His light beige blonde hair matched his eyes and skin tone. His narrowed nose, his smooth skin and high cheekbones, his lips.. his lips were tempting. He was so sinfully beautiful to the human eye.
Isla felt something dripping from the corner of her mouth. His gaze followed it. She hastily touched it and realized the substance. Isla quickly shut her mouth and wiped the saliva away with the back of her hand.
She was so embarrassed. What was this man doing here? She wondered.
"Pappa requested I have breakfast here," his voice was really deep as he answered her unspoken question.
The man was strongly built and tall, very tall. She looked so small when he stood near and stared down at her. She hadn't seen anyone taller than him.
"Oh you are all here already," her father's voice eased the tension with his voice and presence.
"Papa, good morning" Isla stalked over to him and kissed his hand.
He kissed her cheek "Good morning my child." He glanced at the unknown man.
"Good morning, Pappa," the man greeted. Isla just stared at him in conflict.
"Good morning, have you both introduced yourselves?" Her father asked, looking at both of them.
"No papa, we haven't," she said, frowning.
"My bad, we didn't converse more before you arrived but let me do the honor" he spoke with his hand on his chest.
Isla thought he was prideful, arrogant and really good looking. She didn't even know him but he was strangely giving her the vibes.
"I am Devon Balthazar," his voice made her flinch. The way he called his name with his deep voice gave her the chills.
"I am Isla Mathews," she said boldly. Two can play the game.
"Hmm alright then let's have our seat," her father said and sat down around the table.
They subconsciously glanced at each other occasionally. Throughout the breakfast Isla was uncomfortable, it had nothing to do with the man... Actually it did but it was understandable since she has never had breakfast before with another man except Lady Fiona and her father.
The man paid no attention to her and even seemed comfortable. He was using the cutlery so calmly.
After the meal, Isla took a stroll with her father in silence.
"My child I can feel something is bothering you, yet you are saying nothing," he father spoke after the long silence.
"It's really nothing, papa."
"And there you go again, when I can really tell it's the opposite of your response, you are being bothered, my child and this old father of yours really needs you to rely on him," he spoke affectionately.
Isla didn't have the heart to hide it from him again "I just need an answer though I don't know why I need one or what question I need it for," she said.
"Is it about your mother?" Her father inquired.
Isla looked up Immediately. Would he tell her if she says yes or would he dismiss it? Isla was hesitating in order to not say something that may seem unappreciative after everything he did and he was still doing for her.
"Well I actually have a question," she replied.
"And what could it be?" Her father queried.
"Why is that man here?" She asked.
"My dear that man saved your life, anyways he explained to me about his goal to become a priest, although he wishes to start as a missionary," he father conveyed.
Isla was surprised with the information.
"Missionary?" Isla turned to her father "Is he trained for that?" She asked.
"The young man claimed to be," her father said calmly.
"And you believed him father?" She was bewilderedly looking at her father.
"I believe it's not of me to decide. A few tests will help prove if he is telling the truth or not. So I'll leave him in your care," her father replied.
"In my care?" She didn't know why she kept asking questions, however her father was confusing her.
"Yes I trust you will know what to do.. if he is telling the truth or not, which I hope it's not the latter, I do hope you won't be too harsh on the young man, considering the fact that he saved you yesterday," her father reminded her.
"Okay I will not disappoint you," Isla finally agreed to heed to his words. She agreed to help that breathtaking stranger. She wondered what will happen during the process.