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

by Fiona Faris

  “I dinnae wish tae live without him,” Freya answered, pushing the pottage away from herself.

  “Ye dinnae have a choice,” Alana replied, handing her back the food. “Dinnae make the mistake o’ leavin’ yer family without ye. They have lost enough.”

  Alana’s words must have hit their mark for Freya’s eyes cleared from the vacant fog they had been under and she looked up at Alana’s face. “Aye, o’ course. Ye are right. Forgive me for my momentary lapse of …” her words faded off as if she did not know how to explain what it was she was feeling.

  “Dinnae fash. Ye have the right tae feel as ye do, but ye cannae let it win. Andrew would ne’er wish for ye tae do anythin’ other than live a long and full life when he is gone. I have a notion that he would be quite angry with ye for doin’ anythin’ less,” Alana remarked.

  “Aye, that he would,” Freya nodded her head, smiling slightly in gratitude to Alana. “Thank you,” she murmured as she put the soup to her lips and drank deeply.

  “’Tis nothin’ at all. Ye were there for me and I will be here for ye come what may,” Alana promised. “It will nae be easy, I grant ye, but ye are a strong woman. Andrew will depend on ye tae care for yer people and yer children when he is gone. Malcolm will need ye most o’ all.”

  Freya’s eyes studied Alana’s face. “He will need ye as well.”

  “Nae, he will nae need me.” Alana shook her head in protest.

  “Aye, he will. Ye dinnae ken it yet, but ye are exactly what my son needs by his side when he becomes laird,” Freya informed her.

  Alana shook her head again, but chose not to argue out of respect for the grieving woman’s feelings. If it brought her comfort, then Alana would not deny her her beliefs. Alana sat staring at Andrew and found herself unwilling to give up the fight just yet. Her mind knew that there was not anything she could do, but her heart begged her to try anyway. “Perhaps there are a few herbs we could try. I could make a poultice for his chest and brew a tea that might bring him some comfort.”

  “Please do everythin’ ye can, Alana. I beg o’ ye.” Freya gripped her hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “I dinnae wish tae give ye false hope,” Alana warned.

  “I understand,” Freya answered, releasing her hand. “Now go and see what ye can do.”

  Alana left the croft and scoured the ravine for any herbs that might bring Andrew some relief from his symptoms. The supply was limited as much of what she needed grew further down the mountain in the glen, but she did what she could with what she found. She dared not go out of the ravine for fear of leading danger to their doorstep. When Alana returned to the croft, she boiled some tea to sooth his pain and prepared a poultice for his chest to help him breathe easier. When she was done, she carried her offerings in to Freya and instructed her on their ingredients and uses. It was difficult to get the tea inside Andrew as he faded in and out of consciousness, seldom coherent enough to swallow properly. Alana rubbed the poultice onto his chest and back in an effort to make the rattling sound cease or at the very least lessen somewhat. She prayed fervently that she was wrong about his fading life and that he would miraculously revive to join them once more.

  * * *

  When Malcolm returned from covering his family’s tracks, he entered the croft to find the main room empty. He walked over to the door at the back of the house and found Alana, his mother, and sisters all huddled around his father’s bed. An ungodly rattling sound echoed through the room. Malcolm froze in his tracks. He had heard that sound before and it had heralded the death of the sufferer every time. “Faither?” Malcolm asked unable to move any closer for fear he might collapse from the weight of his sorrow.

  “Malcolm,” Freya lifted her head and walked over to her son taking his hand in hers. “The time has come tae say goodbye tae yer faither. Alana has tried all she kens tae do and there is naught else.”

  Malcolm shook his head as if by sheer refusal of acceptance he could make it not so. Now he understood the look Bruce had given him when they changed places at the mouth of the ravine. Malcolm had thought it was his brother-in-law’s general worry and sorrow over what had happened to their family, but now he realized it had been so much more. The laird, his father, was dying and there was nothing more any of them could do to stop it. Malcolm turned and left the room without saying another word. He needed some time alone to think and prepare his mind and heart for the loss. He thought he had prepared himself already as he and Alana had climbed the mountain once before, but now as he stared death in the face, he knew he had not fully accepted it.

  With his father’s death looming, it felt as if someone was sitting on his chest and had removed all the air from his lungs. His chest ached with the pain of it and his head pounded in time with every beat of his heart. I am nae ready. I am nae ready. I am nae ready. His mind whispered his despair over and over again. Had they not been forced to run for their lives, his father might have lasted a while longer, but as it was, time had run out. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and knew without turning that it was Alana coming to offer him what comfort she could. He felt her arms wrap around his torso from behind and he placed his hands over her smaller ones holding her to him. She laid her head against his back and the ache in his chest lessoned somewhat allowing him to breath once more.

  They stood there like that for a time without speaking. Just having her near was comfort enough to him. The warmth of her body soaked through his tartan spreading to his heart, slowing its rhythm. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  “As am I,” Malcolm replied, pulling her around in front of him so that he could hold her in his arms. “He has been a constant guidin’ light in my life. I dinnae ken what I will do without him.”

  “Ye will make him proud, o’ that I have nae doubt,” she answered confidently.

  Malcolm leaned his chin on the top of her head and sighed, his breath moving tiny tendrils of her hair tickling his cheek and tangling with his whiskers. Were he not so upset, he would have chuckled at the sensation. Malcolm lowered his head and lay his cheek against the side of her face. “I thank ye for helpin’ him as best ye could, lass. I ken well enough ‘twas nae an easy thing for ye tae admit ye could do nae more for him.”

  “Nae ‘twas nae easy at all. Yer poor maither was beside herself and I had tae try, but he is tae far gone for anythin’ I can do now,” Alana admitted sorrowfully. “I verra much wish it was nae so.”

  “As do I, lass. As do I,” he murmured, holding her tight before letting her go. “And now I must go and find a way tae say goodbye.”

  Malcolm took Alana’s hand and they walked back to the croft together. When they entered the room where Andrew lay, Freya stood up and came to wrap her arms around her son. Malcolm let go of Alana’s hand and returned the embrace. Tucking his mother up under his arm, he walked over to his father’s bedside. Andrew had said his goodbyes to his children long ago when he had first fallen ill, unsure of what the future would bring. Malcolm was grateful that his father had had the foresight to do so for chances were highly unlikely that he would regain consciousness again, but one never knew for sure. Malcolm had heard stories of men and women waking to speak with their families one last time before departing the earth. As he took his father’s hand in his own, he hoped that such would be the case now.

  Malcolm sat next to his mother on the edge of the bed and waited, holding vigil, hoping for a chance to say their last farewells.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland

  As the Murray family waited, gathered around Andrew’s bed, they shared memories of their lives together. Alana sat and listened marveling at the difference between their lives and her own. From the stories, Alana could tell that Andrew had been a wonderful laird, husband, and father. He had worked hard to bring the Erskine and Murray clans together and create a new life for them all. Under Andrew’s leadership the clans had flourished creating a stable framework of mutual trust and prosperity. T
he more she heard, the worse she felt about what her father had destroyed. No, things had not been perfect, but life was not perfect, and even in the difficult times his children’s tales revealed a man of exemplary fortitude and strength.

  When Freya began to speak, everyone fell silent. She weaved a tale of adventure, passion, sorrow, and joy that had Alana staring in wide eyed wonder at the life of love Freya and Andrew had shared. The fact that they had survived long enough to see grey hair was a miracle in and of itself. As she talked, Freya lovingly stroked Andrew’s hair. The genuine love and sorrow in her eyes as she gazed down upon his ashen face spoke of the many years they had spent together. They had fought for one another, nearly died for one another, and had survived to become grandparents. They were best friends and lovers until the end. Alana looked at Malcolm and wondered if such a life would have ever been possible between them had her father not destroyed everything he held dear. A single tear escaped her lashes to glide down her cheek and splash down upon the hard-wooden floor of the croft leaving a dark circle in the dust. Nae, ‘tis tae late for me. How could he e’er wish tae marry me after this?

  Unable to take the guilt of her family’s actions for a moment longer, Alana turned and left the room giving the family privacy to say their goodbyes. She thought of Bruce at the entrance to the ravine and wondered if she should offer to take his place. She might not be able to kill a fully-grown man as easily as he or Malcolm, but she could send up a warning the same as they should the need arise. Making up her mind, Alana limped her way to where Bruce stood guard. He turned when he heard her approach and greeted her with a nod. “How is he?” he asked.

  “It will nae be much longer. I have come tae relieve ye from yer watch. It might be best if ye are there for Mary and the bairn when it happens,” Alana informed him.

  Bruce studied her face for a moment as if he were debating in his mind the right action to take. After several moment of silence, Bruce nodded his head, handed her a dirk, and walked back toward the croft. Alana was fairly certain that Malcolm would be furious that she had been left to guard the ravine injured and alone, but she had grown up in these mountains. She knew them better than anyone and could hold her own in a fight. Alana leaned back against the stone outcropping that Bruce had just vacated and surveyed the mountain slope below, concealed by rock and forest growth. The forest was peaceful and still. Not a sign of human activity could be seen in any direction. Squirrels chased each other up the trunk of a tree, while birds sang back and forth to one another overhead.

  A motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to find a stag lift his head and sniff the air as if he could sense she was there. The stag looked about him cautiously, then finding nothing, lowered his head to feed from the forest undergrowth. Sunlight filtered through the trees bespeckling the deer’s coat with dapples of light. The moment was utter perfection, its serenity and peace only broken by the circumstances under which she was able to experience it. Alana lifted her face to the light and let its warmth wash over her. As she sat, watching and listening, she could not help but think of her grandmother. It had been the wise woman’s foresight that had seen them all to safety. She had not understood her grandmother’s lessons as a child, but Alana wished that she could thank her for them now.

  Hours passed as the sun made its diurnal trek across the sky. It was amazing the things that could be seen in the forest if one sat still and was very quiet. Alana marveled at the sights and sounds around her. She had watched the stag for a good long while before he disappeared walking further down the mountain. A mink scampered across the ground near her feet, paused, and looked up at her, then continued on its journey. An osprey flew overhead crying out for its mate causing a mountain hare to dart out from underneath a bush and dive into a small opening in the rock face. As evening fell and the light faded from the sky, Alana heard the sound of footsteps behind her and knew with a sinking feeling in her heart that Andrew Murray breathed no more.

  She turned to meet Malcolm’s eyes, bloodshot and red rimmed from tears. “He is gone. Faither is gone.” Alana moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. “He did nae wake. He just stopped breathing and was gone.” Alana felt his body tense in anger and she released him, moving back, unsure whether to say anything or to remain silent. Malcolm’s jaw was taut causing the muscles to jump beneath his skin. His eyes blazed with fury. “Rory Murray will pay for what he has done,” he seethed, his hands balled into fists.

  Alana knew that her father deserved whatever justice Malcolm chose to meet out for his actions, but she still could not help feeling a pang of distress over the idea that her father too would soon be dead. No matter how terrible of a man he was, he was still the only parent she and Ross had ever known. She kept her feelings to herself and leaned back against the rock outcropping, allowing him to express his anger and grief uninterrupted.

  “I will see him dead or die in the tryin’,” Malcolm swore, beating the rock face with his fist. Alana was fairly certain he was picturing her father’s face as he did so. He stopped when he broke the skin on his knuckles, leaving a blood red stain on the rock’s surface.

  “Now look what ye have gone and done,” Alana exclaimed, moving forward to examine the damage. “Come with me.” Alana took him by the hand and led him to the stream where she washed away the blood and stone fragments. She did not have a bandage, but at least his wounds would be clean for a time. “Ye cannae go about punchin’ rocks and expectin’ nae tae get hurt. Save yer anger for those that deserve it. Ye dinnae need tae be sheddin’ anymore o’ yer own blood than is absolutely necessary.” Alana chastised him more to soothe her own emotions than out of any real displeasure at his actions.

  Malcolm looked down at her as realization dawned in his eyes. “I’m sorry, lass. I did nae think about how ye might feel.”

  “He deserves what ye mean tae do tae him,” Alana answered, avertin’ her eyes so as not to reveal the pain she felt within.

  “But he is still yer faither, nae matter how bad a man he may be,” Malcolm finished the thought for her.

  “Aye,” she nodded her head. “I will nae stop ye from seeking justice for yer family. Ye needn’t fear anythin’ I might do on his account.”

  “I ken yer loyalty is with me and my family. I will nae e’er doubt it again, lass, but ye must ken that yer faither cannae be allowed tae live. As long as he does nae one in our family is safe, that includes yer own life,” Malcolm replied, caressing her face with the palm of his hand.

  “I ken it all tae well,” Alana answered, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. She had a thought to ask that he spare her brother, Ross, but knew that now was not the time, not while his grief was so fresh and his family hid away hunted by the very man she wished him to save. She prayed Ross would see the error of their father’s ways and spare Malcolm’s family. She knew no matter what happened in the days to follow, someone she cared for would die. Her father deserved it. Her brother was a victim of birth just as she had been. “Ye will nae be able tae take back the castle with just Bruce and yerself. Ye are goin’ tae need more men.”

  “Aye, I will need a great number more, but I am nae sure how many o’ our men survived the attack or how tae get word tae them without makin’ yer faither and brother aware o’ our presence,” Malcolm admitted. “We are safe only for as long as our location remains a secret. If Fergus were alive…”

  “He would ken what tae do,” Alana finished for him.

  “Aye, that he would,” Malcolm answered sadly.

  They moved back to the mouth of the ravine and Malcolm leaned against the rock wall pulling Alana into his arms. They stood in silence for a time as night descended across the land. The stars twinkled overhead casting their light, sparkling in the nearby stream. An owl hooted in the distance as a chill crept over the mountain. Alana shivered and Malcolm wrapped his tartan around the both of them trapping their shared body heat within its folds. The sound of footsteps heralded Bruce�
��s approach. When he came within view, he greeted them each in turn and leaned against the rock next to Malcolm.

  “I have searched the entire ravine and could nae find a single tool tae dig with. I fear we are goin’ tae have tae use our dirks. It will take all night tae get a hole large enough with one o’ us guardin’ here and the other diggin’ the grave. Freya and Mary are preparin’ the body, while the lassies care for wee Andrew,” Bruce informed them.

  “Alana and I will go and begin diggin’ the grave. Ye can remain here and stand watch,” Malcolm offered. Bruce nodded his agreement and Malcolm led Alana back towards the croft.

  They selected a patch of open ground behind the croft near the sheer rock wall of the ravine. Malcolm and Alana began digging removing layer after layer of dirt and stone. They needed to dig deep so that when they were gone animals would not be able to unearth the body. Malcolm dug with a vengeance pouring all of his grief and anger into his labors. Try as she may, Alana could not hold back the tears. She cried silently under the cover of darkness praying that Malcolm would not become aware of the state she was in. They both mourned the loss of his father, but Alana did not wish to cause him anymore pain and worry than he already felt by adding to his sorrows.