Highlander’s Secret

by Adams, Alisa

  Highlander’s Secret

  Alisa Adams

  Contents

  A Free Thank You Gift

  1. Gathering

  2. Gregor's Desires

  3. Leaving Drummond Castle

  4. The Crossing to Skye

  5. Arriving in Skye

  6. The McClures

  7. The Convent

  8. Finding Each Other

  9. The Bishop of Skye

  10. The Bargain

  11. Planning

  12. The Dress

  13. The Escape

  14. Donalda

  15. Thoughts and Feelings

  16. Andie, Cameron and Gregor

  17. Donalda's Visit

  18. Captured

  19. Prisoners

  20. Elisha's Errand

  21. Delivering the Letter

  22. Back to the Convent

  23. Meeting on the Road

  24. A Short Release

  25. Lunch with Craig

  26. A Marriage of Sorts

  27. From Friend to Friend

  28. The Night before the Wedding

  29. Second Escape

  30. Flight

  31. Two Marriages

  32. More of the McClures

  33. The Departure of Auguste

  34. The Angry Baron

  35. Drummond and Hamilton Castles

  36. The Baron in Pain

  37. Carmichael Castle (Iona and Gregor)

  38. The Baron Speaks

  39. William

  40. Incrimination

  41. William's Story

  42. Marianne

  43. Meeting and Parting

  44. The Departure of Columba

  45. A Birth and a Death

  46. Adoption

  Extended Epilogue

  More Highlanders for you

  Highlander’s Fate

  Alexa

  The Sutherlands

  Alexa's Suitor

  Also by the author

  About the Author

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book.

  As a thank you gift I wrote a full length novel for you called Rescuing The Highlander.

  You can get it for FREE at the end of this book.

  Enjoy!

  1

  Gathering

  Gregor Carmichael was tired of walking. His life as a postulant monk had, in many ways, been mentally thrilling, but it was physically tiring. Many times on the road, when they had been given a lift by farmers’ carts, he had simply fallen asleep as soon as he lay down on the straw.

  He was used to paying his way. The usual cost for a night’s accommodation at a farmhouse consisted of shearing a few sheep, milking some cows, collecting eggs, or baling hay. He was a tall, rugged, handsome man—too handsome to be a clergyman most of the women in his home village of Gairloch said. He had blue-black wavy hair, dark green eyes, a muscular physique, and imposing height. He was most maidens dream of a perfect man. He would have made excellent husband material for many of the young Laird’s daughters in the district.

  But it was not to be. Once he had met and fallen under the spell of Father Columba McCarthy, the little priest with the mind of a genius, all he wanted to do was stay beside him and listen to him all day. However, now he was becoming restless. He would never become bored with Columba’s teaching—it was just that he was missing something in his life and that something was the company of a woman.

  As they came within sight of his home village, he felt a strange mixture of emotions. He was glad to be back, of course, and once again be among all the familiar friends he had known and loved. He was happy to be in his own land because Scotland was and always would be the land of his heart. However, he was apprehensive too, wondering how things would have changed in his absence.

  “Are you worried?” Columba asked, with that strange ability he had to read Gregor’s mind. Sometimes Gregor felt that it was very disquieting to be with him.

  “Not worried, exactly,” he replied, sighing. “But I am afraid that our absence will have gone unnoticed and our presence will not be welcomed.”

  Columba laughed. “In other words, you are worried!”

  Gregor had many friends, most of whom he had known for years. He had even been betrothed to one, former wild child Alexa Montgomery. She had settled down into a happy marriage and motherhood with Auguste Chevalier, the French spice merchant whom she had desperately tried not to love.

  There were also Lady Moira and Laird Iain Drummond, Lady Lorraine and Laird Graham Hamilton and their assorted children. Gregor had always had a special place in his heart for Gabriel, the little foundling child they had rescued from the church of Stella Maris who was now the son of Graham and Lorraine. He would never forget the look on Lorraine’s face as he placed the little bundle in her arms.

  As chance would have it, that day was the day that several of the families had decided to get together and celebrate Shrove Tuesday, the day before the beginning of Lent, when abstinence and sacrifice was the rule. There was no abstinence on Shrove Tuesday, although everyone had to be shriven, or have their confession heard, before the start of the holiest season of the year.

  Most people dreaded Lent except the holiest amongst the populace who offered up their suffering to God and were glad to do it. Most people simply did the best they could. All the pleasant things that everyone enjoyed eating disappeared into store cupboards and the wine and whiskey were locked away. The bright statues and pictures in the churches were all covered in black or purple cloth.

  Breakfast usually consisted of dry bannocks and milk, as did lunch. There was practically no meat and certainly no ale. Generally, it was thought that the more you could make yourself suffer, the closer you were to heaven. Even Columba hated it.

  “Why?” Gregor had asked him once. “You are a man of God.”

  “Man being the operative word, Gregor,” Columba reminded him. “Jesus was also a man and he suffered. He suffered much more than we are doing now, of course, but, even though he was a supernatural being, he still felt pain!”

  “Oh dear,” Gregor said gloomily. “There is no hope for me. I thought this was the worst it could get.”

  But since it was only Shrove Tuesday the worst was still to come, but the thought of it was banished until midnight when Ash Wednesday would begin. Now, there was soft white bread that was spread thickly with honey and butter on the table. There were cold meats of all varieties, pies, spiced biscuits, candied fruits, fat scones with clotted cream, and all manner of other treats. Best of all there was whiskey and wine, and plenty of it.

  Gregor and Columba had walked into a feast.

  Gregor’s father Neil was the first to see them. He jumped up from the table and stood for a moment with both his eyes and his mouth wide open. Laird Neil Carmichael had been sorely disappointed by his son's decision to choose a monastic life. He had at first fought against it but finally accepted his decision with sadness albeit good grace.

  Now, as the two pilgrims stood at the end of the great dining room, he gave a loud cry of delight and ran forward to embrace his son. Both men wept with gladness before his mother came forward to be hugged too.

  Lady Fiona was a tall but matronly woman and she was liked by most people at first sight. Gregor had inherited her dark good looks, although not her twinkling blue eyes which had captivated Neil the first time he saw her. She had viewed her son's decision to become a monk with doubt and apprehension, but she had tried to console herself with the fact that they had two more sons. However, she was also weeping as the three of them joined in an emotional celebration, hugging, kissing, and laughing through tears.

  Finally, they drew apart, and Gregor looked at his parents, who w
ere both grinning at him. They all began to talk at once until Gregor held his hands up for silence.

  “Mother, Father, everyone, may Columba and I sit down and catch our breaths?” he asked politely.

  “Of course!” Graham Hamilton said and pulled up two chairs for them as they heaped their plates with food.

  After they had eaten a few mouthfuls, no-one could bear the silence any longer and the barrage of questions began: Did they go to the same places as before? Did they see weeping statues or crippled people getting up to walk?

  Moira asked him, “Is it was true that people in the Dead Sea floated and did it happen to you, Gregor?”

  “I believe people can, Moira,” he answered, “but not in a monk’s habit, and I am afraid modesty forbade me to go in unclothed so the answer to your question is that I do not know!”

  There was much speculation about that answer, but nobody really cared what the answer was. Columba could have told them, but he was reserving his best stories for later.

  Meanwhile, Gregor had the feeling he was being watched, and he was right. Two women were peeking at him from just behind the door lintel, trying not to be seen.

  "Is he no' jist perfect?" Annie, one of the housemaids, said in awe.

  "Aye, look at thae big strang hauns," the cook, Etta, said and sighed. "Imagine them roon yer waist! Pity we cannae see his legs under yon stupid robe."

  "Aye, bet they're a' muscly. He'll be strang as an ox an a', but he might change his mind an' become an ordinary fellow again."

  "Even if he does," Annie said sadly, "he'll no' be lookin' at the likes o' you an' me."

  "Aye weel, ye can aye dream," Etta smiled, "we'll be lookin' fer gardeners an' footmen an' stable hauns, hen. That's high enough fer me." They laughed and went downstairs to the kitchen again.

  “So, Father," Iain began, "what's this I hear about you and Gregor going to Skye? Are you going to see the Bishop?"

  "Aye," Columba answered and sighed heavily. "Although between you and me I am not relishing the visit. I must tell you that the Bishop of the Isles is a very kind man but extremely long-winded. He never says one word where twenty will do." He cast his eyes heavenward. "Last time I saw him I just prayed that he would stop." He placed his hands together in an attitude of supplication. "I said, ‘Dear Lord if it is at all possible please let the Bishop lose his voice for a minute. Just a minute, Lord, for my ears are suffering.’"

  There was a gale of laughter from everyone around the table.

  "What happened next, Father?" Alexa asked.

  Columba's face took on an expression of sheer astonishment.

  "Well, we were eating," he replied, "and the very next moment he choked on a piece of dry bread. Between you and me, his mouth was too full—one should never eat and talk at the same time. It was most unchristian of me, but I sent up a fervent prayer of gratitude while I thumped him vigorously on the back. I may have done that with a trifle too much enthusiasm, I must admit, but I did say a sincere act of contrition afterward."

  "You are making this up, Father!" Fiona Hamilton said as she wiped away tears of mirth.

  "As true as my name is Columba McCarthy I say to you that every word is true," he declared, "bring me a bible and I will swear on it!"

  "No need for such drastic measures, Father," Iain Drummond told him and laughed. "I think God has a special place in His heart for you."

  "I would love to think so, Iain," the priest said and sighed. "But in fact, the very next day I stood on a loose stone and fell over, landed on my backside, and bruised both it and my dignity in equal measure. No doubt my act of contrition was weighed in the scales of God's mercy and found wanting. I have to say I did not feel too sorry." This time he burst out laughing himself.

  "Careful, Father, God may decide that you have not had enough punishment yet!" Gregor said, grinning. "But never mind, I can always pat your back."

  He held up the big strong hands the cook and housemaid had been admiring earlier on. Columba assumed a theatrical expression of shock, then the entire company dissolved into laughter again.

  After that, there was much good-humored banter and the meal ended on a happy note. Gregor said grace and everyone except Columba adjourned to the parlor beside the dining room. Columba had gone to meditate in private after offering each of them a private confession, but no-one took up his offer. Gregor poured himself a large glass of wine, then another, both of which he drank down with great relish in about a minute.

  Gazing at the astonished faces around him, he said, “What are you all looking at? I am not a monk yet!”

  2

  Gregor's Desires

  He was quiet after that, listening to the chatter of the old friends who had come together to celebrate their fellowship. Warmth had settled over him and the look in his mother’s eyes as she held his hand made him want to weep again. She was so dear to him. Despite the warm welcome he had received from his friends and family, however, he felt left out. Their world was so different from his.

  He had gone into a reverie before Lorraine came and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. He and Lorraine had once been betrothed and he still retained a special fondness for her, even though she was Lady Hamilton now.

  "You look sad," she observed, frowning. "Is anything wrong, my friend?"

  "Sometimes I miss all this." He sighed and smiled sadly at her. "Maybe I am not cut out to be a monk."

  "And I think you are a normal human being," Lorraine answered, picking up his hand and kissing it. "We all have good days and bad days, do we not?"

  He thought for a moment. "You are right as always, Lorraine," he replied. Then he realized that she was the perfect person to talk to since she knew him so well. "I miss having the company of a woman," he confessed. "Sometimes the desire is so strong it is like torture."

  "Oh, Gregor," she said and sighed. She felt desperately sorry for him. "I do not know what I can do. Perhaps if you prayed—"

  "I have prayed until my headaches," he told her then, pulling himself together, he smiled at her. "Just talking about it makes me feel better. Thank you, Lorraine."

  He stood up and went outside for a breath of air just as a very pretty housemaid walked past. She curtsied and he smiled at her, then his gaze followed her as she walked away. When he came back inside, he went straight to the chapel to join Columba. Columba had gone to the chapel to pray and meditate for a little while as was his habit after dinner. It was only for half an hour, but it settled his spirit before bedtime and helped him to sleep.

  This time alone with God was the best part of his day and the one he looked forward to most. When Gregor came in he felt almost resentful, even though he sat a few rows back so that he would not interrupt the priest. Then Columba chided himself for being so uncharitable and intolerant. He beckoned Gregor to come and sit beside him. "You look troubled, Gregor," he observed. "Can I help?"

  Gregor smiled and gave a little cynical laugh. "Not unless you know what it is like to lie with a woman, father," he said bitterly. There was a pause for a moment.

  "Would it surprise you to know that I do?" Columba asked.

  Gregor looked at him in utter amazement. “But are priests not expected to be celibate?" he asked.

  "This was before I was a priest," Columba replied. "Strictly speaking, our bodily desires should be reserved for marriage, but you yourself should know what young men are like—a bit wild sometimes." He grinned, remembering. "I may be a priest but I am still an ordinary man and I have the same desires as you have."

  Gregor stared at him. "Then how do you cope?"

  Columba shrugged. "I pray, I meditate, and I do what every other man does." He did not elaborate. "I trust God to help me. I am a lot older than you, Gregor. You calm down with age." He patted his protégé on the shoulder and stood up. "Sit and think for a while. Pray and let God take care of you."

  Then he left. Gregor tried to do as Columba had asked, but he could not concentrate on his prayers and gave up after five minutes. He wen
t down to a small, cell-like room in the servant’s quarters where he slept. He thought he would be unable to sleep, but he did and he dreamed. He knew he was asleep, but the woman in his bed seemed to be real. She had red hair and blue eyes but no name or face. She was looking at him so lovingly that his heart began to race in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

  Her limbs tangled with his and she pressed her body against him, chest to breast, stomach to stomach. They were kissing frantically as though their lives depended on it and the softness of her lips as they moved on his was driving him wild with desire. He trailed his fingers down past the flat stomach and down to the sensitive inside of her thighs. Then he thrust into her and began to remember what it was that he had left behind. His climax was fierce, but after it was over, she disappeared—simply melted out of his arms. He felt desolate, bereft, and alone. When he woke up there were tears in his eyes.

  Columba was worried about Gregor. In his early days as a novice, then as a fully-fledged monk, then an ordained priest, he had suffered the same frustration. The difference was that he had a naturally calm disposition and could cope with the rigors of deprivation without too much effort. However, in the beginning, it had been more difficult than it was now, but after a year or so he had learned not to think about it, and after a while, it had gradually disappeared. However, women had never looked at him the way they looked at Gregor.