She dipped low into a curtsy, allowing a good amount of time to go by as she waited there. Then she rose and smiled at him and he clapped in approval. He rushed down the steps from the dais to help her up to the table.
‘My lord,’ she whispered as he waited for her to sit. ‘I am honoured by such treatment.’ Once seated, she reached out and touched his hand for good measure. ‘And your gift was so thoughtful. What a lovely surprise to find waiting for me!’
The servants began bringing forth trays of food and filling the trencher she would share with him. She made some appropriate comment as each new good was placed there. Arabella glanced down the table and realised that she knew no one. One of the older men, a clan elder, nodded to her and he looked familiar but she had paid little attention during her time here. Was that the Grigor she’d heard mentioned? When they’d eaten, she took a breath and asked her first question.
‘My lord...’ she began.
‘Pray you, you must still call me Caelan.’ She smiled at him, looking from under her lashes.
‘Very well, Caelan. I thought my father and my aunt would have been here by now. Have you any word on when they will arrive?’
It was about a three-day journey to Achnacarry from Drumlui and about the same in the other direction to Tor Castle, their southern holding. But a strong horse and a good rider could make it in less. If they had a reason to.
‘I sent a man out as soon as we received word that you were safe. I would think a week more at most.’
‘And then we will marry?’ she asked, adding a breathless, little sigh to the end of the question.
‘Impatient, are you?’ he asked, leaning in and kissing her cheek. She kept her smile in place and allowed it. ‘I confess, I am anxious, as well, but the elders here have convinced me that your father should be present at such a momentous occasion. After all, he paid with the life of his only son for this truce and treaty.’
Not for all the gold in the kingdom could she keep her distress from showing. She glanced away and blinked, trying to gain control once more.
‘That was thoughtless of me, Arabella. You have suffered, too, for this treaty.’ She lifted her cup to her mouth and drank deeply from it before turning back to him.
‘Aye, Caelan. Many have suffered. Too many. And so our marriage will put an end to that for generations to come,’ she said.
He lifted his cup and took a mouthful, sparing a passing glance for her. The coldness in his gaze made her recoil for a second before she forced herself to accept the cup when he held it to her mouth. She needed to change the topic or she would unmask herself.
‘I hope my aunt brings the rest of my clothing and jewellery with her. I have been too long in the garb of peasants and villeins in that encampment.’
‘Tell me of that, if it does not upset you too much. I would not have you retiring to your chamber because you are overwrought again but I am curious about my cousin.’ He nodded at her. ‘Did he deny his crime to you?’
‘Nay,’ she said, honestly. ‘He accepts his guilt in Malcolm’s death. Even revelled in it.’
‘The damned traitor!’ Caelan exclaimed, and then he looked at her. ‘Forgive my outburst, Arabella. I cannot imagine the indignities you suffered at his hands while his prisoner.’ His eyes flashed then, something dark and dangerous, before he spoke again. ‘Did he keep you bound? Gagged?’
‘Aye, for the first weeks. Then he forced me to labour with the meanest of them, carrying out whatever tasks he ordered.’ She shuddered then and held out her hands. ‘I am embarrassed even to show them to you,’ she said, mournfully.
The skin on her hands was not the same smooth, unworked skin as it had been. The weeks of working there, side by side with the other women, had left her skin calloused and her nails broken. Their condition bore out her tale. A lady’s hands were not meant to show evidence of physical labour.
‘He will pay, doubt it not, Arabella,’ he said. He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss, but barely grazed it.
‘I know you will see to him,’ she said, nodding in approval. He basked in the praise and confidence of her words. She wanted to vomit on his boots.
If she was going to be ready when Brodie came, and she had no one doubt he would come for her, she needed to be able to move around the keep and yard and even the village. So, she asked for a boon.
‘I cannot tell you how good it feels to be here with you, my lo...Caelan.’ She nodded at the light coming through the high windows in the walls of the great hall. ‘For many days and nights, he imprisoned me in a cave. I could not tell when it was day or night. It is good to see the sun again.’ She glanced at the others at table and then smiled at Caelan.
‘Now that I am free, I would like to walk to regain my strength. With your permission, of course.’
‘Lady—’ he began to answer, but she interrupted him.
‘Arabella,’ she offered.
‘Arabella, I do not think it safe for you to go outside. My men told me that there were many who escaped during your rescue. I would not risk your safety, if they chose to attack.’
‘May I walk in the hall, then? Or up on the battlements? Surely no place could be safer than here or there?’
‘I think you should regain your strength by resting these next days. In preparation for our wedding. In preparation for our wedding night,’ he added, whispering so only she heard those words.
Whether or not he knew she played a role, she could not tell. But, fighting or arguing with him would not bring the results she needed, so she bowed her head to him and accepted his orders.
‘Very well, Caelan,’ she acquiesced to him. ‘I will always appreciate your guidance and your strength.’
He stood and motioned to two of the many guards who stood around the perimeter of the large chamber. They waited at the bottom of the steps. He took her hand and escorted her down to them.
‘Fear not, my love,’ he said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘I will bring him to justice, for you and all that he has inflicted on you.’
She dipped down as low as she could then, to get away from him mostly, but also to make a public showing of her humility and acceptance of their match. The longer he did not suspect her, the better. With a smile when she rose, Arabella left the chamber, with one guard before her and one after her.
A week. Brodie would come for her before the week was out, to save her once more.
* * *
He had watched her every move and listened carefully and closely to every word she spoke. Her servants had reported to him directly. And yet, since she’d returned, there had not been an untoward word or action.
She reacted to him as she had before her kidnapping. She accepted his affections, though a bit stiffly. Still, for someone, a lady, who’d been subjected to such rough treatment, it was understandable. So now, with her return and their marriage, his plans were in place and on schedule.
He’d not sent word to her father at all. The documents had been witnessed and signed and she was, for all legal and religious intents, his already. All it would take would be the reciting of vows and a consummation to claim her and her dowry. Whether her father was present mattered not to him, nor to the priest who would speak the words.
As she walked away now, he could still feel the shiver that had passed through her when he’d mentioned their wedding night and he smiled at that thought. He’d been concerned about whether or not she came to him untouched and would discover the truth soon enough. One of his men reported that she was unwell on the journey home—‘had bled for days’ in the man’s mumbled words—so at least she carried no bastard to his bed.
For now, he would keep a close watch on her and make the arrangements. After a few more days of rest, she would be ready for him. He would make use of her while he needed her alive but he did wonder if Brodie had done so, t
oo. Prisoners, especially women, were often beaten and ravaged during their imprisonment. She said he’d forced her to work for him—had he also forced her to service him? Service his men?
It mattered not. He was not marrying her for her reputation or her looks or her genteel manners. He did it only for the gold he needed to bribe the right people to help him annihilate her entire clan. When this was over, he would find the appropriate wife for a man as powerful as he would be.
A few more days and it would all be well in hand.
* * *
Two days after her abduction, Brodie stood some yards away from the gates of Achnacarry Keep with his hands on his head. He wore no armour and he carried no weapons. He’d left his men a mile or so back in the woods that crept to the edge of Loch Arkaig, far enough away that they would not be seen. If things went badly, they would have enough time to escape.
He knew the guards atop the gate had seen him. Now, they were probably summoning their laird for orders about what to do. He hoped that an arrow in his head or heart would not be the first action taken. When the gate lifted and a troop of warriors headed for him, he thought himself lucky.
Alive was his priority. Alive to save his clan and to save her. Alive, he chanted in his thoughts. A short time later, battered, beaten and bloodied, he was not certain that alive he would remain.
The first five did not wait or explain, they fell on him with punches and kicks. They did not stop until he lay on the ground unable to move or speak. Satisfied with their work, they dragged him in through the gates.
He could not see out of one eye, between the blood and the swelling, it was hopeless. His ribs were broken and he wanted to scream with every breath he took. The last bit of control he had was lost when they tossed him face-first on the cold stone floor before The Cameron and tied his hands behind his back and his feet together.
‘I will get the rope,’ someone said. ‘Draw and quarter him, my lord!’
Rob was right in his guess of how he would meet his end. He would be hanged and then his guts pulled out while he watched. Death would be kind at that point.
‘Wait!’ He recognised Euan’s voice and heard the crunch of boots on the floor coming closer. ‘I would look on the man who killed my son.’ Hands grabbed him roughly and turned him, crushing his arms beneath him. At least one hand was broken.
Then someone knelt on his stomach, crushing the breath from him. The point of a dagger was stuck in his neck and dragged down, cutting through his clothing and exposing his skin. He felt the sting of the blade as it marked him.
‘Talk,’ he forced out. Barely able to drag in breath, he said it again. ‘Talk.’
‘Talk? You think to talk to me? You think I would talk to you now? I have waited for months to avenge the murder of my son.’ The dagger went deeper and Brodie could feel blood seeping from the wound. ‘I think I will not give you such a quick ending. A gut wound will have you suffering for days.’ The blade pierced the skin on his belly. ‘Days when you will beg for death and it will not be given.’
Those around cheered their laird and Brodie could feel himself slipping away. He must stop this now.
‘Arabella...’ He panted. Now he spiralled down into some dark place.
Cold water shocked him, causing him to spasm and gasp for breath. Every movement and cough that tore through him caused agony anew. He prayed for the strength to survive. For if he did not, neither would...
‘Arabella,’ he said louder.
‘Do not speak of my daughter, you damned murderer!’ Euan yelled. A fist pounded into his face. ‘I will not have the man who took the life of my son speak her name.’
‘He did not kill Malcolm.’
Brodie hung on to consciousness by a thin thread and thought he’d imagined the voice and the words. They were followed by such an uproar, it would have wakened the dead. It took some time for the laird to regain control over his men and his hall. Brodie tried to lift his head, tried to see who’d spoken but he could not.
‘What did you say, boy?’ Euan demanded.
Boy.
Boy?
Alan.
‘I said Brodie did not kill Malcolm. The other one did.’
Could it be that simple? Could a child’s word give him absolution for a crime he’d accepted on his own soul? Did the boy speak the truth?
‘Clear this chamber!’ Euan called out. Over many vocal protests, they left as he ordered until it was quiet. ‘Come here, Alan,’ he said. A pause while the boy must have come to his uncle’s side.
‘Now tell me truly. Were you there that night?’
‘Aye.’ The boy’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘You followed Malcolm, then? As you were told not to do while we were there?’ Courage, boy, he thought.
‘Aye, Uncle,’ Alan admitted. ‘I just wanted to see what they would do.’
‘And what did they do?’ Euan asked. ‘Come now, you’ve admitted your disobedience. Tell me the rest of it. It will not change your punishment.’
If Brodie could have moved at all, he would reach up and throttle the older man. Why would any boy speak a word after such a threat? ‘Boy,’ he forced out. ‘What did you see?’
‘The other one stayed awake when Malcolm and Brodie and the others slept. They fell asleep all over the ground.’ Alan paused. ‘I can drink more than they did, Uncle!’
‘Then what happened, Alan? When Malcolm slept on the ground.’
‘He...’
‘Lord Caelan?’
‘Aye, Lord Caelan stabbed Malcolm. I thought he would wake and save himself, but he did not.’ He could hear the distress in the boy’s voice. He was crying. ‘Then Lord Caelan threw Malcolm on Brodie and left him there.’ He cried openly now as he explained how his beloved cousin had died.
‘See to him,’ Euan said.
Thinking he meant the boy, Brodie was surprised when the ropes that bound him were cut and he was freed. As the feeling rushed back into his arms and legs, he was dragged to his feet and held there.
‘Why did you not tell me this sooner?’ Euan asked Alan. ‘If you knew the truth of it?’
‘I was not supposed to be there. I knew you’d be angry. And then Lord Caelan said he’d seen Brodie stab Malcolm. I did not dare to call him a liar.’
‘Wise boy there,’ Brodie said, coughing and spitting out blood. ‘Caelan would have found a way to kill him, too.’
‘Did you know this?’ Euan asked him. He walked over to Brodie and stared at him. ‘Why did you never dispute your cousin’s word?’
‘I still do not remember the night,’ he answered. ‘Only Alan can tell us the tale.’
‘Does anyone else know that you were there?’
‘Arabella,’ they both said.
‘She knows?’ her father asked.
Brodie shook his head. ‘She knows he was there. She does not know what he witnessed.’
‘Arabella made me swear not to tell anyone that I’d been there. She said it could mean my death if anyone knew.’
Once more silence reigned there as both of them digested the information given by the boy. His own addled brain would not accept it. He’d lived with the guilt for so long, he’d believed it as fact. Now, he knew it was not. His knees buckled and he would have pitched forward but for the hands that yet held him.
‘Sorcha, summon the healer,’ Euan called out. ‘Nora, see him to a chamber.’ Brodie reached out to grab Euan’s arm as he passed.
‘My men wait for me to the west. By the lakeside. Summon them.’
Those were the last words he would speak for some time.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Brodie came to awareness, several people were hovering over him. Rob he knew, the other man and woman he did not. From the poking and prodding of his injuries und
er Rob’s watchful gaze, one of the strangers was the clan’s healer and the other a servant of some kind.
‘Ah, so you are awake,’ the man said. ‘Not too bad.’
Rob raised his brow at the pronouncement, clearly having a different assessment of his friend’s condition. ‘A few broken ribs. Gashes and bruises. Your left hand is broken, too. And your nose, he thinks.’
‘And you have lost a considerable amount of blood,’ the healer offered. ‘But you should survive.’
He’d suffered those and more in his years of fighting, but possibly not all at the same time. ‘When can I ride?’
The healer and Rob exchanged a glance and then both laughed aloud. The servant woman shook her head in disgust.
Brodie pushed up, intending to find Euan and settle this, but he did not get very far. His body betrayed him, sending him reeling backwards. This would not do. He must get out of this bed. He must get to her and tell her the truth he’d just discovered.
‘Lord Euan will be here to speak to you,’ Rob explained. ‘You might want to rest now so we can leave sooner.’
‘Did you bring the box?’ he asked Rob. A nod was his only response. ‘Bring it here.’
Rob left and Brodie gave himself over to the healer’s ministrations.
* * *
When Euan arrived, his injuries had been cleaned and dressed. By the time Euan had read all the documents collected in the box, Brodie was able to get out of bed and stand. Sipping some noxious brew that was supposed to speed his healing, he waited for The Cameron’s reaction.
‘I had no idea.’
‘You were not supposed to know. He played each one of us against all the rest,’ Brodie said. ‘And you would not know even as he was destroying you bit by bit.’
‘Why?’ Euan asked. ‘Oh, this feud is like many others. It’s become almost sport between us, when it does not get out of hand. But this,’ he said, holding out the parchment he was reading, ‘this is personal.’
‘You killed his parents in front of him. Certainly it is personal for him,’ Brodie said. He hated what his cousin was doing but he could understand the need for revenge.
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