Drew: A Historical Scottish Highlander Romance Novel: Highlanders Warriors Clan McClair

by Barbara Bard

  * * *

  “I am sorry for my behavior. I was simply overwhelmed. I have never been treated in such a way before,” she said.

  * * *

  “It seems as though you have more to apologize for than I first thought.”

  * * *

  Lord Flynn snarled, looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. Sarah placed her hands in her lap and cast her gaze to the floor, not wanting to cause anymore undue stress, or to provoke Lord Flynn in any other way possible. She avoided looking at George, although she could feel the tension bristling within him. George was an honorable man, and to know that she was being treated in this way by Lord Flynn would make him angry. In another life perhaps she and George would have ended up making a family. If he hadn't been forced to lie about her identity.

  * * *

  Would she ever know happiness?

  * * *

  “Return to your bedchamber. I have words for you,” he said, and waited for her to turn and leave. She had only taken a few steps when she heard Harold tell George to get on his knees. Sarah looked back to see Harold pull out a riding whip. He walked around behind George and pulled up the man's tunic. Then the air cracked as the whip slashed against George's back. The still, peaceful night air was shattered by George's cries of agony. His eyes clamped shut and his neck jerked backwards as the pain lanced through him. Again and again Lord Flynn brought the whip down, slashing George's skin. Sarah turned away in shock and ran back to her chambers, not wanting to witness any more.

  * * *

  She closed the door behind herself and threw herself on the bed, wishing that she could slip away in the night and disappear. For a brief moment she felt hope, and actually believed that George could have saved her. He'd saved her once after all, why not a second time? But then Lord Flynn had arrived. That man was maddening, always in the wrong place at the wrong time. And soon he would be coming for her. Would she get the whip as well, or would a far terrible fate be in store for her? Sarah trembled, staring at the door, waiting as each moment passed, bringing her closer to her doom.

  * * *

  Filled with dread, Sarah could do nothing but draw her knees into her chest and wait there. Soft, frightened tears trickled down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, mind whirling, trying to think of a way to escape. But there was none. She could only hope that the traveling merchant's feet had wings and her letter reached Lord Brambly, and that Lord Brambly took mercy on her. The more she considered it, the more outlandish her plan seemed.

  * * *

  Footsteps began to approach. Sarah's throat tightened and the color drained from her face. A small whimper escaped her lips as the door opened and Lord Flynn stood there, looking terrible. His entire body was rigid. His fists were clenched beside him, and his face was the picture of cruelty. His eyes were cold and harsh, and each step was deliberate. Even the air seemed to grow colder around Sarah, and she could not move.

  * * *

  Lord Flynn remained silent as he approached the bed, towering over her. Sarah could not stop herself from looking at him.

  * * *

  “When Charles approached me with the offer of your hand in marriage I believed him when he said that you were a sweet English rose. I never thought that a daughter of his could be a harlot! How dare I find you in the arms of another man,” he thundered. Sarah was just glad that he wasn't holding the whip, although perhaps that meant he was going to use his hands instead.

  * * *

  “You betray me. You shame me. You ridicule me. In my own home! How dare I have to lay my eyes upon such a sight. You cause me much distress, woman, and it seems as though you have much to learn before we are married.”

  * * *

  “I...I'm sorry Harold-”

  * * *

  “Address me properly,” he said sternly.

  * * *

  “Lord Flynn,” Sarah said, stammering, her voice trembling with fear. “As I said, I was so overwhelmed by what happened at dinner. My emotions got the better of me.”

  * * *

  “That cannot become a regular occurrence. I expect a wife of mine to be stronger. Part of the reason why I chose to accept you as my bride is because you have lived near the northern border and you know something of the wild. I want to have hardy children, ones who are bred to be fierce leaders. I do not want meek children who will cower at the first sign of adversity. Is that clear?”

  * * *

  “Yes, Lord Flynn.”

  * * *

  “Good. Now, what do you have to say to me?”

  * * *

  Sarah thought for a few moments, then realized what he wanted.

  * * *

  “I'm sorry, Lord Flynn. I should never have run away like that, or sought comfort in the arms of a friend. I...I did not mean anything by it. I was overwhelmed and George comforted me. You see, in the forest George was there to help me through that. It was a testing time and it just felt natural.”

  * * *

  “And?”

  * * *

  “And....I am sorry that you had to see me in such a position, but you know that I would never do anything to besmirch your honor. This marriage means everything to me and I would not do anything to jeopardize it.”

  * * *

  “And?”

  * * *

  “And...I am afraid I do not know what else to apologize for,” she said, searching her mind for some other sign of where she had gone wrong, but she could not think of anything.

  * * *

  “Then you are evidently not as reproachful as I first thought. You should apologize for your behavior at dinner. I came back with a grand feast and you disrespected my endeavors by treating it as though it was disgusting. I worked hard for that meat, and I expect you to honor my quests. What good is being married if my wife does not make me feel good? And then you run into the arms of another? You do me great shame. We are to be married. We are supposed to share a life together. You are supposed to come to me with your problems, not to some stable boy. Your behavior disgusts me, Rosemary, and I shall see a sharp change before it is too late. You shall not be alone with another man ever again. I am choosing to believe that nothing untoward has happened between the two of you purely for the sake of my own sanity.”

  * * *

  “Nothing did! I promise you that!”

  * * *

  “Indeed. But if you are going to be my wife there are certain requirements. I am going to need you to take great pleasure and honor me in my deeds. I do not want to return home from a hunt and feel that my efforts are for naught. We shall be happy, Rosemary, as long as you live by what I say.”

  * * *

  Sarah sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. “I'm sorry, Harold,” was all she could muster. Lord Flynn offered her no comfort, no soothing caress. Instead he looked down at her with sneering disdain.

  * * *

  “You must look inside yourself and think about the woman you want to be. I have an idea of the woman I want to be my wife, and I would hope that you live up to that expectation,” he said, then spun on his heels and went to move away.

  * * *

  “What happened to George?” Sarah asked. Lord Flynn paused for a moment.

  * * *

  “I flogged that boy until the ground around him was soaked in his blood. He will think twice before daring to dishonor his lord. If I ever see or hear of the two of you spending time together again I shall kill him.”

  * * *

  With those words Lord Flynn marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Sarah flung herself back on the bed, letting her hair splay out all around her. Her body convulsed with sorrowful weeps, and she curled up in fear. Lord Flynn had said those words so simply, as though killing a man was no great ordeal at all, and now her only link to a true friend was cut off. There was nothing more she wanted to do than to run to George and tend to his wounds, for the only reason he was hurt was because he had attempted to aid her, but she could not even do that
. She would have to find some other way to escape this fate.

  * * *

  The wedding beckoned, and with it so did her punishment. After all she had been through she could not imagine Lord Flynn having mercy on her soul. Enraged, he would likely tear her body apart, and nobody would shed a tear at her demise. It only felt like a matter of time before her life was ended anyway, as she could not imagine being the wife he needed. At some point during their lives the truth was going to emerge, and Lord Flynn would cast her aside just as he would a lame animal.

  8

  Drew walked through the castle. Its shadows were cold and cavernous. Sometimes it seemed as though there were beasts lurking in the darkness, ready to strike. When he had been a child fear had often struck his heart whenever he had to walk through the recesses of the castle in the middle of the night, sure that something would flutter its wings and come to pull him into the abyss.

  * * *

  As he walked, Drew thought back to when he was younger and how his mother used to tell him of the Balrog. It was an old folk tale, passed down through the generations. Its only purpose seemed to be to strike fear into the hearts of children. His mother always used to tell the story at bed before he went to sleep, and Drew had always been too petrified to ever rest after she had told the story. He still remembered the way she used to lean over him and Blair, whispering the story to them.

  * * *

  'The Balrog used to be a man, but he has not been a man for a very long time. Some say centuries have passed since he wore the same flesh as you and I. He used to be a handsome man, a wealthy man, who built this castle with his bare hands. The Balrog was like other men. He wanted to hunt and fight and love. He wanted glory, but above all else he wanted to never die. He liked living too much, so they say. One summer he was married. It was a grand occasion. The sun shone brightly and many glittering gifts were bestowed upon him and his new bride, but no gift was enough for him. None gave him what he truly wanted.

  * * *

  Day and night he locked himself in his tower, searching old tomes for the secret he was sure was locked in the dusty old pages. Life moved on around the castle. His wife doted on him, and eventually she fell pregnant. For a time it was enough to tear the Balrog from his old books and he was happy, but then the mother fell ill just as she was about to give birth. She did not have the strength to endure the stress on her body, and both she and the child died.

  * * *

  It is said that his cries of anguish could be heard all across the moor, through the valleys, carried by the wind to the land beyond the edge of the world. Nobody ever saw him again after that, not the way he was, anyway.

  * * *

  He delved into the dark arts, trying to find a way to bring back his beloved and their child that had never lived. One day someone walked past the castle and noticed a disturbance on the ground, and it seemed their graves had been dug up.

  * * *

  The Balrog was indulging in some dark arts. Whatever he found in those tomes was unnatural, and ghostly shrieks could be heard in the witching hours, when the moon was highest.

  * * *

  Then, one day, the noises stopped.

  * * *

  The world moved on around the castle, and although the story was passed down people began to take it less seriously. The children began to play nearer the castle again, eventually growing courageous enough to enter the castle and walk within its walls.

  * * *

  Then they started getting chills, and more than one child claimed they saw and heard things. A soft moan here and there, the rustling of fabric, and a terrible, inhuman face.

  * * *

  Most people put that down to the imagination of children, but some believed that the Balrog was still alive. That somehow he had found the secret to immortality, but it had come at a cost. It had stripped away everything about him that had been human, and left behind a monster that could not escape his fate.'

  * * *

  Even now, though he knew those stories were mere superstition, he still occasionally glanced over his shoulder.

  * * *

  He walked up the twisting stairs to Blair's room and hammered on the door. Blair opened it with a grin on his face, a grin that quickly fell.

  * * *

  “I should have known that knock was tae loud tae be Rosemary,” he said.

  * * *

  “We must walk taegether, brother,” Drew said, promptly turning away. Blair followed.

  * * *

  “Dae ye remember when we were young and ma told us the story of the Balrog?”

  * * *

  “Aye. Ye could not sleep for weeks after that,” Blair said, chuckling softly.

  * * *

  “The only thing that could help me through the nights was yer presence,” Drew said, smiling towards his brother.

  * * *

  “Ye never needed my help for anything like that. Ye could always take care of yerself.”

  * * *

  “Aye, and the same can be said of ye, but times are different. We dinnae just hae spirits tae worry about. We hae the English, and we hae others.”

  * * *

  “We talked about this last night, Drew.”

  * * *

  “I know, but ye weren't in the best of moods to talk seriously. Hae ye given much thought to Rosemary? What if she is going to betray us? What if she gets captured? Would ye pay the ransom? Would ye do anything for her?”

  * * *

  Blair was silent for a few moments. They descended the stairs and walked into the main hall, towards the thrones. Blair stood before his throne, the one that had been bestowed upon him because he had been born before Drew.

  * * *

  “I cannae tell the future, Drew. All I know is that I love her. I would dae the same as I would for ye or ma. That is all I can tell ye.”

  * * *

  “There are people who will nae like ye saying that,” Drew said.

  * * *

  “Ye speak of Deirdre?” Blair scoffed. “That lass is just suffering a broken heart. She thinks she hae some claim tae me just because we shared a kiss many moons ago. The sooner she realizes there are more men than me out there the better.”

  * * *

  “Maybe, but I am here tae tell ye that it is nae just her.”

  * * *

  Blair turned to face him, his expression darkening. One hand was on the arm of his throne.

  * * *

  “What are ye saying, Drew?”

  * * *

  “I'm saying that ye cannae expect to dae what ye want without there being consequences. Ye know we are a proud people. How dae it look when ye bring back an English lass? Did ye even think what could happen? Then ye want tae go tae war. Is this yer idea, or is it hers? Ye may know her, but we dae not, and that makes some people afraid. They think she is a spy.”

  * * *

  “I made it clear last night that I will not tolerate anyone speaking about her in such a way,” Blair said tersely.

  * * *

  “Blair, I'm yer brother. I am telling ye this because ye must listen.”

  * * *

  “Or what? Are ye saying that I should cast Rosemary aside because a few people are afraid? Are ye saying that I hae tae choose between the clan and her?”

  * * *

  Drew looked to the floor.

  * * *

  “I dinnae know. It would hae been better had ye nae fallen in love with her in the first place.”

  * * *

  Blair grinned at this, much to Drew's surprise.

  * * *

  “There are times when I'm reminded how naive ye are, Drew. When ye meet the right lass ye'll see how powerless ye are to fall in love. What dae these people want?”

  * * *

  “They want Rosemary gone. They want ye tae be a proper leader, and if ye cannae bring yerself to do that they want me to take over.”

  * * *

  “So this is a threat,” Blair said, noddin
g sagely.

  * * *

  “Nae brother. This is a warning. I dinnae want tae fight ye. I dinnae want any of this!”

  * * *

  “Ye have, Drew. Ever since we were wee children ye have wanted to take my place. Ye even said as much when pa died. Ye have always thought yerself the better leader, the smarter one. Ye hae just been waiting for yer chance tae sit in this chair. Well, let me tell ye, it isn't as easy as ye might think.”