Stolen by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  And Brodie made her detest the weakness within her that allowed her to enjoy his kisses. Knowing what she knew of him, her reaction—permitting him such intimacies—was deplorable and pointed out how correct her father was in his assessment of her. Whenever she tried to go against his will or use her own methods, disaster struck.

  As it had been with Malcolm, both when they were children living with an angry father after the death of their mother, and then in causing his death.

  She should learn...she would learn...before her poor judgement cost more lives.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Caelan has Magnus,’ Rob said as they walked from the cave towards the small gathering of men waiting for them. These were his most loyal friends, men and a few women who had left or been exiled from Drumlui Keep. With their help, he’d been able to find the caves and keep their existence from Caelan.

  Magnus...well, their friendship had been broken over the love of a woman, but Magnus remained loyal to his cause. Though Brodie had not been able to offer Isabel marriage because his own future had not been decided yet, he did love her in his fashion. Magnus had offered what he could not. Isabel had chosen neither, leaving Drumlui and moving to live with her sister in another village. Magnus had blamed Brodie for losing his chance with her.

  But the man knew the locations he used to hide and from which he or others spied on Caelan. And Magnus knew the identities of everyone involved. And, he did not wish any man to be left to Caelan’s mercy, for he had none.

  ‘When? For how long?’ he asked.

  ‘Two days. We just got word of it,’ Rob said.

  ‘In the keep?’ It would be difficult if not impossible to get him out of the keep, so he hoped Magnus was being held some other place. Rob’s grim expression gave him the answer without a word. ‘Who do we have there?’

  ‘Grigor is about the only one who could do anything. The others...’ Rob paused and looked at Hamish and Duncan for confirmation. The nods and shrugs said it all.

  Grigor was an elder and knew of Brodie’s plans. He’d supported him in his efforts to be named tanist. But this, helping with this went well beyond any expectation Brodie held for his co-operation or assistance.

  ‘How long do you think he has?’

  He met the gaze of each one and they understood his question. How long could Magnus hold out before betraying their location? Not truly a betrayal, for few if any men could withstand the measures and methods Caelan would use against his resolve. But the others did not know that Magnus was working for him. Jamie was the first to speak.

  ‘I doubt much longer. We should move further north now,’ he offered.

  ‘Too dangerous,’ Duncan replied before Brodie could. ‘Too many people to move without a place to go. And with winter coming...’ Everyone nodded in agreement—they’d discussed this before to the same conclusion. Many times. ‘It might be easier to get someone close enough to kill him.’

  Though the suggestion should have shocked them, it did not. A quick death would be preferred over Caelan’s torturous path. But Magnus was too important to leave there.

  ‘Send more men to keep watch on the approaches,’ Brodie said. Jamie nodded. ‘Send word to Grigor to help if he can. If he can find a way to get Magnus out of the keep, I want men ready to get him away.’ Rob and Duncan nodded then. ‘And have a care for I know this is a trap of some kind.’

  ‘Bring him here?’ Rob asked. ‘Is that wise?’

  That was the true question here, for could they trust a man who’d broken under torture? Brodie let out a breath. What choice did they have? Even knowing it was most likely a trap, they had to try to free him. He nodded.

  ‘Aye. Bring him here. You ken how to do it.’

  ‘And if he’s in a bad way?’ Rob seemed to be asking all the difficult questions this night.

  ‘Do what you can. Do what you must.’

  The silence allowed them to realise once again that this was a war and not the usual way of things. Brodie wanted it to be different. And he wanted it soon.

  ‘Rob, tell Grigor I am out of time.’ At Rob’s questioning gaze, he nodded. ‘He will understand.’

  The others took their leave and Brodie was left alone with Rob. It took no time at all for his questions to begin. He thought mayhap it had been a mistake to allow him to spend time with Arabella, a woman who was made of questions.

  ‘What do you need from Grigor, Brodie?’ he asked. ‘You have not told me.’

  ‘The fewer people who know, the better for all.’ Rob pushed his chest, forcing him a pace back.

  ‘You can say that to me? I have risked much for you. I deserve to know.’

  Brodie had kept crucial information and documents to himself, for fear of betrayal or the need to rush this and strike too soon without adequate preparation. He’d let no one too close to all of the proof he’d collected to stop Caelan’s path of destruction.

  And if anything happened to him, all hope would be lost for those who lived here. With the evidence, they could forge their own path and gain protection from one of the clans allied with the Mackintoshes. For Caelan’s plans were as huge as his ego and did not stop with dominating just the Camerons; they extended to their allies in the Chattan Confederation. Allies who would not be happy and step aside for the young, untried, headstrong, power-hungry chieftain.

  Brodie nodded his assent and returned to the cave to retrieve the strongbox holding their evidence. Arabella startled as he entered but did not speak. She yet stood in the place where he’d left her, looking lost. He moved his trunk and lifted the cover from the hole he’d dug. The strongbox was locked and chained so that only he could open it. Carrying it under his arm, he stopped before her.

  ‘Is aught wrong?’ he asked. He studied her face for a moment, waiting for her to speak. A slight shake of her head was all the answer she gave him. ‘I will return later. Speak to one of the guards if you have need of anything.’

  They walked to Margaret’s tent where they would have some measure of privacy and he explained everything to his friend. Some information he’d held back from the others, he now shared with Rob. And Rob’s reaction to the scope of his cousin’s perfidy was the same as his had been when he’d realised the patterns and methods—first complete shock and then anger. Then utter determination to stop him from destroying their clan with his plans.

  * * *

  They had talked late into the night and then he had secured the strongbox in another place. With Rob at his side, they walked the perimeter, checking the guards and looking for signs of trouble. Then, as dawn’s light crept over the horizon, Rob left with Duncan and a few warriors to help as they could to retrieve Magnus from Drumlui Keep. For the first time since discovering the first of Caelan’s secrets and in spite of the odds they yet faced, Brodie felt a burden lifted just knowing his friend would be there for him.

  He strode towards the cave, wondering how he should deal with his lady prisoner. The cave was more easily watched and harder to escape from. Though, knowing Arabella, he had no doubt she would try again. Crouching down, he slipped into the cave in silence, hoping to avoid waking her and to get an hour or two of sleep before the camp roused.

  Arabella lay on her side, facing the wall. He knew not if she was awake or asleep, so he tossed a blanket on the floor where he’d sat earlier, hours ago, and leaned against the cool stone surface. He dozed but never found the sleep he wanted, not with her being so close and the memories of the touch and taste of her fresh.

  * * *

  His name being called roused Brodie quickly and he left the cave, an order to the guard to see to her being the only time he would be able to think of her for the rest of the day. Some sort of warning deep in his blood told him the situation with Magnus was a trap. Though Rob had about an hour’s start over him, he knew he could catch up with them...and would.
Something was wrong. Some danger lay waiting for them. The last time he’d had this kind of warrior’s warning, it had been a near thing for Caelan’s minions had almost caught one of the small groups of men he’d sent to watch over Drumlui.

  This time? He knew not what lay ahead, only that it did. He saddled the black, gathered another few men and was on his way before the full light of morning was on them.

  * * *

  Margaret visited her at what seemed to be midday, bringing food. And, bless her, she brought something for her to do. Sitting or pacing here in his place gave her time to think about things—too much time to think as it proved. The sack of clothing would give her a task to keep her hands busy.

  ‘Will you be planning another escape with these?’ Margaret asked her, without a note of censure in her voice.

  ‘I had thought to attempt it in a different way next time,’ she replied as she fell back into the companionable way of things between the two of them.

  ‘Wise.’ Margaret nodded. Handing her the shears and needles and thread, Rob’s sister laughed. ‘He’ll be counting the pairs of breeches and shirts from now on.’

  ‘I do ask your pardon if I caused you harm,’ she offered. Others would pay for her mistakes, they always did, but she had not meant for this woman who’d shown her kindness in her captivity to bear it.

  ‘Harm, my lady? What do you mean?’

  ‘Brodie. Did he punish you for allowing me to escape?’ she asked, hoping the consequences had not been too grave. Her father would not brook such disobedience. Her father had not...

  Margaret put her mending down on her lap and stared at Arabella for a long minute before speaking.

  ‘Have you seen or heard him punish any man, woman or child since you arrived here, lady? My tent is in the middle of everything—did you hear him yelling or beating anyone? Did he raise his hand to you?’

  She’d overheard her father and Caelan discussing Brodie’s brutal attacks on the outlying village. And about his ruthless control over the band of brigands he used to defy and harass the Mackintoshes. Yet, here, being held as his prisoner, she’d seen none of that.

  He could have used brutality against her, to pay her back for whatever blame he held against her father and Caelan. And he did not. He made certain she was fed and warm and gave her charge to a woman he had to know would defy his orders and keep her well. Other than those kisses and the desire she saw burning in his eyes, he’d not abused her and had surely not forced himself on her.

  ‘Nay,’ she said, glancing away. Sometimes it was hard to accept the truth and easier to believe the lies.

  ‘Just so.’

  She tugged and pulled at some loose threads and avoided meeting Margaret’s gaze for a while then. They traded some of the pieces back and forth, for her skills lay in the intricate, fine stitches while Margaret’s were in adjustments and cutting to size. It was Margaret who spoke first.

  ‘My lady, a question, if you do not object?’ She shook her head and Margaret swallowed several times and cleared her throat before continuing. ‘The scratches on Brodie’s face...did he...?’

  Arabella felt the heat of mortification fill her cheeks. She understood what the woman meant. It must look as though she had fought off his advances rather than that she had attacked him.

  ‘He did not,’ she said. If her tone was too vehement, she could blame it on her embarrassment and the guilt that yet pierced her over allowing him to kiss her. ‘If the truth be told, I did it when he stopped my escape.’

  * * *

  They worked for some time, the rest of the afternoon, and ate together when one of the men brought food. Then, when Margaret prepared to take her leave, she explained that Brodie would be gone for some time.

  ‘Did he return to Drumlui, Margaret? Will he seek to ransom me back? Certainly gold or supplies would go far in seeing to your survival here?’

  ‘Oh, my lady, this is about far more than gold or supplies,’ Margaret said. Surely this woman was not involved in whatever Brodie planned? Or was she?

  ‘What do you know of his plans?’ she asked, walking to Margaret’s side and lowering her voice so that the guards just outside would not hear her words. ‘Why will I not be ransomed?’ Margaret pulled away, but Arabella grabbed her and held her fast. ‘Why will he not bargain to return me?’

  ‘Because returning you to Caelan would mean your death, just as it would for anyone here who returned to Drumlui.’

  Arabella stumbled away from the woman and her words. It could not be true. Caelan wanted to marry her. Caelan wanted peace. ‘It cannot be true,’ she insisted. Even if it were, why would he care if it meant her death for she was nothing to him?

  ‘Lady,’ Margaret whispered to her, ‘we women are kept out of such matters for ours is not the choice, until it is too late. My husband died and I was forced from my house by the new chieftain before I accepted the truth of it.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Aye. Killed in front of me for questioning Caelan’s right to our home. Worse, Rob had tried to convince Conall to leave before that and he would not listen. He believed Caelan was a fair man and an honourable laird.’

  Her mind filled with questions and possibilities and doubt as Margaret whispered her tale of sorrow. Arabella prided herself on being intelligent and curious and yet she had missed this entire side of Caelan. Raised to be beautiful and trained to be gracious, the perfect wife to a nobleman who would need her wealth, her honour and the children he would breed on her, Arabella was never supposed to look too closely at her prospective husband. Chosen by her father and his elders, the flaws mattered not, only her obedience did.

  ‘I...’

  Words would not come from the chaos that swirled in her thoughts. Could this woman and the others be telling the truth? Had she, and her father, been played as fools this whole time?

  ‘Margaret!’ A man called her from outside. ‘You are needed.’

  She left without another word, but a string of murmured oaths told Arabella how upset Margaret was. Brodie had told her quite openly not to answer Arabella’s questions and now, in one outburst, she’d said more than Arabella knew from all those months before and after her brother’s death.

  Standing alone once more, Arabella wrapped her arms around herself and listened. Though the sun had set, the camp was still awake and busy. Because Brodie and others were gone? She suspected so from Margaret’s words. She picked up a woollen blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders before sitting just next to the cave’s entrance. She could not be seen from outside but she could hear people and snatches of their conversations as they passed by.

  She needed to learn more. Once Brodie returned she would speak to him and ask for the true reasons for his actions. Mayhap if she knew more, she could sort this out and come up with a way to mediate between Brodie and his cousin. And get word to her father to be on his guard.

  * * *

  As Arabella sat there over the next hours, bits of memories and conversations returned to her. Soon she realised she had indeed been oblivious to many facets of her betrothed’s true personality and methods of ruling. Oblivious to what was truly happening around her.

  * * *

  The night had flowed into the next day and even into another before Brodie returned to the camp. And with him, he brought proof that she would not be able to ignore or explain away.

  Chapter Eleven

  A bloodbath. It had turned into a damned bloodbath.

  Once ready, they had sent word to Grigor that they waited. Then, using the secret tunnel, Brodie had met with a few men still loyal to him and got Magnus out of the lowest level of the keep. Brodie’s men had expected a trap so they were prepared to face opposition and thought themselves ready. Upon exiting the tunnel in the same place he had when he’d kidnapped Arabella, the trap was sprung and t
hen were exposed in the yard.

  Luckily, his men had their horses there and they rode to safety just as the alarm was called. Everything was going as he’d planned.

  He had thought.

  Even with the precautions they’d taken approaching Drumlui, the attack had come when they had not expected it and in a way they could not have imagined: from the village as they passed through it. Once surprised by the people with their pitchforks and other homemade weapons, it had not been long before Caelan’s warriors had caught up with them from behind and attacked.

  Worse, the Mackintoshes who fought for Caelan had dragged the villagers into the middle of the chaos.

  Brodie wiped the blood from his face as they reached the final pathway to their camp and looked over the group who’d survived. In saving Magnus, they’d lost two other men and several more were seriously wounded. If he added in the number of villagers—innocents caught in the battle—it rose to seven dead. At least four of Caelan’s warriors lay dead behind them.

  Mackintoshes all.

  And that was the thing that tormented him the most. All those injured or dead were his clan. This escalation in hostility had cost a terrible price. Brodie stopped and waited for the others to pass him on the path, meeting each gaze as they did.

  ‘Rob, get Magnus to Margaret first. Then the others can be seen to,’ he ordered softly.

  He’d sent a man ahead to warn of their arrival and to put additional guards in place along the lower approaches to the camp. By the time he rode in, the wounded were being carried to Margaret’s tent and Magnus was already within. Brodie was going to wash off the blood that streamed from his head and his side when Margaret called to him.

  ‘Bring the lady, Brodie. I need her help here.’ She ducked back inside before he could refuse.

  Would Arabella help their wounded? She was a prisoner here and a Cameron, so she had no reason to do so. The few women in the camp were already at work, so the more hands, the better. If she would consider helping them?

  ‘Now!’ Margaret’s voice carried over the chaos.