Stolen by the Highlander (7 page)

The daylight disappeared quickly and the cloudy skies covered any light the moon gave off. Rob used his flint and some dry leaves to start a small fire. It would not give off much heat but at least it banished the darkness for now. Being midsummer, the night would not last too long here in the Highlands. Which meant they intended to sleep here.

A chance for her to escape? As if he’d heard her thoughts, he motioned for her hands. ‘Give me your hands, Arabella.’

‘There is nowhere for me to run, Brodie,’ she said, glancing around at the darkness around them. ‘I would be daft to try...’

‘I saw it in your eyes,’ he said, the smile that curved his mouth a grim one. One that spoke of his suspicions about her. Considering that the last time she’d been free for a moment, she’d run, she could not truly blame him for thinking such.

He wrapped the length around her wrist, only once this time, and then surprised her by wrapping the other end around his wrist. Brodie held it out to his friend who finished the task. They were tied together and she could not move without him feeling it.

‘How will I...?’ She could not voice the task she needed to see to right this moment, but from Rob’s chuckle, he understood.

‘Worry not,’ he said as he tugged on the rope, leading her away from the light of the fire. ‘It is too dark for me to see anything.’

Some mortifying minutes later, they walked back to the shelter where Rob had laid out some blankets and lengths of woollen plaid. Two places. Arabella looked from Rob to her keeper and shook her head. She would not sleep that close to him. She backed away until the rope stopped her.

‘Your virtue is safe, lady,’ he said. He guided her over to one of the blankets. ‘As long as you remain quiet, I will leave the gag off.’ She’d forgotten about that possibility.

Arabella decided that, if she wanted to escape, she needed rest and daylight. So, she would allow him to think her a compliant prisoner...until she was not. She must keep the element of surprise on her side since she was outnumbered. And a stranger in these lands. Her father and Caelan would be searching for her and she just needed to give them time to catch up with them.

It took one all-too-short minute for them to lie down. The pile beneath her was surprisingly comfortable, but her body went rigid when he lay behind her. Sliding as far away as possible, Arabella knew she would not sleep at all this night. Weariness and fear and anger proved her wrong, overwhelming her resistance as her body gave up then. As she drifted off, warmth surrounded her and she sank into it, dreaming of a huge fire burning in the hearth of her chambers.

* * *

Brodie could tell the moment she stopped fighting sleep, and him, because her body softened and leaned back against his. A soft sigh followed a shiver and nearly unmanned him. He tossed another blanket over her and slid his arm around her, pulling her closer.

To warm her.

So she would not sicken or grow weak.

She would be of no use to them if she sickened and died.

He was only taking care of her for the good of his clan and not because of any softer feelings he might hold for her.

He repeated those thoughts to himself throughout the rest of the night as she burrowed closer to him. He reminded himself also of his true intentions in this endeavour and that she was only a means to his end—to tear control of the Mackintosh Clan from Caelan’s traitorous hands and save it from complete destruction.

* * *

When the meagre light of dawn pierced through the chilly fog, he was still telling himself those facts and trying to make himself believe them. Brodie knew that he had to endure this closeness to her for only two more days. Once they reached their encampment hidden high and well in the mountains, he would pass her off to be watched by someone else and not have to deal with her until he executed his plans.

Two more days.

Chapter Seven

O
f hell. Of unadulterated misery.

Two days of it.

Mayhap if she’d cried or carried on, wailing and moaning, or whimpering, he could have withstood the pressure. If Rob had not laughed, silently or aloud, at his frustration in keeping a distance from her and not engaging her in discussions or arguments. Or if she’d not asked him questions so pointed he needed to check to see if he bled at her words and tone?

The worst of it was when he blindfolded her as they approached the final path to the hidden caves and clearings he and his lost souls called home. As he wrapped the cloth around her head, it tangled in her hair and she winced. Trying to free the mass of blonde curls, he could feel her breath against his skin. Worse, he wanted to wrap her hair around his hands, entwine it around his fingers and feel the silkiness of it. Brodie had to clench his jaw and complete his task, with Rob smirking from a few yards away. Now, as they crossed the stream and followed the well-disguised final approach, he wondered how he’d deluded himself for so long.

Her arrival at his family’s home had raised the level of tension and expectation and he had planned to ignore her and focus on the important matter of protecting his clan. He had not set out to dislike her, but he had. With every false smile, Brodie had detested her. With each mewling attempt Caelan had made to woo her, he had disliked her even more.

So, it had been a surprise when he began liking her. And more surprising when he began to look forward to the time his uncle forced him to spend with her. He had seen through the facade to the woman beneath as she allowed him to see or hear bits and pieces of herself. What he had first thought was a shallow, vain, spoiled heiress was clearly not that at all. Arabella Cameron was much more than that.

And he wanted her for himself.

To have her, he needed to be chosen and named tanist, so he had inched his way towards that, both horrified that he wanted her so and fearing that he would never have her at the same time. It was during that time he had started to suspect that Caelan’s plans and true aims when it came to the Clan Cameron might not be just the proposed treaty. He’d begun to ask questions when the terrible incident with Arabella’s brother had happened.

Now, outcast and outlawed, proving his suspicions was nigh to impossible. All he had been able to collect were bits and pieces, reports from friends and those who supported him—so far nothing that would stand as evidence enough to remove Caelan from the chieftain’s seat. And yet, if he was right, peace was not Caelan’s goal at all.

For the past months, the part that had truly concerned him was what Caelan could have in mind for Arabella. Damn his weakness, but he had allowed his growing interest in a lass to distract him from his duties.

He heard the signal and replied to it as they turned at the bend in the road and walked their horses through a space in the trees that created a gate-like opening. Brodie nodded to the men they passed who would see the trees and branches put back in place. He raised his hand with another gesture, another safeguard to those whose lives were in his hands now. Two men crept out from behind more brush and greeted him.

‘Take her to Margaret,’ he said, as he lifted her down to the ground. ‘She is a prisoner, not a guest.’ He tried, with no measure of success, to ignore the shudder that shook her whole body at his words. ‘She stays as she is until I get there.’

‘Aye, Brodie,’ Rob answered, taking her arm and leading her away.

He had things to see to and could not waste time thinking about her now. Turning to one of the guards, he asked, ‘Duncan? Hamish? Jamie?’

‘They all returned yesterday. Said no signs of being followed.’

‘And Caelan? The Cameron?’ he asked. He held the reins of the black tightly as the beast fought this new unfamiliar place. Tugging the horse forward, he led him to the small enclosure where they held the horses. Ranald followed along, keeping his distance from the horse even while giving his report.

‘Search parties have been sent out several times a day. Sometimes Caelan leads them, sometimes others,’ Ranald said. ‘All to the west.’ So, their plan of leaving signs of the lady along the roads leading west had succeeded.

‘Anything else?’ Brodie stopped, nodding to several men as they passed.

‘Nay, Brodie. All is well.’

‘Watch the lower roads. I do not underestimate Caelan’s response to this insult. And tell the others to have a care. There will be more men watching and searching in the woods.’

Ranald nodded and went off to spread the warning, leaving Brodie to figure out what to do with Arabella’s horse. His presence with the other horses would cause problems. Just as his owner’s would. He handed the stallion off to one of the lads with instructions on his care and walked off to see to tasks undone because of his absence these last days.

Mayhap that would help relieve the restless tension within him before he had to deal with his prisoner?

* * *

Caelan waited in his chambers for his man to return from the latest search. He paced from door to window though it did no good in hastening his wishes and orders. Finally, the heavy tread down the hallway outside his room foretold of results. A sharp knock heralded Gavin’s arrival. He offered no hospitality before speaking.

‘Have they been found?’ he demanded.

‘Nay, my lord,’ Gavin began, but Caelan had no patience for prevarication right now. Days had passed with no sign of either his outlaw cousin or his missing betrothed.

‘Has Euan returned yet?’ The Cameron laird had been relentless in searching for his daughter. A great help, since it kept him busy and out of the way.

‘He has been sighted on the road, my lord. He should arrive momentarily.’ He’d hoped the old man would stay on the road, following the signs of his daughter’s abductors and keeping out of his way.

‘Do any of my cousin’s friends yet remain here or in the village?’ he asked. In a manner of thinking, his cousin had made things easier for him by staying alive. Until this escapade at least.

Over the past months, while Brodie had been on the run, Caelan had weeded out those who had supported him in the past, by either pressuring them to leave or evicting them. And all of it done discreetly so blame did not come to him. His uncle’s
unfortunate
but timely passing had given him the position and power to accomplish that and more. Now, though, Brodie’s return and his taking of the Cameron heiress threatened his goal.

‘I canna think of any, my lord,’ Gavin replied.

‘Go and seek out any of those who were known to be his friends. Or their families, Gavin,’ he said. Grabbing the man and dragging him closer, Caelan finished his warning. ‘You do not want me to suspect your loyalty in this. Find someone and find my cousin!’ He flung the lackey back towards the door and turned away, waiting for him to leave.

In slow and measured steps, Caelan had put his plan into play and stood to gain all he desired. The Camerons cowed and conquered, their heiress his, their gold his, their lives his. Chieftain of the Mackintosh Clan and head of the Chattan Confederation. Complete control over a large part of the Highlands and the esteem and power that came from that.

As he’d watched the Camerons arrive for the wedding, he’d reminded himself that he could keep up the charade before them until the dowry was transferred into his control. He could play the pleasant, interested, magnanimous laird and make people believe it. He had been doing that and doing it well most of his life. With his objective so very close, he could continue.

Even if his cousin now interfered.

When there had been no outcry at Brodie’s exile and Euan Cameron had been convinced to keep to their bargain with his uncle’s sweetening of the pot with concessions, Caelan had been pleased and had inched forward. When his uncle’s death had brought no suspicion on him, another step forward. Now, all he needed was Arabella Cameron in his grasp to finish.

And he would.

Not even Brodie Mackintosh—damn him!—would stop him.

The sounds out in the yard spoke of Euan’s return, so Caelan curbed his temper and prepared to greet the man. By the time he reached the yard, the older man had dismounted and walked towards him.

‘No sign of them past the river,’ he said, pointing off in the distance. ‘Your man Magnus thinks we are being led far afield from their real direction.’

‘Magnus? He said that?’

Magnus had trained under Brodie though he held no liking for his cousin. Some woman or another had got in between them, breaking whatever friendship or bond they’d had. But he knew Brodie’s ways.

‘Gavin, summon Magnus to the hall,’ he called out. ‘Come, Euan. I found the other maps that may help us.’

He hated the man next to him and it took all his will to keep from plunging his blade into the man’s chest. For in his uncle’s attempts to mediate their feud, Lachlan had never known that Euan was the one who had tortured and killed Caelan’s parents after losing a battle. His mother had been first, her throat cut, in front of her husband...

And her son.

Euan had forced him to watch then and did not even remember it now. Today, he acted the wise leader, seeking peace.

Though so many, too many, thought to forget the past and forgive the trespasses of those on both sides in an effort to gain peace for the future, Caelan would never forget. And he would never forgive. He would seek revenge for those who had died at the hands of the thieving Cameron bastards. He would make them pay so dearly that no one would ever claim the name of Clan Cameron again.

First, he needed to retrieve his betrothed and kill his cousin. Then he would see to the rest.

* * *

Arabella did not fight Rob as he led her over the rough terrain. Indeed, she leaned on his strong arm as the uncertain path ahead continued. With her eyes covered as Brodie had ordered, she followed Rob’s instructions. But being blind like this did not mean she did not hear things.

Whispering voices as she passed. The laughter of children in the distance. Her name spoken, both in surprise and derision. Several people called out to Rob, though he never slowed or stopped along the way to their destination.

Margaret. She was being taken to Margaret, whoever she was, and to be treated as a prisoner, he’d ordered. She shivered then, for his tone had been ominous...and angry. The anger frightened her. Remembering the beatings and punishments of her childhood, they had always come after something had drawn her father’s close attention and ire. Another shiver and Rob stopped then, cursing under his breath again.

She wanted to smile at that realisation for he did utter a surprising number of profanities and impolite words. Usually in response to something Brodie had said or ordered and usually they stood unanswered by that man. He was the opposite of his friend who rarely spoke and seemed to parse out each single word. But that wordless man might yet take her life as he had her brother’s, so she needed to keep her wits about her now. They began walking again but this time only for a few minutes before he drew her to a stop.

‘Margaret?’ Rob called out. A few moments and then again, ‘Are you in there, Margaret?’ He released her for a moment and then took her arm in his hand and guided her forward. She heard no reply but he must have seen something in answer to his call.

‘Here now, my lady,’ he said. She felt his hand on her head. ‘The opening is a bit shorter than you are, so you must bend slightly to enter.’

She allowed him to guide her head lower and she followed him inside...some dwelling. It was warmer now, the smell of a fire and something cooking made her stomach grumble unexpectedly. A few more steps and they stopped, then Rob took her by the arms and placed her on a stool or chair. Someone, Margaret most likely, scuffled and moved around from behind them.

‘Brodie said she is a prisoner, Margaret, not a guest,’ he repeated the words to this woman.

‘Did he now?’ the woman asked. ‘And is she to be trussed up like that the whole time she is his
prisoner
, as well?’

‘Until he says otherwise,’ Rob answered from further away now. ‘And you’d best heed his orders.’

Arabella thought she heard humour in his voice, but surely that was not possible? Then he was gone and she could only hear Margaret moving around near her. A few minutes passed in silence, the gag preventing her from saying anything to the woman who seemed her gaoler. As she sat in the warmth, her body protested the long hours on the road and her bindings. She felt herself begin to sway and feared falling over. The touch on her face surprised her.

‘Here now, my lady,’ Margaret said as she tugged the gag free of her mouth and removed it from around her face. ‘Let me take these off.’

‘Nay,’ she warned. ‘He said...’ She did not want someone else to be the target of Brodie’s anger.

‘Ah, pish,’ Margaret whispered as she untied the cloth covering her eyes. ‘The man says many things, but I still do as I please.’

Arabella opened her eyes then and looked around. They sat inside a tent that had a small brazier at one end, creating the warmth. A pallet lay in one corner, a small trunk in another. Then she looked at the woman Brodie had sent her to. It took no time at all to see the resemblance between Margaret and Rob. Siblings most likely.

‘First, drink this.’ Margaret held out a steaming cup of something and she reached to accept it. ‘That man!’ she huffed out in an aggravated whisper.

Then, after she put the cup down as she tugged and loosened the rope around Arabella’s wrists, Margaret continued her hushed diatribe against Brodie. Brother and sister, for certain, she thought. Once freed, Arabella took the cup and sipped from it. Some kind of brewed tea or concoction. She did not recognise the flavour but the warmth of it eased some of her shivering. When her belly grumbled once more, Margaret shook her head and began another string of curses under her breath. Soon, a hearty soup filled the same cup and Arabella spooned it into her mouth so quickly, she barely tasted it.

Once her belly was full and her body warm, the exhaustion gained control and she drifted to sleep where she sat.