Stolen by the Highlander (15 page)

He nodded, having difficulty coming up with words when she gazed at him with respect.

‘What will you do with him now?’ she asked, as she led the way outside. Rob stood waiting for him there. When he did not reply as quickly as she’d like, she gave him the answer she wanted.

‘You could send him back to my father. Negotiate with him to help settle this.’ Rob turned to look at him. It was not something they had not discussed already.

‘Your father will not do that, lady.’

‘If I asked him, he would consider it.’ She was lovely in her naiveté about her father, but then she seemed to need to believe the best of her father and the worst of him. ‘If you returned Alan as a sign of good faith.’

‘Do you really think he would even speak to the man who killed his son?’ he asked.

Even if he was the lesser of the Mackintosh evils, there was no way that Euan Cameron would allow him to live. Even without Caelan in the high seat, there would be no peace if Brodie was the one to replace him and rule.

The truth drew down the wall between them. He saw it in her eyes as she realised it. As it always would stand between them. No matter the respect she might have for him about his treatment of her cousin. No matter the shared desire that he felt every time they spoke or were together. No matter...

‘I should not have brought it up,’ she whispered, backing away.

He reached out, heedless of those watching, and tilted her face up with his finger.

‘Nay. I will always listen to your suggestions, Arabella. Just this one...’ He shook his head and dropped his hand.

‘I would see to his care this night, if you will permit it?’

Her soft words stunned him. Most of their conversations ended in anger or distrust. He just nodded this time and she went back inside. Brodie stood silent for a moment and then let out his breath.

‘Have a care, Brodie,’ Rob warned before walking off. He gave orders to one of the men to remain on guard there as he left. He did not mistake his friend’s meaning.

‘Have a care?’ he said under his breath, to no one but himself. ’Twas too bloody late for that.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he worst thing Alan suffered for his first drunken experience was a bit of an ill stomach and a headache. Margaret, at Brodie’s behest, sent over a noxious-smelling green potion that Alan stared at and refused to drink. For a time. Then when his symptoms became worse, he swallowed it down and complained loud and long about it. But it did help and by midday, he was asking for food.

* * *

For two days she did not see him...Brodie. Though her black was in the yard, she caught no sight of him in the camp. Was he avoiding her? She slept in either Margaret’s or Bradana’s tents, helped each of them see to tasks to keep the camp running, whether repairing garments, preparing food for meals or whatever needed to be accomplished.

She and Alan spoke many times and he brought word of many things from Drumlui and Achnacarry Castle. Alan said her father had left Mackintosh lands and, fearing Mackintosh aggression, was busy sending soldiers to protect their southern keep, Tor Castle. Worse, he was considering involving the king in this dispute. Although a prisoner, Alan’s youth gained him softer treatment than a man would have received. He was permitted outside several times a day and Bradana saw to his care.

Arabella remained convinced that her father would help if he knew the truth and decided it was time to hear Brodie’s side of this. If Alan could escape, if he had information to give her father, it might work out. So, she began to look for ways to help the boy escape. After all, he hadn’t given his word as she had.

All he would need would be a short time undetected to make his way off the mountain and find a way to Achnacarry. Alan said they were about two days’ straight ride to the northwest of Drumlui and almost to the shores of Loch Arkaig, so it would be about three or four days travel to Achnacarry by land. Shorter if they could use the loch and river.

Although she was in one of the caves visiting Alan, she continued checking the others. She’d noticed that the supplies could be organised a bit differently and it would make it easier to keep track of them as they were used up. And, if they needed to abandon the camp, something everyone she spoke to feared was coming, it would be easier to find and take the most essential items. Planning to take her suggestions to Margaret now that things had calmed, Brodie’s appearance surprised her.

And the fact that he looked as though he had not slept was more of a surprise. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes. His face was pale.

‘Are you ill?’ she asked, reaching up to touch his face. She stopped herself, but not before he saw the gesture. ‘Have you a fever?’

‘Nay, not ill, lady. Nothing to fear,’ he said.

‘If not ill, then what, Brodie?’

‘Bradana said you were seeking me?’ He neatly avoided answering her question.

‘I was going to speak to Margaret about moving some of the supplies in the caves. It would be more efficient...’

‘Efficient? For whom?’

‘For the women who oversee them. For the people here who need to use them. For all of you if you need to abandon the camp, as some seem to think will be necessary soon.’ He raised a brow at the last part.

‘You’ve been asking your questions again, lady?’ This time he did not sound so aggrieved at her curiosity.

‘Aye. And I have been listening as your people talk. I have some experience with this,’ she said, gesturing to the boxes and bundles around them. As chatelaine for her father’s estates, she’d worked with their steward doing just this thing.

‘Very well, Arabella. If Margaret agrees, I leave it in your capable hands and hers.’ He stared at her now, as though seeing someone new. Then he began to leave.

She’d not said the most important part. In listening to his people, in watching him, even in being his prisoner, she’d begun to comprehend that there was so much more she needed to know and understand. About this feud. About Caelan’s role in it and Brodie’s. About her part and her future. Arabella lifted her head and straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze directly.

‘I think I am ready to hear your truth.’

There it was. Boldly and clearly put. Not demanded or angry. Now what would he say? He let out a soft sigh, a sound of utter exhaustion that she was not certain he realised, and then nodded.

‘Join me for the evening meal and we can speak about this. And remember to speak to Margaret about your ideas.’

She smiled and nodded and watched him leave, aware of the effort it took for each step. Something was very wrong with Brodie and if he was not well, she suspected a lack of sleep.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon hours passed slowly and she spent most of it with Margaret, making suggestions and discussing her ideas. By the time the evening meal was ready, Arabella questioned the wisdom in the coming talks with Brodie. It made no sense unless she was willing to listen and believe his words.

The shocking truth she faced first was that she did believe him and trust him. That realisation came to her as she stood outside the cave he’d chosen, with one of Bradana’s friends helping her carry the pot of stew, the loaves of bread and wheels of cheese. She stopped so quickly the other woman nearly dropped everything on the path.

How could she trust him? He had killed her brother and kidnapped her. And yet, deep inside, she knew he would stand by his word and his honour. He’d adopted these people, these exiles, as his own and fought to keep them safe. Against all odds and against all reason, he put them first and was determined to find a way to give them back their homes and their families.

‘Did ye stumble there, lady?’ Nara asked from behind her.

‘Oh, aye, Nara. I beg your pardon for my clumsiness.’ She tried to cover up the hesitation and moved on. The guard called out to Brodie and motioned her inside.

It took a few minutes to set out the pot and bowls on the small table and Nara helped her. Arabella could not help to steal a glance across the chamber to where Brodie stood reading some letter. He nodded in greeting but continued to read as they set out supper. After a quiet thanks to Nara, she waited for him to finish.

And then they were alone.

He put the letter aside and waited for her to sit. Bringing a jug of water with him, he sat and poured some in their cups. Arabella lifted the lid and scooped some of the thick stew into each bowl. He watched as she broke the bread and cheese into smaller pieces between them. Then, they shared the food, eating in a silence that should have been tense and filled with anticipation. Once they’d finished, she collected the leftover food and bowls and made them ready to return to Nara.

She watched as he stood and retrieved the small jug of whisky from his trunk and poured some into each of their cups. Remembering the results of this on Alan, she promised herself she would partake of little. When he did not begin to speak, she asked him about his condition.

‘You look more exhausted than you did when we travelled here. I know you did not get much sleep and yet you never looked like this.’ He smiled and held up his cup in salute to her.

‘You do know how to compliment a man, my lady.’

‘I did not mean... I meant... Why are you not sleeping, Brodie?’ After the words had escaped her mouth she realised how prying and intimate they sounded. She should apologise.

‘I am plagued by dreams.’

‘Bad dreams?’ He nodded. ‘I had bad dreams for many years as a child after my mother passed. Aunt Gillie used to help me sleep by rubbing my forehead and whispering a silly song to me to chase them away.’

‘Did it work?’ He sipped from his cup, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. She nearly forgot the question.

‘Aye, most times.’

‘I will have to remember that.’ He paused and then changed their topic to the one she’d waited for. ‘Arabella, how much do you know about how the feud began?’

‘Broken promises. A lover’s betrayal. Land. Gold. The usual ways a feud begins,’ she said. ‘The Cameron claim of lands near Drumlui was contested by the Mackintoshes. The fighting began and the battles continued over the last four or five generations.’

‘And enough bloodshed and lost lives to destroy families. It was my father’s and uncle’s dream to bring it to an end.’

‘And mine,’ she added.

‘Unfortunately, not Caelan’s.’

‘But he endorsed the truce. As chief, he accepted the terms already in place.’

‘Aye, he did all those things in front of the clans, Arabella. Yet, all the while, he was negotiating his own arrangements with other clans in the Chattan Confederation and across the Highlands.’

The Mackintosh chief held the high chair of the Chattan Confederation, a group of clans, some bound by blood, others by oath, that extended its claim and control over a good part of the Highlands. The Confederation’s involvement was the only reason, in her estimation, that the Camerons had not triumphed in this feud.

‘How do you know this, Brodie?’ she asked. She wanted to believe his explanation, but he would never succeed on just his word. At least not as an exiled outlaw.

He stared at her for a minute as though considering what and how much to say. So, when he stood and walked to his trunk, it surprised her. She watched as he moved the heavy case and lifted that chained one into view. Placing it before her, he removed the lock and opened it.

A pile of letters and documents, signed and marked with various wax wafers and seals, filled the box. He got the letter he’d been reading when she arrived and placed it on top. He gestured for her to examine them and walked away to stand in the shadows as she did. It took some time, but she read each of them and was disturbed more by the next and the next until she reached the bottom.

These documents outlined a thorough and deadly plot against her clan. This was no plan for a long and abiding peace, this was the complete annihilation of the Camerons. Every Cameron would be wiped out and their claims and titles buried with them. Caelan had even promised gold from her dowry as bribes and rewards for doing his bidding. Some of these plans went back for years and some were more recent, much more recent.

‘But he claimed to want peace.’

‘Caelan was, apparently, made to watch his parents being murdered by your father. It broke him in some way and he’s planned this for years. Step by step, conspiracy by conspiracy.’

‘My father?’

Arabella wanted to deny it, but she’d heard bits of this when the Camerons claimed their glorious victories of the past. She had not known about Caelan, though. She had only a moment’s warning before her stomach convulsed in disgust and at the horror of it all. She made it over to the basin just in time. When it was over, he touched her shoulder and offered her a cup of water and a cloth.

Climbing to her feet, she faced him.

‘How long have you known?’ she asked.

‘Not long. Since meeting you those months ago,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Because of you.’ When her legs trembled, he caught her and eased her to sit on the pallet.

‘Why me?’ He handed her a cushion and she placed it behind her back. ‘What did I do?’ How could she have played a part in this?

‘You made me question my assumptions, lady.’ He sat next to her then and took her hand in his. ‘When I found a completely different person hiding behind that facade you wore, it made me realise that something was not right about Caelan. I began to explore and question. But I did not have enough time...’

‘And that’s what you’ve been doing since? Finding proof?’ She nodded at the box, still sitting on the table.

‘Aye. The last pieces were only in our hands days ago.’

He had saved her. By kidnapping her, he had bought himself time, but he had saved her from Caelan. He stroked the back of her hand then and she met his eyes.

‘And now what? What will you do with that?’

‘I had hoped to meet with Caelan and convince him to do the right thing. To let him walk away. But...’

‘He will never go. He has worked too hard on this. Oh, God in Heaven! Do you think he had anything to do with your uncle’s death?’

A silent nod of his head sent chills down her spine. Caelan had killed his uncle because Lachlan stood for peace. So who then?

‘And...Malcolm?’ she asked, daring not to hope.

‘My dagger, Arabella. His blood on my hands. There were witnesses.’

‘You could take this to my father. He would help. He already contemplates involving the king.’

‘With this evidence, with these statements, your father could simply destroy the Mackintoshes. Wipe them off the earth even as Caelan planned to do with you.’

‘My father would nev...’ He watched her with intense eyes as she realised the truth—if given the chance and this evidence, her father would be as brutal as Caelan planned to be.

Silence surrounded them. Arabella tried to think of a way out of this. To preserve the peace. To keep them all alive.

His snore startled her when it came. Glancing at him, she saw his eyes had closed. Exhaustion etched dark lines around his eyes and a deep furrow in between them. Not wishing to disturb him, she sat there, her hand in his, thinking about all that she’d read.

And all he’d done. For her. And though he could have tried, he had not tried to force her to believe. He’d done what he did best—he protected and helped and led. All the while, putting himself in danger and directly between his cousin’s dangerous plan and her.

He was the first man to see her for herself. To see beneath the facade to the heart of who she was. He respected her even while holding her here, giving her a chance to use her mind and her efforts. Never valuing the appearance over the substance.

She looked down at their joined hands and realised that she had, at some point, fallen in love with Brodie Mackintosh.

Her heart pounded, confirming it.

She loved Brodie Mackintosh.

He stirred next to her, but she could not speak right now. She whispered his name and urged him to lay his head on her lap instead. Trying to sort out the feelings she only now acknowledged, she began to trace the patterns on his forehead and over the bridge of her nose as her aunt had done many, many times.

To ease her bad dreams. To ease the frequent megrims that throbbed in her head. To ease the pain in her heart over the loss of her mother and, then more recently, her brother.