by Ashley York
As he led her up the winding staircase, he stopped at the first landing and looked out the small window at the ocean below. The wind swept the waves against the rocks, and the gulls cried out their lonesome song. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sea air.
“I love that smell. When I was a child, I needed to take the stool from downstairs to stand so that I could see out this window. I remember the first time I realized I no longer needed the stool. It was sort of sad.” He laughed, suddenly shy, and smiled at Iseabail. “I felt like I had lost something precious. A long time ago now.”
She too gazed out the window. “Innocence.”
“What?”
She looked at him briefly, her face unreadable, and turned back to the window. “You lost your innocence. That is a precious thing.”
Was she thinking about her brother?
“Did ye not say ye had another brother?”
Iseabail did not look at him again when she answered. “My uncle said he died in a fire.”
The enormity of her loss hit Seumas. He was filled with compassion. “Iseabail.” He reached for her hand, but she kept it from him. “I am sorry.”
Subdued now, they continued up the stairs and found Brother Timothy busy in the hall outside one of the bedchambers.
“Seumas.” He smiled. “It is taking me a bit to prepare a room for your lady.” Seumas glanced at Iseabail to see if she had taken offense, but there was no change in expression. “I wanted it to be just so.”
Brother Timothy’s smile coaxed an appreciative smile from Iseabail. “Your thoughtfulness is so greatly appreciated, Brother Timothy.”
He blushed and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I will be back.” He went down the stairs they had just come up.
“I would say ye have an admirer.” She turned quickly to see Seumas’s face. “He probably thinks ye are a beautiful woman, and he would be right.”
When they entered the room Brother Timothy had been preparing, they were amazed at the beautiful fresh flowers and colors everywhere.
Brother Timothy came up behind them. “Och, my lady, the room was not quite ready for you.” He walked to the table between the two windows and placed an ancient-looking urn. It was delicately painted with vines and flowers and accompanied by a bowl for her ablutions.
“Thank you, Brother Timothy, for your kindness.” She looked around the room and indicated everything in it when she added, “It is beautiful. Truly.”
Blushing again and with his head lowered, Brother Timothy left the room, closing the door behind him. Seumas shifted slightly, not really knowing what he should do. The Brothers were really taken with her, and he was glad. He was in no hurry to dispel the idea that she was his lady. He held out hope it would come to pass. There was no other woman for him.
“Would ye like me to stay with ye or would ye like to be alone?”
“Alone. Thank you, Seumas.”
As he was closing the door, he added, “Do ye want me to help ye find yer way to the dining hall? I can stop by when I am going down, if ye would like.”
“That would be fine, thank you.”
He closed the door and waited, but heard no movement inside.
Brother Timothy popped his head out of the next room. “Are you coming, Seumas?”
“Aye.” Seumas joined Brother Timothy and they went back down the stairs.
Chapter 27
Iseabail stood beside the window and peeked through the delicate ecru lace to the white caps below. The flowers on the sill took her breath away and the fragrance—she paused to breathe it in—was heavenly. What a wonderful place to spend time. She rubbed the light blue coverlet between her fingers, enjoying its softness.
She stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. She had never seen such joy on his face as when Seumas had laid eyes on his uncle. He certainly seemed happy here.
A single candle illuminated the dark space, making it seem welcoming. It had been a long while since she had been in any church. Her own chapel had been closed when Uncle Henry first arrived. He said it was too costly to keep a priest and have services all the time. Iseabail and her brothers continued to have private services in Iain’s room, which overlooked the chapel.
Now both her brothers were gone, and she did not know what to do with herself. She figured the king would eventually find her and probably return her to Somerset, since agreements had been signed. Did it matter that Uncle Henry had no legal right to make marriage contracts for her and sign her away like that? Probably not.
“Will ye be my wife?”
She had strong feelings for Seumas, but they also made her afraid. They were powerful, perhaps more powerful than she could control. Why could he not have made love to her there, in that place, to help her wipe away the memory of another’s touch? If he had, when he learned of how she had been used by another and turned away from her, she would have the precious memory for the rest of her life. Mayhap even his child. Instead, he had spoken of her purity and goodness, attributes she could no longer claim. After he had shared how highly he esteemed her, she knew she could never be with him. She could not bear to tell him now, to see the look on his face, and have him wonder what she had done to deserve such treatment.
But Seumas loves me.
No. He loved the idea of her. The woman she might have been if not for her uncle. When Seumas had returned from the woods, his hands were relaxed at his sides and there was a peacefulness about him. He had gotten himself under control. He was a good man. She knew this was true, but her disappointment was great. Was that the real reason he had left her? Did he see the stain on her soul from the things she had been forced to do?
Iseabail held her hands to her heart and struggled to enjoy but a few moments of knowing Seumas loved her and the belief that love was enough. It would be her secret—this total joy—that Seumas, the man she loved and wanted to be with more than anything on earth, loved her.
His words of love meant so much to her, but how could she simply surrender to her feelings when he did not know the truth? He needed to know; she had to tell him. Memories of her uncle’s face, smiling down at her appreciatively, wrenched her gut.
It was not my fault.
She did not have the courage to tell him why he would not want her. She could not. Perhaps here with the monks, he might find peace and someday be glad that he had not been saddled with her. She turned onto her side and let the tears flow.
*****
Seumas tapped on her door, opening it slightly when he heard no response. Iseabail was facing away from him on the bed.
“Iseabail?” he whispered. “Iseabail?”
When there was no response, he started to close the door. Then, remembering the silver cross he had found at the castle, he walked in and placed it beside the washbowl. He turned back to the door but stopped. Her beauty seemed to beckon him closer. She had the tracks of tears on her face, and his throat clutched at the sight. Was he the cause of her sadness? Could the thought of marriage to him have been so dire that she had cried herself to sleep? He squatted beside the bed, watching the peaceful look on her face. He breathed in her scent and ached to touch her, wipe away her tears. His heart tightened at the idea that he might never know that fulfillment, that she would never accept his love. That he was not what she wanted.
He tipped his head and imagined what it would be like to lie beside her, warming her at night, lying face-to-face as they talked about the day and their children, their heated whispers of love in the night. His groin ached in response. He would never be able to stop loving her and that was the worst thing. To have what he now knew he wanted within his grasp and not be able to take it—that was hell on earth. He left quietly, closing the door behind him.
He came to the hall and found the monks assembled as they set about preparing the room for their celebration. From the door, he saw their looks of joy.
Brother Timothy noticed him and came forward. “Seumas, where is your lovely lady?”
His refe
rence to Iseabail stung a little, but he decided to not set him straight yet. “I am afraid she is asleep upstairs. She sends her regrets, but she is so exhausted from our travels.”
Brother Timothy’s face fell at the news.
Seumas patted him on the back. “All the better for tomorrow when she is rested and available for a visit.”
That brought the smile back. Seumas decided to put on a good face and smiled in return before he went to sit on a bench beside his uncle and the table of food.
“Uncle, there is enough food here to feed any army. Is it only us or did ye invite the whole village?”
The aged man smiled at him, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Methinks they would not take kindly to being awakened so late in the evening to attend a celebration of people they do not even know.”
“True, true, but food is food, uncle. Would they not enjoy this wonderful feast?” Seumas reached over and took a bunch of grapes, popping one into his mouth.
“Ah, we will be inviting them for food, my boy, but not tonight. Tonight will be for us alone.” Uncle Peter perused the men before them. “Do ye remember these men, Seumas?”
Looking at the monks who were gathered in small groups about the room, talking and laughing, Seumas did see many faces he recognized. “I remember many of them.”
Uncle Peter paused, and Seumas turned back to him. “They remember ye.”
Seumas could see there was some importance to this statement and felt as if he were again eight years old and trying to decipher his lesson. Wiser now, he knew to wait and his uncle would explain himself. Nodding, Seumas finished the bunch of grapes and ripped off a good-sized chunk of brown bread.
Not one to disappoint, his uncle began teaching. “These men saw in ye a bit of themselves. Ye were an interested child with a desire to learn and the ability to retain what ye heard. They thought of ye often when ye were not here and would make preparations months in advance of yer arrival.” His uncle raised his eyebrows at Seumas. “Ye were their son, do ye understand? Ye were the child they would never have, and they wanted to teach ye everything they knew. Ye were a blessing to them.”
Seumas swallowed hard. These men cared that much for him? He was a like a son to them? It was overwhelming. He was speechless. Putting the bread down, he looked at each man and let his mind go back over the years and to the time he had spent among them.
Brother Stephen had talked to him about the bees, Brother Matthew had taken him fishing, Brother Timothy had taught him about herbs. They had all had such an impact on him. Seumas was embarrassed he had not recognized that earlier. These men spent their time with him because they cared about him, about what he was learning.
“Thank ye, uncle, for telling me this. I did not know.” He turned the bread in his hand as he spoke. “I have thought about my time here often, especially during times of trial. The things I learned here have helped me with my life.” His nose twitched as he struggled with his emotions. “Opening yer hearts to me now has truly overwhelmed me.” He took his uncle’s hand with a firm grip. “Ye are all very special to me.”
If Iseabail did not love him, naught could ease that pain, but here, in this place, he felt he had come home.
*****
Iseabail awoke to the smell of salt air and sunshine. She stretched. How wonderful it was to be able to sleep in a nice soft bed and to awaken…where? Oh, aye, the monastery. She ran to the window and looked out over the huge expanse of blue ocean and thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in all of nature. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the smell of marsh and seaweed.
“Heaven,” she sighed, totally at peace. This was the way life should have always been—relaxing and peaceful, yet still invigorating.
A timid knock on the door brought her out of her daydreaming. “Come in.”
Brother Timothy, standing shyly at the door without actually entering, brought a smile to her lips.
“What say you, Brother?”
A broad smile transformed his face, and he held out a large pitcher. “Hot water for you, m’lady.”
Her squeal of delight startled him, but then he smiled and went to the stand to pour the water into the bowl.
“I feel like a queen,” Iseabail exclaimed, kneeling on the bed, her bare feet tucked under her. “You have all made me feel so welcome.”
He nodded his understanding, ducking in embarrassment and left the way he had come.
She quickly removed her gown and chemise, glad to be out of the same clothing she had slept in. Iseabail dipped her hands into the warm water and splashed her face. A scented bar of soap sat beside the bowl and she lathered her body liberally. It was refreshing to be clean again. She rubbed herself briskly with her towel. Wrinkling her nose at her clothing, she gave each garment a good shake before putting them back on. Her stomach growled. Having missed dinner the night before, she was famished.
She opened the door, trying to remember which direction they had come from, when she saw Brother Timothy sitting on the floor a little way down the hall.
He stood when he saw her. “Are ye ready to go breakfast?”
“Have you been sitting here waiting for me?”
He nodded.
“You are so good to me.”
She walked beside him as they headed down the hallway, presumably toward the kitchen. Which appeared to be completely opposite to the direction she would have chosen. She was very glad she had someone to get her around the monastery.
“Where is Seumas?” She tried to sound disinterested.
“He has gone off with Brother Matthew to catch fish.”
Brother Timothy kept to a good pace, and Iseabail had to struggle to keep up.
“Are they fishing in the ocean?” Iseabail had seen the waves out her window. Although she loved to look at it, being on the ocean sounded very scary to her.
“They are, and they will bring back many fish for our feast.” He turned toward her, a crease between his eyes. He was not very happy. “We missed you last night. We were very sorry you were too tired to join us.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Brother Timothy. I am much refreshed now and famished.”
“Good. Here we are.” He turned to the left, and they entered a plain room with a long table down the center, where men of various ages, all wearing the traditional dark robes, sat talking.
Uncle Peter stood and motioned for her to sit beside him.
Brother Timothy announced, “Here she is!”
Different greetings of welcome came her way as they passed the platter of eggs and ham to her.
“Have you all eaten?” she asked.
They nodded, making different comments about not missing prayer time, getting a jump on the day’s work, sleepy heads do not get much done, and Iseabail felt as if she were surrounded by her own brothers. They stilled when her eyes filled with tears.
Uncle Peter took her hand. “Iseabail has suffered a great loss, Brothers. She has lost her own dear brothers, both within a week.”
They shook their heads, murmuring sympathetic words of encouragement.
“Well,” she corrected him, “one brother died two months ago, but I only just found out. His name was Iain.”
“And he was older than ye?” Uncle Peter asked.
“Oh, no. Iain was less than two years younger than me, but he always liked to act like the older one. He really did look it, too. From the time he was ten, he was as big as our father. Our father was English, and you know they are very big. Now Calum, my other brother, was still small, but I suspect he would have grown even bigger than Iain.”
At first finding comfort in her talk, she was hit with the sadness of never seeing Calum grow into a man. Uncle Peter’s arm was around her, holding her close to him as he whispered words to comfort and soothe. The other monks watched quietly but, as her sobbing lessened, they encouraged her to eat and keep up her strength.
“How much strength do I need?” She stuffed her mouth with the l
ast bite of the oat cake she had added to her eggs and ham.
“You do not look as if you will be lacking any with the way you are eating,” Brother Timothy added, immediately reddening.
They all laughed at the joke, and Iseabail’s face heated as well. They were teasing her, but she did feel as if she had just polished off half a pig with her fresh eggs and filling hot cakes.
“I am stuffed,” she announced, to their delight. Iseabail needed fresh air and said as much to Uncle Peter, who quickly rose to escort her out.
When they passed the garden, Iseabail’s gut clenched. The overwhelming need to escape the place had hit her hard last night, even causing her to leave Seumas alone with his uncle. He had not noticed, but she had felt near to a panic when they had stopped there. It was so like her garden at home. She tried not to react now, but when the monk’s hand went to the latch, she shook her head adamantly. He nodded as if in understanding and continued past.
Uncle Peter led them to the courtyard, by way of the front door, which was connected to the garden. She settled herself on the bench, and he went to the nearly-bare fruit trees that edged the area in refreshing shade, and picked her an apple.
“For later,” he said as he put it in her lap.
“Thank you.” She felt out of sorts, her nerves getting the better of her, so that, after only a moment of trying to sit quietly, she got up to stroll the area. Little blue and white flowers graced the border surrounding the little courtyard. “Do you see to these plants as well?”
“Ah, Seumas has been talking about me.” He smiled at her. “I am not as agile as I once was so I have less physical chores required of me. I do enjoy spending my time transcribing the Good Book and still have a knack for illumination, but no, I do not spend much time out here anymore.”
Despite her full stomach, Iseabail rubbed her apple against her skirt and took a bite.
“When I was younger, I wanted to be a gardener. Not a farmer, mind ye—my brother, Seumas’s father, was a farmer. I just wanted to work in the gardens. I loved to see things grow and to nurture them along.” He smiled at her as she munched her apple. “I met my Josephine in a garden. She was a lot like ye, very beautiful, very elegant.” His eyes had a faraway look. “She had hair so long down her back that it swayed when she walked, and when she would touch my hand, it felt like a butterfly settling there. Oh, she was the love of my life. We were going to be so happy, so many dreams.”