Stolen by the Highlander. Terri Brisbin
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or words about her. Mayhap more insults about her between him and his friends? The thought of that burned her. Knowing only one way out of this situation, she lifted her face and smiled at him.
‘Forgive me, sir, if I have overstepped the bounds of hospitality. I think my stomach has calmed now. I will seek out your...’ She began to rise, but he took hold of her hand and held her there. ‘Sir?’
‘Brodie is my name,’ he whispered harshly. ‘And do not do that.’ She did not force her way to her feet but remained seated there at his side. With her hand trapped within his.
‘Do not do what, sir?’ she demanded in a whisper that matched his. All the while, the smile remained in place. If anyone glanced at them, nothing would look amiss.
‘Smile like that.’
‘I do not understand. I am simply smiling,’ she said through her teeth.
‘Smiling like a simpleton, aye.’ He yet held her hand in a firm grasp, one at odds with the anger she felt in him. She let her face relax and nodded her understanding. ‘Better.
‘I can only say this. Aye, you did see...what you saw. I am in charge of the guards. My uncle wanted them to keep watch discreetly. We use the signals rather than...’ His grip eased but she did not pull away.
Not even when she felt his thumb begin to stroke her palm and wrist.
Not when heat crept through her veins and across her skin.
Not even when her words jumbled and she could not remember the question she wanted to ask him next.
‘I doubt that anyone else, other than possibly your father, noticed them. Yet you did.’ His eyes darkened then, changing from the deep brown they usually were to something closer to black. ‘I would ask that you not share what you have seen.’
If she exposed his methods to the rest of her clan, it would render them useless. He was asking for her co-operation. It gave her some bargaining power and she almost laughed at that.
‘I will not,’ she said. Some tension lessened and he released her hand. ‘If...’
‘If?’ The narrowing of his eyes and flaring of his nostrils warned her to proceed with caution, much as the same reactions in her horse did. It must be a male custom.
‘If you tell me what this—’ she made the gesture in the space between them again ‘—means?’ He did not look down and he did not respond for a few seconds and she wondered if he would call her bluff. Or just refuse her outright?
‘All is well.’
‘Ah, so there is no danger tonight? No threats from the Camerons?’
‘I would not say no danger,’ he said, softly, his breath touching her ear, and she shivered once more.
‘And if there was a problem?’ The devil sat on her shoulder now, urging her on.
He let out an aggrieved breath and shrugged. He formed the sign with his hand to show her. ‘Trouble is coming.’ A different signal then. ‘Trouble. Take cover.’
‘I will not share that knowledge with anyone,’ she said. Arabella stood then, as Brodie did at her side. ‘I should go now. My aunt has noticed our conversation and I do not wish to be questioned on it.’ She walked around the table and approached Caelan.
It took little cajoling or encouragement on her part to make Caelan smile and invite her to dance. As they walked, side by side, to the place cleared in the middle of the hall, she could not help herself. She glanced around the large chamber to see if those same men still stood guard. Then she looked to their leader to see if he signalled any of them. Brodie stared back at her, never looking to any of his men.
Worried that he was angry, she was glad to see the slight smile curve his lips then. She smiled back at him, over Caelan’s arm, and felt as though something had eased between them.
* * *
The rest of the evening passed quickly and when her aunt mentioned that she seemed at ease with both of the cousins, the truth struck her. There was much more to Brodie Mackintosh than she had first thought. And the thought of marrying him no longer threatened like a dreaded outcome.
Nay, she thought as she reviewed the events of the last several days, it would not be as difficult to find herself married to him as she’d first thought. So, for the first time since her arrival there, she looked forward to their next encounter.
* * *
Brodie sat in stunned silence for a few minutes after Arabella left the seat next to him. He thought he was beginning to get a glimpse beneath the facade she wore, that damned smile and the cursed frozen expression of graciousness. He’d told himself countless times that he was only seeking out any possible dangers to his clan, but the way his body responded to her furtive whispers told him she was the danger.
No matter how many times he told himself not to engage her in the silly bantering that Caelan did, and not to let himself get too close to her, and especially not to want her for himself, he failed. And from the insistent press of hardened flesh against his trews, he’d failed terribly.
Watching as she’d dropped her hand between them and then shaped her fingers into the sign he’d used to his men had caused two things to happen. The first was shock over his complete underestimation of the lass’s intelligence and her skill in observation. Then a desire struck him as lightning in a storm, forcing aside his hard-fought indifference and leaving behind a clear, strong need to know her better. To know her at all, since he was now certain he knew little of the true Arabella Cameron.
Now the danger he felt growing was within himself. She put his sense of balance in jeopardy and the promise he’d sworn to support the next chieftain selected by the elders. Right now, as this unexpected need for her rose in his blood, Brodie was thankful that she would be gone in just two days and the elders would make their decision in a calm and reasoned manner.
And if they chose Caelan and she came to the Mackintoshes as his bride, Brodie would find a way to accept it. Now he realised, as he tried—and failed—not to stare as she danced with his cousin, it would be difficult to do.
He strode from the hall and sought out a place far from her presence, knowing his men were still on watch. The next two days promised to be two of the longest in his life.
The flames rose higher towards the night sky as the men circling it sat and drank. Against his judgement and as his uncle had ordered, Brodie posted no guards around the gathering or on the path to this clearing. Caelan and two of his friends sat across from him and Rob. Arabella’s twin brother and two other Camerons made up the third side. In spite of the air of companionship and reverie, there was no lack of suspicion among the group.
‘You are younger than your sister?’ he asked of Malcolm Cameron. He wanted to know more about the lass, no matter how he fought the urge.
‘Aye,’ the younger Cameron replied. ‘Only by a few minutes, but she is the elder.’ Those minutes mattered not when there was a son to inherit the titles and most of the wealth.
‘You fought well today,’ Brodie said. ‘Who taught you the sword?’
‘My uncle Niall trains the young warriors. I know you held back in the yard,’ he replied. ‘Your control was well honed. Who taught you?’
Brodie got to his feet and walked over to sit nearer the young Cameron. Others talked amongst themselves and he did not wish everyone to hear his every question. ‘My uncle Grigor,’ he said, sitting down on the log there. ‘I have heard the story of Niall and Grigor meeting in battle. Mayhap fifteen years ago?’
Malcolm shrugged and shook his head. ‘Where was this?’
Malcolm held out a skin of ale and filled Brodie’s leather cup and then