Stolen by the Highlander (18 page)

‘We have but one night, Brodie. I would not want to leave with the regret that we did not do something we wanted to do. Especially since there can never be a repeat of this time together.’

‘Headstrong. Stubborn. Intelligent. Questioning. I cannot imagine that you sprang from Euan Cameron’s loins,’ he said. Then he shook his head. ‘Nay, I cannot say that’s true. I think you are exactly the same as him. Though I suspect the questioning part came from your mother.’

She laughed then, for she remembered times when her father had cursed at her for some infraction or another with just those words. ‘I tried his patience. I suspect that is not done yet.’

He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers—he seemed to like to do that. Then he kissed her hand. ‘Aye, lass, I suspect you will try him in the coming weeks.’

They lay in silence just like that, touching, barely, but closer than she’d ever been to a man. It hurt to know that, come morning and over the next days, their lives would separate. And he would probably not forgive her for helping her cousin. He might understand her actions but forgiveness was another matter.

‘So, you have avoided my question.’ She glanced down at his cock when she continued. ‘What ways do you wish to have me?’

Arabella could not help but smile as his body reacted to her purposeful tease. And it did, filling and standing out from the rest of his body. His eyes turned fierce then and her own body flushed with heat. Her breasts swelled and the nipples tightened.

‘I will tell you, Arabella, just how I would like to have you,’ he said, leaning closer to her.

Then he whispered scandalous things to her, about how he would join with her, where he would touch her, how their bodies would pleasure each other. His words were so vibrant and enticing that her body readied itself for him, shocking her as that place within her woman’s flesh moistened and ached and throbbed. She wanted him. She wanted him to do all of these things to her. She wanted to touch him.

Finally she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his firm flesh as he had shown her before. His face grew intense and dark and he hissed as she slid her hand downwards to the base and then the rest of him she found there.

What began as her curiosity and desire to learn his body, turned into something different as Brodie reciprocated, touching her as she did him. Whether her mouth or her breasts or legs or the place between her legs, he drove her to madness even as she drove him. But, there was still one question in her mind before she relinquished herself to pleasure. Something she did not understand.

‘How could I ride you?’ she asked, breathless from the way she shivered and trembled as he pushed her towards that moment of dissolution she knew awaited her.

‘Lass,’ he whispered, shaking his head. ‘You are too sore.’

She might be, but right now her flesh ached for him to fill her. Ached for them to join. Ached to find release when he did within her. ‘Show me.’

If her voice quivered or if she sounded too demanding, she cared not. If her behaviour was not what was expected of a lady, of a Cameron, it bothered her not. The only thing that would bother her was if she’d shocked Brodie. When he reached for her waist and guided her up and over him, she knew he was not shocked.

‘If this hurts, you must tell me, Arabella.’ She worried her lip and nodded. He told her to kneel over his hips and she did so, the position very similar to sitting on a horse. His flesh rubbed between her legs when she lowered herself to him.

He pulled her down to him and they lay breasts to chest and hips to hips. As he kissed her, her hair fell around them like a curtain meant to keep the world away. Leaning over him, kissing him and feeling his hands kneading her legs and bottom, she rubbed her sensitive flesh against the ridge of his, sliding along it.

‘Now, ride me, lass,’ he said. Arabella sat back and slid down the length of him. ‘At your own pace.’

She closed her eyes and took him in, inch by inch, gasp by gasp, never dreaming that something like this would be so...decadent and pleasurable. When she looked down at him, his gaze was filled with concern as she moved on him. Then that expression changed and he held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as though to both hold her still and move her faster.

Soon, he drove deeper and deeper within her and her body prepared for that release she knew he would bring to her. He touched her everywhere, able to reach because she sat above him, and when he found that small spot near where he entered her, he stroked it, faster and faster, harder and harder until her body let go.

Then, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her as he turned them over. He was already deep but now he thrust even deeper, joining them and stroking the folds of her flesh until she cried out. He lifted almost out of her and then plunged to fill her completely and find his own release.

Only the sounds of their breathing filled the cave. At first, she could not even tell whose was whose. Shallow panting turned into deeper, laboured breaths and then slow, regular inhalations. Her body had lost its spine and she lay under him barely able to move. Brodie eased off her, but kept hold of her with his arm across her stomach.

Time passed as they lay together, touched and touching, exhausted and satisfied. Somehow she knew she would never find this kind of trust and sense of wild abandon with any other man. And when morning’s grey light entered through the edges of the canvas flap, Arabella knew it was over.

* * *

When the whispers began outside, she knew they’d discovered Alan missing. When more footsteps paced along the path leading to the cave, she knew they wanted to call for Brodie, but dared not. But instead of waking him, she slid closer to him and smiled when he wrapped himself around her and slept even deeper.

Another hour would not matter—if Alan had escaped the camp’s guards, no one would find him now. So she selfishly held on to him until the last possible moment.

Chapter Eighteen

‘B
rodie.’

He heard her whisper his name, but did not wish to open his eyes and bring this night to a close. Even the light he could see through his lids did not push him to accept the reality that day was here already. And that they were done.

‘Brodie,’ Arabella whispered once more. ‘You must wake now.’

‘Och, lass,’ he whispered as he slid his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. ‘I do not think I can pleasure you again. A man must have some rest,’ he teased, knowing well that his body would ready itself if she gave a word or sign to him.

Then he noticed that it was not her bare skin that touched his. The fabric of a gown came between them. He shook off sleep’s grasp and opened his eyes. True enough, Arabella was dressed and watched him with guarded eyes of her own.

‘What is it?’ he asked as he eased from underneath her and sat. Pushing his hair from his face and running his fingers through it, he saw that it was full day outside though only tiny shards of light pierced the cave’s darkness around the flap he’d pulled over the entrance.

‘Your men have been waiting outside,’ she explained, setting her own hair to rights in a quickly made braid. ‘I know you have not slept well these last nights, so I did not want to wake you.’ There was something else that she was not saying.

‘And?’ he asked.

There was something different about her. He could not figure out what it was, but she seemed ill at ease now. Did she finally regret their actions? Had she realised what a mistake it had been?

‘And I did not wish the night to end yet,’ she admitted.

Her kissed her bruised lips gently and caressed her face with his hand. There was not a place on her that he had not tended to during this night of theirs but he felt as if he wanted to begin again. However...

They each had a duty to see to and they knew it.

‘Nor I,’ he replied as he climbed to his feet and found his breeches and shirt.

Tugging them on, he knew the magic they’d found was fading. Arabella moved around the chamber, folding blankets and putting things back in place. Soon, other than the bowls she held in her hands, there was not a trace of the incredible night they’d shared left here.

‘Brodie?’ Rob called from outside. Their movements must have been noticed. ‘Are you awake yet?’

He laughed then, but noticed Arabella did not. Her face seemed set in stone. Had she just realised that she would have to confront others this soon? Was she embarrassed that they would know, they all knew, what had happened between them?

‘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 mixed 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.’