Page 7 of Highlander’s Fruit of Eden

The Fruit that Is Forbidden

J on tried to avoid Amelia at first. He was sure that it was wrong to have such lustful feelings about a lass far below his class, but he could not help it.

As he lay in bed at night, he found himself in constant regret that he had not pressed his lips to hers and taken her there and then.

She did things to him that no other woman did, and he longed for her touch.

But it could not be. He would one day be Laird—even if that day was far off.

His uncle was wise and fair and was fit to rule for many years still, but he could not risk bringing shame to the family by marrying a housekeeper.

There had been talk of his uncle finding him a suitable match, but one had not yet been found.

The curve of her breasts was all that he could picture when he closed his eyes, and he wished that he had ripped open her shirt and grabbed onto her plump breasts when he had her against the wall.

Jon realized that he had been standing still daydreaming. He had to stop thinking of her, it was starting to affect this work, and that could not happen. He strode on again, on his way to meet with his uncle. When he turned the next corner, he found her rump staring him in the face.

Amelia was down on all fours, scrubbing at the bottom of the balustrade, her buttocks gently bouncing from side to side.

He stood and watched as she moved forward slightly to scrub at one of the wooden rails, her back curving elegantly.

He reached out his hand a little as if he meant to touch her, even though he was too far away.

He opened his mouth to say something but held back.

There was a difference now. He had avoided her for a few days, but he was sure that she was doing the same.

She was his forbidden fruit. One bite of her and everything could be destroyed.

The image lodged in his mind, and he continued to stare at her rear, imagining sinking his teeth into her rump, teasing her with a little nip of his teeth.

His trews tensed as he stiffened within, and he realized just how much he wanted to take her. He pushed his trews down at the front to hide his excitement, and Amelia chose that moment to stand up and turn around.

“What are you doing?” she asked, startled to see him standing there.

“Nothin’,” said Jon, finding his confidence sapped temporarily. “I am just on me way to see the Laird.”

“The Laird is off to see the Laird,” said Amelia with mock confusion. She scratched at the top of her head to really sell it. “How does that work, then?” The way she said it made him think that she was annoyed with him and not merely challenging him like before.

“Aye, aye,” he said. “Maybe I should’ve told ye that I was nae the Laird when ye thought that I was, but then I wouldnae have got to see ye shoutin’ at me uncle.”

“He gave me what I wanted, though,” she said.

“Aye, never thought that I would see that.”

“You don’t like how he runs things?” asked Amelia, getting straight to the point.

“Nay, I’m nae sayin’ that,” scrambled Jon. “The castle runs just fine.”

“But you think that you can do better, right? Is that why you run around pretending to be the Laird?”

He did not like her tone now, not because she was being rude, but because her earlier playful warmth was gone.

Whatever had been stirring in his trews was now gone.

“I love me uncle, and he has me full support,” said Jon, though he knew that there were some things that he would do differently if he were in charge.

“I have to get back to work,” said Amelia. “We don’t have the extra help yet.”

“Aye,” said Jon, mystified that this conversation was going as it was. He wanted to go back to how it was before, but that seemed lost now. “About the other day….”

“It was a mistake, and I forgive you for it,” said Amelia, holding his gaze.

“Aye, a mistake,” said Jon. He looked her in the eye, and he could tell that she was lying.

Neither of them thought that it was a mistake, but it did seem as if the moment had passed for them.

She was colder toward him now, and he knew that was his own fault.

He had lied to her and purposely played with her feelings, and this was exactly what he deserved.

He frowned and turned away. “Well, get back to work then.”

No reply came from Amelia, but he did not dare turn to face her, feeling the daggers coming from her.

He did not care anymore. There were plenty of women out there, and he had only taken an interest in her because she was new to the castle.

He would soon forget all about her. The thought did not help as he wandered the hall on his way to his uncle’s study.

He could still remember running through these halls as a child.

Those were different times back then, and the castle had seemed so much bigger then than it did now.

He and his cousins had annoyed the housekeeper no end, and it only seemed fitting that he was still annoying the housekeeper now.

They had got into so much mischief that they had stopped being punished.

It was much easier to clean up any messes than continue to dole out punishments.

Jon chuckled as he remembered some of the stuff they would do.

He placed a hand on the bare stone wall and let his palm rub against it as he walked. There was history in the walls, the story of every single person who had lived and died here.

If only these walls could speak.

When he got to his uncle’s study, there was candlelight flickering from within. The man was always writing letters and had been the one to teach Jon how to read. He would be forever grateful to his uncle for that—it made his life so much easier.

Jon knocked on the door, and the deep voice came from within, telling him to enter.

One of his uncle’s advisors, of which he had little, was sat on the opposite side of the desk, and Jon waited patiently as his uncle finished the last of the scribbling and handed the document to his advisor to be dealt with.

The advisor rose from his seat and nodded his head toward Jon before leaving.

“Sit down,” said Vincent with a smile.

“How are ye, Uncle?” asked Jon.

“Amused,” said Vincent.

“Amused, aye?”

“I still cannae get the image of that lass from me mind. Standin’ and shoutin’ at ye because she thought that ye were the Laird.

I’m sure that I’ve been chucklin’ about it for the past three days.

I mean, nae that I can blame her. There’s been many a time that I’ve wanted to shout at ye, and I’m sure that I’m nae the only one.

” His uncle burst out laughing as he finished his sentence, and Jon could not help but join in.

“Yer the only family that I have here in the castle, and this is how ye treat me?” Jon laughed again as his uncle continued to. He had to admit that the image of Amelia shouting at him had been quite funny. “When I am Laird, I hope that lasses dinnae shout at me like that.”

“Aye,” said Vincent, turning a little more serious.

“I hope that I’m as good a Laird as you are, Uncle.”

“Ye will be,” said Vincent. “In time, ye will be Laird of this castle. Unfortunately, me work is never done, and that is what I have called ye here to talk about.” Vincent rose from his chair and strode over to the window, looking out.

It was getting dark outside, and candles were needed to illuminate the study, but there was still some light in the air, and Jon could see some red sky if he sat up straighter in his chair.

Vincent finally turned. “I need to go south. The border, well, I dinnae quite ken what is goin’ on there, but there are rumblings of more and more bandits, and the English blame us while we blame the English.

There’s even some talk of war, though I cannae see that happenin’.

Many stand to gain by cutting off the trade routes, and there are suspicions on both sides, and that is the least of me problems.”

“Can I help at all?” asked Jon.

“Nay. Well, aye, ye can. I have to go down there and ensure that the trade routes stay open and we can still export our wares to the south, but there are going to be many Clans down there, and there will be talk amongst them with new alliances being formed. We cannae be left behind in all of this, and I’ll make sure that we are nae.

That means ye will be responsible for the castle and the Clan in me stead. ”

“Aye, Uncle. Of course. But can ye nae send someone else down there? There must be someone who can negotiate on yer behalf. What if there is trouble? I cannae imagine that all of the Lairds and nobles will be there, will they?”

“Maybe nae, but I’ll make a strong presence by showin’ me face.”

Jon finally stood up from his chair, afraid that his uncle was purposely putting himself in danger, but also annoyed at how his uncle was handling things.

“Ye cannae keep goin’ on like this,” said Jon. “Ye have to let more people in, put yer trust in more people. Ye cannae do everythin’ by yerself, Uncle.”

“Trust is hard to come by, lad. Trust too many people, and one of them is sure to stab ye in the back.”

“Oh, ye cannae be thinkin’ like that. Ye have to trust people of ye’ll be alone in everythin’.”

“I’ll run the Clan the way I want to run it, and ye can run it as ye please,” said Vincent. “When it is yer time,” he added.

“Aye,” said Jon. He was starting to worry that it would never be his time—that his uncle would outlive him through sheer will and determination just to prove that he could. “When do ye leave?”

“Want rid of me already, eh?”

“Nay, Uncle. Just need to plan. I’m yer nephew, if ye cannae trust me, who can ye trust?”

“I’m only jestin’ with ye,” said Vincent, but Jon was not sure that was the case. There was no point in exploring it further with his uncle, and he changed the subject.

“Have ye found me a wife, yet?” asked Jon with a more positive tone, though he was not sure what he wanted the answer to be. Women were much more complicated than he had initially imagined, and he was starting to think that he would be better off alone. Alone and not the Laird.

“I’m startin’ to think that nay one is good enough for me nephew. We’ll find ye a wife, dinnae worry, and it will be good for you, and good for the Clan.”

“Uncle, have ye ever thought about takin’ another wife?”

“Aye, many times,” he replied. “I might’ve if I had not been so busy lookin’ after the Clan.”

“Ye might not agree with me, but I’d rather wed for love than for the convenience or what it might bring to the Clan.

Dinnae get me wrong, I’d die for the Clan, and I’ll do anythin’ to make sure we are prosperous, but…

. What I’m sayin’ is that with such a small pool of women to take as a wife, what if I’m missin’ out? ”

“What are ye sayin’?” asked his uncle.

“Have ye ever thought about marryin’ a commoner? I mean, is that ever allowed as a Laird?”

“The thing about being a Laird is that ye can do pretty much whatever ye want,” said Vincent with a smile.

“Aye, that may be, but what if ye did marry a commoner?”

“Unless she was criminal or of ill repute, I wouldnae think that it would matter.”

“Aye,” said Jon, thinking more about Amelia. Was he actually considering entering into something with her? “What about me?”

“What about ye?” asked Vincent.

“What if I had me eye on a commoner?”

“Well, I would tell ye to have yer fun if ye wanted it, and if anythin’ came of the matter, we could work out the details after. Just dinnae go and get anyone pregnant before ye are married to them.”

“Aye,” said Jon with a smile. Maybe he had been wrong about the whole thing. He had distanced himself from Amelia because she was a commoner and he was the future Laird, but his uncle had all but given him the go-ahead.

“Yer thinkin’ of her now, aren’t ye, ye devil?”

“Maybe,” said Jon.

“Well, out with it? Who is she?”

“Amelia,” said Jon. “There’s just somethin’ about her that I cannae quite put me finger on. I don’t know how she does it, but she drives me wild. But if that will nae cause any problems in the castle, I’ll see where it takes me.”

“The housekeeper?” asked Vincent, his tone more serious and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Aye,” said Jon with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “The one who came in here shoutin’ at me, or ye, or perhaps the two of us.”

“Aye, I ken who she is,” said Vincent. This time, when he spoke, he seemed annoyed. “Nay, ye cannae be with her. I won’t allow it.”

“Won’t allow it?” asked Jon, his voice rising. “What do ye mean, ye won’t allow it. Ye just said—”

“Aye, I ken what I just said, but that was about a commoner, nae an English lass. Nay, with what’s going on at the border, ye cannae be engagin’ with an English lass.

Even without that, it wouldnae look good for the Clan.

Dinnae worry, lad, there are plenty of common lasses for ye to dip yer toe into.

Just dinnae go gettin’ ideas about her, alright. ”

“Aye, Uncle, ye’re right. If ye dinnae have any other business for me, I’ll be on me way.”

“Nay, that’s all I wanted to talk about, Jon. I’ll leave for the border in two days, and ye can keep everythin’ runnin’.”

Jon excused himself and wandered back through the halls and downstairs to the courtyard where he could get some air.

It was clear that Amelia was annoyed at him, and his uncle had told him to stay away from her.

That should have been enough to end it, but it drove him crazy inside.

She was his forbidden fruit, and that only caused him to want her more.

His deepest desire now was to taste her.