Stolen by the Highlander (20 page)

‘And if he does not?’ Jamie asked. ‘If you are dead?’

‘Then you must decide if your fight is over or not. Take the proof to my uncle. If nothing else, it will buy you all a place with him. It will be up to you to make that choice.’

Silence descended over them as they considered his words and their very limited choices. They had been at his back through every day and week since the moment of his exile. Rob had left with him, trailing him by only hours and finding him in their favourite hunting place. The rest came and, as word spread about his gathering flock, more and more had appeared. Everyone had done their part and given a full measure of effort and loyalty.

Never once had they refused his orders. But would they accept his plan now? And could it work?

‘Seeing as how you saved my arse more than once, I will have your back in this, Brodie.’ Magnus stepped forward, offering his hand. Though barely healed, he had refused to go north with the others.

‘I canna let him have all the fun,’ Duncan said. ‘And Bradana and my lass would tan my hide if I did not help get the lady back safely.’ Brodie reached out and accepted his hand.

One by one, they all accepted his words and his insane plan. All but Rob, who watched as all the others came forward. Rob’s faith in him and his friendship was all that had kept him alive during this ordeal. If he did not support him now...

‘You think that Grigor is the man to lead us, then?’ Rob asked, facing him. ‘And not you?’

‘Grigor would have my full backing, Rob. You know he will be able to pick up the damaged pieces and put them back together. The elders will unite behind him once Caelan is exposed.’

‘Why not you? You should be tanist.’ Murmurs and whispers of agreement made their way through the group.

‘You know well why it cannot ever be. With the blood of The Cameron’s heir on my hands, it would never be accepted.’

‘But they’ve been murdering thieves for generations. Euan himself put many Mackintoshes to the sword,’ Hamish called out.

‘Killing a man in the middle of a truce is a different matter,’ he said. That was what made his crime worse than many that had come before.

‘But if Caelan is discredited, no one will believe his friend’s words, either. Mayhap they are even lying?’ Duncan suggested.

He clenched his jaws together. This was exactly what Arabella had tried to tell him.

‘There was another witness there that night.’

Rob walked up to him. ‘Why did you not tell me this?’

‘I just discovered it.’

‘Not the lady? Surely she would not have been there?’ he asked as the noise of the others began to lessen.

‘One who believed himself too old to be stuck in the nursery with the bairns that night.’ Rob’s eyes widened as he comprehended who the witness was.

‘Before or after his escape?’

‘The reason for it,’ Brodie admitted. ‘In fear of something like this.’ Brodie called out to them now. ‘We have talked over this matter many times. Grigor is our best hope. He stands high in the respect of many of our allies. Will you support him? Will you be at my back now?’

A short time later, they made their way to the north-east, towards Loch Arkaig. If the weather held and the fates smiled, they would arrive at Achnacarry before Arabella reached Drumlui. He only prayed that he would be alive to say the words to her that he should have said that night.

Chapter Twenty

T
hey passed the clearing where Brodie had brought her to share the incredible views of Mackintosh lands and she struggled to keep up the charade of being grateful to be rescued. All she wanted to do was return to the mountains and find out if he was still alive. If any of them were.

The past three days had passed slowly for her, her heart and thoughts filled with fear while she had to smile and act as the gracious lady these warriors expected her to be. She’d slowed them down with every possible excuse, including one real reason. Her courses had come upon her that first night and had truly made her ill.

She used it to gain almost a day of rest, for men could not bear to hear about the pains and other unpleasant parts that women faced each month. She required more rest and more stops along the way to see to her private needs. These men were young enough that they did not know the truth of it and polite enough not to ask too closely.

At first she thought that Brodie would follow them, but then she realised that he would see to everyone’s safety and needs before his own. From the glance they’d exchanged in the camp during the attack, she knew that it was not finished between them. So, she had no doubt that he would come for her. None at all.

Until she rode into Drumlui and stood before Caelan.

That was when his men gave their report and her heart broke with every word they spoke. Worse, she could not show it or Caelan would know she knew about his plan.

Instead, she did what would be expected of the gracious, ladylike Arabella—she wept incessantly.

And then fainted.

Caelan saw what he wanted to see—his rescued betrothed, overwrought and overwhelmed and exhausted from being held prisoner by his dastardly cousin. Her skills at acting the part were out of practice for she had become used to behaving as the woman she truly was while she lived with Brodie. He had given her the freedom to use her mind and her skills and was not threatened by her.

Her betrothed called the servants to see to her needs and sent the healer to her chambers. When she asked for her father and her aunt, knowing well they were not here, Caelan promised to send for them immediately. If she had not known the truth, she could have believed him when he said how distraught he’d been at this separation and how he had sent so many search parties out to find her. And, she acted her part, fuelled by Brodie’s bitter truth.

She’d been at Drumlui for two days and he’d summoned her to the hall to speak to her. This could not be good. The servants would tell her nothing. At least she’d eaten well and had soaked in the longest, hottest bath in her life. And she discovered a gold-and-jewelled circlet waiting for her as she was dressed—a gift to celebrate her safe return.

Garbed in a shift, gown and stockings that were her own and with her new circlet in her hair now arranged in an artful braid instead of the plain, serviceable ones she’d become accustomed to these last weeks, Arabella Cameron, the only daughter and heir to The Cameron, entered the hall and prepared for the fight of her life.

But first, she placed
that
smile, the one that drove Brodie to madness and the one that pacified Caelan, on her face. It would be more shield than any targe carried into battle.

‘My lady,’ Caelan said as she stood before him. ‘I am gladdened that you have left your chamber to be here with us for the noon meal. Too much time has passed since you graced us with your presence and I thank the Almighty for your safe return.’

He sat in the chieftain’s chair as he had before, but now she noticed so much about him. How his smile was more a smirk. How he stared at her breasts. How others kept their distance from him. How his words were as much a falsehood as hers were.

She dipped low into a curtsy, allowing a good amount of time to go by as she waited there. Then she rose and smiled at him and he clapped in approval. He rushed down the steps from the dais to help her up to the table.

‘My lord,’ she whispered as he waited for her to sit. ‘I am honoured by such treatment.’ Once seated, she reached out and touched his hand for good measure. ‘And your gift was so thoughtful. What a lovely surprise to find waiting for me!’

The servants began bringing forth trays of food and filling the trencher she would share with him. She made some appropriate comment as each new good was placed there. Arabella glanced down the table and realised that she knew no one. One of the older men, a clan elder, nodded to her and he looked familiar but she had paid little attention during her time here. Was that the Grigor she’d heard mentioned? When they’d eaten, she took a breath and asked her first question.

‘My lord...’ she began.

‘Pray you, you must still call me Caelan.’ She smiled at him, looking from under her lashes.

‘Very well, Caelan. I thought my father and my aunt would have been here by now. Have you any word on when they will arrive?’

It was about a three-day journey to Achnacarry from Drumlui and about the same in the other direction to Tor Castle, their southern holding. But a strong horse and a good rider could make it in less. If they had a reason to.

‘I sent a man out as soon as we received word that you were safe. I would think a week more at most.’

‘And then we will marry?’ she asked, adding a breathless, little sigh to the end of the question.

‘Impatient, are you?’ he asked, leaning in and kissing her cheek. She kept her smile in place and allowed it. ‘I confess, I am anxious, as well, but the elders here have convinced me that your father should be present at such a momentous occasion. After all, he paid with the life of his only son for this truce and treaty.’

Not for all the gold in the kingdom could she keep her distress from showing. She glanced away and blinked, trying to gain control once more.

‘That was thoughtless of me, Arabella. You have suffered, too, for this treaty.’ She lifted her cup to her mouth and drank deeply from it before turning back to him.

‘Aye, Caelan. Many have suffered. Too many. And so our marriage will put an end to that for generations to come,’ she said.

He lifted his cup and took a mouthful, sparing a passing glance for her. The coldness in his gaze made her recoil for a second before she forced herself to accept the cup when he held it to her mouth. She needed to change the topic or she would unmask herself.

‘I hope my aunt brings the rest of my clothing and jewellery with her. I have been too long in the garb of peasants and villeins in that encampment.’

‘Tell me of that, if it does not upset you too much. I would not have you retiring to your chamber because you are overwrought again but I am curious about my cousin.’ He nodded at her. ‘Did he deny his crime to you?’

‘Nay,’ she said, honestly. ‘He accepts his guilt in Malcolm’s death. Even revelled in it.’

‘The damned traitor!’ Caelan exclaimed, and then he looked at her. ‘Forgive my outburst, Arabella. I cannot imagine the indignities you suffered at his hands while his prisoner.’ His eyes flashed then, something dark and dangerous, before he spoke again. ‘Did he keep you bound? Gagged?’

‘Aye, for the first weeks. Then he forced me to labour with the meanest of them, carrying out whatever tasks he ordered.’ She shuddered then and held out her hands. ‘I am embarrassed even to show them to you,’ she said, mournfully.

The skin on her hands was not the same smooth, unworked skin as it had been. The weeks of working there, side by side with the other women, had left her skin calloused and her nails broken. Their condition bore out her tale. A lady’s hands were not meant to show evidence of physical labour.

‘He will pay, doubt it not, Arabella,’ he said. He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss, but barely grazed it.

‘I know you will see to him,’ she said, nodding in approval. He basked in the praise and confidence of her words. She wanted to vomit on his boots.

If she was going to be ready when Brodie came, and she had no one doubt he would come for her, she needed to be able to move around the keep and yard and even the village. So, she asked for a boon.

‘I cannot tell you how good it feels to be here with you, my lo...Caelan.’ She nodded at the light coming through the high windows in the walls of the great hall. ‘For many days and nights, he imprisoned me in a cave. I could not tell when it was day or night. It is good to see the sun again.’ She glanced at the others at table and then smiled at Caelan.

‘Now that I am free, I would like to walk to regain my strength. With your permission, of course.’

‘Lady—’ he began to answer, but she interrupted him.

‘Arabella,’ she offered.

‘Arabella, I do not think it safe for you to go outside. My men told me that there were many who escaped during your rescue. I would not risk your safety, if they chose to attack.’

‘May I walk in the hall, then? Or up on the battlements? Surely no place could be safer than here or there?’

‘I think you should regain your strength by resting these next days. In preparation for our wedding. In preparation for our wedding night,’ he added, whispering so only she heard those words.

Whether or not he knew she played a role, she could not tell. But, fighting or arguing with him would not bring the results she needed, so she bowed her head to him and accepted his orders.

‘Very well, Caelan,’ she acquiesced to him. ‘I will always appreciate your guidance and your strength.’

He stood and motioned to two of the many guards who stood around the perimeter of the large chamber. They waited at the bottom of the steps. He took her hand and escorted her down to them.

‘Fear not, my love,’ he said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘I will bring him to justice, for you and all that he has inflicted on you.’

She dipped down as low as she could then, to get away from him mostly, but also to make a public showing of her humility and acceptance of their match. The longer he did not suspect her, the better. With a smile when she rose, Arabella left the chamber, with one guard before her and one after her.

A week. Brodie would come for her before the week was out, to save her once more.

* * *

He had watched her every move and listened carefully and closely to every word she spoke. Her servants had reported to him directly. And yet, since she’d returned, there had not been an untoward word or action.

She reacted to him as she had before her kidnapping. She accepted his affections, though a bit stiffly. Still, for someone, a lady, who’d been subjected to such rough treatment, it was understandable. So now, with her return and their marriage, his plans were in place and on schedule.

He’d not sent word to her father at all. The documents had been witnessed and signed and she was, for all legal and religious intents, his already. All it would take would be the reciting of vows and a consummation to claim her and her dowry. Whether her father was present mattered not to him, nor to the priest who would speak the words.

As she walked away now, he could still feel the shiver that had passed through her when he’d mentioned their wedding night and he smiled at that thought. He’d been concerned about whether or not she came to him untouched and would discover the truth soon enough. One of his men reported that she was unwell on the journey home—‘had bled for days’ in the man’s mumbled words—so at least she carried no bastard to his bed.

For now, he would keep a close watch on her and make the arrangements. After a few more days of rest, she would be ready for him. He would make use of her while he needed her alive but he did wonder if Brodie had done so, too. Prisoners, especially women, were often beaten and ravaged during their imprisonment. She said he’d forced her to work for him—had he also forced her to service him? Service his men?

It mattered not. He was not marrying her for her reputation or her looks or her genteel manners. He did it only for the gold he needed to bribe the right people to help him annihilate her entire clan. When this was over, he would find the appropriate wife for a man as powerful as he would be.

A few more days and it would all be well in hand.

* * *

Two days after her abduction, Brodie stood some yards away from the gates of Achnacarry Keep with his hands on his head. He wore no armour and he carried no weapons. He’d left his men a mile or so back in the woods that crept to the edge of Loch Arkaig, far enough away that they would not be seen. If things went badly, they would have enough time to escape.

He knew the guards atop the gate had seen him. Now, they were probably summoning their laird for orders about what to do. He hoped that an arrow in his head or heart would not be the first action taken. When the gate lifted and a troop of warriors headed for him, he thought himself lucky.

Alive was his priority. Alive to save his clan and to save her.
Alive
, he chanted in his thoughts. A short time later, battered, beaten and bloodied, he was not certain that alive he would remain.

The first five did not wait or explain, they fell on him with punches and kicks. They did not stop until he lay on the ground unable to move or speak. Satisfied with their work, they dragged him in through the gates.

He could not see out of one eye, between the blood and the swelling, it was hopeless. His ribs were broken and he wanted to scream with every breath he took. The last bit of control he had was lost when they tossed him face-first on the cold stone floor before The Cameron and tied his hands behind his back and his feet together.

‘I will get the rope,’ someone said. ‘Draw and quarter him, my lord!’

Rob was right in his guess of how he would meet his end. He would be hanged and then his guts pulled out while he watched. Death would be kind at that point.

‘Wait!’ He recognised Euan’s voice and heard the crunch of boots on the floor coming closer. ‘I would look on the man who killed my son.’ Hands grabbed him roughly and turned him, crushing his arms beneath him. At least one hand was broken.

Then someone knelt on his stomach, crushing the breath from him. The point of a dagger was stuck in his neck and dragged down, cutting through his clothing and exposing his skin. He felt the sting of the blade as it marked him.