‘More likely, Caelan convinced him to leave so he could see to this family matter. I am certain Caelan does not want your father asking too many questions or seeing too much of his plan.’
‘You keep saying that. You say Caelan has this plan. That he is the one tearing your clan apart. That he is forcing people off their lands. Killing them.’ She heard her voice rising but could not stop it. ‘So tell me then, what is this plan? Why am I a pawn in his game?’
‘A pawn, lady?’ he asked, his voice growing hard-edged and angry. ‘Nay, you are the queen he will eventually sacrifice to protect himself in this game.’
Anger filled her then, for she was tired of talk of games and tired of being held here. And tired of not knowing the truth of the matter into which she’d been drawn.
‘And your part in this game? Do you stand out here in safety while he plays?’
He took a step towards her and she backed a step away. His hands fisted and his face grew fierce and dark. But she never feared for herself. Strange, that.
‘I am the one trying to put an end to his game. I am the one trying to savehisqueen from destruction. I am trying to save my clan, lady.’
‘And this is how you protect your clan? By hiding in the mountains, collecting the exiled and lost and trying to avoid capture? What kind of life is this for them?’
He stepped away from the fence, the black and the other horses were sensitive to the rising anger between them. As she turned to face him and hear his answer, she looked past him.
Chapter Thirteen
Brodie noticed her face lose all its colour and go pale and looked over his shoulder to see what she saw.
Some of those exiled and lost people stood behind them, obviously hearing her accusations and words and being none too happy about them. Rob had warned him that having a Cameron in their midst during such a dangerous time could lead to disaster, but he had disregarded it. She was his prisoner after all was said.
‘Brodie protects us,’ called out one man as he spit in the dirt at Arabella’s feet.
‘He is the rightful Mackintosh,’ a woman said, nodding her head at him. ‘’Tis he who should be sitting on Lachlan’s seat, not Caelan.’
The grumbling began within the crowd and Brodie knew it was time to step in. None of this was Arabella’s fault and she should not bear the brunt of it.
‘The lady is under my protection here, just as each of you is,’ he said, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping partly in front of her. The movement was deliberate.
‘But she’s a Cameron,’ someone in the back argued.
‘Aye, she’s a Cameron,’ he said, nodding in agreement. ‘But she came to Drumlui to do her duty and end our feud with them.’
‘She is to marry that bastard!’
‘She carries out her duty to her father and her clan. That was the agreement Lachlan negotiated. The one I supported and pledged to uphold. ’Tis not her fault that Caelan took matters into his own hands and hatched his plot.’
Now whispers echoed through the group as they took in his words. Some of the old ones would not, could not, ever release their anger at the clan responsible for so many deaths and so much destruction. And that, in spite of the shared part the Mackintoshes played. Then Bradana stepped forward, mirroring Brodie’s own stance, and nodded at Arabella.
‘She may be a Cameron and unwelcome as that by many, but that did not stop her when we needed her help. She worked at Margaret’s side and on her own to help our men. And, according to Margaret’s own words, ’twas her that saved Magnus.’ She nodded, glancing around the crowd and meeting the gaze of most of the women there. Women who were as much pawns of their fathers or husbands as the lady was.
‘So, if you have a problem with the lady being here, just stay away from her,’ he said, meeting each gaze. ‘A problem with her is a problem with me.’
The ones who’d voiced objections nodded, accepting his words, and walked off. Bradana looked as though she wanted to approach Arabella but glanced at him first. Brodie turned and saw what Bradana saw—a very fragile, pale Arabella, standing there trembling. With only the merest shake of his head, he warned Bradana off. The crowd dissolved, all going back to their tasks and duties, understanding that this moment had passed.
Except for the lass.
He would have approached her if he could have thought of words to say that would comfort her. Since none came, he waited on her. After a few silent moments, she lifted her head and turned back to the yard. The black walked slowly across the yard and whinnied at her, waiting for a sign of affection.
‘I am sure you have duties to see to, Brodie. You do not have to stand here by me.’ Her voice, recently strong and strident, now trembled and shook.
He fought the urge to take her in his arms and soothe away the insults. He fought the need to apologise to her for dragging her into this fight. And, worse, he fought the doubts within his own heart and mind that he was on the right and true course. In the end, he allowed her the privacy she desired and walked away, his boots crunching in the dirt the only sound between them.
Several paces down the path, the guard remained as he’d been ordered, watching the lady from a distance. Brodie nodded to him and stopped to look back.
The black now nuzzled her shoulder as she buried her face in the horse’s neck. Though he could not see her face, the way her body shook told him she cried. The sight of it tore at him.
