His mind made up, he decided that he would tell Emilia as soon as he could. He expected her to be shocked at first, then happy.
She was happy, and so was he—very much so, for when he turned over in bed there she was, looking into his eyes and smiling. “I am so proud of you,” she whispered, and her voice throbbed with desire. She kissed him hungrily, then touched him intimately and he felt her soft breasts press against him as he found his release—the fiercest, most intense ever. “Go to sleep,” she whispered, then kissed him.
He woke up and the reality seemed like a nightmare compared to the dream. He had to find men no matter what.
14
Father Gordon had a strange premonition as he saw Adam walking up the street towards the church. He had a presentiment of bad tidings, and he knew that it had something to do with Adam’s messenger. The man had been a harbinger of doom, and Father Gordon had known it the day he laid eyes on him. He hoped that Nicholas Rolfe had gone, but he was not with Adam, so presumably he had.
He wanted to see Adam today for a few different reasons. The new well was making a huge difference to people’s lives; they could now drink fresh water in the well close to their homes without having to make a journey to the loch. In bad weather this was, at best, miserable, and at worst dangerous. The bogs by the water’s edge were often hard to see, and once or twice a villager had stepped in and disappeared without a trace.
Father Gordon wanted to congratulate Adam. It seemed that the whole town was cheering him on, especially now that he was making an effort to learn their language. Adam was trying his best, but Gaelic was a difficult language, so he was improving only slowly, but he was improving nonetheless.
Adam seemed out of sorts that morning when the priest showed him into his private little sitting room, a tiny, cozy refuge where he could sit and think privately. It had a huge wood fire in it, and although Adam always found it too hot and stuffy, he never complained.
As Adam sat down the priest gave him a goblet of ale. Father Gordon looked at him as the young man looked into the fire then passed a hand over his eyes.
“Is anything wrong Adam?” Father Gordon asked. “Perhaps I can help.”
Adam smiled ruefully. “Nothing is wrong, Father,” he replied, “other than the six too many whiskies I had last night.”
“Aye,” the priest said sympathetically, shaking his head. “I have been to that hell many times!” Then he sat forward in his seat. “Adam, I wanted to tell you something. The villagers are very pleased with you. They are thrilled with the new well, and they are calling you a godsend.”
Adam sighed. The mood he had taken to bed with him had gone. Now he was tired, depressed, and in the depths of despair. Last night he had been so full of hope as he imagined telling Emilia his plans, but now that his rosy alcohol-induced haze had gone he knew things were not going to be so simple.
“Something is wrong,” Father Gordon said firmly. “Tell me. Is it something to do with that messenger? I knew as soon as I saw his face that he was not bearing good tidings. Tell me what he said.” He leaned forward in his chair and his eyes bored into Adam’s.
Adam got out of his chair so quickly that he almost knocked it over. “I am going back to England,” he said firmly, and began to pace the room with a fearsome scowl on his face. “I want to find some soldiers because my cousin is sending none.”
But Father Gordon was not listening. He did not hear Adam’s last words because he was so furious.
“You are leaving just when we need you most!” he roared. “You are a coward! A traitor! A Judas! Go! Go and save your skin while you abandon our poor women and children to their fates. Go, you worthless piece of filth!”
“Father, I am coming back,” Adam protested, but the priest was roaring too loudly to hear him. He came up, grabbed Adam’s arms, and shook him. Adam was a full ten inches taller than the priest and could have knocked him down with ease just as he had done recently, but instead submitted to Father Gordon’s fury till the little man was spent. The priest turned on his heel and began to walk away, breathing like an enraged bull.
“Father, I—” Adam began, but once again Father Gordon was not listening. He strode back to Adam and poked him in the chest with a stumpy forefinger.
“Do not ‘Father’ me,” he growled. “You are the lowest of the low. Lower than the maggots, which feed on dead things. Get out of my sight and never darken these doors again!”
Inside, Adam was raging, but he was afraid that if the priest pushed him too far he might lose control as well, and it would not help anyone if Adam and Father Gordon ended up in a fist fight.
Perhaps I should give McElwee the land,Adam thought. He had no illusions now about the partnership Robert McElwee had suggested. It was obviously going to be a partnership of one, and Adam knew that as soon as he got his hands on Inverinch Castle he would never let it go.
He walked down the dusty main street slowly, seeing the ordinary fabric of village life that he saw every day. There were groups of women carding wool to remove knots and make it ready for spinning, and others with spindles twisting wool into yarn, singing as they went to pass the time. All of them smiled, waved, and said good morning in Gaelic, and he answered in the same tongue.
“Madainn mhath,” he called, waving and smiling at them. They smiled back, enchanted by this big, handsome man who had suddenly and delightfully dropped into their lives. It was the most exciting thing that had happened in years!
Further down the road he saw a group of half a dozen children kicking a stone around the street. Three of the six were redheads, and he was still fascinated by their flame-colored hair; it was rarely seen in England.
Thinking of red hair brought to mind little Mara, and he wondered if she and her kind family would be safe from Robert McElwee. They were far from the village but McElwee’s reach was long.
Suddenly one of the little redheaded girls ran up to him and threw her arms around his knees, giggling. She was the same size as Mara, and he leaned down to pick her up, smiling, then he whirled her around in the air. In a moment he had a queue of children waiting for the same treat.
“Look at that big strappin’ Sassenach,” one of the spinners said to another. “I wouldnae step over him to get tae my Ally!”
They laughed, and as Adam put the last child down one of the little girls kissed him, then of course the others had to kiss him too. The boys could not kiss him since they were almost men, and men did not kiss other men, so Adam bowed to them solemnly and they bowed back, then he grinned at them and walked away. Behind his back, the boys imitated his long strides, grinning and punching each other playfully.
He looked at all the little cottages with their thatched roofs and tiny windows. Each one would have a large room where the whole family slept, furnished with a table and a few chairs, a big open fire that was used for cooking and heating water, and perhaps a store cupboard for food.
