‘Are you unwilling to marry here? Have you changed your mind?’ He lifted her chin and narrowed his gaze. ‘Tell me the truth.’
This was the only person with whom she could share her true feelings. They’d shared their mother’s womb and spent much of their lives together since their birth.
‘Willing or not, I will do what is expected of me. You know that,’ she whispered. ‘I just wish I knew more about the two of them. I wish I had more time. I wish...’
She stopped. Her wishes meant nothing in the negotiations or what would come after it. Her throat burned with unexpected tears and she lifted her cup and drank some of the ale to wash them down.
‘What can I do to ease your burden and your worries, sister mine?’ She knew he would help her, if he could.
‘Marry the one selected as tanist?’ she suggested. Malcolm laughed loudly at the inappropriate comment, loudly enough to draw attention. Her aunt frowned a warning, the one that meant her behaviour was unseemly.
‘Think not that I shall escape a marriage bargain like yours,’ Malcolm said. ‘If there had been a daughter, have no doubt that I would have been offered like the sacrificial lamb that you are.’ He leaned in and added, ‘And think not that I can avoid being sold to the next highest bidder.’
Someone, one of his friends, called out his name and Malcolm emptied his cup before leaving her side. At the last moment, his expression grew serious.
‘Truly, is there aught I can do to ease your mind on this marriage and the bargain made?’
‘Find out what manner of men they are.’
That was her real question. She saw only what they showed her, just as they knew little or nothing about her. But as her husband, either man would have complete control over her—her body, her wealth, her future. They had nothing to fear going into a marriage for they lost nothing while she, as the wife, had many concerns. Concerns she could not voice or discuss, but ones that made her lose sleep.
‘Find out...what?’ he asked, nodding again to his friends.
‘What kind of men they are. How they treat other women. How they are thought of by their clan. That sort of knowledge.’
‘How big their co—!’ She smashed her hand against his mouth before he could finish the word. The heat of a blush filled her cheeks. Only her irreverent brother would say such a thing to her. But, he revelled in shocking her.
‘Malcolm!’
He lifted her hand from his face and kissed the top of it. Standing then, he bowed to their father and the Mackintosh chief and, with a wink, he was walking away. Soon, friends surrounded him and Arabella smiled. He meant what he’d said—he would seek what she needed to know. He would not fail her and would help her prepare for this new life she faced.
When Arabella turned her attention away from her brother, Brodie caught her eye. He never seemed at ease. Always watchful as he glanced around the chamber out of the corner of his eye, he kept everyone under his inspection. She thought she’d witnessed a few surreptitious nods and signals between him and several other men scattered around the gathering.
There! He’d done it again—exchanged some hidden message with a tall man standing in the back of the hall. She sipped from her cup and observed him over the rim. He repeated his actions—making contact, signalling in that same way, then moving on to the next one—over and over until his gaze moved back to the front of the hall...and to her.
Tempted to look away, instead she nodded to him and watched as he approached. Taller than his cousin, he wore his dark-brown hair long, tied back only at his temples. Though she rarely saw him smile, there were lines around his brown eyes and his mouth that spoke of the habit. His long legs covered the distance between them in a few paces and he stood before her, with his arms crossed over his chest, studying her much as she did him.
Their encounters since that day when they had ridden into the hills, when he had voiced his desire for more cattle rather than her, had been an interesting mix of politeness and challenge. Just last night, at their evening meal, he’d slipped in a question about crops and only the quiet ‘harump’ reply indicated his surprise that she could speak on such things. This morning, in the yard, he’d asked permission to ride her horse. He’d said the beastie needed a good run after being stabled through much of their business, but she recognised an appreciation for horseflesh that matched hers.
He stood there now, waiting for her permission to join her at table. She placed her cup on the table and nodded. Brodie sat in the chair vacated by her brother.
‘My thanks for permitting me to take the horse out, Lady Arabella.’ He smiled then and the combination of male beauty and the way his face lit with it made her breathless. How had she ever thought him intimidating and foreboding?
‘What did you think of him?’ she asked, waiting for his cup and hers to be filled. ‘How far did you ride?’
‘Several miles past the clearing,’ he said. ‘Into the hills and beyond. I gave him his head and he took it.’ Brodie laughed then and she noticed as many in the hall turned at the sound. ‘He tempted me to continue, but I did not want to overtire him with your journey home coming so soon.’
‘I have yet to tire him out,’ she admitted. ‘Most times I am the one to surrender.’ She laughed. ‘Even my brother, Malcolm, cannot, so I know my skills are not so shoddy.’
He remained at her side, both of them watching as people gathered in small groups before them, clearing the space so that dancing could begin.
‘Do you have any mares here he could be bred with?’ she asked. The horse had wonderful traits that could be passed on to his get. Brodie choked then and coughed to clear his throat.
‘Lady,’ he whispered. ‘’Tis unseemly a topic...’
She turned to face him, shaking her head and putting her cup down.
‘He is mine and will remain mine, sir,’ she said. ‘Even after my husband is given control over everything else I bring to this marriage, that horse is mine. Since you were interested in him, I thought offering him as stud would give you his offspring.’
Arabella knew her aunt and her father would be horrified, almost as much as Brodie was, to hear such words—or even the knowledge of such things—from her. She waited on his response.
He laughed.
Laughed. Raising his cup, he smiled and nodded to her.
‘Then I accept your gracious offer, my lady,’ he said. ‘And I know just the mare to choose for him.’
Watching his eyes change from surprised to curious and then to appreciation made her wonder if marrying a man like him would not be the terrible thing she’d thought it would be. Shocked that she could contemplate such a thing without the fear she’d felt for so long, she listened as he spoke on the topics Caelan never did—lands, farming, animals and more.
Now at a greater ease with him, Arabella wanted to ask him another question, one about the hand signals. Caelan’s arrival and interruption prevented that.
‘The music is starting, Arabella,’ he said. ‘I know my cousin cares not to dance, but that you favour it. So, may I?’ He held out his hand and waited for her to take it.
She did not. For the first time during her visit, her curiosity won over her need to be gracious. Smiling as always, she shook her head and did not take his hand.
‘My stomach is bit unsettled and I would like to wait before dancing,’ she said. ‘It must be the travelling and the excitement.’ When both cousins wore a similar frown at her words, she added, ‘Caelan, I am certain this will pass shortly and I will seek you out to accept your kind offer.’
‘Should I call your cousin or aunt?’ Brodie offered.
‘Nay. I just need to sit for a short time.’ She’d thought Caelan would be the one to offer such aid, so Brodie surprised her. Now, glancing at Caelan, she saw that he edged away from her and his usual pleasant expression had turned s
lightly grey.
‘Very well,’ he finally said. ‘I will wait over there.’ He pointed to a seat at the other end of the table. And then he walked to it quickly.
Such behaviour came as another surprise. She did not know what to say about it, but Brodie explained.
‘My cousin fears illness. He avoids being around those who are ailing or sick. He has since he was a child.’ A hint of amusement filled his words. He turned to her then, examining her face with that intense stare she’d seen before. ‘Truly, do you have need of assistance? One of your women? Our healer?’
Arabella could not resist a bit of mischief now, though he was being attentive and kind and, for once, not his irritating or insulting self. She looked up at him through lowered lashes and used her most feminine voice—the one that usually had any man she aimed it at doing her bidding.
‘There is something you could do,’ she whispered to him. Dropping her hand between them where no one else would see, she shaped her fingers into one of the gestures she’d witnessed. ‘You could tell me what this means?’
His gaze followed hers down to her hand and then came back up to stare at her. Then down once more as though he did not believe what he saw there.
‘I have my suspicions, but thought I would ask you since I saw you do it earlier.’ His gaze narrowed for a moment and then something that resembled respect filled it.
‘Do you think yourself clever, Lady Arabella?’
He reached down and eased her fingers out of the gesture. His hand was warm and strong and almost twice the size of hers, yet he did not use that size and strength against her. A shiver shook her at the thought of such a thing.
‘You are ill,’ he said, releasing her hand and turning to call someone. She grabbed his hand to stop him.
‘I am not ill. I only wished to ask you about those gestures. What are you signalling to the others?’ she asked.
‘Others?’ he asked in a rough tone. ‘What others?’
He would not tell her. She had witnessed something he did not wish her to see. His reaction told her the truth—they were messages or words about her. Mayhap more insults about her between him and his friends? The thought of that burned her. Knowing only one way out of this situation, she lifted her face and smiled at him.
‘Forgive me, sir, if I have overstepped the bounds of hospitality. I think my stomach has calmed now. I will seek out your...’ She began to rise, but he took hold of her hand and held her there. ‘Sir?’
‘Brodie is my name,’ he whispered harshly. ‘And do not do that.’ She did not force her way to her feet but remained seated there at his side. With her hand trapped within his.
‘Do not do what, sir?’ she demanded in a whisper that matched his. All the while, the smile remained in place. If anyone glanced at them, nothing would look amiss.
‘Smile like that.’
‘I do not understand. I am simply smiling,’ she said through her teeth.
‘Smiling like a simpleton, aye.’ He yet held her hand in a firm grasp, one at odds with the anger she felt in him. She let her face relax and nodded her understanding. ‘Better.
‘I can only say this. Aye, you did see...what you saw. I am in charge of the guards. My uncle wanted them to keep watch discreetly. We use the signals rather than...’ His grip eased but she did not pull away.
Not even when she felt his thumb begin to stroke her palm and wrist.
Not when heat crept through her veins and across her skin.
Not even when her words jumbled and she could not remember the question she wanted to ask him next.
‘I doubt that anyone else, other than possibly your father, noticed them. Yet you did.’ His eyes darkened then, changing from the deep brown they usually were to something closer to black. ‘I would ask that you not share what you have seen.’
If she exposed his methods to the rest of her clan, it would render them useless. He was asking for her co-operation. It gave her some bargaining power and she almost laughed at that.
‘I will not,’ she said. Some tension lessened and he released her hand. ‘If...’
‘If?’ The narrowing of his eyes and flaring of his nostrils warned her to proceed with caution, much as the same reactions in her horse did. It must be a male custom.
‘If you tell me what this—’ she made the gesture in the space between them again ‘—means?’ He did not look down and he did not respond for a few seconds and she wondered if he would call her bluff. Or just refuse her outright?
‘All is well.’
‘Ah, so there is no danger tonight? No threats from the Camerons?’
‘I would not say no danger,’ he said, softly, his breath touching her ear, and she shivered once more.
‘And if there was a problem?’ The devil sat on her shoulder now, urging her on.
He let out an aggrieved breath and shrugged. He formed the sign with his hand to show her. ‘Trouble is coming.’ A different signal then. ‘Trouble. Take cover.’
‘I will not share that knowledge with anyone,’ she said. Arabella stood then, as Brodie did at her side. ‘I should go now. My aunt has noticed our conversation and I do not wish to be questioned on it.’ She walked around the table and approached Caelan.
It took little cajoling or encouragement on her part to make Caelan smile and invite her to dance. As they walked, side by side, to the place cleared in the middle of the hall, she could not help herself. She glanced around the large chamber to see if those same men still stood guard. Then she looked to their leader to see if he signalled any of them. Brodie stared back at her, never looking to any of his men.
Worried that he was angry, she was glad to see the slight smile curve his lips then. She smiled back at him, over Caelan’s arm, and felt as though something had eased between them.
* * *
The rest of the evening passed quickly and when her aunt mentioned that she seemed at ease with both of the cousins, the truth struck her. There was much more to Brodie Mackintosh than she had first thought. And the thought of marrying him no longer threatened like a dreaded outcome.
Nay, she thought as she reviewed the events of the last several days, it would not be as difficult to find herself married to him as she’d first thought. So, for the first time since her arrival there, she looked forward to their next encounter.
* * *
Brodie sat in stunned silence for a few minutes after Arabella left the seat next to him. He thought he was beginning to get a glimpse beneath the facade she wore, that damned smile and the cursed frozen expression of graciousness. He’d told himself countless times that he was only seeking out any possible dangers to his clan, but the way his body responded to her furtive whispers told him she was the danger.
No matter how many times he told himself not to engage her in the silly bantering that Caelan did, and not to let himself get too close to her, and especially not to want her for himself, he failed. And from the insistent press of hardened flesh against his trews, he’d failed terribly.
Watching as she’d dropped her hand between them and then shaped her fingers into the sign he’d used to his men had caused two things to happen. The first was shock over his complete underestimation of the lass’s intelligence and her skill in observation. Then a desire struck him as lightning in a storm, forcing aside his hard-fought indifference and leaving behind a clear, strong need to know her better. To know her at all, since he was now certain he knew little of the true Arabella Cameron.
Now the danger he felt growing was within himself. She put his sense of balance in jeopardy and the promise he’d sworn to support the next chieftain selected by the elders. Right now, as this unexpected need for her rose in his blood, Brodie was thankful that she would be gone in just two days and the elders would make their decision in a calm and reasoned manner.
And if they
chose Caelan and she came to the Mackintoshes as his bride, Brodie would find a way to accept it. Now he realised, as he tried—and failed—not to stare as she danced with his cousin, it would be difficult to do.
He strode from the hall and sought out a place far from her presence, knowing his men were still on watch. The next two days promised to be two of the longest in his life.
Chapter Four
The flames rose higher towards the night sky as the men circling it sat and drank. Against his judgement and as his uncle had ordered, Brodie posted no guards around the gathering or on the path to this clearing. Caelan and two of his friends sat across from him and Rob. Arabella’s twin brother and two other Camerons made up the third side. In spite of the air of companionship and reverie, there was no lack of suspicion among the group.
‘You are younger than your sister?’ he asked of Malcolm Cameron. He wanted to know more about the lass, no matter how he fought the urge.
‘Aye,’ the younger Cameron replied. ‘Only by a few minutes, but she is the elder.’ Those minutes mattered not when there was a son to inherit the titles and most of the wealth.
‘You fought well today,’ Brodie said. ‘Who taught you the sword?’
‘My uncle Niall trains the young warriors. I know you held back in the yard,’ he replied. ‘Your control was well honed. Who taught you?’
Brodie got to his feet and walked over to sit nearer the young Cameron. Others talked amongst themselves and he did not wish everyone to hear his every question. ‘My uncle Grigor,’ he said, sitting down on the log there. ‘I have heard the story of Niall and Grigor meeting in battle. Mayhap fifteen years ago?’
Malcolm shrugged and shook his head. ‘Where was this?’
Malcolm held out a skin of ale and filled Brodie’s leather cup and then his own. There had been skirmishes and battles between their families for generations and, unless this treaty was successful, there would be more.
Stolen by the Highlander Page 3
