* * *
Brodie could tell the moment she stopped fighting sleep, and him, because her body softened and leaned back against his. A soft sigh followed a shiver and nearly unmanned him. He tossed another blanket over her and slid his arm around her, pulling her closer.
To warm her.
So she would not sicken or grow weak.
She would be of no use to them if she sickened and died.
He was only taking care of her for the good of his clan and not because of any softer feelings he might hold for her.
He repeated those thoughts to himself throughout the rest of the night as she burrowed closer to him. He reminded himself also of his true intentions in this endeavour and that she was only a means to his end—to tear control of the Mackintosh Clan from Caelan’s traitorous hands and save it from complete destruction.
* * *
When the meagre light of dawn pierced through the chilly fog, he was still telling himself those facts and trying to make himself believe them. Brodie knew that he had to endure this closeness to her for only two more days. Once they reached their encampment hidden high and well in the mountains, he would pass her off to be watched by someone else and not have to deal with her until he executed his plans.
Two more days.
Chapter Seven
Of hell. Of unadulterated misery.
Two days of it.
Mayhap if she’d cried or carried on, wailing and moaning, or whimpering, he could have withstood the pressure. If Rob had not laughed, silently or aloud, at his frustration in keeping a distance from her and not engaging her in discussions or arguments. Or if she’d not asked him questions so pointed he needed to check to see if he bled at her words and tone?
The worst of it was when he blindfolded her as they approached the final path to the hidden caves and clearings he and his lost souls called home. As he wrapped the cloth around her head, it tangled in her hair and she winced. Trying to free the mass of blonde curls, he could feel her breath against his skin. Worse, he wanted to wrap her hair around his hands, entwine it around his fingers and feel the silkiness of it. Brodie had to clench his jaw and complete his task, with Rob smirking from a few yards away. Now, as they crossed the stream and followed the well-disguised final approach, he wondered how he’d deluded himself for so long.
Her arrival at his family’s home had raised the level of tension and expectation and he had planned to ignore her and focus on the important matter of protecting his clan. He had not set out to dislike her, but he had. With every false smile, Brodie had detested her. With each mewling attempt Caelan had made to woo her, he had disliked her even more.
So, it had been a surprise when he began liking her. And more surprising when he began to look forward to the time his uncle forced him to spend with her. He had seen through the facade to the woman beneath as she allowed him to see or hear bits and pieces of herself. What he had first thought was a shallow, vain, spoiled heiress was clearly not that at all. Arabella Cameron was much more than that.
And he wanted her for himself.
To have her, he needed to be chosen and named tanist, so he had inched his way towards that, both horrified that he wanted her so and fearing that he would never have her at the same time. It was during that time he had started to suspect that Caelan’s plans and true aims when it came to the Clan Cameron might not be just the proposed treaty. He’d begun to ask questions when the terrible incident with Arabella’s brother had happened.
Now, outcast and outlawed, proving his suspicions was nigh to impossible. All he had been able to collect were bits and pieces, reports from friends and those who supported him—so far nothing that would stand as evidence enough to remove Caelan from the chieftain’s seat. And yet, if he was right, peace was not Caelan’s goal at all.
For the past months, the part that had truly concerned him was what Caelan could have in mind for Arabella. Damn his weakness, but he had allowed his growing interest in a lass to distract him from his duties.
He heard the signal and replied to it as they turned at the bend in the road and walked their horses through a space in the trees that created a gate-like opening. Brodie nodded to the men they passed who would see the trees and branches put back in place. He raised his hand with another gesture, another safeguard to those whose lives were in his hands now. Two men crept out from behind more brush and greeted him.
‘Take her to Margaret,’ he said, as he lifted her down to the ground. ‘She is a prisoner, not a guest.’ He tried, with no measure of success, to ignore the shudder that shook her whole body at his words. ‘She stays as she is until I get there.’
‘Aye, Brodie,’ Rob answered, taking her arm and leading her away.
He had things to see to and could not waste time thinking about her now. Turning to one of the guards, he asked, ‘Duncan? Hamish? Jamie?’
‘They all returned yesterday. Said no signs of being followed.’
‘And Caelan? The Cameron?’ he asked. He held the reins of the black tightly as the beast fought this new unfamiliar place. Tugging the horse forward, he led him to the small enclosure where they held the horses. Ranald followed along, keeping his distance from the horse even while giving his report.
‘Search parties have been sent out several times a day. Sometimes Caelan leads them, sometimes others,’ Ranald said. ‘All to the west.’ So, their plan of leaving signs of the lady along the roads leading west had succeeded.
‘Anything else?’ Brodie stopped, nodding to several men as they passed.
‘Nay, Brodie. All is well.’
