Stolen by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘Aye, Rob,’ he said, walking to the entrance and rolling up the flap and tying it out of the way.

  She looked away as though to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the bright light. Rob and Duncan entered and walked towards him, their expressions grim. Something bad had happened.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Rob said, staring at Arabella who would not look back.

  ‘Who?’ Brodie asked, glancing between the three. Then he knew the answer before anyone spoke a name. ‘Alan.’ Arabella turned away. His gut rolled knowing, just knowing. ‘When?’

  ‘Some time last night. He was there when Margaret brought him food. Then this morning, gone.’

  He’d ordered the guards away last night. All of them. So that none would hear what he knew would happen. What she knew would happen. ‘You know what to do. Go.’

  Rob and Duncan did not question him and left swiftly to begin the search of the area. Still she did not meet his gaze, standing half turned away near the pallet where they’d...

  ‘I told you I would release him soon. I told you that last night. You did not believe me?’ he asked.

  He could not sort this through. He’d not harmed either of them or mistreated them. God forgive him, he’d even fallen in love with her. And she had betrayed him. On purpose. So, she’d spent the night with him knowing the boy was escaping.

  ‘And that’s why you came to me last night. You knew I would try to protect your privacy and keep the guards away from the caves while we were together.’

  ‘I am sorry, Brodie,’ she whispered. He walked to her and took her by the shoulders, pulling her to face him.

  ‘You knew.’ He searched her pale face for something, some sign, that the night they’d spent together was not simply subterfuge for the escape. ‘You gave yourself to me to keep my attentions here. In this place, on you.’ When she did not deny it, he released her and she stumbled a few steps away.

  ‘That was not the only reason for last night and you know it,’ she said, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes. ‘What I told you was—is—true. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to have the choice and not be given to some man I will never care for. I wanted...you.’

  ‘So you arranged the escape, covered it by giving yourself to me and are now trying to tell me I should believe you?’ She nodded. ‘Tell me why I should believe you, Arabella. Tell me.’

  ‘Because I love you, Brodie Mackintosh. Against all reason and sanity, I love you. In spite of knowing what you have done, I love you.’ She spat the words out at him. ‘And to keep you from having another innocent’s blood on your hands, I helped him escape. Because I know your heart and soul could not bear another meaningless death.’

  Though the heart and soul she mentioned wanted to rejoice in her declaration, it did not make sense. He’d killed her brother. For that and so much more, she could not love him. As the innocent one here, she must be mistaking the euphoria of their lovemaking with the deeper emotion.

  ‘I do not understand. What innocent will die because of me?’ He shook his head and frowned at her. ‘Alan was safe.’

  ‘Mayhap he was safe from you, but those who support you will rise against him when they know the truth.’

  ‘Arabella, my people are not a danger to Alan. Nor you.’

  She took in a deep breath and let it out before answering him.

  ‘Alan was there that night.’

  Her words struck him like the blow of a cudgel.

  That night.

  The boy. Malcolm. Blood. Dead.

  Images and sounds filled his mind from that night that had changed everything in his life. The fire roared before him as he and Malcolm talked about...her. Smoke swirled around them and somehow in his head too. His eyes would not focus. He turned away from the flames and gazed at the trees around them, trying to clear his vision and he saw...

  A boy. A boy hid there in the trees, watching them. Too young to join in their drinking, yet too old to be with the bairns. A boy.

  Alan. Alan had been there.

  ‘He saw it all.’ He looked at her. ‘He saw it happen.’

  Arabella nodded at him, tears in her eyes. Tears for her brother. ‘If Caelan is discredited, there would be no witness to stand against you. Except him.’

  ‘Your father would never accept me,’ he said. ‘No matter if Caelan is the accuser or not, Malcolm’s blood is on my hands. I killed him.’ He’d held out his hands as though the blood was still visible. ‘Why did he not admit it then?’

  ‘Your accusers were Mackintoshes. Why would a Cameron boy come forward and blame you when their words were stronger and had already been taken for the truth?’

  ‘I have accepted the blame and the guilt for what happened, Arabella.’ Her eyes dimmed at those words. Even without mentioning her brother’s name, he caused her pain.

  ‘But your clan would not have trouble accepting you back if Caelan is not there to proclaim your guilt. These people you’ve gathered here are protecting you even as you protect them. If the only thing standing in the way of you being accepted back is that boy, after all your struggles to give them back their families and homes, do you not think someone would take care of it?’

  Brodie could think of several of the men who would not hesitate to kill the boy. After all, he was a Cameron. A Cameron who stood in the way of his re-acceptance.

  ‘What did he tell you?’ he asked quietly. He still could not see anything but the beginning or the end of that night. Her face went grey in an instant, all the colour draining out. ‘Christ! I did not mean for you to...’ But he had wanted to know. The night swirled in scenes of fire and smoke and blood in his memory and he would have asked the boy if he’d known.

  ‘He told me nothing. When I realised your dreams were actually memories, I told him never to speak to anyone about what he witnessed. That it could mean his life if anyone knew he’d been there and seen it.’ He’d fallen asleep the other night on her lap. She’d never said a word about what she’d heard. ‘And he will not say a word. And he will not reveal our location to anyone, even my father, Brodie. I swear he will not.’

  Brodie knew differently. They’d plied the boy with spirits—others would not be so kind. The boy would break. The boy would speak and he would reveal anything or everything he knew.

  ‘I wish you could have trusted me on this, Arabella. Now, everyone here is in danger.’

  And that was the crux of the matter. She proclaimed love but had no trust in him. He’d done nothing to her that should cause her not trust him, he’d been honest with her. They both understood responsibility and duty and honour. Yet she did not trust him.

  Somehow this tore him more deeply than being exiled. That she would give up her body to him, proclaim love for him and not believe he was worthy of her trust.

  ‘Brodie,’ Rob called from outside.

  He left without another word. If he spoke to her again, he knew he would let his anger and pain guide him and he could destroy her. Yet, in spite of her betrayal, he did not want to do that.

  The news was not good. Traces of Alan’s path were found, so they knew he had headed north, to the loch and most likely to the Camerons’ northern holding at Achnacarry. But, they had also found other signs that strangers had been coming close to the camp.

  It would take them two days to pack and move everyone here. One day if they only moved essential supplies. Within three hours of learning about Alan’s escape, he gave the orders to begin.

  And within those same three hours, his camp became a divided one.

  * * *

  He returned to the cave to discover her gone. Which did not surprise him at all. Brodie knew she would not face him now. As he walked through the camp, overseeing the preparations that would see the women, children and some of the men head north to his uncle’s lands, his reception was a mi
xed one.

  Some of the older men, especially those who had fought the Camerons or had close kin taken prisoners by them, nodded at him as though pleased. It had not made sense until he remembered that old Tormod’s sister had been taken...and returned home some months later bearing the very obvious sign of the price she’d paid for being a female captive. They had expected that Brodie would inflict the same on Arabella, since she was his prisoner and a Cameron. So their night together was simply taking what was due him.

  A few of the older women looked on him with disgust, as though they thought the same thing. They shook their heads and tsked at him as he passed them.

  The worst were those who’d grown close to Arabella during her stay here. The ones she’d worked with and helped. The men who she had cared for when injured. Magnus, Margaret and Bradana were the worst of all. For it was not disgust, but for the first time, disappointment that filled their gazes.

  And, as he walked the camp, helping with packing supplies and loading the few carts and wagons they had, he never once saw her. Somehow he’d expected her to be defiant and proclaim her righteousness. Or to be in the middle of things, helping Margaret. Instead, she’d disappeared. Since Rob and the other guards did not raise an alarm, he knew she was here somewhere.

  * * *

  His first true inkling that anything was amiss was the bowl of porridge that was to be their noon meal. Dark, blackened clumps of some inedible substance sat in his bowl instead of the creamy, smooth porridge he expected. When he took a mouthful of ale to wash it down, he found that it was mostly water.

  He blamed it on the conditions in the camp. For in their rushing to pack and prepare, food sometimes overcooked or burned, and ale and water skins were confused.

  * * *

  Then there was the evening meal. Everyone served themselves from the large pot of stew, but when Brodie dipped the ladle in all he found was the dried-out, burned-on layer at the bottom. When he looked around to see if others had none, they’d all walked away. He sought out Margaret, knowing that she would be quite frank with him if she was angry with him.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he asked, holding out the bowl of the burned stew scraps for her to see.

  ‘You must have been late in getting to the stew pot,’ she retorted without looking.

  ‘What did she say?’ he asked, not intending to dawdle around, pretending not to know who was the person at the centre of this small rebellion of sorts.

  ‘She? Do you mean the lady?’ Margaret said, facing him with her hands on her hips. ‘Do you mean the lady whose virginity you took?’ she whispered furiously. ‘And without a care today of her condition?’ Margaret glared at him and crossed her arms over her ample chest. ‘That lady said nothing. She has not mentioned your name or what transpired between you.’

  He’d not thought about her since he’d left the cave this morn. He was not a man to mistreat a woman who’d shared his bed and yet he’d not given any consideration to her comfort or discomfort on the day after he’d taken her body in so many ways he had lost count of it all. She had not stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to do, in spite of being a virgin.

  ‘Oh, aye, now you think about it,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘A bit late.’

  But now he knew it was all part of her plan to help Alan.

  ‘You do not know what she did.’

  Margaret was in his face, tapping her finger into his chest to make her point. ‘I know what she did. We all know. And we all know what you did.’ She stepped back and glanced down at his groin. ‘You were thinking with the wee laddie and she got the best of you.’ She laughed out. ‘Just like a man.’

  ‘There is more to it than that. More you do not know or understand, Margaret,’ he said.

  ‘I understand more than you think, Brodie. You have spent the last years not allowing a woman to get close, always ready to see to your duty to the clan. And this one, weel, you did not allow yourself to want her, either, believing that your cousin would win out. Now, I can see that she loves you and you love her. I can see that she had to make a choice she did not want to make but she made it.’

  ‘Margaret...’ he began to say. She put her hand up between them, forestalling him from speaking.

  ‘You have not told her, have you? You are more fool than I thought you to be,’ she said, shaking that same finger at him.

  ‘’Tis an impossible situation for us, Margaret. You know that. I know it and so does the lady.’

  ‘You let your duty stand between you so you do not have to take the step you should. And that’s even more reason to make sure she knows how you feel. Love does not come our way often and it is not something you give up, Brodie. Say the words. Let her leave and go to her duty knowing the truth in your heart, in spite of your stupid actions and pride.’

  He shook his head and looked up at the sky in frustration. Until Margaret took his arm and tugged on it to gain his attention.

  ‘The words, Brodie. If I could have one moment to say them again to Conall, I would pay whatever price was asked.’ She looked away then and he knew tears were gathering. He’d so rarely seen this strong woman brought to tears that he was surprised. ‘Give her that much. So that in the dark days to come, she will have your words to hold close in her heart. So that she knows her gift to you was honoured.’

  And the dark days were coming. For good or bad, he would step out of exile and present his evidence. There would be no grey, shadowed result—it would be black or white, good or bad, life or death. He nodded then.

  ‘I will think about your counsel, Margaret,’ he said. She cursed under her breath, but he thought she might have cursed the wee laddie as well as the rest of him, too. He turned to walk away and realised he’d not asked about Arabella. ‘How does she fare?’

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘She fares well, which is more than you deserve to know.’

  He walked off then with Margaret still speaking her mind. But he did hear the last thing she said before she stopped.

  ‘Do not wait, Brodie. There is little time.’

  Brodie thought about her words, glad that Arabella was well after their passionate night. But later, as he finished his tasks for the day and sought refuge and sleep, he wondered just how much time there was for him and his quest.

  The next day brought his answer...

  No more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As the sun rose, Arabella forced herself awake.

  She’d sought the refuge of the smaller cave where they’d held Alan after Brodie discovered the truth, partly because of self-pity and partly because of embarrassment. But mostly because she was exhausted—heart, body and soul—and simply wanted to be alone.

  After gathering together some blankets, she had added them to the pallet and then collapsed on them. There was not a place on her body that did not feel the strenuous use that had happened throughout the night before. Muscles deep in her legs ached. Her back protested. But those private places, untouched until hours ago, ached in a different way. The skin on the inside of her thighs bore the marks of his beard’s stubble. Her lips and breasts yet felt swollen.

  But, even with all the physical pain and soreness, it could not match that in her heart.

  She had not trusted him even to tell him the truth. In spite of knowing how dearly he held true to his word and his promises to her, she did not trust him to see to Alan’s safety. And she knew the exact moment he’d comprehended her ruse. She’d read it in his eyes and in his stance.

  He probably did not even realise how he’d turned as though preparing for a blow, but she’d seen it. What past betrayals had prepared him for hers? Rob and Duncan saw it and it made them even angrier at her than they had been. When Brodie left, Rob had escorted her to this cave and left her without a word, but he’d practically glowed with the heat of his fury.
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  Some time later, hot water and soap had arrived, left at the opening to the cave by unseen hands without a word. Then Margaret had come with food. Arabella felt guilty since she knew the woman was always busy and she could have got it for herself, but Margaret had waved off her words of apology. She would not share the food she’d brought and instead simply watched Arabella’s every move and step. Finally, she’d just asked the question that hung there in the space between them.

  ‘Are you well, lady? Have you need of any remedy I can give you?’ Margaret’s gaze softened for a moment. ‘Or have you questions you might want to ask, having no kinswoman here to speak to?’

  ‘I am well enough, Margaret. My thanks for your concern.’ Then as the woman was leaving, Arabella just could not help but ask her own question. ‘Does everyone know?’

  ‘Aye. Everyone kens.’

  Arabella could feel the heat of a blush filling her cheeks then. What must they all think of her? She pressed her hands to her cheeks to cool them.

  ‘Oh, about you and Brodie?’ Margaret asked. When she met the woman’s gaze, she saw the teasing there. ‘I thought you meant...’ Arabella shook her head.

  ‘Aye, my lady, we know about your cousin, as well.’

  Margaret turned to leave once more, but Arabella had another question.

  ‘How does Brodie fare?’

  ‘He will be fine, when he is done being stupid.’

  She smiled for the first time that day. So she was not the only one he exasperated.

  ‘I have known him all his life, him being Rob’s friend, and he is always willing to do for others. He puts his family first, even when he deserves that consideration,’ she explained. ‘And when he is being this stubborn, I want to smack him and tell him he is daft.’

  Arabella could believe that Margaret was a woman who would do such a thing. Her father would never have stood for such behaviour from the women of the clan, or his daughter. But Brodie respected Margaret and her opinions and took the counsel of the women who’d escaped with him. He would make a good husband when he married.