Stolen by the Highlander (11 page)

* * *

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 then 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.

He ran to his cave and entered. She backed away from the entrance and stood there, her arms tucked tightly at her waist and her eyes wide with fear.

‘Is there an attack?’ she asked. ‘I heard many voices and yelling about horses approaching.’ Then she looked at him, her gaze moving from the blood on his head, face and neck down to his tunic that was soaked through with it. ‘You are wounded.’

‘Aye, I am. But...’ He was going to ask her and realised that their last leave-taking had been less than affable. If the request came from him, she might refuse. ‘Margaret has asked if you would help her.’

First her gaze glanced at the entrance, then at him. Would she refuse?

‘’Tis daylight out,’ she said, pointing to the sunlight’s play on the ground near the opening in the rocks.

In the confusion, he did not understand her meaning at first. Then he did—she had only been outside during the night or the dark, at his orders, so she could not identify the people here or their location. Now, that mattered not.

‘Will you help?’ he asked again.

‘Aye. Of course I will,’ she said. She looked around the cave as though searching for something. Arabella went to the pallet and picked up a pile of clothing there. ‘We...she might have need of these.’

He took her arm and led her out of the cave. She threw her hand up to block the sun from her eyes as they walked quickly away from the cave and towards the turmoil in the centre of the camp. He nodded and answered questions as they walked, never stopping in their progress towards Margaret’s tent. The woman herself opened the flap and stuck her head outside as they arrived there.

‘I was about to send someone for you, lady.’ She nodded at Arabella. ‘Your skill with stitching would be most helpful inside. Now.’

He released Arabella and she followed Margaret back inside. Brodie could hear only some whispered words. Leaving the lady to Margaret, he went about his own duties and the next hours passed quickly as he organised the others in the camp for a quick escape if one was needed. He saw to gathering what supplies the women would need to treat the injured. He summoned his friends and set up plans for more defence around the camp and in case they needed to move.

* * *

Night had begun to fall as he finished his work and stood outside Margaret’s tent, awaiting word of Magnus’s survival or passing. Rob walked to his side and handed him a cup of ale and an oatcake. He answered Rob’s raised brow with a shrug. No word had been given or asked about the man’s condition.

In a way, Brodie did not want to ask, for in the absence of an answer, he could continue to believe his friend was alive. The birds of night, the ones who roosted on the mountainside, sang their songs. The winds, dry all day, now carried a hint of moisture, of storms coming on the morrow.

‘I think the burden of trying to appear friendly towards the Camerons is wearing on my cousin,’ he said. ‘He expected his plans to be further along by now and is running out of patience.’

‘Patience?’ Rob asked. ‘I have never known Caelan to be a patient one. Even as a child, he wanted what he wanted at the moment he wanted it. Not later, certainly.’ Rob had actually grown up as Caelan’s friend until the three had trained as warriors and fought in their first battles, skirmishes truly, against the Camerons. Something Rob saw had made him turn away from Caelan and never be his friend again.

‘Oh, he can be when it works in his interest. But now, the delays I caused by bringing the lass—the lady—here have worn it thin. This—’ he waved his hand at the ongoing activities around them ‘—this is a sign of his desperation.’

‘What will he do next, Brodie? Do you think he will come here?’

‘I think the Camerons might be asked to leave so he can focus his attention on wiping us out.’

‘But what about Lady Arabella? Her father would not simply leave without her, would he?’

Brodie considered the question. Caelan was playing both of his enemies against each other in this—blaming Brodie for Malcolm’s death and Arabella’s kidnapping while using the troubles with Brodie to manipulate Euan Cameron. Knowing his cousin, Caelan had most likely promised to accept another Cameron lass if Arabella was not returned alive and...marriageable.

And if, as he suspected, Euan did want a lasting peace between their clans, he would agree. If Lachlan and Caelan had increased the concessions after Malcolm’s death, it would be done again, until the bargain could not be refused. But then Caelan knew the eventual outcome—it would all be his—when Euan did not.

‘Would he, Brodie? Would my father abandon me here?’

He turned to discover Arabella standing outside the tent, staring at him. Her face had lost all its colour, whether due to what she’d heard or what she’d seen this day, he knew not. She stepped closer and he read the exhaustion on her features. And the blood splashed on the gown she wore and along the edge of her jaw where she must have missed wiping it.

‘Arabella...’ he began. He glanced at Rob, who deserted him and walked into his sister’s tent. ‘Not here. Not now. I need to check on Magnus first.’

‘He lives,’ she said. ‘Thanks to Margaret’s skills and the man’s determination not to die.’

He nodded and went inside as Margaret left to go out. Magnus’s battered and bruised face and body had been patched up with stitches and bandages, but he was alert and ready to talk. They questioned him quickly, getting the most important details from him before allowing him to rest. Before leaving, he gave Rob new orders to protect the man.

Stepping outside, he found the area empty. Margaret and Arabella were gone. Trotting towards the cave, he found Margaret returning alone.

‘Margaret?’ he said, stopping in front of her. ‘The lady?’

‘Waiting for you, Brodie,’ she said. She laughed softly and shook her head. ‘And she has many questions for you.’

‘Margaret, I told you...’

‘Oh, aye, you told me this and that, but the lady deserves the truth now, Brodie. She did well today. Her stitches saved Magnus from bleeding to death. And she never shied away from doing anything I asked of her. She’s a right one, she is, and not the woman most think her to be.’

‘Is that right?’ He already knew there was a depth to Arabella that she did not let many see. But at this moment, he did not want to be reminded that he, like the others, had underestimated her.

‘Ask her to see to your wounds.’ She pointed to his shirt which showed signs of fresh bleeding. ‘I will send some ointment to you.’

‘What did you tell her, Margaret?’

‘I did not share your secrets, Brodie. I but told my tale, for it was mine to tell.’

He exhaled loudly and wanted to pick up their custom of cursing under his breath just then. ‘I asked you not to.’

‘She wasna ready before, but she is now. Arabella Cameron would be a good ally when the time comes.’ She began to walk away but faced him once more. ‘And it is coming, is it not? Everyone will have to choose their side. Give her reasons to choose yours.’

Having made her point, she walked away then. Margaret had suffered the most grievous loss because of her brother’s friendship and backing and so he took her counsel seriously. With her skills as a healer, she had saved dozens of lives many times over. And her abilities to organise and oversee supplies and souls made her as indispensable as any or all of his warriors.

Most times in the past, she’d left the leading to him, but clearly she had wanted her say on the matter of Lady Arabella Cameron.

The only problem, the insurmountable one, was that the lady would never marry the man who had killed her brother. She had agreed to marry into the clan responsible for it, but would never allow herself to be joined in marriage to him. And he knew how strong her resistance could be.

A spine of steel.

Those words again! He rubbed the back of his hand across his brow, pressing against the pain that throbbed there now. Would he ever remember? Why could he not remember, for other memories of that night trickled in through dreams or random thoughts? Yet when he tried to make them come, they fled.

Like the name
Bella
. It poured forth from him and he knew her brother had used it in his company. But her reaction told him it was something dear to her, something only shared by brother and sister who’d been born from the same womb. And in spite of their father’s forbidding it.

The weight of these past days, with hours on horseback, a battle and a harrowing escape, suddenly crashed down on him. Exhaustion stole his resolve and his ability to focus his thoughts. Even though he knew he must be on his guard with her. She was in danger and was a danger to him. Every time he saw her, the wanting within his body and soul grew stronger.

And knowing he could never give her the explanation she craved simply made it worse.

He washed at the stream to get most of the dried blood off his skin. The fabric of the shirt was stuck in the deep gash of his side, so he took some time and eased it loose. The bleeding began once more as he walked back to his dwelling. Mayhap if she was still awake, he would ask her to stanch the bleeding and bandage it for him.

It would matter not how close she stood to him or how her gentle caresses stirred him, for he vowed that he would not repeat the liberties he’d taken the last time.

He might be exhausted from lack of sleep and the tumultuous journey and battle, light-headed from the loss of blood and lack of food and even resistant to the fact that she could never be his—but—his honour demanded that he not press his affections on her.

So, Brodie entered the cave filled with complete and utter determination that he would not kiss her.

* * *

Although she’d helped the healer at Achnacarry Castle since her mother had passed, nothing in her life had prepared her for this day’s work. Mixing a concoction, mayhap. Applying a bandage for certain. But, sewing muscle and skin back together? Never.

And yet, Arabella had.

As she stood in the cave now, she glanced down at her hands. Traces of blood remained under her nails and the length of the gown she wore was stained in it.

Margaret had praised her work, said that Magnus lived because of her abilities and skill with a needle. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was appreciated for something other than her God-given beauty. A laugh bubbled out of her then, inappropriate considering how many had died or had suffered grievously but she let it out.

If her father saw her now he would be horrified by her appearance and condition! Covered in blood and sweat and who knew what else, her hair a tangled mess down her back and a borrowed gown that did not fit. The Cameron heiress looked more like a serving woman than a noble bride.

He’d been very precise about how she should behave and appear in public since she was his heiress. Though her brother would eventually sit in the chief’s seat, she would inherit a good part of her father’s, and mother’s, wealth and so be a bargaining tool for his use. Once her mother had died, he’d lost the benefit of her tempering and his will had become iron. His goal was to make the Cameron Clan the strongest and always to come from a position of strength. To do that, infractions were punished, rules were enforced and his children learned his ways.

So, the graciousness and false smile became her best defence and were always in place. She and Malcolm had been careful not to let their small rebellions be seen. Only Aunt Gillie ever saw her as she was.

Today felt like the biggest rebellion of all.

And it felt wonderful.

She had saved a life today. She had helped others. Her actions were meaningful and not gracious or frivolous. It had taken being kidnapped and held against her will to feel this freedom.