Highlander's Dark Pride

by Fiona Faris

  Verra soon we will take Blair Castle and I will reign o’er the Clan Murray. He clenched his fist, tightening his grip as he pictured Andrew’s neck between his fingers. Verra soon, indeed.

  Chapter Three

  Blair Castle, Scotland

  Alana followed Malcolm through the faire toward Blair Castle. The magnificent edifice towered above them, its white turrets shining in the sun. Alana had spent her childhood sitting with her father and brother, watching the castle and its occupants from a distance, dreaming of the day when her father would claim his rightful place as laird and she would live within its beautiful walls welcomed home by their people like a princess of the realm. Her thoughts and dreams were no longer so grandiose, but she still dreamt of the day she would act as lady of the house.

  As they walked through the front doors, Alana’s breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything so opulent in all of her days. The walls were lined with skilled paintings in gilded frames and tapestries of the finest needlework. The floor was covered in brilliantly polished and richly upholstered furnishings. Malcolm led her up two flights of stairs. The carved wooden railings were shined to a high gloss and the walls were covered in the portraits of important looking men and women of the clan’s history. My faither’s portrait should be up there alongside mine and Ross’.

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Alana followed her guide down a long corridor and nearly ran into his back as he came to a sudden halt and knocked on a closed door. She had been so in awe of her surroundings, picturing her own family living among its luxuries that she had not paid the slightest attention to what Malcolm was doing. A feminine voice from within bade them entry and Malcolm pushed the door open motioning for Alana to enter ahead of him.

  Alana stepped over the threshold and once again found herself overwhelmed by the beauty of her surroundings. The walls were covered in white plaster with decorative crown moldings. A large bed dominated one side of the room draped in a canopy of red damask and the Murray plaid. Moving closer, Alana saw the ashen form of a grey haired, blue eyed man staring out from beneath the blankets.

  “And who is this?” the man asked with a gentle smile.

  “Alana, my laird,” she answered, bobbing a curtsy. She could only assume that he was the ever-lauded Andrew Murray. He did not look anything like the fierce warrior her father had described.

  “Alana is a bonnie name, lass,” he complimented. Looking up at his son who had entered the room behind her, he asked, “How goes the gatherin’?”

  “Fine, just fine,” Malcolm answered, coming to stand at his father’s beside.

  “Yer shirt!” exclaimed a woman sitting in a chair by the bed. Alana assumed she must be Freya from her father’s description of the fair-haired lass, older, but still beautiful, with more silver than blonde remaining. Malcolm’s mother stood to inspect the damage done to his garment.

  “Finlay and I had a wee bout ‘round the trainin’ yard,” Malcolm answered, a somewhat guilty look upon his face.

  “Nae sooner do I make ye anythin’ and ye have torn it asunder,” Freya chastised, shaking her head in disapproval.

  “Did ye win?” Andrew asked.

  “Aye,” Malcolm grinned.

  “Good lad,” Andrew praised. The pride he felt for his son was evident on his face. Turning his eyes to Alana, he asked, “And how, my son, did ye come tae acquaint such a bonnie lass?”

  “We met at the gatherin’. She has come tae Blair Castle in search of a trade. She has experience in herbs and medicinals,” Malcolm explained.

  “A healer?” Freya inquired, turning her attention from the hole in Malcolm’s shirt to Alana.

  “I ken she could be o’ help in Faither’s care if ye be willin’, Maither,” Malcolm proposed.

  “Aye, another pair o’ hands would nae be amiss,” Freya nodded in affirmation. “Who be yer family, lass?”

  “I have nae family left, my lady,” Alana answered, lowering her eyes in mock sorrow so as not to let her eyes give the lie away.

  “Och, that is sad indeed. ‘Tis sorry we are for yer loss, lass,” Andrew replied.

  “She heralds from a village on the outskirts o’ Murray lands and as such is our responsibility,” Malcolm informed his father.

  “Aye, that she is,” Andrew agreed. “Do ye have any potions that will get me up out o’ this bed, lass?”

  “Mayhap. I ken a few plants that might be o’ aid in regainin’ strength and vigor,” Alana admitted.

  “Vigor?” Andrew perked up at the word. “I would be verra pleased indeed to see the return o’ that.” He winked at Freya who rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Alana caught her smiling as she turned away to take her seat once more beside the bed. It was plain for any eye to see that they loved each other.

  “I would be happy tae go out and gather the needed plants and make ye a tea,” Alana offered.

  “Aye, that would be grand, lass, but it can wait ‘til the morrow. For now, Malcolm, find the lass a place here at the castle tae rest her head come nightfall. Take yer time and show her ‘round a bit,” Andrew ordered.

  “Aye, Faither,” Malcolm agreed.

  “We will visit more upon the morrow, lass,” Andrew promised, then dismissed them both.

  Alana followed Malcolm out of the room and back into the corridor. “Do ye need tae return tae yer village tae gather yer belongings?” Malcolm inquired.

  “Nae, I am wearin’ all I own,” Alana answered, another lie. Her father had felt it would make her appear more pitiful were she to leave their home in the Cairngorms with only the clothes on her back.

  “We’ll see what can be done about that. My eldest sister, Mary, might have some things ye can wear,” Malcolm answered, appraising her attire.

  Alana looked down at herself. She did look a bit disheveled after her faux attack earlier in the day. “I thank ye.”

  “Nae thanks needed, lass. Now let me show ye ‘round so ye can get yer bearings,” Malcolm answered. “Ye’ve seen the laird’s room. The room next tae it is my maither’s bedchamber and dressin’ room. She seldom uses it as she stays with my faither most o’ the time.” He gestured with his hands pointing out each room in succession. “The door behind ye is the library. Ye are welcome tae use it at any time. Faither enjoys bein’ read tae o’ an evenin’.”

  Malcolm moved back down the corridor toward the stairs. “My three younger sisters’ rooms are here,” he gestured to his right, then turned left and entered another much larger room. “The family spends most o’ their time here in the drawin’ room when we are all together.”

  “I can see why,” Alana breathed. The room was exquisite with red walls and gold gilded furnishings. “Tae have grown in such a place…”

  “Aye, ‘tis bonnie,” Malcolm agreed, then moved to a door in the far corner of the room. “Ye can sleep here so as tae be close if faither needs ye in the night. I am in the room next tae ye if ye need help with movin’ him about. Mary and her husband Bruce sleep in the room below and can be up with a hard three stomps tae the floor.”

  Malcolm opened the door and motioned for Alana to step inside. The room was simple, not as elegant as the others she had seen, but was clean and offered beautiful views from every window. It was much brighter and more cheerful than her room at home. “’Tis bonnie.”

  “Aye, I used tae come in here in the winter as a wee bairn and look out o’er the mountains and dream I was a brave highland laird,” Malcolm admitted. A sad expression fell across his face as he walked over to one of the windows and leaned his forearm against the frame. “Now I would give anythin’ nae tae be one, but tae have my faither with us always. When we are but bairns, we dinnae ken that ‘tis the death o’ our faithers that makes us lairds.”

  “Aye, ‘tis a great responsibility tae be sure,” Alana answered, coming to stand next to him at the window. She gazed out over the Cairngorms and thought of her father plotting and scheming to take the lairdship for himself and her brother after him. “I am
sure there are others who would be glad tae take yer place.”

  “Aye, there are at that, but they are nae o’ my faither’s blood. I would ne’er dishonor him in such a way,” Malcolm replied.

  “I’m sure ye would nae,” Alana stated aloud. Silently she warned, Ye may nae ha’ a choice.

  “I’ll take ye tae see the rest o’ the castle and ask Mary if she has anythin’ ye can wear.” Malcolm exited the room and descended the stairs to the floor below. “As I said, Mary and Bruce sleep there,” he gestured down the hallway to their right. “The dinin’ room is here.”

  Alana followed him into the mentioned room and was dazzled by the light airy feel of the ornate decor. Its mint green plaster walls and ornate decorative moldings were stunning to behold. She could not help but feel bitter that Malcolm’s family had so much and her family had so little. While Andrew Murray lived a life of opulence, my father barely managed to survive. Perhaps the laird’s illness is God’s justice.

  “Down that way ye will find the tea room and a wee drawing room,” Malcolm gestured toward the other end of the hall. Descending the stairs to the ground floor he showed her the armory, treasury, kitchen, storerooms, ending in the grand hall. “This is where the clan gathers to eat, dance, drink, and make merry. It is also where the laird sits in judgement when needed. ‘Tis where Faither collapsed.”

  The large room was filled with hunting trophies. Stag antlers lined the walls. Alana was fairly certain that her father had contributed to the collection in his younger years. Rory had attempted to recreate this very hall at their home in the mountains, but had not quite been able to do so as he had not been able to recreate the grand wooden arched ceiling beams. He had set himself upon a dais, much like the one in the room where they now stood, from which he had handed down his own harsh justice. Alana could see him in her mind making grown men quake under his wrath and for a brief moment was glad not to be at home.

  “So do ye think ye can manage tae stay on and help us out a bit?” Malcolm asked.

  Alana smiled in spite of herself. “Oh, aye. I believe I can manage it for a time.”

  “Grand,” Malcolm grinned. “Maither will be glad o’ the help. Now let’s go and find Mary. They should be back from the gatherin’ soon.”

  Malcolm took off climbing back up the stairs. Alana was beginning to feel like a loyal hunting hound following the laird’s son around as if she were his shadow, but as she climbed behind him she could not deny that the view was pleasant. With every step Malcolm took, Alana would catch a glimpse of his strong muscled legs under his kilt. She briefly wondered what else might lie beneath its plaid folds, but quickly looked away, blushing at her brazen thoughts. I am meant tae seduce him, nae allow him to seduce me by just walkin’ about, she chastised herself.

  Malcolm came to his sister’s bedchamber door and pounded with his fist on the wooden surface. A man answered. “Malcolm,” he acknowledged.

  “Bruce, is Mary about?” Malcolm asked.

  “Aye,” Bruce nodded and stepped back so that they might enter. “She is feelin’ a bit poorly on account o’ the bairn.”

  “Mary,” Malcolm greeted his sister taking her hand in his. “Is the bairn well?” he asked, placing his other hand on her protruding stomach.

  “Aye, ‘tis nothin’,” Mary reassured her brother. “What can I do for ye?”

  “Alana, this is my sister, Mary. Mary, this is Alana. She will be helpin’ with Faither. Maither will need the extra set o’ hands with yer bairn due any time now,” Malcolm introduced them. “She comes tae us with nae but the clothes she is wearin’ and I ken ye have some things that might fit her.”

  “Aye, I would be glad tae share. ‘Tis nae as if I can wear them myself,” she jested, laying a hand on her pregnant stomach.

  “I will leave her in yer capable hands then,” Malcolm replied, kissed the top of Mary’s head, then left the room with a nod to Alana.

  “I’ll join ye,” Bruce called after his brother-in-law, kissed his wife, and closed the door behind him.

  Alana spent the next hour getting to know Mary and talking about everything from clothes to babies. Alana had delivered a few babies during her life in the mountains where healers were few and did what she could to soothe the first-time mother’s worries. She liked Mary. They were roughly the same age and both had grown up with strong fathers and brothers. Alana envied Mary for having had so many sisters. When asked about her own family life, Alana did her best to perpetrate the lie and not divulge too much information about her past. Having lost her mother in childbirth, she was at least able to be truthful about experiencing loss.

  “So many maithers die in the birthin’. I would be lyin’ if I said I was nae frightened,” Mary admitted.

  “Dinnae fash ‘twill only make it more difficult,” Alana advised. “Calm is best for ye and the bairn.”

  Mary smiled. “I ken ye are right.” She yawned, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “I am sorry.”

  “I will leave ye tae rest,” Alana said, gathering the clothing Mary had set aside for her to use. “I thank ye for the clothes.”

  “I look forward tae seeing ye in them this evenin’ at supper. I am glad ye are here. Ye are pleasant company. ‘Twill be nice tae have another lass nearer my age to visit with.” Mary smiled, yawned again, and waved goodbye before she snuggled down beneath the blankets.

  Alana climbed the stairs to her new room and found Freya there directing several women to do various chores. It appeared they were attempting to make the room more comfortable. “Alana,” Freya greeted, “I have arranged fresh beddin’ and a fire for ye as the nights can still get a bit cool.”

  “I thank ye, my lady,” Alana answered. The new additions to the room made it feel quite hospitable. She placed the borrowed clothing in a small armoire against the far wall and turned to study the woman that was Freya Erskine Murray. She was every bit as beautiful as Alana’s father had said. Her father had been right about many things including the grandeur of the castle and the strength of the clan, but thus far none of the people within the Murray family had acted as Rory had described. Not a single person had been cruel or unkind. In fact, they had all been courteous and caring. The respectful, loving way the family interacted with one another made Alana feel envious of the life they had led.

  One would never have guessed that Freya had been a stolen bride. How did she forgive the Murray men for takin’ her against her will? I would nae be able tae forgive such a thing and yet she has built a bonnie life for herself and her family here among the men who were responsible for her own clan’s demise. The idea was unfathomable to Alana who had been raised her entire life on the promise of revenge for a wrong done to her father afore she was ever born.

  When the women were finished with the room, they departed. Freya bid Alana to make herself at home. “I will leave ye tae rest. There will be a supper in the great hall this evenin’ tae celebrate the gatherin’. I will have Malcolm come and escort ye down for the festivities.”

  “I was wonderin’ if I might have some water tae bathe.” Alana asked. “I took a bit o’ a fall earlier today and I dinnae wish tae attend supper caked in dirt.”

  “Aye, o’ course, lass. Anythin’ ye need, all ye need do is ask. I will have a pitcher o’ warm water and some cloths for washin’ sent up immediately.” Freya left the room and shortly thereafter another woman entered carrying the promised pitcher.

  “Have ye a message for my laird?” the woman quietly asked.

  “Yer laird? Why would I have a message for Andrew Murray?” Alana asked confused.

  “Nae Andrew Murray, my lady. Yer faither, Rory Murray, the rightful laird of Blair Castle. I am tae ask if ye wish tae tell him anythin’.” The woman had a frightened furtive look in her eyes.

  “Ye may tell him that I am safe and employed here at the castle as a healer for the laird, Andrew Murray. Please tell him that the laird is verra ill and cannae even get out of bed by himself. Inform him that the armory is fully s
tocked and that I advise caution as the men are fierce fighters if the bouts at the gatherin’ are any indication. I have nae gained access tae the treasury, but I will. Reassure him that all is as planned.” Alana hoped it would be enough to appease her father.

  “Aye, my lady,” the woman curtsied, then scurried out of the room.

  Sighing, Alana removed her clothing and bathed herself from the washstand in the corner of the room. She pulled out one of the nicer dresses that Mary had given her out of the armoire. After dressing, she sat on the windowsill and combed the tangles out of her hair as she watched the people come and go from the castle below. She had never been allowed to attend the gathering before and it had been quite a lot of fun. She was looking forward to the evening’s dinner and dancing as it would give her an opportunity to get to know Malcolm better and set into motion her father’s plan to seduce the young man. Seduction was easier to accomplish while touching, such as that required during a dance.