by Fiona Faris
He sleuthed around the edges of the walls on the ground floor, just above the dungeon, then crept down some wooden stairs to discover the source of the horrific cries.
Christ!
Just outside of the dungeon, Donald was yanking his breeches down, as one of the helpless female captives lay naked in front of him, pinned down by two guards. It was the fair-skinned blonde-haired girl from the earlier raid. She still had her hands bound with abrasive rope.
When Andrew saw Donald’s rigid member released from his undergarments, he acted. There had been enough violence today, and he would not allow more, not if he could prevent it.
Donald motioned for the guards to flip her over, so she was flat on her stomach, then pushed her face into the soiled ground.
“Now, be a good lass, an’ maybe I will no’ hurt ye… tae mich,” he said, his tone menacing. “Who kens – maybe ye’ll like it!”
The girl writhed and screamed for help, and just as Donald went to mount her, Andrew cleared his throat behind him.
“Chief, I need a word,” Andrew said.
“Whit? Cannae ye see I’m in the middle o’ somethin’, boy!” Donald turned to look at the younger man.
“Aye, I dae see that. But this cannae wait.”
With a low growl, Donald got to his feet and ordered the guards to throw the girl back into the cell. They tossed her arisaid onto her bruising face.
“Nae bither, my fair lass. I shall be back fer ye,” Donald said with a mocking bow before gesturing for Andrew to follow him upstairs.
When they were alone, Donald whirled on him. “So, oot with it, lad. Whit is sae important that ye had tae interrupt my sweet plunderin’ o’ that stoater downstairs?”
Andrew hesitated for a moment. He had to word this right, so he came off sounding genuine.
“Aye, that’s the thing, chief. That lass ye hae in the dungeon… I want her as a spoil o’ war. Me ole pecker is itchin’ fer it,” he told Donald, licking his lips for extra effect.
For a spell, Donald didn’t say a word. He just stared at Andrew like he had lost his head. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a bellow of laughter.
“Weel, I’ll be damned. Sae ye’ve finally come ‘round tae haein’ a taste o’ these fair lasses, eh? Boot time, lad!”
Andrew grinned sheepishly, still playing his part.
“I’ll admit,” Donald went on. “I was lookin’ forward tae stickin’ my rod intae that blossom. However, ye are my finest warrior, an’ despite yer, let’s say, resistance tae the cause, at first, I’m willin’ tae grant ye whit ye ask.”
Andrew gave a stout nod. “Thank ye, Donald. I appreciate yer understandin’ o’ this… matter.”
Donald slapped him on the back, let out another hearty laugh, then left.
Andrew took the steps back down to the dungeon, gave the guards instructions that the girl was his spoil now, and thus not to be harmed, then headed to the top floor of the castle where his quarters were. His heart pounded in his chest as he paused just inside his room. He almost couldn’t believe that he had persuaded the ole lout of a chief to leave the girl alone… for now.
He sighed and flopped down onto the simple wooden bed. Again, he vowed to himself that the brutality of his clan had to stop.
Andrew desired vengeance on the self-righteous chief. Not for himself, but for the vicious onslaught he ordered against an innocent people who had done nothing to offend the Murrays. No disease or dwindling population, or any other excuse could validate the suffering.
Andrew deemed his honor, and the honor of the Murray clan, gone. How could he redeem himself and their clan’s name? It could not be a solo mission; he needed help and arms, so he decided to seek out Rory for a consult on this dire matter.
Only a few minutes later, he was tapping on his friend’s shoulder to rouse him from his slumber.
“Rory, wake up! I need tae talk to ye,” Andrew whispered.
Rory groaned and rolled over onto his other side on the creaking bed.
Andrew gave a vexed sigh and shook the man. “Wake up, ye wally!”
Rory bolted upright, dazed and blinking into the gloom.
“Whit the hell is wrang with ye? Ye scared the livin’ daylights oot o’ me,” Rory said, clutching his sore shoulder from the battle.
“I must talk with ye. This cannae wait till mornin’.”
“Oot with it then, frien’! Tis the middle o’ the night, an’ I want tae bloody sleep.”
“Donald is no’ fit tae head this clan. He will lead us straight tae hell, an’ naebody else sees it.”
Rory emitted a deep sigh, blowing a great flurry of air out through his thick lips.
“Sae, ye want tae kill the bastard then? Dae no’ haver with me aboot it.”
“Aye, if that’s whit needs tae happen, sae be it. We would be mich better served formin’ an alliance with these clans an’ marryin’ our men tae their women. Then, there would be peace in the land.”
“Peace with lowlanders? Ye must hae bumped yer heid in the fray.”
“Come on, Rory, I cannae dae this alone. Ye ken as well as I that the ones we attacked did no’ deserve this, the bairns an’ lassies especially.”
“Ye hae a point there, I’ll give ye that. It damn near sent a shiver down my spine when I heard those babes an’ bonnies screamin’.”
“Oor men are rapin’ even as we speak. We need tae bring aboot change, my frien’. Or oor clan will forever be dishonored in the eyes o’ history.”
“Ye ken he is jist doin’ whit he said he would be doin’. The lassies will a’ get pregnant, an’ give oor clansmen bairns. If we dae no’ reproduce now, Andrew, it might be tae late fer us,” Rory said, with another deep sigh.
“Ay, but there is a peaceful way tae dae that. There has tae be. Anythin’ is better than watchin’ that wretched lout terrorize the land. Are ye with me oor no’, Rory?”
“If it makes ye go tae sleep quicker, then sure. Whit dae ye need me tae dae?” Rory asked as he pulled the coarse blanket on the bed over his person.
“We need tae convince as many clan members as possible tae join us afore we even think aboot killin’ Donald. We hae tae be deliberate aboot this, oor it will get us killed. Can ye start askin’ oor brethren who might see things in a similar light?” Andrew asked, hoping his friend would stay loyal to him and his proposed cause.
“Aye, I will ask ‘round fer ye. Now, go tae bed! I hae tae rest,” Rory replied with a grumble.
Andrew nodded. “Thank ye, brither.”
Later that night, Andrew crawled into his bed, his thoughts heavy with all that he and Rory had discussed. The savagery of their invasion of the Erskine clan and the screams of the girls being raped kept him tossing and turning until the sun rose the next morning.
Chapter Six
Andrew half expected to find Donald back in the dungeon, trying to force himself on the young lass again. Only, this time, despite his orders to the guards, one of them had her pinned against the wall of the cell.
Andrew sucked in a breath when the man slapped her straight across the face before wrestling with her arisaid, causing the fabric to stretch and nearly rip. It appeared that Andrew had arrived just in the nick of time again.
Andrew grabbed the guard by the shoulder, turned him around, and punched him in the face with such velocity that it flattened him on his backside. Andrew’s knuckles throbbed and glowed red from the punch to the lout’s jaw.
“Whit the hell did ye dae that fer?” the guard protested, cradling his chin.
“I gave strict instructions that the lass was no’ tae be harmed,” Andrew replied with his fists still clenched.
“Whit? Nae one told me that. I get it, ye want this one fer yesel’. Be my guest, but she is a fiery one,” the guard said.
The fiery woman, Freya, was on her knees, trying to catch her breath from the assault. Andrew gazed into her big blue eyes when she then stood up and he was mesmerized by her beauty. She was the most beautiful woman he ever laid e
yes on, and he was speechless as their eyes locked with one another. The few seconds felt like an eternity for Andrew.
The guard, who still clutched his displaced jaw, interrupted their staring contest.
“Ye right tae watch her while I see tae this?” he asked Andrew, gesturing to his jaw.
“Aye, awa’ with ye,” Andrew replied.
Finally, Freya seemed to have a moment of peace without being hounded by some brute.
Despite all that had happened, a new sense of optimism had engulfed her last night, when Donald, before his attempted rape, revealed that some of the other girls from the clan were here at the castle. Was her best friend Sorcha possibly captured during their raid of Kellie Castle and the nearby villages? Freya whispered a lengthy prayer to herself that she would be reunited with her best friend.
She had to get free of her prison and find the other girls somehow. Escape seemed futile, but then she had an epiphany. This man before her seemed different from the others. He had rescued her twice now from being dishonored. Her anxious expression turned into an enthusiastic smile when she formulated a strategy for an escape plan out of this forsaken dungeon.
If she was to successfully be freed, the kindness and generosity of this man was the key.
However, when the man took a step towards her, she backed away.
“Dae no’ touch me,” she said, her tone sharp.
“I’m no’ one o’ the guards. I will no’ hurt ye,” Andrew said, his voice soft, warm.
“Why should I believe ye are ony different from the rest o’ those animals?”
“I don’t believe in rape an’ pillaging tae repopulate oor clan.”
“O’ right, sae ye were no’ at the raid on my clan, eh?”
The question silenced Andrew. He had no explanation for that. He daringly took another step toward her to stare into those captivating azure eyes.
“Look, I am sorry fer whit happened tae yer people. Somehow, I am goin’ tae find a way tae make things right. It is jist no’ the right moment yet,” Andrew said as he reached out to touch her shoulder.
“I said daen’t touch me!” Freya snapped and looked up at him in ire. “How are ye goin’ tae make it right? Everyone’s gone, aren’t they? The only ones I ken are alive are the girls who are bein’ tortured like me, but I cannae be with them because that foul-smelling, evil monster wants me in bed.”
Freya burst into tears, and Andrew’s heart sank seeing her saddened. She leaned her forehead against the dusty, brick dungeon wall.
“I ken ye daen’t believe me, but I will stop this havers,” Andrew declared. Then, when she didn’t respond, he continued, “Whit’s yer name, lass?”
She sniffled but refused to make eye contact with him again. “Freya.”
“Whit a bonnie name. I’m Andrew.” He bowed as a sign of respect.
“Weel, Andrew, I would say it is nice tae meet ye, but sayin’ sae in these conditions would make me a liar. Why did they let ye down here in the first place?” Freya asked as she viewed Andrew’s rugged, muscular body in the faint light.
“I persuaded the chief, the lout who tried tae take ye against yer will last night, tae let ye alone. As long as I’m ‘ere, nae harm will befall ye.”
Freya stared at him for a moment, then edged her body closer to him. Almost unknowingly, she ran her rough, dirt-crusted hands over his broad chest.
Andrew quivered at her touch, the smell of her hair captivating him, despite her being locked in a dungeon for days.
“There is somethin’ aboot ye that’s different from the rest o’ brutes in yer clan. I cannae put my finger on it, but ye hae a softer side I hae no’ seen afore,” Freya said, looking up at him again.
“I told ye, lass. I want tae change the way o’ things,” he replied and grasped her hands.
Freya tugged Andrew toward her. Their bodies pressed against one another’s and Andrew glanced down at the ripped arisaid which exposed part of her full breasts.
“Dae ye like whit ye see? I’ll show ye more, but ye hae tae tell me aboot this plan of yers tae make things right. Tell me, please.” Freya said, her voice laced with a softness Andrew knew was meant to seduce him.
“Ye will find oot Freya, I promise. It’s jist no’ time yet.”
“Are ye goin’ tae get me oot o’ this hell? Can ye assure me o’ that, Andrew, the one Murray with ony sense o’ compassion?”
She guided his hands across her figure. Andrew felt every inch of her body from her breasts down to her slender legs. It was like a witch’s spell cast upon his bodily senses, and she controlled every movement.
“Take me with ye right now. It is only us ‘ere in the dungeon,” she whispered as her hand wandered down to his hardening member.
Their lips quivered, and Freya directed Andrew’s hands to her waist. He grasped her arse, and she pressed her lips to his for a soft kiss. She glided her tongue inside his mouth, and then a series of thuds sounded from above.
“I hae tae go. Sorry, Freya, but ye hae tae stay down ‘ere. Please trust me,” Andrew said, pleading with her.
“Swear on yer life that ye will come back fer me. Swear by it, Andrew,” Freya demanded, her expression firm and steadfast.
“I daen’t ken when, but I shall come back soon. I swear it,” he stated, peering into her eyes.
At that moment, two pairs of boots marched down the stairs. Two new guards trudged down the stairs and smirked at Freya lying on her back. Her face was covered in dirt on both cheeks and tears filled her eyes. The guards snickered at her suffering, clearly thinking that Andrew had just had his way with her.
“I like that position, lassie. It’s how ye belong,” one guard jeered.
The guards mocked and belittled her some more until Andrew finally told them that was enough and that if either of them even touched her, then he’d have their heads. The guards cackled like two wild animals, then Andrew took his cue and began to climb the stairs above the dungeon. He turned back once to gaze into Freya’s hardened expression, which revealed a spirit not yet broken.
Thank goodness fer that, Andrew thought.
He was infuriated that he had to leave Freya. His attraction to her swelled, and he was powerless to resist her seduction. He yearned to release her at that very moment so she could be free, but he knew by doing so his plans of overthrowing Donald would be severely damaged. There had to be a way where he could set her free from her bondage before, inevitably, Donald placed his grimy hands all over her gorgeous body again.
For the second night in a row, he barely slept a wink.
Chapter Seven
A slither of sunlight entered Andrew’s room, but his internal conflict over releasing Freya still tormented him. A maddening knock resonated on his door, and he leaped out of bed to answer it.
“Damn ye, Rory. Why are ye knockin’ at my door like sae?” he demanded
“Did ye hear whit the chief said?”
“Nae, I did no’ hear whitever that bastard said. We need tae talk sae get the hell in ‘ere.”
Andrew yanked Rory inside the room.
“Dae ye remember whit I told ye? Have ye asked ‘round the clan tae see if onyone might hae the same longin’?”
“Calm down afore ye go completely mad o’er this. Yes, I did, an’ there is a handful who would no’ mind new leadership, but they are a’ petrified o’ whit Donald would dae tae ‘em if he thwarted ony uprisin’ against him,” Rory whispered.
“Are ony o’ ‘em willin’ tae actually fight against him or no’?” an impatient Andrew asked.
“Let’s jist say it might no’ be the best time fer the go-ahead on this. It might be jist the two o’ us against the entire clan an’ I dae no’ like those odds,” Rory said.
Andrew shook his head in disappointment. He was enraged about the cowardice of some of his fellow clan members.
“Whit is this news I hae no’ heard then?” Andrew questioned.
“Aye. Donald said he is givin’ the prisoners awa’ tae the high
est-ranking clan members,” Rory enlightened him.
“Whit? Ye must be bluffin’!” Andrew exclaimed in disbelief.
“I am no’, brither. He mentioned somethin’ aboot him takin’ the stoater from the dungeon tae his quarters taenight. The one he claims is the fairest ony o’ us has ever seen.”
Andrew couldn’t help but panic upon hearing that. His request for Donald to allow Andrew access to Freya was, evidently, only a one-time allowance. He paced around the room until Rory touched his shoulder.
