One more day, two at the most, and Arabella would, at last, being taking some action and not sitting around waiting for rescue or release. And when she returned to Caelan, she would find out if Brodie spoke the truth.
From the tiny twinges of suspicion that plagued her now, she worried that he might have.
* * *
Obtaining the needed garments proved easier than she thought it would be. Though she could not guess how many lived here, clearly there were not enough women with sewing skills to mend and fix torn clothing. Or mayhap it was Margaret’s way of keeping her occupied during her imprisonment. For whichever reason, she’d welcomed it, for she liked nothing less than laziness. And it provided her with time to give thought to her plan.
Now, she watched the growing shadows outside the tent each time the flap moved in the wind and knew she would need to act quickly once Margaret left. Arabella had taken note of the twists and turns in the pathways as she was permitted to walk last evening with one of Rob’s men. Finally, Margaret put away the garments and pieces of fabric and sewing needles and shears and went off to get their evening meal.
Her stomach clenched with nervousness and she thought she might vomit from the tension in her. She stood and tugged and shimmied until she got her gown off over her head. Grimacing from the smell of too many days in the same gown, she shoved it in the space between the pallet and the side of the tent. With a speed her maid would laugh over, Arabella pulled the breeches and stockings into place. The fabric outlined her legs in a way she’d never seen before.
With a length of linen, she bound her breasts and put on the tunic. Gathering up her braided hair, she shoved it down the back of the shirt and hoped the cloak would hide all manner of mistakes. With the hood in place, she lifted the flap of canvas and looked around the immediate area before stepping out.
With a deep breath to calm herself, Arabella walked away from the tent. Remembering the cocky strides of her brother and other young men, she lengthened her steps as she tried to imitate it and mask her feminine sway. She quickened her pace and tried to follow the path she’d laid out in her mind.
Left. Left. Right. Straight on to the area where they kept the horses. Although the night was clear, there was no moon and she would have little time to get down the mountain or away if she did not hurry.
She looked neither left nor right and never raised her head to meet the gazes of others. Soon, she heard the sound of horses and saw her black there in the pen. Climbing over the hastily made fencing was much easier in the garb she wore and soon she stood before her horse as he nuzzled her face and neck. Then he sought out the treats she usually brought him.
‘Next time, laddie,’ she whispered as she found a bridle hanging on the fence and quickly fixed it in position. Leading him out through a gate, she tried to avoid scaring the other horses there. She did not, could not, be discovered yet.
With no time for a saddle, she used the fence once more as a step and swung herself over the horse’s back. This would not be the first time she rode without one, nor the last. With fast, familiar motions, she wrapped the reins around her hands and grabbed on to his mane. Then, with a touch of her heels to his sides, she guided the black out of the camp.
Or she would have if not for the obstruction in their path.
Brodie stood in their way, hands on hips and a dark expression in his eyes. She was still far enough from him that she could get the black into a running start that would force Brodie to move or be trampled. Before she could, he strode quickly at her, his long legs eating up the space between them.
The horse reared up and whinnied loudly, blowing and huffing his displeasure at being threatened so. And it was a threat. Arabella thought Brodie would keep running at them and grab for the reins, but he stopped a few yards away and waited for her to control the horse. She did, with some whispered words and caresses.
‘Are you willing to take the risk, lady?’ he asked in a quiet voice and not in the loud, angry shout she expected.
‘Risk? He is mine. He knows me. He can take me out of here,’ she said.
‘The dark of the moon is upon us. The fog rises quickly in the mountains. And you would take that horse on to a hillside path that you do not know and have never seen? If you have not a care for your own life, I thought he was more valued to you than that, Arabella.’ He crossed his arms over his massive chest and glared at her.
Accusation mixed with disappointment. That was what she heard in his voice. And, worse, it bothered her though she did not wish to admit that. She wanted to run. She wanted to knock him out of their way and escape. But, damn the man, he was right.
He walked the final few paces and reached up to take the reins from her. The horse shuffled his hooves in the dirt and nuzzled him just as he had her. The traitor!
‘Give me the reins,’ he ordered.
‘I want to go home, Brodie. Just let me pass.’ She hated that her voice trembled and sounded, even to her, as though she begged this of him.
‘Give me the reins, Bella,’ he said.
So shocked to hear that name, she let the reins slip from her hands. No one called her that except...except...Malcolm. And this was the man who had taken his life. The same one who now held her life in his hands. She stared at his hands, remembering the sight of them and him covered in her brother’s blood that terrible morning.
Arabella did not realise she’d launched herself at him until they tumbled to the ground.
Chapter Nine
The only warning he got that she would attack was the briefest flash of complete and utter devastation in her blue eyes. Then, her eyes darkened and she leapt from the back of the horse at him, throwing her full weight onto him. Her knee landed a blow in his gut and he could not breathe from the power of it. Then, she screamed unintelligible words as she clawed at him with her nails.
The black reacted, too, dancing and shuffling next to them—too damn close to them—as Brodie tried to get control over the she-demon who raked his face with her nails. If he did not get them out of the way, they would both be trampled to death by the huge stallion. And there was no way that the horse would not be injured in such a situation. A shrill whistle pierced the air, alerting him to help.
Brodie managed to get both of her hands in his and rolled over, straddling her in the muddy path. Rob ran to them, first throwing his hands up to try to scare the horse away and then, when it had backed up, grabbing the reins and bringing it down on all four hooves and trying to calm it.
As he did with the wild woman beneath him.
