by Fiona Faris
The MacDonald laird’s chest puffed out in anger, his face turning red. “I did no’ wish tae fight beside ye Campbell at Dunkeld, and I dinnae wish tae do so now. I would just as soon run ye through with my blade than look at ye, and I will if ye dinnae bring me back my daughter.”
“I will move faster alone, but as we dinnae ken who has taken her or how many o’ them there are, I will agree tae take yer men if ye swear tae me on yer daughter’s life that they will no’ put a knife in my back or slit my throat while I sleep.” Duncan met each man’s eyes in turn to gauge any possible threats.
“I would no’ trust the word o’ Angus MacDonald, my son. He could swear on Christ’s holy cross, and I would no’ trust him. The man sups with Satan on Sundays.” Were the situation not so dire, Duncan would have laughed.
“And what o’ ye, Fergus Campbell? A man who fights against his own clan. At least if ye had fought with the other Campbells at Dunkeld, I could have killed ye then, but instead ye fight for the Jacobite cause, and ye ken all tae well that we need every man we can gain, or I would have killed ye long ago.”
“And I ye.”
“Arguing is no’ goin’ tae save Marra,” Duncan interrupted the lairds’ bickering. “We need tae go afore the trail is gone and it is tae late.” He nodded in respect to his father then went to the stable to saddle his highland pony and release his best hunting hound. He seldom used them as they scared away prey, but there was no need to worry about that in this case. When he exited the stables, he mounted and headed for the glen, not waiting to see if the MacDonald warriors followed him.
He urged his steed onward, anger and fear for Marra driving him forward. If anythin’ were tae happen tae her because o’ me, I would ne’er forgive myself. Her emerald green eyes flashed through his mind, causing his heart to constrict within his chest. When he reached the boat he dismounted and searched the ground for evidence of what might have happened. He hoped the hound would be able to get her scent from the boat, but there were too many other smells. He followed her tracks up to the glen and searched the area. It was difficult to separate out the disruptions of the gathering from those of Marra, but he managed to track her away from the melee over to the edge of the forest.
“Our laird found her arisaid over here under a tree.” The MacDonald warriors had caught up with him. The larger of the two pulled an arisaid of MacDonald tartan from his horse’s back and tossed it to Duncan. “The hound should be able tae aid in findin’ her usin’ that.”
Duncan moved over to the tree and studied the ground. He found drag marks in the dirt from what he assumed were Marra’s heels, then they disappeared. It appeared they had loaded her onto the back of a horse. She is no’ movin’ about o’ her own accord that means she is either wounded or dead. He clenched his fists in anger at the thought. If they have harmed her, I will kill them.
He searched the ground for signs of where the horse might have taken her. Carrying two people would have made the horse’s hooves sink deeper in the ground as it walked. Thunder rolled in the near distance. Duncan’s head snapped up as he eyed the sky. Dark grey clouds were rolling in over the highlands. It was only a matter of time before the rain would wash away all evidence of her capture. He would have to work fast if he was going to find her in time.
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About the Author
Fiona Faris is an American author of authentic historical Medieval & Scottish romance books. She started writing historical highlander romance after she visited the Scottish Highlands years ago with her husband.
Her books have received startling reviews about the humor, the darkness and the romance they have.
She lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband and their two sons. Before she started writing romance, she experienced the various occupations: translator, dog-training, and a substitute English teacher for the most part of her life... However, nothing could ever compare to writing stories depicting the majestic and mysterious Scottish Highlands!
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