Stolen by the Highlander (13 page)

‘I have been tending to him, lady. And he proved the difference between life and death over these last few days.’

‘You did ride him back to Drumlui, then?’ she asked, facing him. She sensed a readiness in him to reveal some of his story.

‘Aye. He is stronger than any horse I’ve ridden. And has the heart to give his all.’ Arabella watched as Brodie reached out his large, strong hand and stroked the horse’s side. ‘He saved Magnus and me.’

She turned back towards the yard and kept her eyes focused on the horse as she took in a slow breath and let it out. ‘How did he do that?’

‘He was strong enough to carry both of us. Magnus could not ride on his own when we got him out. Then when we were trapped between the villagers and Caelan’s men, he got us through. Carried us all the way here.’

‘So the villagers are against you now?’ she asked. Glancing at him, she saw his jaw clench and grind as he heard her words.

‘Nay, not all of them, lady. Most of them have avoided taking sides in this.’ He paused then and she thought him done. But he was not.

‘Some were ordered to stop us as we escaped through the village. So they took up what weapons they had—pitchforks and shovels and the like—and got between us and the road out. We could not fight them, would not fight them, but it slowed us up enough for Caelan’s men to catch us there. Then, they attacked all of us, my men, the villagers, anyone in their path, without regard for their part in any of this.’

She must have gasped for he turned to her and she saw the bleakness in his gaze and feared the rest of it.

‘Some were trampled. Some were struck down because they were in the way. Four, possibly five, died there.’

He stared at her, as though willing her to make the connection he wanted her to see. If she believed his words, Caelan had caused these deaths and more. Where was her father during this?

‘Did my father take part in this? Did he send Camerons, too?’ she asked. She needed to understand.

‘Your father? I did not see him. Magnus said he might have left for Achnacarry Castle some days ago.’

‘Left? He left me here?’ she asked. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pain of being abandoned struck her.

‘More likely, Caelan convinced him to leave so he could see to this family matter. I am certain Caelan does not want your father asking too many questions or seeing too much of his plan.’

‘You keep saying that. You say Caelan has this plan. That he is the one tearing your clan apart. That he is forcing people off their lands. Killing them.’ She heard her voice rising but could not stop it. ‘So tell me then, what is this plan? Why am I a pawn in his game?’

‘A pawn, lady?’ he asked, his voice growing hard-edged and angry. ‘Nay, you are the queen he will eventually sacrifice to protect himself in this game.’

Anger filled her then, for she was tired of talk of games and tired of being held here. And tired of not knowing the truth of the matter into which she’d been drawn.

‘And your part in this game? Do you stand out here in safety while he plays?’

He took a step towards her and she backed a step away. His hands fisted and his face grew fierce and dark. But she never feared for herself. Strange, that.

‘I am the one trying to put an end to his game. I am the one trying to save
his
queen from destruction. I am trying to save my clan, lady.’

‘And this is how you protect your clan? By hiding in the mountains, collecting the exiled and lost and trying to avoid capture? What kind of life is this for them?’

He stepped away from the fence, the black and the other horses were sensitive to the rising anger between them. As she turned to face him and hear his answer, she looked past him.

Chapter Thirteen

B
rodie noticed her face lose all its colour and go pale and looked over his shoulder to see what she saw.

Some of those exiled and lost people stood behind them, obviously hearing her accusations and words and being none too happy about them. Rob had warned him that having a Cameron in their midst during such a dangerous time could lead to disaster, but he had disregarded it. She was his prisoner after all was said.

‘Brodie protects us,’ called out one man as he spit in the dirt at Arabella’s feet.

‘He is the rightful Mackintosh,’ a woman said, nodding her head at him. ‘’Tis he who should be sitting on Lachlan’s seat, not Caelan.’

The grumbling began within the crowd and Brodie knew it was time to step in. None of this was Arabella’s fault and she should not bear the brunt of it.

‘The lady is under my protection here, just as each of you is,’ he said, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping partly in front of her. The movement was deliberate.

‘But she’s a Cameron,’ someone in the back argued.

‘Aye, she’s a Cameron,’ he said, nodding in agreement. ‘But she came to Drumlui to do her duty and end our feud with them.’

‘She is to marry that bastard!’

‘She carries out her duty to her father and her clan. That was the agreement Lachlan negotiated. The one I supported and pledged to uphold. ’Tis not her fault that Caelan took matters into his own hands and hatched his plot.’

Now whispers echoed through the group as they took in his words. Some of the old ones would not, could not, ever release their anger at the clan responsible for so many deaths and so much destruction. And that, in spite of the shared part the Mackintoshes played. Then Bradana stepped forward, mirroring Brodie’s own stance, and nodded at Arabella.

‘She may be a Cameron and unwelcome as that by many, but that did not stop her when we needed her help. She worked at Margaret’s side and on her own to help our men. And, according to Margaret’s own words, ’twas her that saved Magnus.’ She nodded, glancing around the crowd and meeting the gaze of most of the women there. Women who were as much pawns of their fathers or husbands as the lady was.

‘So, if you have a problem with the lady being here, just stay away from her,’ he said, meeting each gaze. ‘A problem with her is a problem with me.’

The ones who’d voiced objections nodded, accepting his words, and walked off. Bradana looked as though she wanted to approach Arabella but glanced at him first. Brodie turned and saw what Bradana saw—a very fragile, pale Arabella, standing there trembling. With only the merest shake of his head, he warned Bradana off. The crowd dissolved, all going back to their tasks and duties, understanding that this moment had passed.

Except for the lass.

He would have approached her if he could have thought of words to say that would comfort her. Since none came, he waited on her. After a few silent moments, she lifted her head and turned back to the yard. The black walked slowly across the yard and whinnied at her, waiting for a sign of affection.

‘I am sure you have duties to see to, Brodie. You do not have to stand here by me.’ Her voice, recently strong and strident, now trembled and shook.

He fought the urge to take her in his arms and soothe away the insults. He fought the need to apologise to her for dragging her into this fight. And, worse, he fought the doubts within his own heart and mind that he was on the right and true course. In the end, he allowed her the privacy she desired and walked away, his boots crunching in the dirt the only sound between them.

Several paces down the path, the guard remained as he’d been ordered, watching the lady from a distance. Brodie nodded to him and stopped to look back.

The black now nuzzled her shoulder as she buried her face in the horse’s neck. Though he could not see her face, the way her body shook told him she cried. The sight of it tore at him.

This was not her fight. She would honour her family and her brother by marrying as she was ordered to and give herself, body and soul, over to her enemy. She would live among her enemies and never truly be part of them, known as a Cameron even when her children would be called Mackintosh.

All to gain a lasting peace.

Brodie turned and walked away, knowing that his actions in kidnapping her had caused Caelan to accelerate his plan. And, it had caused the violent repercussions that had resulted in the deaths of his own people. His other choice was to allow the marriage to go forward and intervene later.

But the thought of placing Arabella under his cousin’s control and, worse, in his bed, had forced his hand. He had no doubt that once she was Caelan’s wife and once he’d gained her dowry, the real destruction would begin. As The Cameron’s heiress, she would bring wealth to him immediately. And if Caelan got her with child, that child would be heir to both clans’ titles and power.

He had no doubt that Arabella would bear the terrible cost, for Caelan would never countenance a strong wife. He would beat down her intelligence and never accept her for all she could offer him. Now that she’d heard the stories and questioned his falseness, he might not even allow her to live...

She would never be his, but Brodie had sworn he would see her safely through this. It was the reason he’d taken her on her wedding day. It was the reason he protected her even now. She had accepted her duty even when it was not what she wanted. He would honour that commitment. Arabella would probably still find herself married to a Mackintosh when this ended and the elders chose a new chieftain, but he would make certain that it would not be Caelan.

Brodie went to Margaret’s tent to speak with Magnus. He was the one man who could help him assess how close Caelan was to success and how much time they had to stop him. They’d gathered almost enough proof to show that Caelan was paying off men to do his bidding. That he was amassing his own army, a collection of mercenary warriors from all over the Highlands, to destroy any who stood in his way.

Brodie and his men would be first. Then the Camerons.

Sending word for Rob and the others to meet him, he went about his business and tried not to think about the desolation etched into the lovely face of Arabella Cameron.

* * *

Over the next hours, he thought about her more than he did his own problems. And as he headed back to his cave to try to get some rest, he knew how he could bring a smile back to her face.

* * *

Each day here seemed to bring its own disaster. And each disaster unmade her in some way.

Sometimes it was his words that did it—challenging her beliefs. At other times, it was his actions—standing between her and his people and protecting her. And then there were his more intimate approaches—touches, caresses and kisses that made her want to forget her name, her family and her honour.

The only thing she knew for certain was that she was not the same young woman who’d arrived in Drumlui those months ago, with a clear purpose and the intention of carrying out her duty. That smiling, beautiful, false woman was gone, left behind after tragedy and upheaval. The problem was she was quickly losing more of herself and her beliefs every day here.

For so long, for all her life, she had believed what her father told her. She believed that she owed her mother and all those who’d died the duty of unquestioning obedience. That the only way to honour the dead was to give herself to their enemy and use her body to make peace for a new generation. But what she’d seen and heard and done over these past few weeks underscored what a stupid, naive young woman she’d been.

She’d seen, for they’d only shown her, one facet of this conflict between the clans. Now, these people who hated her for nothing more than the name she carried, had shown her more honesty than anyone in her family, save Malcolm. They’d not shown her the genteel, pretty parts, but the gritty, honest, life-and-death parts.

So what was she supposed to do now?

She desperately wanted to speak to her father, to argue and to warn him of the possible treachery afoot that was aimed for them. Arabella wanted to determine whether Caelan could be as duplicitous as everyone here claimed him to be. If she believed them, not a word he’d spoken to her was true.

As the sun began to dip towards evening, she found herself following the guard across the encampment, for he brought word that she would spend the night elsewhere. Too distraught to question it and not really wanting to see Brodie right now, she did not argue. Soon, they arrived at another cave and he bade her to enter. A girl stood there but that was not what caught her attention.

In the middle of the chamber which also held all manner of supplies stood a large wooden tub. It was the kind used for laundry, but now it was filled with steaming water.

‘My mam said I am to help ye with yer bath, my lady.’

‘And what is your name?’ she asked, already crossing to the tub. Nothing would feel so good as a soak in a hot bath.

‘I am called Fia, my lady,’ the girl said.

‘How many years have you, Fia?’ Arabella gazed at the girl and saw the resemblance immediately. Bradana’s daughter.

‘Almost ten, lady.’ Fia came to her side.

‘A perfect age,’ Arabella said, as she began to untie the belt around her waist. ‘My hair is not easily managed in a bath and I would appreciate your help.’

Within a short time, she was undressed and sinking into water so hot, it made her skin tingle as she sat down. The tub was not large enough for her to stretch out, so she dipped her shoulders down first and then drew her knees up. Knowing what a luxury this was, she would find a way to make it work. Fia might be only ten, but she was more than an able helper. Before the water could cool, her hair was washed and rinsed and her skin scrubbed clean of the dirt of the camp.

A clean shift, gown and stockings awaited her there once she’d forced herself out of the water. It took some time, but Fia helped her dry and comb her hair and then took her to a different place in the camp. Bradana waited there, smiling at both of them.

‘Better, my lady?’ she asked, taking Fia under her arm and squeezing the girl. ‘Did ye help the lady as ye were told to, Fia?’

‘Aye, she was the best helper I have had,’ Arabella said, wanting to reach out and hug the girl. But these people were strangers and she was...she was...not one of them.

‘Mama, her hair is long enough to touch the ground!’ Fia exclaimed.

‘But ye kept it off the ground?’

‘Oh, aye,’ the girl said brightly. ‘I could not let it get dirty all over again.’

Out of habit, Arabella reached for the small purse she always wore on her belt, to give the girl a small coin in thanks for her help. She ran her hands down her gown, realising nothing here was hers.

‘I would give her something for her help, Bradana, but I fear I have nothing,’ she admitted.

‘Yer words of praise and thanks are enough for her, lady. She will be the centre of all the chatter for days to come.’ The girl scampered off to some friends who waited nearby.

‘And my thanks to you, as well,’ Arabella added. ‘For all your help, earlier and with the bath. I know it could not have been easy to stand against your people for me.’

‘Old hatreds run deep, my lady. Ye ken? But there comes a time when it just does not matter.’ She pointed to a stool there, outside the tent. ‘Here. Sit and I will braid yer hair. To keep it clean and from yer eyes.’

Arabella could not resist such an offer. Nothing soothed her more than having her hair brushed and braided. Such a small comfort but it meant so much. Though her own mother had died when she was but a wee lass, Arabella imagined that this was what it felt like to have her tend to her comforts.

* * *

‘Lady?’

A touch on her shoulder and a slight shaking brought her awake. She did not remember falling asleep. Sitting up, she found Bradana tying off the braid.

‘I did not mean to...’

‘Anyone with eyes can see ye are exhausted,’ Bradana replied, shaking her head. ‘Worry not over it.’ The woman stood and moved towards the small fire there. ‘Have ye eaten yet? Are ye hungry?’

More tired than hungry, she thought until her stomach grumbled loudly. Bradana chuckled and handed her a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread. ‘Rest a while and eat, then,’ she said.

‘And Fia?’ Arabella asked before taking the first spoonful.

‘The lass will come when she is hungry. Or she will eat with Glenna and her da.’

‘So this is like your village, then? You have a care for the others?’

Arabella glanced around. The fires cast shadows across the tents and shelters. Men and women finished up their tasks and would be seeking sleep soon. Certainly not cottages and crofts and not the orderly layout of the village next to Drumlui Keep, and yet here in the midst of it all, it did have the atmosphere of a village.

‘For now, lady. Once Brodie...weel, once this is all settled, we have a hope we can return home.’

‘And if things do not settle? If he remains an outlaw? Where will you go? What will you do?’

‘I have faith in him, lady. It will all work out.’ Bradana nodded and smiled. ‘He’s a good man. A good leader. He’ll see this to rights.’

Before she could ask another question, Bradana stood and patted her on the shoulder. ‘And he will see to yer safety as weel, my lady. Fear not.’

‘My thanks for this food. And for the bath,’ she said, standing and facing the woman. ‘I am not certain where I am supposed to go now.’

‘Why, right inside, my lady!’ Bradana said. ‘I have a pallet prepared for ye. Take yer rest and worry not over what ye cannot change.’

Arabella wanted to hug the woman who offered her such comfort and did not realise it. For so long, all she’d known were the duties she must perform and the people she must see to. No one saw to the small needs as this woman had. The simple offer of braiding her hair. The words spoken in her defence. And now this offer of a protected place to rest.

As if she’d made her request aloud, Bradana opened her arms and welcomed Arabella into them. She stepped close and allowed the embrace and all the comfort it offered. It should not matter as much as it did. But this kindness of strangers during a time of need eased so much of her pain. After a few moments, Bradana released her and held open the flap of the tent.