Stealing The Highlander's Heart (Tales 0f Blair Castle Book 2)

by Fiona Faris

  “You mean tae stay in yer faither’s mountain fortress? Have ye bumped yer head, lass?” Malcolm look at her sure she had addled her wits in some way.

  “I am nae daft, but if ye are nae comfortable with the idea. I ken an abandoned croft or two we could stay in. One is nae far from here,” Alana replied.

  “’Tis true we need a safe place for the night, but we should get as far away from yer faither’s men as we can,” Malcolm advised. “I would nae wish tae be discovered.”

  “Some of the men may return for their wives and children, but most of them will find their way down the mountain on their own as previously arranged by my faither. There is another croft further up, but we are nae goin’ tae make it verra far with the condition we are in. I fear we will be forced tae take shelter long afore ye are ready. I ken ‘tis nae easy, but ye are goin’ tae have tae trust that on my mountain I ken what is best,” Alana warned.

  Malcolm nodded his head thoughtfully. He knew she was right, but it concerned him that they would not be able to put enough distance between his family and their enemies. “Can we make it tae the farther croft ye spoke of?”

  “’Tis possible, but ‘tis a risk,” Alana answered.

  “’Tis a risk we will have tae take. Would yer faither or brother think tae look for ye there?” Malcolm asked concerned.

  “Nae, ‘twas a secret between myself and my grandmaithar. She feared how my faither might choose tae use me when I was grown. I was but a wee lass when she took me down the mountainside tae teach me herbs afore she died. She revealed to me hidden away places that no one e’er came tae as they were long abandoned. I did nae ken at the time how important her words would come tae be. She kenned long afore my faither’s plans for me. I did nae ken that she was teachin’ me how tae escape,” Alana admitted.

  “And now her lessons will save us all,” Malcolm replied, holding her tighter. “If ye will lead the way, I will make sure that we make it, all o’ us.”

  She nodded her head against his chest. The feel of her brought him comfort when he did not believe such a thing were possible. “If we are goin’ tae make it afore nightfall, then we must continue on now. If we wait tae much longer, it will be tae late,” she advised.

  “Aye, I will inform the others,” Malcolm replied as they turned together to rejoin the family. When they set out once more, Alana took the lead. With her in front of him, Malcolm could not help but notice how prominent her limp had grown. He loved her all the more for her determination. They would make it to safety or die in the trying.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Blair Castle, Scotland

  Ross stood with his father at the top of the castle and surveyed the land before them. They had won. He could hardly believe that an entire lifetime of planning and training had finally been brought to fruition. To look at his father you would have thought they had lost the battle. Fury blazed from his eyes. Rory was furious over not finding Andrew Murray or any of his family. Alana had also been nowhere to be found. On one hand, Ross was greatly relieved that she had not been captured. On the other, he was worried for her wellbeing not knowing where she was.

  Perhaps it was best that he knew nothing. As much as he cared for his sister, he was first and foremost loyal to their father. If he knew where she was, he would have gone and killed Andrew and Malcolm himself. He drew the line at allowing harm to befall Alana. Their father had slipped over the edge of sanity where she was concerned and Ross had no intentions of joining him. One did not kill family no matter how much they may have disappointed you. Were that the case, he would have killed his father long ago.

  “Where are they?” Rory growled from beside him, scanning the landscape. “I have searched the entirety o’ the dead and wounded. They are nowhere tae be found. How is that possible when our spies confirmed that they were in the castle at the time of the attack? They are nae spirits able tae come and go through the walls as they please.”

  Ross was not about to tell his father he had seen Malcolm Murray and left him to Finlay Erskine. He had no desire to meet the same end his father had promised his sister when she had disappointed him. He felt a moment of guilt for having left poor Finlay to fend for himself, but that was how Finlay had wanted it. Ross never would have imagined that Malcolm could have beaten the older, stronger Finlay. He had returned to put out the flames and found Finlay lying upon the floor drenched in a pool of his own blood a knife wound in his neck.

  “I dinnae ken,” Ross answered truthfully. He had expected his father to gloat over his victory, but the idea that Andrew Murray got away had overshadowed any sense of joy over the occasion. “The men will be expectin’ a celebration tonight and we should nae disappoint them. They have earned it. Tomorrow mornin’ I will go and see what I can find out. Just give the order Faither and I will deliver ye the heads o’ yer enemies.”

  Rory’s eyes glinted with pleasure at the idea. “Yes, I believe ye are right, my son, but I will do more than just send ye.”

  A sensation of eerie foreboding traveled throughout Ross’ body. “What do ye mean, Faither?”

  “Just ye wait and see,” Rory invited gleefully. “All will be revealed in time.”

  Ross feared that whatever his father was up to would not bode well for Alana. He studied Rory’s face and knew without a doubt that someone was going to die and soon. “Should I nae ken it sooner than later, Faither?”

  “Ye will ken it soon enough, lad. Now go below stairs and help prepare for the evenin’ festivities. See what, if any, o’ the kitchen staff still survive. If there be none, then force some women from the village tae come and tend tae our needs. I will nae have the men go without,” Rory instructed.

  “Aye, Faither. As ye wish.” Ross bowed in respect, then went to do as bid.

  He hoped that some of the castle staff had survived the attack. He loathed the idea of dragging the village women from their homes and forcing them to provide for the men that had killed their husbands, fathers, and sons. His father had no such qualms. Ross supposed having lost his mother at birth, being raised during early childhood by a loving Irish grandmother, and living his entire life with a healer for a twin sister had softened his heart toward the feminine sex. He was grateful for the women in his life and would have killed any man who would have tried to harm them. He now wished to avoid causing harm to anyone else’s mother, grandmother, or sister.

  Entering the great hall, he was struck once more by the grandeur of the room. The walls were covered in antlers, stag’s heads, and weaponry, but instead of giving the room an air of death or hostility as one might think, the exact opposite was true. The room exuded pure welcoming warmth. The entire house, when not bathed in the blood of its occupants, held an opulence that belied its true embracing nature. Ross stood in the middle of the room and allowed himself a moment alone. The debris from the battle had been cleared away and for a brief moment all was still. The coppery smell of blood still hung in the air, but it was dwindling quickly. He imagined Alana standing in the very same room for the first time upon her arrival at the castle feeling scared and alone. He had disagreed with sending his sister in alone from the beginning, but his father had refused to listen. Now she was running for her life.

  Tomorrow he would set out to find her. He would come up with a way to keep her safe from their father. Bringing him the news of Andrew and Malcolm Murray’s deaths would be a good start. If he could get Alana to see reason and aid him in their capture, perhaps Rory would forgive her and welcome her back home. Ross shook his head in rejection of his own plan. Even if he was able to bring her safely home, their father would simply marry her off to the next wealthy laird to come along. Ross determined he would see her safely away before he returned with their enemies. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to emerge from his reverie and address the business at hand. There was a party to plan and an army to feed.

  Moving to the kitchen, he found a woman and two girls bound and gagged in the corner as several of his father’s me
n stood leering at them. He hated to think what they had in their minds to do to the poor lasses. Ross had no trouble killing men, but he did not countenance the raping of women for any reason. His father’s men did not share his sentiments. Entering the room, Ross cleared his throat and the men stood back and awaited orders. “Are any o’ these lasses the cook?”

  “The older lass there,” one of the men answered, nodding his head in the direction of the most matronly of the three. “’Tis the only reason she still lives,” he sneered, eyeing the woman maliciously. “She is a fighter that one,” he stated, rubbing a blueish-black bruise on the side of his jaw. “I would nae let her anywhere near the pans.”

  Ross chuckled at the thought of the cook defending her domain by smacking the men upside the head with a frying pan. “’Tis good ye did nae kill her. Faither would have been most displeased had there nae been anyone tae cook for him this evenin’. There are celebrations tae be had this night.” The men grinned at the idea of the food and drink to come. “Now go and help clear away what remains o’ the battle unless ye wish tae be eatin’ yer meals on the backs o’ the dead.”

  As blood thirsty as his father’s men were, they drew the line at such a grotesque image. One of the men actually turned green at the notion and scurried from the room to do as bid. The older of the men hesitated as if he wished to rebel against the orders given, but thought better of it and led the group from the kitchen.

  Ross knelt down beside the frightened women and attempted to soothe them. “I will nae harm ye, any o’ ye. I simply wish tae ask ye a question. Can ye do that?” The two younger lasses nodded their heads. Ross knew it was out of sheer terror more than an actual willingness to cooperate. The cook sat and glared at him with such anger, he was sure she would have killed him given the chance. “Now I am goin’ tae remove the cloth from yer mouth and ye must promise nae tae scream when I do. Do ye swear it?” Again the girls nodded their agreement. Ross leaned forward and removed the gag from first one girl and then the other. “Do ye ken what befell the young healer, Alana?”

  The girls stared at him wide eyed, their fear causing them to remain mute. Ross waited patiently, his gaze never wavering. Finally one of the girls shook her head in reply. “We dinnae ken,” she croaked. Ross knew her mouth had to have been dry as parchment after having been gagged for so long. He arose and fetched some water, giving each lass a drink. He contemplated whether to remove the cook’s gag and allow her a drink as well. Chances were she would spit it back in his face. Deciding to risk it, he removed the gag and put the ladle to her lips. To Ross’ surprise she did not spit in his face, but drank deeply closing, her eyes in the joy of its sweet relief.

  When she was done, she pulled back and studied Ross’ face. “Alana is yer sister, is she nae?”

  “Aye,” Ross nodded. “I only wish tae ken whether she is safe or nae.”

  “I dinnae ken. We feared she had been slaughtered with the rest o’ the family,” the cook answered. Ross could tell from the grief in her eyes that she believed the entirety of the laird’s family to be dead.

  “Fear nae, lass. The laird and his family live. They have fled the castle leavin’ the rest o’ ye tae suffer at my faither’s hand,” Ross informed her.

  The look of relief that washed over the cook’s face was undeniable. “Then yer sister will be with them,” she answered. “She is a member o’ the laird’s family now.”

  “What do ye mean by that? She did nae marry Malcolm Murray did she?” Ross asked, angry at the idea.

  “Nae, but she might as well have. She is as much a member o’ their family as if she had been born tae it. They love her like a daughter and sister. I dare say the laird’s son and heir would have married her given the chance,” the cook informed him. “Ye have nae cause tae worry for her wellbein’ as long as she is with him.”

  “I thank ye for the reassurance,” Ross replied.

  “I dinnae tell ye for yer own sake, but for hers. She would nae wish for ye tae think her in danger. She spoke tae me o’ ye on occasion once her secret was revealed. She taught me many things about healing and medicinal herbs. She loved ye in spite o’ what ye planned tae do. ‘Tis for her I speak. Were it I, I would just as soon plunge my knife in tae yer heart.” The look in her eyes told him she did not lie.

  “I will endeavor nae tae give ye the chance,” Ross promised, “but if ye wish tae live tae see the morrow, ye must temper yer anger and do yer duties as a cook.”

  “I will nae cook for yer faither’s scum,” the cook refused.

  “Then my faither will kill ye as ye will nae longer serve a purpose. Even if ye dinnae care for yer own life, what o’ the lassies under yer care?” Ross asked, motioning towards the girls whimpering beside her.

  “Ye will nae lay a hand on them or I will gut ye like a fish and wear yer entrails for garters,” the cook growled.

  Ross smiled. He rather liked the woman’s fiery nature. “I dinnae doubt that for moment, but dinnae doubt me when I say my faither will do much worse tae them if ye defy him.”

  The girls sobbed in terror and the cook’s face went ghostly pale. “Leave the lassies be. I will do as ye ask.”

  “I thank ye,” Ross replied, nodding his head in agreement. “I am going to release yer hands now, but if ye attempt anythin’ at all, ye will regret it.”

  The cook swallowed hard, then nodded her assent. Ross released the bonds around her hands and feet. She rubbed her wrists and ankles where the ropes had rubbed against her skin. Circles of red blood formed around her wrists and Ross wrapped each of them with a clean cloth from the table. He vaguely wondered if they were meant for the making of cheese. “What am I meant tae cook?” she asked angrily.

  “Cook what ye would if it were for yer laird as ye will be doing so tonight for the new laird o’ Blair Castle and the Clan Murray,” Ross answered with pride. He had been taught from birth that Blair Castle was his birthright and that one day he too would serve as its laird after his father. He had been raised to hate the people who occupied the castle, but to love the place itself as his rightful home.

  “Rory Murray is nae my laird, nor will he e’er be,” the cook protested, spitting on the floor at his feet in disgust of the idea. “I will nae treat him as if he were.”

  Ross stepped forward in warning. “Ye will do as ye are told or ye and all ye hold dear will suffer for it.”

  The cook looked at the two girls still tied up against the wall and nodded her head slowly. “I will do as ye ask.”

  “Verra well. I will set a guard o’er ye tae ensure that ye are nae harmed in any way and tae ensure that ye do as ye have been instructed without any form of mischief. Dinnae think tae poison the food for it will be ye and the lassies who will be forced tae taste it afore it is served,” Ross warned. He released the bonds of the other two girls, then walked over to the door and grabbed the next of his father’s men to pass. “Ye will safeguard these women with yer life unless ye are prepared to cook for the laird and endure his wrath for yer failures. Dinnae allow them tae escape or get up tae any mischief. Dinnae touch them unless ye are forced tae do so by their own misdeeds.”

  The man nodded his head in confirmation of his orders and took up a defensive stance by the door. Ross watched for a moment to ensure that the women did as they had promised, then went on to see to his other duties. When it came time for the evening’s festivities, Ross made his way back to the kitchen to ensure that all had gone well. The man he had left in charge of the lasses’ care stood exactly where he had been when Ross left. The kitchen was filled with delicious smells of every kind. His stomach growled as the scent of roasted venison filled his nostrils. The cook had remained true to her word and provided a feast fit for a laird. Ross examined each item, having the cook taste each dish before he would allow her to serve it in the great hall. When she did not fall over dead, he smiled and motioned for her and the girls to carry on with their duties.

  Leaving the kitchen, Ross joined his father at the head table
in the hall. When his men had assembled, Rory stood and called for quiet. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to face their laird. “We have done it, lads!” A roar of exultation from the men filled the room. “Nae more hidin’ in the mountains! Nae more plottin’ and schemin’ tae take back what is rightfully ours! We have taken Blair Castle and nae one will e’er take her away from us again!” Another roar erupted from the men accompanied by the banging of fists and trenchers. Rory raised his arms and the noise stilled. “Now that the battle has been won, it is time tae rebuild our lives, tae take back what was stolen from us.” Another cheer went up from the crowd. Rory waited for it to die down, then went on. “We have won the day and all should be well, but it is nae as it should be for the perpetrator of our exile has escaped and still lives free tae return.” Discontented murmurings spread throughout the room. “This is something we cannae allow! To the man who brings me the heads of Andrew and Malcolm Murray I will bestow great wealth and prestige. Now eat, drink, and be merry, for on the morrow we hunt!”