Page 3 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

“Nae, Father,” Aleck stood up. “I am troubled by dreams.”

Evanna listened fascinated. What kind of dreams could make a giant like Aleck cower in church?

“The same?” Father Gilmore inquired.

“Aye.”

“Come. A confession should lighten yer heart.”

He guided Aleck to the confessional. Evanna couldn’t believe her luck. God did listen to her prayers! She waited for both men to enter the confessional and the curtains to slide into place. Then she tiptoed to the open door. The night was bathed in moonlight, a slight breeze swung the tall grass to-and-fro, creating enough noise for her to slip out of the house and away. With one fleeting glance of gratitude to the altar, she ran out into the glowing night.

The cold air grasped at her cheeks like icy fingers, the last remaining bite of winter still in its embrace, but she didn’t care. She ran off down the hill to the dirt road that emerged through the fields. Once she reached the road, she began walking west towards the village where a horse was waiting for her. She had arranged it a week ago. Evanna was nothing if not thorough.

“London, here I come!” she whooped as she jumped into the air in excitement. Childhood behind her, she had the world opening up in front of her, and she couldn’t wait to see it all.

Chapter One

Aleck felt tainted.

He sat on the grassy knoll not far from the stables watching the sunrise above the horizon. The yellow rays chased the darkness away, but his mind was still full of gloom as he recalled last night’s confession.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he had begun. “It has been three days since my confession. I have sinned against my Laird.” Aleck had hesitated, as he always did.

“And what is the nature of yer sin?” Father Gilmore prompted.

It was the same every time. Aleck would begin and Father Gilmore would guide him. Aleck often wondered how Father Gilmore could still show him kindness after hearing his confessions. But then Father Gilmore was a man of God, and Aleck was steeped in sin.

“I dreamt that I stole from my Laird, I corrupted his wells with poison, and I coveted his seat.” Aleck drummed them off quickly, hoping that if they came out in a rush, he could be rid of them faster. But the taint remained. Like always.

“The Devil is wicked, but he is also clever,” Father Gilmore had spoken through the partition, his words measured and reassuring. “He kens ye harbor nothing but love and loyalty for yer Laird. He kens yer fear of disappointing MacLeod and uses it as a tool against ye.”

It was well-meant but Aleck wasn’t convinced.

The dreams left him feeling like he was covered in a thin layer of corruption and filth. No amount of scrubbing in the bath or washing himself rubbed it off.

Nasty dreams. Filthy dreams. Punishable dreams if anyone found out.

They mustn’t! They wouldn’t. Aleck made sure of that. Even in confession he never told too much. He would mention the betrayal, the poisoned wells, the coveted seat but never what came after - the main event. Maybe that’s why he felt polluted - he had made no proper confession of his sin to God.

The early morning sun beat down the soft winter mist, forcing it to disperse. Aleck was glad of it. Winter had been exceedingly harsh this year, and he looked forward to the spring. He got up, brushed the grass and dew off the seat of his breeches, and walked towards the training yard on the other side of the castle.

Many of the Laird’s men-at-arms were already gathered there, loosening their limbs for the morning’s rigorous training. Aleck spotted Joseph Algee and Royce Glackin by the far wall, feasting on bannocks. They were second sons to minor nobles and Aleck’s friends. Joseph was tall and wiry and resembled a nanny goat. Royce was built like a barrel and just as short.

“Ye look a sight, Bryce,” Joseph nodded in greeting.

Royce threw a bannock to Aleck. He caught it gratefully. The bread was still hot and tasted of manna so early in the morning. It lightened his dark mood.

“Where were ye last night?” Joseph asked.

“Were ye worried for me, love?” Aleck teased, blowing him a kiss.

“Not on yer life.” Joseph grimaced.

“What do ye think Lockard’s got planned for today?” Royce asked.

“Mud, muck, and misery, no doubt,” Joseph mumbled through his full mouth. Flecks of semi-decimated bread flung out of his mouth like people jumping out of a castle on fire. “When do ye think we’ll get a turn on the muskets?”

“When yer aim with the bow and arrow gets better,” Aleck laughed.