Abduction of a Highland Rose: Historical Scottish Romance Novel

by Fiona Faris

  “Who cares who the chief o’ the clan is, Rory? A’ that matters is we restore oor clan’s good name which was soiled under Donald’s rule.”

  “Do no’ give me the righteous speech aboot escapin’ a tyrant. Ye lust fer power jist as much as Donald, an’ mysel’ fer that matter.”

  Andrew was confused by Rory’s comments, and he thought his friend had gone completely mad in the blink of an eye. He did not understand where all these disillusioned thoughts of him possessing a lust for power came from.

  Rory lunged at him once again, but Andrew was not fazed by this attack. Andrew listened as Rory continued to spew utter nonsense.

  “A’ this talk aboot peace among the clans is ludicrous an’ ye know it, Andrew. Oor clan will lose its identity an’ cease tae exist. Is that whit ye want?”

  Andrew was speechless.

  “He is the one who organized the attack on ye at the village, Andrew!” Freya shouted as she had crawled a safe distance away from the two of them after she saved Andrew from the thrust of Rory’s blade.

  “Nae, it cannae be true. Rory, please tell me she is mistaken,” Andrew said to his friend.

  Rory shook his head to indicate what Freya accused him of was indeed true, and it crushed Andrew’s spirit. He felt betrayed; his lifelong best friend had camouflaged his true intentions.

  “Dae no’ give me that look, Andrew,” Rory mocked him.

  “Efter a’ we hae been through together, this is how ye repay me, Rory? We hae known each ither since we were knee-high an’ before we could hold a sword.”

  “That is in the past. I am only concerned with right now. I should be chief o’ this clan an’ I would be ye weren’t in my way,” Rory exclaimed. “An’ ye would be deid by now if it wasn’t fer her.” He gestured to Freya. “Tell me, hoor, how did ye break free from the woods?”

  Enraged by the treachery of his friend and his treatment of Freya, Andrew attacked Rory with everything he had left after the exhausting battle with Donald. Rory had a difficult time blocking all of Andrew’s attacks with his sword and feared Andrew would deliver a fatal death blow.

  Andrew attacked Rory out of pure emotion at the discovery of his treachery to not only his cause but to him as a friend. He lost all control and would stop at nothing to make Rory pay for his actions.

  Rory screamed in pain when one thrust of Andrew’s broadsword slashed him on the leg, and a flap of skin hung on by a thread. An enraged Andrew speared Rory onto the ground, and they both rolled down the hill into the midst of what was left of the battle.

  There were still a dozen warriors still locked in battle with one another. They were oblivious to the series of events which occurred above them – since none of the leaders had declared the battle over.

  The crowd of warriors remained locked in battle, despite seeing Andrew and Rory immersed in battle with one another. The lone Murrays who had knowledge of Rory’s plan stared at each other in shock to see Andrew still alive. They stared at each other and took off for fear of their treachery against Andrew being discovered.

  Rory took notice of his men making an escape and came to the conclusion this would be his only way out of the battle alive. Andrew was far too strong for Rory to battle when he was not enraged. An infuriated Andrew would be impossible for Rory to survive and he was desperate for a way out of this valley.

  Rory surveyed the surrounding battlefield and crawled into the middle of the scrum in an attempt to lose Andrew before he had a chance to stand up. Rory grasped one of the Murrays and one of the lads from the Erskine villages and threw each of them on top of Andrew.

  Andrew struggled to regain his balance with the two men on top of him, and Rory dashed to his horse to make an escape. Rory sprinted as fast as could, but the gash on his leg caused a sharp pain that was only intensified when he ran.

  Rory drifted his thoughts away from the flap of skin which dangled from his leg to block out the pain, but it was easier said than done. He collapsed twice before he finally reached his horse, whose harness was tied to a stone at the base of one of the hills.

  By the time Andrew threw the men off of him and made it to his feet, the only objects he could discern in the distance were three horses that galloped further into the Highlands.

  “Cease fightin’, lads! This battle is over,” Andrew shouted to the survivors of the battle as he climbed back up the hill.

  Andrew grasped Donald’s battle horn from the waistband of the dead chief’s tartan. Only the chief of clan Murray sounded the horn during the heat of battle. Andrew closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sounded the horn to signal to the other Murray clan members that this battle was officially over. Additionally, it signaled that he was now henceforth the chief of clan Murray.

  “Oor former chief Donald is deid! This battle was fought tae usher in a new age in the clan Murray. I know oor numbers were slim comin’ intae this battle an’ they are even slimmer now, but we shall survive. We will be stronger than ever an’ oor strength will be in unity with each ither an’ with other clans throughout the Highlands and lowlands,” Andrew shouted down to all who cast their gaze upon the new chief.

  Freya watched from the hilltop with an ecstatic smile on her face. She breathed a sigh of relief that Donald had finally been vanquished and Andrew had survived Rory’s cowardly attempt to take his life to become chief himself.

  Andrew led the survivors of the battle in a battle cry and even the three Erskine clan villagers who survived joined in – since they were in full support of Andrew being chief of clan Murray.

  “Where are we aff tae now?” one of the Murray men asked Andrew.

  “We must travel tae Blair Castle an’ reestablish the honor which was soiled when Donald led the clan like a tyrant instead o’ a chief. Are there prisoners still inside the dungeon?” Andrew replied.

  Andrew’s question was met with a deafening silence.

  “I shall no’ hold it against onyone if there are prisoners still within the castle. I must know sae we can take the honorable approach on oor return tae oor home,” Andrew continued.

  One of the younger Murray lads spoke up: “Chief, we are no’ tae sure if there are still prisoners inside the castle’s dungeon. Donald had gone mad recently an’ only he had access tae a’ the prisoners. We hae been clueless tae anythin’ that goes on since ye escaped with that one lass.”

  Andrew knew Donald was a power-hungry tyrant and vicious in battle, but he wondered how far his mind had slipped since he freed Freya from her prison cell.

  After he concluded his speech to his fellow clansmen, he approached Freya, whose smile lifted his spirits even further. She greeted him with a warm, gentle hug and a kiss which he had yearned for since he left for battle.

  “Finally, this nightmare is o’er, my love. Oor lives together can begin at last now that ye are chief o’ yer clan an’ ye can bring peace amongst a’ the clans like ye desire,” Freya said.

  “’tis true. Ye hae nae idea how happy I am tae begin this journey with ye. I love ye, my bonnie Freya,” Andrew stated.

  The two embraced with another passionate kiss.

  “Freya, ye must tell me somethin’ though. How did ye know aboot Rory bein’ a traitor?” Andrew asked.

  “Ye should learn tae ne’er doubt my premonitions! I always hae an eerie sense o’ things such as this,” she replied.

  Andrew stared at her with a blank expression.

  “I am serious! Once I followed my hunches aboot the evidence I found, it led me straight tae Rory. The two guards from Blair castle were his accomplices, who rode away on horses with him,” Freya explained.

  “If I ever lay my eyes on those three bastards again, I am goin’ tae murder all three o’ ‘em,” Andrew remarked as he clenched his fists.

  “I highly doubt ye will ever see the likes o’ ‘em again efter tryin’ tae betray ye like that. Let us go hame, shall we?”

  “Aye, tae Blair Castle!” Andrew exclaimed with excitement.

  “Whit? I thought ha
me was the village?”

  “We hae unfinished business at Blair Castle, Freya. Dae ye no’ want tae see if the ither Erskine prisoners are a’ right?”

  Freya quickly agreed and fetched her colt from the hill. Upon hearing that some of the maidens from her clan may still be alive and imprisoned inside of Blair Castle, she felt ashamed that she had almost forgotten about their capture.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Two days later

  Andrew chuckled when he laid his eyes on the colt Freya rode all the way to the Highland boundary. At the same time, he thanked it with a colossal hug for bravely carrying Freya such a long way so she could save his life.

  “I think this lass found her permanent ride shall we ever go fer a ride again,” he said.

  Freya hugged and kissed the colt on the head before she mounted it to complete their journey to Blair Castle.

  Freya beheld the marvelous scenery which overlooked the valley, and her breath was taken away. The dark clouds had broken apart, and the sunlight penetrated through to brighten the autumn foliage in the distance beyond the valley. The amber red and orange leaves flew off the tree branches as the breeze picked up speed. Freya’s hair blew in the direction of the wind, and she breathed in the sweet aroma of the Highland air.

  The sunlight also reflected on the winding river, which coursed the path to Blair Castle.

  “Look at the bonnie weather. Now is a perfect time tae ride intae the mountains. Let’s ride everyone!” Andrew commanded, and all happily followed their new chief.

  The weather could not have been any more perfect on the way to Blair Castle. The temperature was its warmest in the past two weeks, and Andrew celebrated it by removing his coat.

  Andrew and Freya stared into each other’s eyes throughout the rest of the journey, and it was as if they read each other’s thoughts and dreams of the future. They would finally be able to find peace of mind now that Andrew would not have to prepare for war any longer.

  They rode through the exact area where they made love for the first time, and both noticed a waterfall along one of the rocky cliffs that they failed to notice when they rode through this region at nightfall. The sound of the cascading water relaxed Freya’s mind and eased her senses as she believed she would have a peaceful night sleep for the first time in a while.

  Andrew spotted the sun’s reflection on a tall structure straight ahead through the trees, and he knew without a doubt it was Blair Castle.

  “It has been ages since I hae seen Blair Castle! She is as bonnie as ever,” Andrew stated as he smiled at Blair Castle’s towering white walls and cone-shaped roofs.

  Everyone rode around the castle to the stable and Andrew continued to marvel as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on his clan’s castle.

  “It is no’ different than how ye left it, Andrew,” one of the Murrays joked.

  Andrew smiled at the young Murray. “That may be true, but when ye hae been away fer a wee bit o’ time, then yer first sight o’ the castle still leaves ye speechless.”

  “Where are the prisoners held, Andrew? I will look fer them at once,” Freya said with urgency.

  “I will escort ye to the outside cells, miss,” another young Murray lad said.

  Freya nodded her thanks, and the two of them headed towards the prison, Freya tried to recall which Erskine maidens had been kidnapped from the village before she had been taken in the middle of the night. They were the younger of the maidens, similar to Sorcha’s age, and Freya knew they must still be scared to death from being away from home for this amount of time.

  How could she tell them Kellie Castle was in ruins? How could she tell them nearly every one of their beloved Erskine clan members had been brutally massacred and their bodies stacked in a tower outside the castle? How would they react to the news? What if they had gone mad? What if they had been viciously killed by Donald in one of his brutal tirades?

  Freya pondered all of these questions as she stared into the forest which surrounded Blair Castle. She dared not tell Andrew that being back at this castle, where she had been held prisoner, twisted a knot inside her stomach. She possessed deep ceded memories of it, in particular, the dungeon.

  The lad who guided Freya walked with caution. Perhaps he too was fearful as to what they would find.

  When they came to a large wooden door, he tried to open it twice, but it would not budge. So, he backed up several steps and ran at it, ramming his shoulder against the wood with all his might without breaking a bone.

  The door flew open, and the lad crashed to the dusty floor.

  Freya walked inside. There was the sound of rats crawling across the floor and creaking wood.

  “Are ye sure this is a prison? There is nothin’ except rats an’ dust,” Freya asked the lad.

  However, the moment she asked the question, an ominous moaning sounded.

  “Please, save us! We are dyin’ in this hell. Set us free, we beg ye!” low-pitched voices pleaded.

  Freya grabbed a fire torch from a nearby wall. Whether these prisoners were from the Erskine clan or not, she had to free them. No decent person would allow another human being to suffer another second of this infested realm with disease-ridden creatures.

  By the light of the torch, she found a total of eight girls clinging onto life, and many of them had been beaten to a bloody pulp. One girl had both eyes swollen shut, a broken nose, and a shredded arisaid. All of the girls shivered, and their breaths drifted up into the cold air.

  Freya could not stand to see another second of this and called for Andrew and his men to come aid the girls. The clansmen carried the girls outside one by one, and the lasses squinted as the bright sunlight hit their eyes.

  With the girls now outside, Freya identified several of their faces instantly, and she burst into tears. These were in fact prisoners from the Erskine clan, and some of them were from the same village hers. She was relieved to have saved them from this hellacious prison before they passed away, but she was infuriated that they experienced such suffering. She turned to the Murray men who had fought alongside Donald.

  “How could ye a’ let this happen?” Freya shouted before Andrew drew her into his arms.

  “Freya, I hae already talked tae everyone aboot this. They told me Donald went completely mad an’ put the girl in the outside dungeon. He was the only person who came and went,” Andrew explained.

  Freya remembered how much of a demon Donald was, but it was still impossible for her to fathom how anyone could commit such a horrific act against another person or group of people.

  “I know it is impossible fer ony o’ us tae imagine, Freya, but this is why I killed that monster,” Andrew stated as he caressed her hair. “When I witnessed firsthand whit he was capable o’ doin’, enough was enough. I would ne’er hae lived with mysel’ knowin’ I let him get away with the murder o’ innocents.”

  Then, Andrew turned to his men.

  “Everyone, ye all hae an important job tae dae tonight. Ye are tae help rehabilitate a’ o’ the lasses who were held prisoner ‘ere. Ye are tae dae nothin’ else except help ‘em regain a sense o’ normalcy. If I hear o’ ye doin’ onythin’ else, ye will hae me tae deal with. Is that clear?”

  “Aye,” the men replied in unison.

  Andrew dismissed them, and they proceeded to help each of the eight former prisoners. Freya attempted to go with them, but she felt ill.

  “Andrew, I hae an excruciating headache. Please, take me inside. This is a’ tae much fer me tae take in at the—” She passed out, and Andrew just managed to catch her in his arms.

  “Freya? Freya? Speak tae me, bonnie!”

  Everything else in the world faded from Andrew’s thoughts as he carried her upstairs to the top floor of the castle, to the room where he used to sleep. He laid her down on the cot and held her hand as he sat by her bedside.

  Five hours passed before Freya would rise from her slumber, and Andrew was sound asleep on a chair next to her.

  “An
drew, where are we?” Freya asked.

  He opened his eyes and smiled, relieved that she was alright.

  “I brought ye up tae my old room. Ye had me worried, my dear Freya. I thought ye had caught a terrible sickness fer a moment,” Andrew replied.

  “Nae, I was simply flustered by everythin’,” Freya stated with watery eyes.

  Andrew wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. Freya continued to weep, thinking she should have done more to prevent the girls from experiencing the most brutal treatment imaginable.

  “That should hae been me, Andrew! I should hae been in that prison starved, beaten, and raped.”

  “Freya, dae no’ speak that way. Nae one deserved that treatment. Look at me! It is no’ yer fault, my bonnie,” Andrew reassured her.