by Fiona Faris
“I swear it, Mary. I truly do swear it,” Alana sincerely pledged. “I have already lost yer brother. I cannae lose ye tae.”
“Ye will nae e’er lose me, Alana.”
The women hugged with tears in their eyes, but were forced to separate when the baby squawked his disapproval at being smashed between them. They both laughed softly at the sweet sound and Alana sat back down on the bed. “So tell me about what happened betwixt ye and Malcolm.”
“We lay together,” Alana admitted.
“That I ken,” Mary replied, rolling her eyes. “The entire household kens that ye shared a bed.”
Alana blushed bright red. It had not occurred to her in all of the events that had transpired since that the entire household would have known. “Ye must think me a whore,” Alana moaned.
“Nae, I dinnae. I think ye are a woman in love,” Mary replied. “What I wish to hear is why did ye faint afterwards?”
“’Twas the guilt. I could nae take the guilt and the shame o’ my betrayal. I should ne’er have lain with Malcolm, nae with what I kenned o’ my faither’s plans and my own deceptions. I have done him a great wrong and I dinnae ken how tae make it right,” Alana admitted.
“Give him time. He loves ye. I have seen it in his eyes when he looks at ye,” Mary reassured her.
“Yer maither said the same,” Alana admitted.
“A wise lass, my maither,” Mary replied with a smile. “Listen tae her. She kens forgiveness well.”
“Aye. She shared with me how she forgave yer faither and the clan, but I dinnae believe that Malcolm will see it the same. Yer maither and faither found a way tae forgive nae simply because they loved each other, which they do, but because their survival, the survival of their clans, depended on one another. I held the key tae yer family’s survival in my hands and did nae share it. Instead, I deceived all o’ ye then lay with Malcolm kennin’ that my faither wished ye tae yer graves. ‘Tis nae the same at all,” Alana pointed out. Shame rippled through her body in waves that made her skin crawl.
“Ye are loyal tae yer faither as any good daughter should be. As I said, I would have done the same thing had my faither asked it o’ me,” Mary reminded her.
“Aye, but yer faither would ne’er have asked it o’ ye,” Alana argued, feeling a bit sorry for herself. It hurt her to know that her father had been willing to risk her life and virtue for his revenge. It stung that her father’s worst enemy was a better father than her own. It was even more frightening that she had failed to give him what he wanted as now she would never be able to return home or be forgiven. Were she to try, she would be sold to Laird Sutherland and never see her beloved Cairngorm Mountains or Blair Castle again. The pain of her actions combined with their repercussions were more than her heart could take.
“Nae, he would nae,” Mary agreed, “but he is a better man than most.”
“Aye, I ken that now,” Alana admitted. “Every story I was e’er told about yer family was a lie. I was terrified when faither ordered me tae come and spy upon ye. I was certain that I would be mistreated as the women from my faither’s stories had been. Instead, I found a family that loves me more than my own e’er did.”
“Ye earned it, Alana. Ye are a remarkable lass o’ great skill and compassion. Any family would be proud tae have ye. We were poorer for yer absence and are made all the richer by yer presence.” Mary affectionately squeezed Alana’s hand once more.
“I thank ye with everythin’ I am for forgivin’ me and acceptin’ me as yer sister. I have ne’er felt anythin’ akin tae it afore and it means my very life.” Alana expressed her feelings with tears in her eyes.
“I suppose that means we saved each other then,” Mary replied smiling.
Alana paused. Mary had used the exact same words Freya had used just moments before. ‘We saved each other,’ she had said of her and Andrew. “And I will save ye again if it is the last thing I do upon this earth. I will nae allow my faither tae touch a hair on ye or yer sweet bairn’s head. I will find a way tae stop him.”
“We will find a way tae stop him as a family,” Mary reminded. “Ye are nae longer alone in this.”
Chapter Thirteen
Both women embraced once more and sat talking for some time until Bruce entered the room. Alana arose from where she sat upon the bed, kissed the soft downy head of the bairn, and left to give the couple time to enjoy their new little family in peace. She returned to her room to retrieve her arisaid, then left the castle to walk the grounds. She needed time to adjust to her new situation and to form a plan to thwart her father. He was a wily cunning man who would not be easily fooled. She was sure that news was already traveling via his spies to inform him of her betrayal. She remembered Ross’ threat to kill Malcolm were he to touch her and hoped that he did not make good on his promise. She did not wish to see either Malcolm or her brother dead.
Pulling her arisaid up over her head, she walked slowly around the training yard to work the kinks out of her sore muscles. Nearly drowning had taken its toll upon her body. She was covered with bruises and scrapes. Every time she moved she had to stifle a groan from the pain that echoed throughout her limbs and torso. Even her arse hurt. Alana stepped gingerly around the mud puddles that dotted the grounds and noted that a fine mist still fell all around her, coating the grass and her arisaid with its liquid caress.
Alana turned her face up to the sky and felt the droplets refreshing touch upon her skin. She closed her eyes and allowed the mist to wash over her. She silently prayed that it might cleanse her soul of its sin and pain. Freya’s words echoed once more through her mind, ‘Ye were baptized in tae this family by Mary’s blood.’
“Family,” she whispered. Alana opened her eyes and gazed at the Cairngorms, then at Blair Castle, then back to the Cairngorms once more.
“Contemplatin’ leavin’ us again?” a deep masculine voice asked from behind. Alana turned to find Andrew’s loyal man Fergus behind her.
“Nae,” Alana shook her head. “I will nae run again.”
Fergus nodded his head in understanding. “That ‘tis good, lass.”
“Have ye been sent tae keep an eye on me and make sure I dinnae flee?” Alana asked, knowing she would have deserved being assigned a guard given her past activities.
“Nae. I came o’ my own accord tae see how ye were farin’,” Fergus replied, surprising Alana with the genuine concern she saw upon his face.
“Why?” she asked, not understanding why he would care given what she had tried to do to the family he served.
“I ken well what ye are feelin’ now, lass. I was nae always loyal tae the laird,” Fergus admitted.
“But ye are his most loyal clansman. The one he trusts above all others,” Alana remarked in confusion.
“Aye, I am now, but I was nae always,” Fergus admitted. “I, like yer faither, did nae believe Andrew tae be strong enough tae lead the clan. We were on the brink o’ disappearin’ altogether as a clan and could have been wiped out in one fell swoop had any o’ the other clans taken a mind tae do it. I feared he had let a wee slip o’ a lass bring us all tae ruin. I was wrong.”
“How did ye come tae change yer mind? How did ye come tae hold the lofty position ye now hold in the laird’s heart?” Alana inquired. She could not help but feel as if her very life depended upon the clansman’s answer.
“I challenged him and he proved tae be the better man,” Fergus replied.
“He defeated ye in a fight?” Alana asked. From everything she had been told, Fergus was unbeatable in nearly every contest there was.
“Nae, lass, I trounced him thoroughly,” he chuckled in remembrance.
“Then how?” Alana was now even more confused.
“After I beat him, I could have rightfully taken the lairdship by our laws, but when he lay upon the ground beneath my sword, every man o’ the clan drew their swords and would have slain me where I stood, and me bein’ one o’ their own, men I had grown with and fought beside, but Andrew would n
ae let them. He held my life in his hands and justifiably could have taken it, but he did nae. He chose mercy when he had the power tae do otherwise. That, lass, is true strength tae have the loyalty o’ one’s clan and tae ken when tae wield it as a weapon and when tae pursue peace. Donald Murray would have had me killed on the spot. It was then that I realized that Andrew was nae a weak man, but a truly good man. It was in that moment I learned the value o’ mercy and loyalty tae be an idea bigger than one’s self,” Fergus explained.
“How did ye go from challenger tae friend?” Alana asked. “How did the laird grow tae trust ye so explicitly?”
“I proved myself. From that day forward I have guarded the laird with every bit o’ strength I possess. I owe him my life and I will continue tae guard him with it until the day it is taken from me. I did nae see yer deception, lass, and that would worry me, but for one thing,” Fergus admitted.
“What is that?” Alana asked, looking up into his face.
Fergus met her eyes, “Because ye tae are a good person. Ye saved Mary and the bairn’s life though ye were raised tae hate them. It took true strength for ye tae do what ye did. Ye are capable o’ great loyalty and sacrifice, but ye are also capable o’ even greater compassion and love. I have seen it in ye, lass, time and time again since ye came tae live at the castle and it is that compassion and love that drove ye tae tell the truth.”
Tears filled Alana’s eyes at his words of faith. “Help me tae save them,” she begged as two tears made their way down either cheek.
Fergus reached out a calloused hand and gently wiped them away. Alana looked up into his smoke blue eyes as the wind wiped his gray-black hair about his face. “We will save them all together,” he promised, his fatherly expression causing her heart to crumble in her chest. She had seen a similar look in Andrew’s eyes. If only her own father had looked at her that way just once.
“Oh, Fergus,” she sobbed and allowed him to enfold her in his comforting arms.
“Och, lass. Dinnae fash. All will be well in time,” Fergus soothed, smoothing her hair where her arisaid had fallen away. “Yer faither does nae ken what he has lost sendin’ ye tae us, for it ‘twas nae the lairdship he should have sought, it ‘twas a far more precious jewel than that.”
Alana sniffed against his plaid as tears streamed down her cheeks. She attempted to gather herself together and wiped her cheeks as she listened to the calming beat of his heart against her cheek. “Did ye e’er have any children?” she asked, thinking he would have made an excellent father for some lucky lad or lass.
“I was ne’er blessed with children. Bein’ a godfather tae Andrew’s children is as close as I e’er got, but had I had a daughter, I would have been proud for her tae be as ye are. A braver, truer lass a faither could nae ask for.” He tipped her head back with a finger under chin so that she would see the sincerity of his words.
Alana could not believe the depth of the man’s soul. She had hardly paid him any attention since her arrival and now here she stood wishing that he had been her father all along. She felt a moment of guilt for her disloyal feelings to her own father, but it passed quickly with the thought that had he truly loved her, he would never have used her as he had. Looking up into Fergus’ eyes, she knew he would never have asked such a thing from his daughter, just as Andrew would never have asked it of his. “I would have been proud to have been yours,” she replied.
“It wasn’t enough that ye seduced me, but I see ye have moved on tae my faither’s men,” Malcolm’s voice bitterly broke through the precious innocence of the moment.
“Ye are off base, lad,” Fergus chastised gently.
“Be wary o’ this one, Fergus. Like a siren she will lure ye tae yer death,” Malcolm practically hissed, slurring his words slightly.
“Are ye drunk, lad?” Fergus asked.
Malcolm stumbled forward a step and the smell of whisky nearly knocked them over. “Finlay had a wee bottle tae share with his poor brother,” he admitted.
“I wager he did,” Fergus answered, his brow raised in disapproval. “Let’s get ye inside afore ye say somethin’ else ye will regret.”
“The only thing I regret is believin’ she cared for me,” Malcolm spat out, weaving back and forth.
“That is enough o’ that, laddie,” Fergus warned, grabbing Malcolm by the shoulders and helping him to stay upright.
“I am sorry, Malcolm. I truly am,” Alana attempted to apologize.
Malcolm sneered. “Sorry ye got caught,” he accused.
“I’m sorry that I hurt ye,” Alana clarified, her voice pleading for him to hear her.
Malcolm snorted. “Ye could nae hurt a flea on a dog.”
“Dinnae waste yer time, lass. Arguin’ with a bad drunk is like fightin’ a man without honor. He’ll spit in yer eye, cut yer ballocks off, feed ‘em tae the swine, and piss on yer carcass afore ye can make them see sense,” Fergus cautioned her. “He’ll only hurt ye, then leave ye tae make sense o’ the pieces and there will be no sense tae be had.”
“I ken that well enough,” Alana murmured sadly. She had been on the wrong end of more than one of her father’s drunken foul moods, but she had expected better of Malcolm.
“He will be better on the morrow and sorry for his words and actions this day,” Fergus promised. “Just remember when he comes tae ye that forgiveness works both ways.”
“Aye, I will,” Alana assured him. “I just hope he comes tae me.”
“He will,” Fergus reassured her. “It may take a few days, but he will.”
“I will nae apologize for anythin’. She is the one who should apologize,” Malcolm grumbled, only half conscious on his feet.
“Ye are a wee bampot if ye think that, lad,” Fergus chided. “Now let’s get ye tae a bed.”
Fergus walked off with Malcolm in tow as Alana remained behind staring after them, the rain blending with the tears on her cheeks.
* * *
The next morning when Malcolm awoke, at first he did not remember anything about the day before, then memories began flooding back and he groaned with shame. He had never been one for over drinking, but he had been so upset and Finlay had been waiting for him with the bottle of whisky as if it were the cure to all that ailed him. “I am a cuddie o’ the highest order,” he moaned, holding his head in his hands. The light from the window felt as if it were trying to splinter his head into kindling.
Rising from his bed, he walked over to the washstand in the corner and splashed water on his face. He dried it vigorously as if scrubbing would clear the mortifying words from his head. “I should be taken out and shot,” he murmured, balling his hands into fists as he leaned over the bowl on the washstand and looked at his faint reflection in the water. His eyes were bloodshot and full of self-loathing. A pounding on the door of his room brought him out of his reverie.
“Hold yer wheesht,” he barked, then groaned. He jerked the door open and found Fergus waiting for him on the other side. “Och,” he deflated his shoulders, sagging as he faced the witness to his cruelty.
“Och, is right, ye wee bampot. Did I nae tell ye ye would regret yer words tae her?” Fergus chastised.
“Aye, ye did and I do,” Malcolm admitted, running his hand over his face in frustration. “Nae matter what she has done, it was wrong o’ me tae speak tae her in such a fashion.”
“Aye, it was,” Fergus agreed. “And ye should apologize tae her, but for now yer parents wish tae speak with ye. While ye were passed out drunk, the rest o’ us have been plannin’ on how tae protect ourselves from Rory Murray.”
“Alana?” Malcolm asked.
“Aye, the lass hardly slept doin’ everythin’ she could tae help us come up with a plan tae defeat her faither’s plans,” Fergus informed him.
“I dinnae believe her words tae be accurate. If her faither truly had an army, would we nae have kenned it long afore now,” Malcolm argued. “I agree that I should nae have spoken tae her the way I did, but that does nae mean I trust or belie
ve her.”
“I love ye, lad, as much as if ye were my verra own, but ye are bein’ a fool where that lass is concerned.” Fergus shook his head in disappointment at his godson.
“On, that we can agree. I was verra much a fool afore. I will nae make the same mistake again,” Malcolm promised.
“Och, that is nae what I meant and ye ken it well,” Fergus chastised. “Ye are tae hard on the lass.”
“I fear we will have tae disagree on that, Fergus,” Malcolm remarked, then walked past his godfather to the laird’s bedchamber.
Upon reaching it, he knocked on the door and was bade entry. “Ye wished tae speak with me, Faither?”
“Aye. Yer maither and I heard about yesterday’s events and wished tae discuss it with you,” Andrew answered, his face a mask of disapproval. “What were ye thinkin’ getting’ drunk and harrassin’ the lass that way. It is behavior unbecoming a future laird or any son o’ mine.”
