Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Brodie woke with a start.

He lay on the pallet in the cave. The sun shone through the entrance, telling him it was long past dawn. The bowls and food from supper were gone from the table, though his strongbox was there. Open.

Arabella was gone.

They'd spoken at length. She'd read the proof he'd gathered over the last several months. And then...

He'd fallen asleep.

Pushing his hair out of his face, he stood and walked outside. The camp was awake and people carried out their tasks. Since no guard stood there, he knew Arabella had gone back to Bradana's. Before seeking Rob, he went back inside and secured the valuable papers in the box and placed it back under his trunk.

As he turned to leave, he noticed the cushion there, against the wall.

He'd fallen asleep next to her. Then he remembered feeling her gentle touch outlining his brow and forehead. Had she tended to him while he slept? Singing silly words to chase away his bad dreams? He smiled, thinking of the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand. Brodie left the cave and sought out Rob, who—from the expression on his face—was not happy to see him.

‘You're awake, are you?' Rob said, walking through the camp and not stopping for him. He grabbed his shoulder and brought him to a halt.

‘Is there a problem?' Rob stared at him and glanced around before speaking.

‘Aye, there's a problem.' Brodie raised a brow at him. ‘Her name is Arabella Cameron.'

‘What has she done?' he asked, looking for the lady and not seeing her.

‘Not "what has she done," Brodie. 'Tis more about what you have done.'

‘Have a care, Rob,' he warned.

‘Brodie, 'tis too late for that. I see how you look at her. I saw the two of you last night.'

‘Last night?'

‘You were sleeping on her lap. Holding hands.'

‘Something changed between us, Rob. I cannot explain it. Almost as though...'

‘Nay. It cannot be so. You know it, Brodie. You know it.' Rob paced back and forth before him, agitated by what he'd seen and what it meant.

Brodie knew the truth of the matter and there was no way to change it. So he saw no reason to argue over it. He reached out and grabbed Rob's arm.

‘The plan is still the same. Nothing has changed.'

Rob glared at him, clearly disbelieving the words he uttered.

‘You will walk away from her? You will leave her to marry the next tanist?'

If they succeeded, Brodie expected Grigor to take the chieftain's seat. One of the elders, he was the obvious choice, a blood relative to the last chief, and would be acceptable to all those with a stake in this. Then a new tanist would be chosen from among those men eligible from the other clans in the Confederation. No matter, it would not be him. The Camerons would never agree to terms if he took that position.

‘She understands her duty, Rob. As do I.'

Rob stared at him, arms across his chest, considering his words. He shook his head and kicked at the dirt.

‘Have you decided who should be our emissary?'

‘Aye, my mother's brother, The MacPherson. He will listen to me and consider what we've discovered.'

‘Will he support you in this?' Rob asked.

‘I think so. He has no love for Caelan. And no reason to stand for him.'

‘When do you plan to contact him?' Rob nodded as Brodie caught sight of the woman under discussion as she walked through the camp.

Brodie turned and watched her make her way along the path that would lead to Margaret's tent. The two were seeing to the suggestions about the supplies in the caves.

Rob whistled low, under his breath. ‘'Tis worse than I thought. If you keep gawping at her like that, everyone here will know the truth. Tell yourself she is not yours and move on with things, Brodie.'

‘I have sent him word already,' he said, answering Rob's previous question. ‘He is sending someone to discuss it.'

‘So we wait?'

‘Aye. We wait.' Brodie could feel some change in things. He did not get this premonition often, but he'd learned not to ignore it. ‘Do the women and children know what to do if there's trouble? Do they remember the plan?' he asked.

‘Trouble?' Rob signalled the men on duty with a shrill whistle and heard the answers declaring no danger. ‘What are you expecting?'

‘If the boy found us, so can others. Add to the guards down below. Review the escape route with Margaret and the others. We are getting too close to succeeding now and I do not want to risk failure.'

Rob nodded and would have walked away to carry out his orders if he had not stopped him.

‘What would you suggest I do with the lady?'

‘She is a liability, Brodie. She is nothing less than a distraction to you and nothing more than a hostage.' Rob raised his hand to him before he could object. ‘Hear me out. We took her to give ourselves more time and...'

‘And to protect her,' he added.

‘But if something happens to her here, The Cameron will stand aside no longer. Then we will have both of them breathing down our necks. For our plan to work, The Cameron must agree to the terms with the new Mackintosh chieftain. Losing both a son and daughter will make that impossible.'

‘So you are saying...?'

‘Send her home. Now that we know The Cameron is back at Achnacarry, send her there. Then her safekeeping is his responsibility.' It made sense and yet he wanted her with him. He wanted...her.

‘I will think about it, Rob. Your advice makes sense.'

‘And the boy?' Rob asked. ‘What will you do with him?'

Alan knew their location and could report it to anyone he could tell. The boy...

Flames again. Shadows.

Men laughing. Drinking.

Blood.

The boy...

‘Brodie,' Rob called. ‘What just happened? You seemed to lose yourself for a moment. And it's happened before. Several times in the last few days.'

Brodie shook himself free of the vision and turned to Rob. ‘He has to stay until we move from here. Then we can release him to find his way home. Something I'll discuss with The MacPherson's man—a place for our women and children until this is done.'

He waved Rob off and went about his duties. To battle the growing restlessness within him, he trained with some of the men. But mostly, he tried not to search for her around every corner.

He had fallen and fallen hard in spite of his words to Rob. The one woman who he had claimed could never be of interest to him was the one to capture his heart. The one whom he must turn over to another as part of this devil's bargain.

The one whom he knew was a perfect match for him.

Brodie decided that it would be an easier parting if he did not spend more time with her, so towards the end of the afternoon, he took the black and rode out of the camp, needing some time apart. The full moon's light was enough to make the paths visible and he did not push the horse as he would have in daylight.

He would have to give the horse back to her. He smiled at the way she was more upset that he'd stolen her horse than that he'd kidnapped her. Well, at least the black would see her safely home. Brodie knew he would have to follow Rob's advice. He knew that she was becoming too much a part of their lives there and it could not continue.

She was an heiress, the Lady Arabella Cameron, and she would marry to bring an end to their clans' feud.

If he carried out his plan, he would remain an outlaw, a man without a clan, without a name.

Resolved now to bring this to a close and to return her unharmed to her father, Brodie made his way back to their encampment, checking along the way for signs that they'd been discovered. His men were in place where they should be. Riding up along the mountainside, he found the entrance and gave the signal. Several guards acknowledged him as he made his way and saw to the horse's care before heading for his chamber.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he hoped that he had worked out enough of the tension in his body to get some sleep this night. As long as he did not think about her, did not long to touch and taste her... Damn, it promised to be another very long night. The sight of Dougal standing near the entrance to his cave said only one thing—the lady waited within. His flesh surged to life and images of her flooded his mind.

Pushing them away, for all of it was impossible, he nodded to the erstwhile bard and entered.

‘Lady?'

She turned as he spoke and stared at him. Half in the shadows, he could see her shape outlined by the light given off by the brazier. Her lovely features appeared ghostly as she watched him move towards her. There was an air of skittishness about her that told him she was nervous.

‘Sir,' she said softly. He smiled then at her attempt at formality but kept his distance. His control where she was concerned was not the strongest this night.

‘Arabella, what brings you here at this hour?' he asked.

‘I heard you are sending me home. Is that true?'

Bloody hell! How had she learned that? Rob with his loose tongue sharing it with one or another and word got passed around the camp. And now she knew.

‘Aye. In a few days, you will be on your way home to your father.'

‘And Alan? I heard you are keeping him prisoner?' She pressed on, never afraid to ask one more question.

‘He knows where we are, Arabella. Surely you can understand the need to keep him here.'

‘If he swore he would not reveal it? He can say he never found me, found us.' Us? His heart tore a little at the sound of it.

‘And a bit of whisky or some of the punishments your father likes to mete out and he will not only tell, he will bring them here. I need time to move everyone to a safe place.'

He watched as she thought about his words. Her eyes darkened as a hint of something passed across them and she looked away. Guilt? Pain? Regret? Then taking a breath and letting it out, she faced him. Stark desire shone from her gaze now as she took a step towards him.

‘Arabella...' He shook his head and stepped back a pace, but she continued forward.

‘If you are sending me away and I will not see you again, then I have a question for you,' she whispered.

‘Always questions!' he said, laughing. She'd reached him and stood so close that if she lifted her face up, he would feel her breath against his.

‘I know you said you would not take what was not yours, Brodie...'

‘Arabella,' he pleaded. ‘Do not do this.' He knew what her next words would be and he would not be able to refuse her if she said them aloud. ‘Go back to Bradana's. Now.'

But somehow his hands were on her shoulders, holding her to him. And she did lift her face to his. His honourable promise not to harm her melted away as she said the words. His eyes drifted closed as she spoke.

‘If I give it to you freely, will you have...me?'

He'd been so arrogant, believing he could control the desire that burned through him for her. Her innocence should have forced him to walk away and yet, instead, it pulled him to her. He stared into her eyes as he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers, the barest of touches, to see if he could resist.

And he could not.

She opened to him and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her relentlessly until she touched him back with hers. He withdrew and allowed her to explore, to find her way, to taste him.

Until the sound of someone outside pierced the sensual haze around them and he released her. He walked to the entrance of the chamber and looked at her.

‘This is your last chance to leave. If you do not go now, well, I will not be able to let you go later.'

She shivered, her body trembled and he recognised the arousal that was pulsing through her at his words.

‘I am staying, Brodie,' she whispered.

He stepped outside and dismissed Dougal and the other guards from their duties. He wanted no witnesses to what was to come. Tugging the rolled canvas loose, he let it fall over the opening, shielding them from prying eyes. Then he walked back to where she stood, staring with a wide gaze at him.

‘So now what?' he asked, fighting the very strong need to take her completely. He knew she was a virgin and he did not want to frighten her with his ardour in the first minutes.

‘I was hoping you might know.'

‘Oh, lass, I do.' His mind raced with the things he wanted to do to her, with her, on top of her and beneath her. And in her, especially in her. He ached for her even as his body readied itself for her.

‘Show me what to do.'

How he retained a semblance of control, he would never know, but he did. Though his blood raced as his heart pounded in his chest, he dropped his hands to his side, swearing he would not touch her...yet.

‘Undress me, Arabella.'

It was more a plea than an order and he knew he was in deep trouble when she smiled and the edge of her tongue slipped out to lick her lips. He'd watched her take to tasks with a curiosity and interest and he was now that task.

Her hands slid along his chest as she pushed the leather jack off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then she untied his shirt, pulling the bottom edge of it free from his breeches. The friction of the fabric over his arousal made him clench his jaws. For now, the plaid wrapped and draped around his waist hid it from her sight.

‘Did I hurt you?'

‘Oh, nay, lass. You are doing fine,' he said.

Arabella ran her hands under the shirt, over his shoulders and down his arms until the garment fell. Her hands lingered, touching his skin and exploring the lines of his muscles, sliding back up on to his shoulders and then down on to his chest. He hissed at the sheer pleasure of her caresses. When she grazed his nipples, dragging her fingertips across them and through the hair on his chest, he silently promised retribution in kind.

She gazed up at him and then down at her next target. She was being wonderfully bold, just as he would have expected. Reaching for the end of his belt, she tugged until it came out of the buckle, allowing the length of plaid to follow his other garments to the floor. Her breathing grew ragged then and she paused as she reached for the ties on his breeches.

‘Courage now, lass.'

When she hesitated, he drew her into his arms, pulling her up against his heated skin and filling her mouth with his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her against him, sliding his hand under her bottom and pressing his hard flesh against her. Her legs eased around his hips as much as her gown allowed and he knew she could feel him. Feel his arousal.

‘You are wearing too many clothes,' he whispered, as he moved his mouth from hers. She slid her legs down his and stood before him. ‘Let me take them for you.' She nodded and watched him through passion-glazed eyes.

He moved behind her and loosened the tie on her braid. Dragging his fingers through its length, he shook the hair free of its restraint and watched as it curled around her. Then, he wrapped it around his hand and lifted it, exposing the curve of her neck to him. He kissed her there, trailing kisses and caressing her skin with his tongue as he untied her laces and opened her, inch by inch, to his attentions.

When her gown was loosened all the way to her hips, he pushed it off and let it slide down over her belly and hips and legs to join his garments there. Then he kept his mouth on her neck, nipping along the edge of her ear until she trembled. She clutched behind her at his legs, trying to steady herself against him.

‘Hold on to me, lass,' he whispered. Her body arched, opening to him and beckoning his touch. So he did.