted us, Mother. If I wasnae painted a fugitive, I would have made them speak. Jaime wanted to fight. I would have given him one. Men like them ken nothin’ but violence,” Naomhan ranted.
“Thankfully, that is the difference between us and them. We daenae resolve to violence at the slightest push. We are the Grants,” Isla spoke to her sons proudly. She hoped her words would lift their spirits but it did the opposite. It was times like that Isla wished she had had a female child also.
“Faither’s burial is in two days. We need to find the man who made me a fugitive and is tryin’ to kill Logan,” Naomhan reminded them.
“Remember what ye said the time I had an attack? Ye told me to breathe and to trust ye,” Theodora reminded Naomhan and he nodded. He did remember his words to her.
“Now, I am tellin’ ye to breathe. Ye need some rest after ridin’ all day. Have a bath, rest, and it will come to ye. As yer mother said, not every problem can be solved with violence; violence only begets more violence,” Theodora said to Naomhan.
Naomhan sank back in his chair and inhaled deeply before exhaling in a similar fashion. He looked to Theodora with a calmer smile on his face. Theodora shook her head. She knew the smile was not authentic. He had only forced a smile to put her at ease but she was not going to fall for that.
“Yer smile is a lie. I ken yer face when ye smile,” Theodora accused him and Naomhan smiled for real.
“Let us eat,” Theodora said to him, and he obliged. He ate his meal slowly under the watchful eye of Theodora, as she ate hers also. Logan was the only one not eating while the others were.
Naomhan ate until he suddenly stopped.
“What is the matter?” Theodora asked him. Naomhan turned from her to his mother and Logan.
“What about the seal? There was a letter and a seal. Where is it?” Naomhan asked them.
“We searched for the seal but nay one could find it, so Faither got a new one,” Logan answered before his eyes also widened in realization. “We didnae think enough to search well for the seal. We just thought it had been a coincidence that it had gone missin’. I say we search the castle from top to bottom. We’ll search every nook and cranny until we find it.”
“We shall begin our search when the day breaks. We might miss places with night upon us already,” Isla suggested. Naomhan and Logan reluctantly accepted her suggestion, even though they were eager to start as soon as they could.
Everyone went to bed early that night and Theodora was surprised to find Naomhan in her chambers.
“I would be restless if I sleep alone in my room—” Naomhan started, as he got up from the bed to his feet to address her before she cut him off.
“We speak only the Scottish tongue here,” she told him before pushing him back onto the bed with a finger. She climbed onto him and straddled him beneath her.
“I wouldnae be able to sleep alone, so I came here to be with ye. I need ye by me side, Theodora. I need ye now more than ever,” Naomhan corrected himself. Theodora looked down on his face with a bright smile on her face.
“I will always be by yer side, Naomhan, Grant of Grant, and Laird,” she said to him before he took her by surprise and turned her onto her side. He lay next to her, holding her smaller frame in his arms.
“What ye said about breathin’ and trustin’, ye realized that ye didnae have an attack when we went through the tunnel into the castle?” he asked her. It had been an observation that the both of them had noted but had not had the time to talk about. Theodora smiled and snuggled in closer to him.
“I want to sleep. I love ye,” she said to him before closing her eyes. Naomhan closed his eyes also.
While the castle slept, Stephen sat in his father’s old favorite chair as he stared at the fire dancing in the fireplace. He could not sleep for Naomhan was back. Naomhan would still trust him, Stephen knew. The last memory Naomhan had of him would have been both clashing swords on the mountain as Stephen had seemingly wanted to save him from his own self.
Donald’s failed attempt on Naomhan’s life had complicated things a little, rattling both Sam and Jaime. He knew he could salvage everything still. As a child, his father, Huisdean Grant, had sat there staring at the fire blandly. What most people had not known was that his father had suffered from a mental breakdown. Night after night, he stared into the fire without answers.
“Stephen, I should be Laird,” his father would say. “You should be Laird after me but we have been deceived by the fairies. Even so, we own our destinies and yet, I didnae have the fight in me. Life is always a fight, never be deceived otherwise, Stephen, never! I didnae start fightin’ in our mother’s womb and now, I will forever be known as the second twin, the brother of the Laird. Forgive me, Stephen,” Huisdean would cry in front of the fire.
Stephen never held it against his father. Everyone owned their respective destinies. From a very young age, Stephen had come to realize that he was not the biggest of the boys his age. He had come to depend on his wit and speed quite early, and that helped him surpass all of them.
There were two kinds of men—the ones that point others in a direction, and the ones who are pointed in a direction. He strived to be the first, always.
He sat by the fire, thinking. The only one against him at the castle was Isla. Logan was showing promise but he was still young, and Naomhan was too kind-hearted. That left only their mother, who had never trusted him from the very first time that he had shown up at their doorstep. Though he acted hurt in front of others, echoing her treatment of him, it amused him that she could see him for what he was.
To prove Naomhan’s innocence, they would have to get confessions out of either Jaime or Sam and neither was going to talk. That left the seal, he realized quickly. Only with the seal could they prove that the letter had been written in his hand and not in Naomhan’s. He knew they would never find it where he kept it.
He rested easy in his father’s seat and stared into the fire. All that was left was the death of Logan. He loved Logan, just as he had loved Naomhan. It fascinated him how easily he could get over his guilt of his actions and knew that it would be no different for Logan.
“Every man owns his destiny,” Stephen muttered under his breath. “Me destiny is to become Laird.”
Naomhan stood at a distance, amongst the estate guards, as they lay his father to rest. His eyes were red with sorrow but he did not cry. He could not, for he was a man and the first son to his father. He was to become the head of the household and its protector but his hands were tied. His place was supposed to be there with the gathered people and next to his mother but he had to remain hidden.
He searched the crowd for Stephen but he could not find his cousin anywhere there. It was odd for Stephen not to appear for such a ceremony. It was disrespectful, amongst other things. Naomhan knew it could well open the door to the suggestion that his beloved cousin might after all be as dangerous and as conniving as his mother always believed. At the end of the very thought, Naomhan saw Stephen, dressed in his kilt, as he came to join Logan and Isla as a priest continued the rites.
Seeing Stephen sober next to his brother, Naomhan failed to see what his mother saw. Stephen had always been his bosom friend and had no reason to betray him. Naomhan had always found it harsh that his mother judged Stephen because of the deeds of their uncle Huisdean. Stephen always had a caring heart and was loyal. Naomhan knew that Stephen could not be the one who had sent him away, poisoned his father, and had tried to kill Logan. Donald had tried to kill him and could have tried the other things also, but he had no motive to, nothing to gain.
Sud
denly, Stephen turned back and locked eyes with him. For a moment, Naomhan almost forgot that he had cloth wrapped around his face, leaving only his eyes. Stephen whispered in Logan’s ears before leaving and coming towards them.
“We should go. Stephen is comin’,” Naomhan told Theodora. He pulled her hand but she stood still.
“He would become curious if we run. We should stay. He cannae tell who ye are,” Theodora reasoned with him. Against his own instinct, he stayed there by the oak tree, next to Theodora, as Stephen came to them.
“Good day to ye,” Stephen said to Theodora with a heavy sigh. He put his hand to the tree to support himself as he took another deep sigh.
“Me apologies, I should’nae bother ye,” he apologized.
“It is nay matter,” Theodora replied him. For a moment, Stephen looked at the large man beside her dressed as a guard. The hidden face had made him quite curious. It was the reason he had approached them at first, before he had seen Theodora and had been smitten by her beauty. She was dressed in mourning black but she looked beautiful in it, with her light brown hair loose about her.
“I haven’ae seen ye around here before. I am Stephen Grant,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to her. Theodora accepted it, much to Naomhan’s silent anger. It was obvious to him that Stephen was trying to flirt with Theodora. Naomhan had known Stephen well enough to know the way he was with women he was attracted to, his slouch and the change in the pitch of his voice.
“I am Rose,” she answered, and Stephen was taken aback a little before he recollected himself. “Is anythin’ the matter?” she asked him. Stephen shook his head no.
“It is a name I ken so well. Forgive me,” he apologized, with yet another smile that Naomhan wanted to slap off his face. Naomhan was never so possessive of women before. It was his understanding from a young age that men would always approach beautiful women, just as he had.
Stephen could sense Theodora’s unease and knew instantly that it had something to do with the tall and broad guard standing next to her.
“Would ye give me a moment alone with the lady?” Stephen spoke to Naomhan dismissively but Naomhan did not move. Stephen looked at him questioningly. There was something oddly familiar about the man but he could not quite place it because of the cloth around his face.
“Ye can stay at a distance if ye wish,” Stephen suggested, but still the guard remained. He looked to Theodora.
“The Lady Isla, me aunt, asked the guard to be by me side at all times lest some man comes by and steals me away,” Theodora said, and Stephen burst into a hearty laughter.
“As ye wish, milady,” Stephen said with a bow. “I shall be seein’ ye around then. Daenae be in a hurry to leave the castle. I should return to me duties. Ye should come,” he offered her.
“Me thanks, but nay. Me aunt asked that I stay away as I am nay member of the family but I was too curious. I should be headed back to the castle. Have a good day, Stephen,” Theodora bid him.
“It is a sad day but ye have made it better,” Stephen replied and bowed once more. He stayed and watched as Theodora walked away with her guard. He had never seen her around before. He knew he would have remembered if he had.
There was, however, something off-putting about the guard’s gait that seemed so familiar that it made him scratch his beard in thought. The build and the gait, could it be—?
“Naomhan,” he called out.
35
Stephen was in a jolly mood on the day of the ceremony. A lot of people were merry, especially after mourning the passing of the old Laird. They were all there to celebrate the new Laird—Logan, everyone believed. Stephen had been up all night thinking about it and predicted that the family would go ahead to make Logan Laird, to preserve their line of power in the meantime, while they tried to prove Naomhan’s innocence in secret. It was almost funny to him, his game of wit against Isla Grant. It was too easy.
So that day, he decided that he would drink to his fill and be by Logan’s side until the ceremony was over. He would give Logan a few days as the Laird before killing him. He could also find a way to pin the death on Naomhan and smoke him out of hiding.
At the meantime, his eyes searched for Theodora. He wanted to see her again. The day before, he had seen her at the burial of his uncle Torquil Grant with a rude guard. For a moment, he thought the guard had been Naomhan and he had called out the name but there had been no reply. It had not been his cousin. He had simply been a tad jumpy. The day was new, merry filled, a new start for the clan, and the start of his plans which Theodora had come to be a part of also.
He climbed onto one of the tables and raised his cup of wine above his head. All attention was his for a moment.
“To Logan, me cousin,” he shouted and more cups were raised. “There is nae a finer gentleman and archer than Logan. To the Laird,” he cheered.
“To the Laird,” the crowd cheered with him.
Stephen got off the table and looked towards Logan, who smiled in appreciation. Isla was fuming where she was, more disappointed than the older people, who disliked the show of youthful exuberance. He knew what was going through her mind. She had Naomhan stashed somewhere in the castle and yet, he could not come out because of the bounty on his head. Stephen drank on.
He wasn’t a drunk and he knew the limits of his average physical frame. His wit needed to be sharp and not dulled when Theodora would eventually join the festivities. There were games of archery and small bouts between the men. Logan joined in with the men for the archery games.
After the games, it came down to Logan and Stephen. After Logan made his shot at the mark, there were cheers from the spectators. Stephen waved for some quiet before he fitted his arrow into his bow. He pulled in the direction of the round, cut board at the set distance. The board had been shifted backwards with every round until the final, to tell the strength and mastery of each archer.
Stephen knew he could have hit the target quite easily if he wanted to but there was less gain in victory that day. He needed to lose to be the winner, he knew. As much as the day was a celebration of Logan’s rise to the title of Laird, it was also an opportunity for Stephen to endear the people to himself. They would know him alongside Logan, and when Logan was out of the picture, they would turn to him without fuss.
Pulling back as hard as he could, holding the quiet of the crowd, he let loose. The arrow was bound to fail from the moment he released it. It struck the ground before the board. Stephen turned back to the disappointed crowd with a smile and shrug.
“Bad archery, Stephen. Ye could have hit if ye wanted,” someone shouted in the crowd and others joined in also.
“Nay, nay, never, I was bested by the young Laird,” Stephen announced as he took up Logan’s arm to declare him the winner.
Logan walked back to his seat amidst handshakes and pats on the back from the older men.
“Ye are gloomy. I won, Mother,” Logan said as he took his seat next to her.
“Ye didnae win. Stephen did. He threw away the game on purpose so even though ye won, everyone would ken that ye won because he didnae shoot as well as he could. Look at him,” Isla said to her son. Logan looked and saw Stephen drinking with the other men heartily. He was used to his mother’s distrust when it came to issues concerning Stephen but he hoped that all would be settled on that day.
“It is time,” Logan said to his mother when he got his cue. He hit his cup and his mother’s together to call everyone’s attention to him.
“I am happy that ye are all here to celebrate with me on this—” he stopped talking instantly and turned to his left.
Stephen’s face beamed with a smile as he saw Theodora appear, before he came to see the man next to her. It was Naomhan.
Theodora held Naomhan’s hand tightly as they revealed themselves to the crowd. A lot of things could have gone wrong with their plan, despite involving the castle guards. Someone could have gotten very brave and jumped at them with a knife, or many others could have al
so, because he was a fugitive. Naomhan was the calm figure next to her. For all his worry the night before, he was calm. She needed him by her side as much as he needed her by his.
The night before, he had been mad at Stephen for openly flirting with her and he had hated it. He had to hold every nerve in his body to stop himself from getting in-between the two of them.
“I get jealous when I see other men around ye. It isnae somethin’ I can control. It is a feelin’ that has become a part of me. I want ye only to meself,” he confessed to her late the night before.
“I am yers, always will be, until ye find another woman to replace me,” she had replied to him.
Another woman? He had wondered to himself. Could he ever fall for another woman like he had for Theodora? Or did there exist another woman who could compare to her? He wondered as he looked at her. Her words had caught him off guard. He tried thinking what he must have done to give her that kind of impression.
Under a Highlander's Spell: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 23