He stood before Margaret’s tent again, once more not even knowing how he’d got there and cursing himself for taking so much notice of the lass. With all other tasks, when he handed off the chore or assignment, he did not concern himself with it unless there was trouble or a problem. He allowed those with him to carry out their duties without interference.
Yet, when it came to her, he lost all semblance of self-control. And all the words he had been able to speak before meeting her. Two nights ago, he had wanted to scream out that he had not killed her brother. But those words would not leave his mouth.
No matter how much he tried to remember that night, no matter how much he wanted to remember, it remained cloaked in a thick fog. After Malcolm had spoken about Arabella’s horse...nothing. Rob’s memories of that night were similar. Knowing now what he did, Brodie had no doubt that Caelan had manipulated them. But without proof, he could not deny killing her brother.
Her voice inside the tent captured his attention then. She laughed softly at something Margaret said but that stopped as he ducked and entered the tent.
‘Margaret,’ he said with a nod at Rob’s older sister. A widow, she had been one of the first to follow them into the wilderness when Caelan had forced her out of the cottage she had lived in since her marriage some years ago. Caelan had excuses, but none that were the real reason—she was Rob’s sister and Rob was Brodie’s friend. ‘Lady Arabella.’
Glancing around, he noticed a lamp lit and several candles. She held out something to Margaret and stood before him, shaking out the length of her gown and smoothing it with her hands. Then she entwined her fingers, even clenched them tightly, as she watched him in silence. Then she blurted out the first question.
‘Is there news? From Caelan? From my father?’
‘There will be no news from them, lady,’ he replied. Margaret whispered something under her breath that sounded much like one of Rob’s favourite oaths. ‘You are here until this is done.’ Damn! He realised what he’d done as soon as the word slipped out.
‘When what is done?’
She loved nothing more than to pick at him with dozens of questions. All at once. Sometimes without drawing a breath. Some silly, ridiculous ones, but always a sly, intelligent one hidden amongst those to lure him into revealing something he did not wish to say. Rob said she did the same to him when he took her from the tent to stretch her legs.
‘If you want to walk outside, come with me,’ he offered, ignoring the query and knowing that being kept inside the small tent was not a pleasant way to spend the whole day.
Her blue eyes narrowed and she seemed to be considering it a choice. As though she weighed the chance of getting answers against the desire to be out in the crisp night air. He’d given her her parole, she would not be tied nor gagged as long as she remained with Margaret. So far, she’d not tried to escape or raise an alarm.
Brodie knew that, too, was only a matter of time.
She nodded and waited for him to lead. Stepping through the flap, he held it out of the way for her. It must be his imagination but she smelled of flowers. He shook his head at that daft thought as he took a few paces away from Margaret’s tent.
‘Come this way.’
They walked around several tents, huts and other makeshift shelters. He made certain to take her along the darker of the two paths, the most deserted one, so that they avoided those who lived in the camp. He did worry about her counting their numbers or memorising their faces or hearing their names. The camp had nearly been discovered only a month ago and he could not risk it again.
The rain that had plagued most of the day had moved on along the valley below and now the stars twinkled in a storm-washed sky. At this height, the clear sky also meant the cold would set in quickly after the sun set. The cloak he’d found for her lay tossed over his shoulder, forgotten until he watched her shiver.
Yet she did not complain. Not about the cold, nor the lack of accommodations suitable for a lady of her stature. Arabella Cameron was unlike any woman he’d ever met. If only things had been different for them.
‘Lady,’ he began, stopping near the path leading to his own shelter. ‘This is for you.’
He held out the cloak, a plain brown one with a hood. She surprised him again, turning her back to him so he could drape it around her. Arabella lifted her hair to better allow him to place it. The urge to take the braid in his hand and wrap it around his palm until he could pull her to him took his breath away.
‘My thanks,’ she whispered as she took a step away. He closed his hands to stop from taking hold of her.
‘You can walk down to that outcropping if you would like time by yourself.’ Mayhap the distance would also give him a chance to clear his head, as well?
‘Why?’ she asked. She tugged the ends of the cloak around her and stared at him. ‘Is this a trap of some kind?’
‘A trap?’
‘I go down there without you and something will happen to me and you can claim no knowledge of it. Was this your plan, then? To kidnap me and kill me?’ Her voice had dropped lower and sounded too calm. The stark terror shining back at him belied that.
‘I told you that you will not be harmed. I give you my word, Arabella.’
And in that moment, as she met his gaze, he realised that she did not trust him and would never trust him as long as her brother’s blood was on his hands.
She ran then, ran back the way they’d come, running too fast in the growing shadows of night, in a cloak too long for her. He knew these paths in the darkness, but she did not. And now, she took the wrong turn and ran in the direction of the cliff.
Brodie ran faster, catching up with her just before she took the last step off and wrapping her in his arms. Fearing his momentum would carry them over, he was relieved when he felt others grabbing at them and pulling them back on to firmer ground.
‘What the bloody hell are you doing, Brodie?’ Rob asked as he climbed to his feet and dusted his hands off before reaching for Brodie.
