by Fiona Faris
Malcolm slowly removed her clothes piece by piece, running his hands and lips over every inch of exposed skin. By the time she lay naked before him, she was panting with desire so strong she felt as if she would burst right there before his eyes. He leaned back to gaze upon her body and his caber jumped at the sight of her. He leaned forward and kissed her lips, then moved to her neck. His fingers danced along her breasts and ribs as his lips and tongue traveled between them across her navel and down into the forest of delight. Hot liquid desire rushed between her legs as his tongue explored its hidden depths.
Alana clutched the plaid beneath them in her fists as she arched her body towards him. She could feel an indescribable pressure building up inside of her like a powder keg ready to explode at any moment. The more intense the feeling got, the harder she pressed herself against him. When she thought she could not take it for another moment longer or she might perish, stars burst in shards of stained glass behind her eyelids as waves of inexplicable ecstasy washed over her body. She cried out in release, shattering the silence of the night.
The feeling was so intense that tears streamed down her cheeks as her body quaked with rippling aftershocks. Malcolm moved up to kiss the tears from her cheeks and running his hands along her naked body. “My sweet bonnie lass,” he murmured against her skin as he claimed her lips once more and drove his caber hard between her legs.
Alana cried our once more and dug her fingers into his back as wave after wave of sensation washed over her with every move of his body upon hers. Malcolm thrust himself inside of her, delving to her bottom most depths, retreated them to thrust again, each time filling her more than the time before until finally he buried himself all the way to the hilt. Malcolm groaned in completion as his seed filled her, flowing out around him to warm her legs. The feel of his seed spilling inside of her pushed Alana over the edge once more with such ferocity that she screamed, clutching his body to hers as if she were drowning and he was the only one who could save her. When Malcolm moved to roll off of her, Alana did not let go.
“Nae,” she whispered and so he stayed lying atop of her, inside of her as her inner muscles contracted around him, causing him to harden once more.
“Och, lass. Ye have me wantin’ ye again and I have nae even left ye yet,” Malcolm panted in her ear.
“Then take me again,” she whispered and lifted her hips against him in invitation.
Malcolm groaned and began to move within her once more. “Ye will be the death o’ me, but I will die a happy man.”
* * *
Come the morning, Malcolm and Alana had slept nary a wink, but neither of them cared. As they packed up camp, Malcolm whistled cheerfully, quite pleased with himself. He was happy and in love. The only damper to his happiness was the knowledge that one day very soon his father would no longer be counted among the living. It did not take long and they mounted, heading further into the mountains. The easiest way get to the heart of the Cairngorms was through the Lairig Ghru pass. At first it was relatively easy going, but then they reached snow. Though summer had come to the glen, it had not quite reached the top of the mountain. They passed the Pools of Dee still frozen and continued on. The way became very rough as the temperature dropped and the ponies struggled to make it over the rock-strewn ground.
Malcolm began to lose faith that the rumored stronghold of Rory Murray had ever existed when out of the ice and snow it emerged before him, dark and foreboding. “That is my home.” Alana gestured towards the depressing collection of stone and ice. “The village Finlay spoke of is farther down on the other side where it is a bit more habitable,” she informed him.
“How did ye survive growin’ in a place like this?” Malcolm asked, moving his pony closer to hers to offer her what body heat he could.
“Nae verra well it would seem,” Alana admitted.
“Is it any wonder ye thought Blair Castle was a paradise. I would have planned tae attack us tae if I had been forced tae live here,” Malcolm commiserated. “Such a life is nae fit for man or beast.”
“There is a croft further down that we used often,” Alana added in an attempt to soothe his concerns.
“How am I tae sneak inside o’ that?” Malcolm gestured to the fortress.
“I tried tae tell ye this was nae a good idea,” Alana reminded him.
“Aye, ye did, but I would nae listen,” Malcolm admitted apologetically. “I am sorry, lass. I begin tae understand why ye ne’er wished tae return.”
Malcolm watched as Alana studied the stone structure before them frowning. “Somethin’ is nae right.”
“There is much here that is nae right, lass,” Malcolm retorted.
“Nae, I cannae put my finger on it, but…” She was still for a moment longer, then her eyes widened in surprise. “There is nae smoke.”
“What are ye talkin’ about?” Malcolm asked, squinting his eyes against the sun reflecting off of the snow.
“There is nae smoke. There are always fires burnin’. It is an essential part o’ life here, but I dinnae see a single puff o’ smoke anywhere.” Alana urged her horse forward and Malcolm followed.
He kept an eye out for any sign of life, but did not find any. When they reached the gates, they found no one guarding them. “It is a trap. It must be,” Alana whispered. They dismounted and she motioned for him to follow her and they crept around to a side door hidden in a crevasse of stone. She pried it open and stepped inside. Malcolm tied the horses to a ring on the door’s exterior and entered behind her.
They paused for a moment to listen, but heard nothing. Alana slowly crept forward, stopping to listen every few steps, yet still nothing. They entered the great hall and found it to be devoid of life. Confused, Alana and Malcolm searched the entirety of the fortress and found no one. It looked as if no one had been there for a few days. “He has altered his attack,” Alana nearly sobbed. “We are tae late.”
“What do you mean?” Malcolm asked, hoping against hope that he had miss heard her.
“They have gone to Blair Castle,” Alana nearly shouted in fear.
“Nae!” Malcolm’s mind raced to understand the turn of events. “We must return immediately!”
Malcolm and Alana raced from her father’s fortress and mounted their ponies, urging them as fast as they dared. The rough terrain slowed them down, but they kept going knowing that it might already be too late.
Chapter Eighteen
Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland
“She has betrayed us all,” Rory Murray roared, causing the servant before him to shake.
“She has told the laird and his family everythin’, my laird,” the woman stated, whimpering for fear of being struck.
“I kenned that she would,” Rory said more quietly. “That is why we have produced another plan. One that my daughter kens nae of.”
“Are ye sure it is wise tae attack now that they ken we are comin’?” Ross asked his father, not at all convinced their plan would work. “The element o’ surprise was our greatest asset.”
“Aye, we will go and we will go now. We will nae wait and allow them tae gather the clans. We need tae go now before they can get the word out tae their people,” Rory stated emphatically with a tone and look that allowed no argument.
“I will ready the men,” Ross answered and turned to relay his father’s orders. Pausing in the doorway, he turned back to ask, “What of Alana?”
“She will die with the rest of the swine,” Rory replied, causing chills to travel Ross’ spine.
“She is yer daughter. How could ye kill her?” Ross asked, hardly able to believe his ears. “Are all yer children as dispensable tae ye?”
“She is nae my heir. She is nae but a lass and I have nae use for lassies who dinnae do as they are told. Especially ones who kill their own maithers,” Rory informed him. “Now go. My patience wears thin.”
Sadly, Ross knew that his father’s words were an attempt to comfort him that he as his heir would not be in danger of such a demise, bu
t that did not make Ross feel any better. He worried for Alana and wondered if there was a way to warn her to flee without getting caught himself. In spite of his father’s assertions that he himself would not be killed, Ross was not willing to risk it. If a man could kill one child, there was nothing to stop him from killing the other. Alana, why did ye have tae go and fall in love with the swine?
He had promised to kill Malcolm Murray if he laid a hand on his sister and he planned to keep that promise. She would not be happy with him. In fact, she might never forgive him for it if she lived that long, but he was not going to let that deter him from his revenge. Malcolm Murray would pay with his life for defiling his sister and turning her against her own family. He was angry with her, but she did not deserve to die for it. How can I get Alana out safely without Faither finding out?
Ross found his father’s men drinking and eating in the great hall. They had been out on a hunt and were celebrating the kill. A dressed deer roasted on a spit over the large firepit in the center of the hall. Ross paused when he realized that that deer could possibly be the last meal any of them had in their home and the last meal some of them would ever have again. Not everyone would survive the coming battle. Ross surveyed the men as they laughed and enjoyed themselves. Who among them would not survive to see the Clan Murray restored to its rightful laird?
Ross stepped forward to tell them of his father’s orders. He picked up a cup from the table’s edge and banged it down hard upon the rough wooden surface. Every eye in the hall turned to face him. “Yer laird has spoken. We ride out at first light,” Ross instructed, his deep voice carrying throughout the cavernous space. “Ye have tonight tae move yer womenfolk and families down to the village for when we are gone for nae one is tae be left within the fortress.”
There was a round of banging fists upon the table in acknowledgement of their laird’s orders. Men with families went to warn them of the coming move, while the unmarried men continued to drink and make merry. Ross would normally have joined them, but his thoughts were elsewhere this evening and he did not want to spend the night pretending otherwise. Pulling his plaid up and around himself, he stepped outside into the cold snow and ice. He moved down the slope towards the village in search of more bearable climes. He hated the cold and longed for the lush summer of the glen at Blair Castle. He envied Alana for her surroundings, but not her fate.
There must be a way tae preserve her life. I cannae allow Faither tae kill her. She is our flesh and blood, my sister, my leth-aon.
Ross descended down out of the wintery freeze of the peaks and veered around the village to the small cemetery that lay just outside of it. He walked over to his mother’s grave and pulled a flask of whisky from his sporran. He lifted the flask in a toast towards heaven and took a long drink, then sat down on a rock at the foot of her grave.
“We are comin’ tae the end o’ a verra long road, Maither. I have spent my entire life trainin’ for this and now I dinnae ken what tae do. Faither plans tae kill Alana and I cannae allow it. I wish ye were here tae give guidance and tae temper his moods. I cannae fight him alone. Grandmaither said ye always had a way tae calm him when he ran foul, but I dinnae have yer power o’er him. He has raised yer memory tae that o’ a saint and blames Alana for yer death. Nae one can convince him otherwise and she has suffered greatly for it. Ye are the only lass that he has e’er shown a modicum o’ respect towards. I dinnae ken how tae get though tae him.” Ross sat in the silence knowing full well he would not receive an answer to his plight, but felt a lightening of the load simply by sharing it with her.
“Grandmaither would have threatened tae skin him alive were she here, bless her sweet soul.” Ross raised the flask to his grandmother’s grave next to his mother’s and took another drink. The stone beneath him was as cold as ice, but he did not move. “Faither would ne’er admit it, but the bravest among our family are the women and Alana is all that is left o’ ye.”
Ross could have taken a wife years ago, but he had not wished to bring a lass into the lifeless frozen world he inhabited. Most of the men kept their wives in the village a majority of the time, but some had chosen the austere solemnity of the fortress. Ross could not imagine that their wives and children were very happy in such a place. He and Alana had not been allowed the privilege of happiness, and he could not help but wonder if she had found some form of happiness with Malcolm Murray. He supposed he would soon find out when he and their father wrenched it from her.
“I am loyal tae Faither and will remain so ‘til the end, but he cannae take Alana from this world. He may do as he pleases with all else, but nae her. Help me tae save her,” he requested of his ancestral ghosts. Ross capped his flask and returned it to his sporran. He rose from the stone, bent his knee in deference to his dearly departed, crossed himself, then stood and walked away. There was much to prepare for their departure upon the morrow.
* * *
When Ross awoke the next morning, he found his father standing over him in full battle fury. His features were hardened into a frightening mask that did not bode well for his enemies. “It is time,” he announced, then turned and left the room. Ross arose from his bed, dressed, and then followed his father to the great hall where their army of men awaited orders.
“We set out today on a great cloud of vengeance tae bring low the Clan Murray and their unfittin’ laird for his treachery and betrayal. A clan should have a strong leader who does nae allow himself tae be led about by the wiles of a mere lass, and we are here today tae see it made right. Failure will nae be permitted. We fight tae the death. If it moves, kill it, whether it be man, woman, or child. We will take Blair Castle if it is the last thing any o’ us e’er do. Furth, Fortune, And Fill The Fetters!” Rory raised his fists into the air as he roared the motto of the Clan Murray.
“Furth, Fortune, And Fill The Fetters!” the men assembled roared back, stomping their feet and banging their fists upon the tables, creating a deafening sound that filled the fortress from its bottom most depths to its greatest height. Rory reveled in the sound, his face glowing with the madness of battle.
Ross had spent the night attempting to construct a plan that would allow him to save his sister’s life. He had come up with several options, then discarded them. The only way any of them would work was if he managed to get to her before anyone else could, a very unlikely scenario. He hated the idea of sending her out into the wilds of the highlands on her own unguarded, but he did not have a choice. He just prayed that she would be able to remain alive long enough for him to find her and sneak her safely out of the castle. He hoped that in her time there she had discovered another way out that he and their father were not aware of. The chances were small, but it was their only hope.
The army of highland warriors marched out of the fortress and descended the mountain towards Blair Castle, leaving nothing behind as Rory had informed them that they would not be returning. Their wives and children could follow them down from the village once they had defeated their enemies and taken the castle. In Rory’s mind, defeat was not an option. They would either take the castle or die. Ross sincerely hoped that for the sake of their families that they did not die, but he knew many of them would. Andrew and Malcolm Murray would not surrender their home. They would fight down to the last man taking as many as they could with them.
Rory’s warriors did not stop to rest or sleep having been trained to endure strenuous physical conditions in preparation for the day they would take Blair Castle. Ross had lost track of the number of times he had heard his father say they had one chance to get it right and they could not risk losing the element of surprise by stopping to make camp along the way. They marched all through the day, the night, and the next day, coming upon Blair Castle in the darkness. No alarm sounded warning the occupants of their presence. All was still and the air hung with the threat of battle. The men settled in the forest, taking cover where they could to rest before the attack at dawn.
Ross settled down behind a tree on t
he edge of the forest and gazed out at the castle. He knew from his father’s spies which tower her room was in, but there was no light or hint of movement within. He prayed once more that he would reach her in time, then closed his eyes and slept. He would need every bit of his strength for the battle to come. I will find you, Alana. I swear it on our maither’s grave, I will find you.
Chapter Nineteen
Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland
Malcolm and Alana rode as quickly as they could, stopping at the village briefly to inquire as to the location of Rory Murray and the time of his departure from the fortress. The people were hesitant to speak with them, but one woman covertly pulled them aside as they passed her croft. “I recognize ye from the castle,” Alana noted, studying the woman’s features. “Ye are one o’ my faither’s spies.”