The Highlander's Fury - (A MacKay Clan Legend) A Scottish Fantasy Romance by Maeve Greyson

Author:Maeve Greyson [Greyson, Maeve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Maeve Greyson LLC
Published: 2023-07-19T18:30:00+00:00

“What do ye mean ye canna find the priest? The man should be snug in his croft we built behind the kirk.” Faolan sat behind his desk; the scratching of his quill echoed in time with his words.

Maxwell stood in front of his laird; his hands clasped behind his back. A pained expression spread across his face as he shifted from foot to foot.

“Father Danaan’s croft is empty and no one has seen him at the kirk since Sunday past. Ye know ’tis not really necessary the man perform the wedding ceremony. The betrothal has become a legally binding marriage since all can see ye’ve been quite successful in getting your lovely wife with child.”

Faolan relaxed back in the depths of his chair and tossed his quill upon the table. Drumming his fingers beside the drying parchment, he studied Maxwell’s worried face, which spoke much louder than Maxwell’s words. “What are ye not telling me, Maxwell? What has happened to the priest?”

“Nothing has happened to the priest! He’s just left this part of the Highlands. That is all I have to say.”

“Just left this part of the Highlands,” Faolan repeated, rising from his chair. “And why exactly would a newly ordained priest leave such a promising parish as the MacKay lands? And in the middle of winter, no less.”

Maxwell clamped his mouth shut, his lips thinning into a determined line of silence.

“Maxwell! I asked ye a question, man. And it was not a difficult one at that.” Faolan circled Maxwell, drawing ever closer as his friend closed his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest. Dammit, he’d keep the man in this room until he told what he knew about the priest.

“I told that little hypocritical beast we would be just fine here without him, and if he needed to find the pathway to Hell, I would be more than happy to point him in the right direction,” Ciara said as she pushed open the door.

“Ciara! Ye did what?” Faolan couldn’t believe what she just said. Had she noticed they neared the dead of winter? Did she just say she had told a holy man to go to Hell? “How could ye do such a thing? He is a priest, Ciara. He’s supposed to guide us and tend to our souls.”

“The drunken bastard,” Ciara hissed. “He judged everyone, gossiped worse than the kitchen maids, and blackmailed the parishioners with what he reaped from the confessional.” Ciara’s eyes flashed as she whirled on Faolan, standing with her fists clenched at her sides.

Faolan shook his head and nodded toward the doorway to allow Maxwell his escape. Shooting Faolan a sympathetic glance, Maxwell edged out the door.

“Ciara, the man was the clan priest. ’Twas his duty to listen to their confessions and assign them penance to atone for their sins.” Faolan steadied his voice to a calm soothing tone as though explaining the tenants of Catholicism to a child.

“The man used their confessions to force them into whatever perversions he dreamed up. And for some strange reason he found it convenient to forget his God wreaks the judgment.

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