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

by Fiona Faris

  Ross sat next to his father in silence as the men talked excitedly amongst themselves, making plans for the morrow. Some teamed up to increase their odds of finding their foe while others remained closed lipped about their strategy for fear that another might beat them to the kill. Most of his father’s men had scraped by on what little they could produce from the mountains. The promise of great wealth was too much for many of them to resist. Ross knew he would have to hurry if he wished to beat them to finding Andrew Murray and his family. If one of the other men were to find them first, they would carry out his father’s order to kill Alana without a second thought. Faither’s words have changed everythin’. I will need tae leave afore the morn to ensure that I find Alana afore they do. Her verra life depends upon it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland

  Darkness fell across the land as Alana led Malcolm and his family to one of the abandoned crofts her grandmother had shown her before she died. Her leg hurt so badly she felt as if she would collapse upon the ground at any time. With every step she took, she felt as though she could not take the next one, and yet somehow she did. The youngest lasses whimpered behind her as they clung to their mother. Iona walked beside Alana, offering a hand here and there when her leg buckled beneath her. Malcolm and Bruce had their hands full with keeping Andrew, Mary, and the wee bairn safe and upright on the highland pony’s back while watching out for any dangers that might lurk from every direction.

  Alana knew her father would not allow himself to be thwarted in his desire for blood. He would send his men after them, but he would not find them. She would make sure of that. While her father had been forced to hide himself away in his mountain fortress only descending the mountain to spy upon his enemies, Alana had been allowed the freedom to roam the landscape as she pleased. She had learned a great deal about places to hide, where food could be found, and what herbs could be used to heal or kill as one desired. She would protect Malcolm and his family if it were the last thing she ever did upon the earth. The way she was feeling, it might very well be.

  A crying wail erupted from beneath Mary’s arisaid. Wee Andrew had had enough and was protesting his environs. Alana’s heart went out to the poor wee thing. I feel the same way, wee Andrew. Hold on just a bit longer. We are almost there.

  “How much longer?” Iona asked from beside her as if she could read Alana’s thoughts.

  “Not much further now,” she promised.

  The group continued to climb higher and higher over the rough terrain until Alana found the marker she was looking for. A large stone shaped somewhat like a chair emerged through the dark gloom and Alana turned to the left, moving past the stone and through a fissure in the rock. They entered a half-hidden ravine and followed the rock’s face until they came to the edge of a stream. Alana led them along the water, around a stone outcropping, and came to an open expanse of ground. There against the ravine wall sat the abandoned croft. “We have arrived,” she announced. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  They made their way to the front door and Malcolm stopped her before she pushed it open. “Let me go in first tae ensure that it is safe.”

  Alana nodded and stepped back out of the way. Malcolm handed Bruce the reins and shifted the dirk in his hand to get a better grip. He pushed open the door with his foot and peered through the darkness inside. Stepping over the threshold, Malcolm examined the interior, then returned to the door. “It is abandoned just as ye said.”

  Bruce assisted Mary down from the back of the pony. “What about yer faither?” he asked Malcolm.

  “Let me light a fire first and see what can be done,” Malcolm answered, stepping back into the croft’s dark interior. A few moments later light flickered in the doorway, illuminating the croft’s limited furnishings. Alana entered and found a table with benches on either side, a kettle hanging from an arm over the fire, two beds, and a door in the far corner. “There is another bed in the other room,” Malcolm informed her, coming around to stand beside Alana. “We should let Faither and Maither have it.”

  Alana nodded her head in agreement. “Mary, Bruce, wee Andrew, and the girls can have the beds in the main room. There is a place for animals ‘round the back. We can put yer mount in there.”

  “I’ll see if there is a place tae bed down while I am at it, but first we need tae get Faither inside and warm,” Malcolm replied.

  “I will see what I can do about the bed. We only have the blankets ye striped from his bed and they are wrapped ‘round his body now,” Alana answered.

  “There is a good bit o’ dust coverin’ everthin’,” Malcolm noted. “We dinnae have time tae do anythin’ about that.”

  “Nae, we dinnae,” Alana agreed frowning, “but I will do my best.”

  Malcolm exited the croft, sending his sisters and mother inside. Alana explained the bedding situation to them and Freya joined Alana in preparing a room for Andrew. The blankets and mattress had long since rotted away, but by some miracle, the wooden aspects of the bed were still intact. “It will nae be verra comfortable for the both o’ ye, but it is the best I can do under the circumstances. Let us hope it does nae rain as I dinnae believe the roof will keep the water out.”

  “We will make do,” Freya reassured her. “’Twas a mixed blessin’ that we were forced tae carry Andrew out o’ the castle by usin’ the beddin’. We are safe for now and that is all that matters.”

  “Aye,” Alana agreed. “’Tis a relief to be sure.”

  Malcolm and Bruce waddled into the room each carrying an end of Andrew’s unconscious body. They lifted him up onto the bed and gently laid him upon the wooden boards. Alana was greatly relieved to find that it held his weight without wobbling or groaning. Freya arranged the blankets and tartan around her husband and smoothed the hair back from his pale face. The strain of her husband’s illness and their flight from the castle had taken its toll on her. Her shoulders sagged and the lines of her face were drawn in an expression of fear and pain. “Dinnae leave, my love,” Alana heard Freya whisper. She decided to give the couple sometime alone and left the room.

  As she entered the main room, she found that Mary and Bruce had done much the same for their family taking Mary’s arisaid and Bruce’s tartan to make a bed for their little family. The girls all curled up in their arisaids and lay cuddled up against one another for warmth. Malcolm was not with them. Alana moved to the fireplace, removed the kettle from the arm, and carried it outside to the stream. She scrubbed it vigorously with the sand and gravel from the stream bed, scouring it free of any debris or residue. When she felt she had done all she could, she filled it with water and carried it back toward the house. Her leg pained her terribly and the kettle was much heavier full than it had been empty.

  “Could ye use a hand, lass?” Malcolm’s voice came out of the darkness beside her.

  “Aye, I could at that,” she admitted, letting him take the kettle from her hands. They walked back to the croft together and placed the kettle over the fireplace to boil. “I gathered a few herbs as we walked. I will make everyone a good tea tae fill the empty spaces and allow them to sleep.”

  Malcolm looked over at his sisters curled up together in a row. Mary nursed wee Andrew in the bed opposite them while Bruce held them both in his arms. “They’re tae tired tae do anythin’ but sleep, I would wager.”

  “There is good tae be found in every situation, I suppose,” Alana murmured sadly. It pained her beyond expression that it had been her family that had brought about the events that had forced them all to flee for their lives. “I cannae tell ye how sorrowful I am.”

  “Ye are nae tae blame. Forces set in motion long afore we were e’er born led tae this day,” Malcolm replied, taking her into his arms. “I have made a bed for us in the outbuilding behind the croft. ‘Twill be ye, me, and the pony tae keep each other warm, unless ye wish tae fight my sisters for bed space?”

  “Nae, the stable will be fine,” Alana answere
d. “What matters is that we are together.”

  “Aye, truly.” Malcolm kissed the top of her head, tightening his embrace.

  “How is yer head?” Alana asked, reaching up to examine his scalp with her fingers.

  Malcolm took both of her hands in his stopping her investigation. “Dinnae fash. I will be fine, lass.”

  “Ye say that now, but I saw ye when it happened. Ye were as pale as a dead fish and about as lively as one,” Alana retorted.

  “But more bonnie, aye?” Malcolm teased. She knew he was attempting to make her feel better, but she could not help worrying.

  “Aye,” she replied. “Verra bonnie.” Though she tried to be cheerful, the tone of her voice revealed the mixture of sorrow and guilt she felt within.

  Malcolm bent his head down and kissed her lips. “I love ye, lass. Nae matter what yer faither and brother may have done to me and mine, ne’er forget that it is nae yer fault. Ye were lied tae yer entire life and when ye learned the truth, ye did all ye could tae make things right. I dinnae blame ye and neither does anyone else here.”

  “I love ye, Malcolm Murray. I lived my entire life hatin’ ye, a man I had ne’er met, and now I dinnae ken what I would do if anythin’ were tae happen tae ye or yer family,” Alana admitted.

  “I am here, lass. We are safe for now.”

  Alana studied Malcolm’s face. He was as weary as the rest of them, he simply hid it better. The dark circles under his eyes and the tightness in his jaw hinted at the true level of fatigue, anger, and heartbreak that lay beneath his calm exterior. They stood there locked in each other’s embrace until the water began to boil, then Alana extricated herself from his arms and tossed in the herbs she had gathered to make a soothing tea for everyone. She found some old cups in a cupboard against the wall and took them down to the stream to scrub them as she had the kettle. When she returned, she found Malcolm holding his nephew.

  “I see ye found a wee friend,” Alana noted, smiling at the baby’s adorable features as he gurgled up at his uncle.

  “Aye, I thought I would give Mary and Bruce a moment tae themselves. It has been a long day,” Malcolm answered. He traced the tiny features with his finger as he bounced the baby in his arms, humming all the while. When he began to sing, his rich baritone voice filled the room, offering a soothing balm to their souls. “O’ all the money e'er I had, I spent it in good company. And all the harm I've e’er done, alas! It was to none but me. And all I've done for want o’ wit, tae mem'ry now I can't recall. So fill tae me the parting glass. Good night and joy be with ye all!”

  Alana dipped the tea and began to pass it around. As Malcolm’s voice brought tears to her eyes, she quickly dashed them away so no one her cry would see. Hearing her brother’s voice, Mary sat up and leaned against her husband’s chest, joining in the song. The sweet sound of their duet pulled Freya from the other room and she stood in the doorway listening to her children. “Oh, all the comrades e'er I had, they're sorry for my goin’ away. And all the sweethearts e'er I had, they'd wish me one more day tae stay. But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and ye should nae, I gently rise and softly call, that I should go and ye should nae. Good night and joy be with ye all!”

  Mary’s voice faded away and Malcolm was left once more to sing alone. “If I had money enough to spend, and leisure time to sit awhile, there is a fair maid in this town that sorely has my heart beguiled. Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own she has my heart in thrall. Then fill to me the parting glass. Good night and joy be with ye all! Good night and joy be with ye all!” As his words faded into the shadowed corners of the croft, there was not a dry eye left in the room.

  “Fergus,” Freya murmured from the doorway.

  “Aye, ‘twas his favorite,” Malcolm replied, lifting his cup to the heavens, then downed its contents in one gulp as if it were a dram of whisky. “There was ne’er, nor will there e’er be, another man o’ his like.”

  Alana choked back a sob and turned so that no one would see her give in to the tears. It was not fair that a man such as Fergus Murray should meet his death at the hands of her own villainous father. She would have given anything to have been born to a man such as Fergus and he had treated her as if she had been. Now he was dead and the world was a much darker place for the loss of his light. It was more than any one person could bear and the guilt felt as if it would drown her. Alana busied herself, attempting to take her mind from the pain by refilling Malcolm’s cup and managed to once more get her emotions under control before she turned to hand it back to him.

  “Sing it again, Malcolm,” Mary requested softly.

  Nodding in agreement, Malcolm raised his voice in song once more. Alana stepped outside and let the tears fall freely from her cheeks. She looked up at the star-spangled sky overhead and prayed to God that he would welcome Fergus with open arms. The weight of the loss felt as if it would crush her very soul. Oh, Fergus, I am so verra sorry… so verra, verra sorry. She bent over in agony, sobs racking her body, and fell to her knees in supplication. Oh, God in heaven forgive me for what I and mine have done.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland

  That night Malcolm and Alana slept in the stable with the pony, while his family slumbered in the croft. Malcolm and Bruce took turns keeping watch at the mouth of the ravine. It was unlikely that they would have been discovered so quickly, but it paid to be cautious. Malcolm had taken first watch and Alana had offered to join him, but he had demanded that she rest her leg. When Alana had mentioned his head injury again, he had brushed it off and carried her to the stable. He wrapped her in her arisaid and lay her down on a bed of grass that he had pulled by hand for her comfort.

  “I dinnae deserve ye, Malcolm Murray,” she praised his thoughtfulness.

  “Nae, ye deserve so much more, but a grass bed is all I have to give,” he replied, then left her to sleep while he stood guard.

  When Bruce relieved Malcolm and he rejoined her in the stables, Alana was fast asleep, exhausted from the trek up the mountain. She did not awaken until she felt his strong muscled arms wrap around her and pull her close against his chest. When she stirred, he shushed her, “Go back tae sleep. ‘Tis I and naught else.” Reassured that they were safe, Alana allowed herself to return to slumber, glad for the warmth of his body against hers to ward off the chill.

  The next morning, Bruce came to wake Malcolm and the pair switched off once more. With daylight, it had become even more imperative that they be on their guard. Alana knew her father would have sent out men to hunt them down like prey. On one hand, the croft’s location was ideal as it was not easily found and there was no evidence that anyone other than they had visited it in years. On the other, they were boxed in with no way to escape were they discovered. Alana had been worried about their footprints from the night before attracting attention and leading a skilled hunter like her brother straight to them. Malcolm promised that he would see to it and make sure to cover their tracks as far as he dared to go. Though Alana knew they needed to stand guard, she was also concerned that the continuous walking back and forth would create a path that would show evidence of recent activity leading to the croft. Malcolm had said he would take her concerns into consideration, but he was not willing to surrender the idea of posting a guard altogether.

  Alana arose from bed and went about gathering edible plants, berries, and fungi to break the fast. She put the plants and fungi in the kettle to boil, making a meatless pottage of sorts. It was not ideal, but it would have to do. Later she would see if she could catch a fish or two from the stream. When it was finished, she served the soup up in the cups they had used the night before. When she took Freya’s to her, she found her on her knees praying for her husband. Andrew looked deathly pale and Alana could make out a rattling sound coming from his chest. Her grandmother had called such a sound a death rattle for whenever an ailing person made it, death was sure to follow.

  Alana walked over to Freya and placed her
hand on the older woman’s shaking shoulders. From the look in her eyes when she lifted her head, Alana could tell she knew what the rattling sound meant. “He is dyin’,” she stated, her voice filled with the agony of her future loss.

  “Aye, I am afraid so,” Alana replied. She would have loved to have lied and said the opposite, but she couldn’t do it. Freya deserved to know the truth and be able to say goodbye. How does one say goodbye tae the love o’ their life? Alana could not answer her own question. She could not imagine the pain of such a horrific loss.

  “Is there nothin’ more that can be done?” Freya begged, though she already knew the answer.

  “Nae, there is nae anythin’ that can be done now. I am sorry,” Alana answered honestly. Wrapping her arms around Frey’s shoulders, she lifted her up off of the floor and walked her over to a chair handing her the cup of soup. “Eat this. Ye need tae keep yer strength up for him and your children.”