by Fiona Faris
Ross bowed his head in a gesture of acceptance, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Malcolm lay awake long into the night. If it was to be his last, he wanted to savor every moment he had left in the arms of the woman loved.
* * *
In the morning when Alana awoke she found Malcolm to be gone. He had not awakened her to say goodbye. Her heart clenched in her chest. “He is gone, sister,” Ross informed her from the corner. She looked up expecting to find judgement in his eyes, but instead found compassion.
“We must move today,” Alana announced, rising from the bed. “If ye can find us, then so can others.”
“Aye. I had the same thought,” Ross replied, studying her face. “Where will ye go?”
“I dinnae ken,” Alana admitted. “If ye can find this place then none o’ the others grandmaithar showed me will be safe. The only other place I can think tae take them is Faither’s fortress. He will nae be returnin’ and would nae think tae look for us there as ‘tis the last place anyone in our situation would go.”
“Aye, ‘tis true. I would nae have thought tae look for ye there. It is a risk, but it might be one worth takin’. Nae one would dare set foot within its walls again without Faither’s permission, nor would they e’er expect ye tae return after ye betrayed yer own family,” Ross agreed.
“I did nae betray ye. I learned the truth and could nae do as Faither asked. ‘Tis a matter o’ conscience nae loyalty tae my family. Have I nae protected ye since yer arrival? The others dinnae wish tae even lay eyes on ye except tae see ye dead. Dinnae judge me so harshly, brother. Ye were nae in my place.” Alana walked over to the door that led to Freya’s room and knocked. “’Tis time tae rise. We must be movin’.” With Malcolm and Bruce both gone to fight for their home, it was up to the lasses to see to their own safety. It would not do to lay about in wait for the next of her father’s men to stumble upon them.
Once everyone had arisen and was ready, they set out, climbing higher up into the mountains. Alana had unbound Ross’ feet for the journey, making him promise not to attempt to escape. “I will nae leave ye, Alana. I plan tae see ye safely away from Faither afore I do aught else,” he promised. Malcolm and Bruce had taken two of the horses with them, but had left Ross’ horse for them to use. They each took turns riding, except for Ross.
The higher they climbed, the colder it got. It was as if they had left summer behind and had ascended into winter. Wee Andrew fussed at the cold and Mary could not soothe him. By the time they reached the fortress, they were all frozen, miserable, and could not have taken another step had their lives depended upon it. “We will need tae light a fire without it bein’ seen by the village below,” Alana remarked as they slipped through the same door she and Malcolm had entered before.
“Aye, most o’ the people should be gone by now, but it would be best tae use caution,” Ross agreed.
Freya cast them both a watchful look. “Ye are bein’ terribly helpful for a captive,” she noted.
“Alana is my sister. I will nae see her come tae harm,” Ross answered.
Freya nodded her head and followed Alana down the hallway. They entered the great hall and Alana walked over to one of the fireplaces. Thankfully there was still supplies to light a fire. She gathered the supplies into her arms and turned to leave once more. “Where are we goin’?” Iona asked between her chattering teeth. “Why are we nae lightin’ a fire in here?”
“A smaller room is easier tae heat. If we light only one fire then there will be less o’ a chance that the smoke will be seen,” Alana explained. They climbed the stairs and Alana led them to her grandmother’s old room. If she was going to be forced to stay, then she wished to stay in the room that held the best memories. After her time at Blair Castle, she never wanted to live in such a place again. As she laid and lit the fire, she prayed for the hundredth time that day that Malcolm and Bruce were safe. She could almost hear the sounds of swords clashing as she knelt there on the cold stone floor. “God be with them,” she whispered into the flames.
Chapter Thirty
Blair Castle, Scotland
Malcolm moved silently through the night with Bruce and David James Murray by his side. A large number of clansmen followed behind, their bodies smeared in black soot to conceal them in the darkness. They slipped one by one down through the tunnel by which he and his family had escaped. As Malcolm reached the top of the staircase, he leaned his head against the wall and listened carefully for any sign of life on the other side. Hearing nothing, he moved the panel and slipped through, scanning the room where his father had once lain. It was empty. He motioned to his men that it was clear and moved on to the door. He listened once again, then opened the door a crack, searching the hallway for danger.
Opening the door wider, he walked out into the hall. His fellow clansmen surrounded him and he motioned with his hands for them to spread out and search the castle for Rory Murray. They were to cut down anyone who stood in their way. Malcolm entered the drawing room and found it to be empty as well. The damage from the fire had been minimal, but Finlay’s blood still stained the floor. His heart ached at the sight and he moved to the door of Alana’s room. It felt like a lifetime since he had last stood there. A sound from within caught his attention and he paused in front of the closed door. Easing it open with his sword at the ready, Malcolm launched himself into the room ready to severe whomever lay on the other side. To his complete and utter shock, it was not an enemy he found there, but his brother, Finlay.
“Finlay!” Malcolm exclaimed, rushing forward. He had a bloodstained bandage about his throat. Malcolm could just make out the ends of his wound, and saw that it had been sewn.
Finlay stirred at hearing Malcolm’s voice. “Malcolm,” he croaked out weakly. “Brother?”
“Aye, ‘tis I. Ye are alive! How are ye alive? When I left ye, ye were dead,” Malcolm asked taking his extended hand.
“Ross found me. When they want tae carry me off tae be buried, I made a sound and he realized that I was still alive. He is the one who saved me. He kenned that his faither had lied about my parents and told me the truth afore he left lookin’ for ye. I did nae ken, Malcolm. I am so verra sorry what I did. How is yer faither? I need tae tell him how sorry I am,” Finlay replied.
“He is dead, Finlay. Faither is dead,” Malcolm told him.
Finlay closed his eyes, his features contracting in pain. “I am sorry. I understand if ye wish tae kill me where I lay. It is I that am tae blame for it all.”
“Nae, I dinnae wish tae kill ye. It is Rory Murray who is tae blame and it is his blood that my sword cries out for,” Malcolm replied, squeezing his brother’s hand.
“Not as much as mine cries out for yers,” Rory’s voice announced from behind him. Before Malcolm could turn around, Finlay wrapped his arms around Malcolm’s body and rolled over on top of him. Blood spattered Malcolm’s face as Rory’s blade sliced through Finlay’s body. Finlay cried out, then went completely still, his eyes staring sightlessly into Malcolm’s own.
Roaring in rage, Malcolm shoved Finlay’s dead body off of him and leapt up bringing his sword down clashing with Rory’s blade. “Ye killed my faither. Ye killed my brother. Ye took my home from me and now ye will pay.”
“Not before I take everythin’ else ye hold dear, includin’ my whore o’ a daughter,” Rory hissed as their swords clashed once more.
“Ye will ne’er find them. How could ye wish tae take the life o’ yer own daughter? What kind o’ a man are ye?” Malcolm asked in utter disgust.
“I have already found them. My man will be slittin’ their throats as we speak,” Rory grinned. “All but yer maither for she will be mine.”
“What do ye mean ye already found them? How?” Malcolm asked, fear seizing his heart as he brought his sword down time and time again.
“They were seen by one o’ my spies movin’ up the mountainside towards the fortress. They will be dead afore yer body hits the floor,” Rory promised, then lunged for Malc
olm.
They grappled falling to the floor. “I will nae let ye hurt them,” Malcolm swore.
“And who is goin’ tae stop me? Ye?” Rory laughed.
“Aye,” Malcolm replied, thrusting the blade of his sword up under Rory’s ribs, into his heart. Rory’s eyes went wide, then he collapsed dead upon the floor. Malcolm stood up, pulling his blade from Rory’s body. He moved around the side of the bed and knelt down next to Finlay’s lifeless body. He reached out and pulled him back up upon the bed, closing his eyes in rest. He almost looked as if he were sleeping. “Fare thee well, brother. I will see ye again on the other side,” he promised, then turned and walked away.
As he entered the hall once more, the sounds of battle filled the air. He saw Bruce climbing back up the stairs stained with blood. “The castle is ours. We caught most o’ them while they were sleepin’. The rest are just the guards that had been posted around the castle. They will be brought into submission soon. Rory?”
“He is dead,” Malcolm answered. Rory’s words flashed through his mind. “The lasses!”
“What is wrong?” Bruce asked concerned.
“Rory kenned where the lasses were and has sent an assassin to slaughter them all,” Malcolm warned. “We must leave immediately.”
“I will go and inform David. He and the men will take care o’ things here,” Bruce answered.
Malcolm nodded. “I will meet ye at the horses.”
Bruce ran back down the stairs and Malcolm took the tunnel back to where they had left the horses. Bruce joined him shortly thereafter. They raced as swiftly as the mountain would allow, but even at their best pace, the fortress was a long way off. Rory’s words rang through his head, they are already dead.
* * *
The Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland
Night had fallen across the mountain. Malcolm’s family slept restlessly on various piles of blankets around the room. Alana and Ross sat in front of the fireplace talking softly. The room danced with shadows cast by the flames. “Ye should go tae France or Italy. I can send ye money tae see that ye are cared for properly,” Ross suggested.
“I will nae leave Malcolm behind, Ross. I love him,” she informed him.
“And what is there left for ye with him? Are ye goin’ tae stand by and watch him slit my throat, then carry on as if nothin’ had happened? We are responsible for his faither’s death. Even if he survives the battle to take back Blair Castle, things between ye will ne’er be the same. There will nae be a place for ye in his life. Did ye think he would marry ye after what our family has done, after what ye did?” Ross’ words were cruel, but they were nothing more than what she had already thought of herself.
The sound of footsteps just outside the door caused them both to immediately fall silent. Ross looked up, his eyes alert, wary. “I did nae tell Malcolm where we were going,” Alana whispered.
“It isn’t Malcolm,” Ross whispered back. “The footsteps do nae match his. Untie me, Alana. Now.”
Alana looked at him uncertain, then nodding her head. She had no desire to take on a full-grown highland warrior by herself and she had no way of knowing how many of them there were. She cut the rope around Ross’ wrists and handed him the sword Malcolm had taken from him upon his capture. He rubbed his wrists, allowing the feeling to return then gripped his sword. He motioned for Alana to move behind the door and he took a defensive stance on the other side. When the door swung open, Ross attempted to knock the sword from the intruder’s hand, but was unsuccessful. The man seeing the movement had blocked the blow and turned to face Ross. Ross, hands numb from being bound for so long, was unable to properly defend himself. His sword clattered the floor along with three of his fingers. Ross cried out in pain waking the others. Malcolm’s sisters screamed as Alana moved out from behind the door and drove her dirk into the man’s abdomen. He dropped like a stone, dead.
Alana’s hands began to shake. This was the second time she had stabbed a man in her life, both in defense of men she loved, and both equally as terrible. She sat down hard on the bed and dropped the dirk to the floor. Her brother clutched his hand, wrapping it in his tartan to staunch the flow of blood. Coming to her senses Alana, stood and helped him to clean and bandage the wound. “I must go, Alana. I must find out if Faither has won the battle and will be sendin’ more men or if ye are free,” he pleaded with her to understand. “I will need tae take the horse.”
Alana studied his face and found him to be sincere. She nodded her head slowly, then embraced him. “If ye find Malcolm alive, dinnae harm or I will ne’er speak tae ye again.”
Ross kissed the top of his sister’s head, then left the fortress for Blair Castle.
* * *
When Malcolm and Bruce arrived at the mountain fortress, they search every room they came across looking for their loved ones. What they saw when they finally found them was quite a surprise. When they walked through the door, they found the body of a dead man and three fingers lying on the threshold. The man’s body was up against the door making it impossible to close it. Malcolm found Alana standing guard over his family sword and dirk in hand, her face a mask of grim determination. When she saw Malcolm’s face, she dropped the weapons at her feet and began sobbing uncontrollably. Malcolm moved forward and took her into his arms. His sisters joined them and they stood and held each other for a long time. Bruce held Mary and the bairn in his arms, clearly relieved to be back with them safe and sound.
“Malcolm?” Freya asked, her eyes tired with grief, but happy to see him alive.
“We won the day,” Malcolm announced grinning.
“Thank heaven and all the hosts,” Freya whispered, relief washing over her features.
“Faither?” Alana asked.
“Dead, by my hand,” Malcolm answered.
Alana nodded slowly and moved back making room for Freya to properly greet her son with an embrace. Malcolm and Bruce packed up their family and led them down the mountain. It took two days to get back to the castle. When they arrived, they found a line of freshly dug graves. “I’m sorry, lass,” Malcolm stated when he saw the look on her face. She shook her head and kept moving toward the castle.
David greeted them at the door. “Ross Murray was here, Malcolm. The lads and I did nae lay eyes on him ourselves, but he left a note with the cook for his sister.” David handed the note to Malcolm, who passed it to Alana. She opened it and read it silently, then handed it back to Malcolm for him to read.
Alana,
Faither is dead. There is nae place for me here anymore. I will be leavin’ for France within the fortnight. I have thought about what ye asked o’ me and have decided tae allow Malcolm Murray tae live, but I warn ye, if he comes after me, I will kill him. I will wait for ye at Maither’s grave two days hence. If I dinnae see ye, I will ken that ye have found a place for yerself. Dinnae come unless ye plan tae leave with me. I cannae bear tae bid farewell tae anyone else. If ye dinnae say goodbye, then it isn’t really for forever, is it now? All my love.
Yer brother,
Ross
Malcolm looked up to hand the letter back to Alana only to find that she was no longer there. “Where did she go?” Malcolm asked David.
“Inside,” David jerked his head over his shoulder into the castle.
Malcolm moved past David making sure that his mother was settled in properly before he went in search of Alana. He found her in her old room shoving her few belongings into a cloth sack. “And where do ye think ye are goin, lass?” Malcolm demanded to know.
“Ross was right. There is nae place left for me here after what my family did tae yers. I will go with Ross tae France and ye and yer family will be able to move on without the constant reminder o’ havin’ tae look upon my face,” Alana answered, tears streaming down her face.
Malcolm’s heart constricted in his chest at the thought of losing her. “Nae. Ye are nae leavin’ this way. Yer brother is wrong. Yer place is here with me,” Malcolm informed her.
“As yer lov
er? What happens when ye realize ye can do better than me and take a wife? I will nae play the whore any more than I already have,” Alana replied.
“Ye are nae a whore and I will run any man through that says otherwise. I love ye, Alana. I dinnae want tae marry anyone unless that someone is ye,” Malcolm insisted. “Marry me, lass. Stay with me and marry me. Live with me here always.”
Alana’s eyes filled with tears. “How can ye want tae marry me? I killed…”
“Ye did nae kill my faither and I will nae hear ye speak as if ye did. Ye are nae yer family. Ye are my family and my family ye will stay. Marry me.” He moved forward taking her into his arms and kissing her passionately. “Marry me,” he whispered once more against her lips. Laying her upon the bed he began to slowly undress her. “Marry me. Be my wife, love.” Wrapping her arms around his neck in return, she pressed her lips to his. “Aye?” he whispered, just as he had the first time they had made love, pulling back to search her eyes.
