Stolen by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  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.

  * * *

  She only discovered when she was awakened by the loud whispers close by that Margaret had guided her to the pallet and covered her with a thick blanket.

  ‘I gave orders, Margaret.’ Brodie’s voice was harsh and demanding. ‘She was to remained blindfolded and bound.’

  ‘Oh, aye, you did,’ Margaret replied. Arabella dearly wanted to open her eyes and watch this exchange but pretended sleep so that she did not interrupt them. She would learn more this way.

  ‘And you dragged that puir lass for days and miles, without proper food or care. I thought you knew better than that, Brodie?’

  ‘She is a prisoner, Margaret. Something you need to remember,’ he said, letting out a loud breath. ‘The blindfold was for your protection and for the others. If she did not see you, she could not report back to Caelan who was here. Now she can identify you.’

  ‘Then leave her to me since she has seen my face,’ Margaret replied in a calm voice. ‘No need for the others to be endangered.’

  ‘Do not answer her questions. She will poke and prod and pry, but say nothing about any of this,’ he warned.

  ‘Should I wake her now?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘Nay.’ He paused and she knew he was dragging his hands through his hair as he did when frustrated. ‘Nay. Let her sleep. Send someone for me when she wakes.’ She heard his movements as he stepped out of the tent. ‘And send to me if you have need of anything.’

  ‘I will, Brodie,’ Margaret said.

  When they finished speaking, Arabella intended to say something but the cocoon of warmth and the first real rest in days tugged her back to sleep.

  * * *

  How much time had passed she knew not, for she woke to the quiet of night outside the tent. Pushing the layers of wool off her, she sat up and stretched her arms and back. With a care to be quiet, Arabella found the end of the useless tangle of her hair and freed it. With her fingers, she combed through the length of it and wrestled it back into something that resembled a braid.

  The indrawn breath echoed across the air as she raised her arms and tossed it. Gazing into the dark and shado
wed corner of the small dwelling where the sound originated, she watched as a large form moved closer.

  ‘Did I wake you?’ he asked. Brodie.

  ‘Nay,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘How long have you been sitting there?’

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Since I finished seeing to matters I needed to handle. And after I’d eaten,’ he said, pointing to a bundle next to the pallet. ‘Some for you.’

  Refusal was on her lips until her stomach answered for her. A few chunks of bread, some pieces of cheese and meat and water had not been enough for her over the days of their journey. She’d noticed that both Brodie and Rob had given her the larger portions so it had not been their aim to starve her. She reached for the bundle and unwrapped it, finding some type of roasted fowl, more cheese and bread within. It took little time to finish the food and drink some of the ale he then offered her.

  ‘I have questions,’ she said. When he grunted but did not refuse, she continued. ‘I want to know what you expect to accomplish by kidnapping me? Was it to stop the wedding?’ That made her think of another question. ‘Why would you want to stop the wedding?’

  He reached out his hand and placed his fingers against her mouth then, shocking her with the intimate touch. Arabella drew back but remained silent then.

  ‘The less you know, the safer you may be, lady.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked, before he pressed his finger again to her lips.

  ‘If you know not, Caelan cannot force it from you,’ he said, his deep voice tinged with sadness or something like it. She moved out of his reach and shook her head.

  ‘Caelan would never...’

  ‘Hurt you?’ he interrupted. ‘Harm the ones you love? I fear you have not seen the true man that Caelan is. He would do both of those things without hesitation or remorse, lady.’ He pushed to his feet, towering above her.

  ‘But Caelan was not the man who harmed one I loved, was he?’

  Though she needed to say it, his eyes darkened to the colour of night in an instant and she knew the moment the words of accusation left her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. His hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened as she watched.