The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

walking stick, marched forward with the boldness of a beast about to attack. “I informed the MacCoinnich that I willna perform the marriage ceremony betwixt yerself and Mistress Brenna.”

Magnus managed a forced calm, but his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He had never killed a holy man, even though he had been sorely tempted a time or two. Christianity. He snorted at the word—what a hypocritical religion. Preached kindness and forgiveness, then tormented poor innocent souls. “Dinna make me kill ye, priest. I’ll not allow a wonderful woman like my Brenna upset by yer deceitful beliefs that cause more harm than good.”

The father’s determined look puckered into a scowl. “I am nay refusing because anything’s lacking with Mistress Brenna.” The bushiness of his wild brows knotted tighter. “I am protecting the woman. She is a fine Christian lass. Confessed her sins and, from what she has told me, has more than paid her penance.” With one hand clutching the large wooden cross dangling from a cord around his neck, he chopped the air with the other as though preaching to a crowd. “I refuse to bind her to a heathen such as yerself.” His large, knobby nostrils flared. “Repent now or face eternal damnation, I say!” He dipped his chin again. “And face it alone because I’ll be telling that poor lass to run as far from ye as she can get.”

“What?”

“Ye heard me,” Father William declared, lifting the cross higher as he stalked closer. “Repent!”

Alexander, Graham, and Ian all stared at the floor, clasping their hands in front of them. The three of them looked as guilty as lads caught stealing pies.

“Are all of ye such cowards that ye let a priest run this clan?” Magnus tossed back his drink. He had never expected such a ridiculous attack. “Ye know damned good and well why I dinna follow yer God,” he continued when no one had the courage to answer him.

“Ahh,” Father William cracked a smile. With a smug nod, he shuffled another step forward. “So, ye do believe in the Almighty. That’s a fine start, my son.” He pulled a vial from the pocket of his simple brown robe and sent the cork flying with a flip of his thumb. “Now, might I assume ye also believe in our Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit?”

“All I believe is that yer followers murdered my mother!” Magnus stormed toward the wiry little man, burning to knock the holy relics aside and throttle the arrogant fool. But something held him back. Something inexplicable. A tolerance instilled in him long ago by his beloved mother stayed his hand. “Lying hypocrites, inciting hatred. That’s all the lot of ye do.”

Father William looked up at him with so much compassion it made him even angrier. “I am truly sorry about yer mother, my son.” He gave a sad shake of his balding head. “No Christian is perfect. And I freely admit, there are those who use God’s word for their own cruel benefit. But ye mustn’t blame the Almighty for the wicked ones who walk this earth. They shall receive their judgment, I promise ye.”

Magnus turned away. He couldn’t bear the sight of the man or his meaningless babbling any longer. He poured himself another drink and went to the wide window overlooking the chieftain’s private garden below. Walled in and a guard at the gate since Barricourt’s visit, the youngest of the keep’s children played among the trees and flower beds, Keigan among them. His son. His precious son.

The sight of the lad romping with Alexander’s youngest twin boys eased Magnus’s soul better than any Christian version of a promised hereafter. His son’s maturity bothered him. No bairn his age should possess such wisdom because of all he had witnessed. Where had Father William’s God been then? Why had the Almighty allowed so much death and suffering? Magnus shifted his gaze to the last dredges of whisky in his glass, swirling them in the sunlight. Of course, to be fair, he should also ask why his mighty gods hadn’t protected those he cared about, either. Every entity had failed him.

“We live in a broken world, my son,” Father William said as if reading Magnus’s thoughts. Somehow, the wily priest had moved to stand beside him without his even noticing. The man smiled down at the children playing. “Only when our Lord and Savior returns will all pain and suffering end. Come now. Ye believe in Almighty God. Allow me to baptize ye.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe one day ye’ll be on speaking terms with our wondrous Creator again.”

Magnus snorted. “Ye’re too late, priest. Mother had me baptized when I was but a few days old and stricken with a fever she couldna cure.” A sad fondness overcame him at the memory of her telling him of her panic. “She feared I would die. So, she thought to protect my soul in any way possible.” He drained the last of his drink and upended the glass with a thud on the windowsill. “Magnus Jedidiah de Gray. I dinna ken what happened to the record of it. I can only assume it’s recorded in a kirk somewhere.”

“Jedidiah.” The Father laughed. “Ye ken yer name means ‘friend of God’? Aye, well, even friends fall out now and again and stop speaking to each other for a while.” He patted Magnus’s shoulder. “If I had known this about ye, I would nay have come at ye with the holy water. Forgive me, my son. It would honor me to say the words to bind ye with Mistress Brenna.”

“She doesna wish a big affair.” Magnus focused on the children at play. “But I dinna think we should hide away as though we’re ashamed.” He spared a backward scowl at the three where they now stood beside the cabinet with all the decanters and glasses. “I am not a coward like some in this room.”

“I am not a coward,” Alexander argued. “I merely know