‘My father would nev...’ He watched her with intense eyes as she realised the truth—if given the chance and this evidence, her father would be as brutal as Caelan planned to be.
Silence surrounded them. Arabella tried to think of a way out of this. To preserve the peace. To keep them all alive.
His snore startled her when it came. Glancing at him, she saw his eyes had closed. Exhaustion etched dark lines around his eyes and a deep furrow in between them. Not wishing to disturb him, she sat there, her hand in his, thinking about all that she’d read.
And all he’d done. For her. And though he could have tried, he had not tried to force her to believe. He’d done what he did best—he protected and helped and led. All the while, putting himself in danger and directly between his cousin’s dangerous plan and her.
He was the first man to see her for herself. To see beneath the facade to the heart of who she was. He respected her even while holding her here, giving her a chance to use her mind and her efforts. Never valuing the appearance over the substance.
She looked down at their joined hands and realised that she had, at some point, fallen in love with Brodie Mackintosh.
Her heart pounded, confirming it.
She loved Brodie Mackintosh.
He stirred next to her, but she could not speak right now. She whispered his name and urged him to lay his head on her lap instead. Trying to sort out the feelings she only now acknowledged, she began to trace the patterns on his forehead and over the bridge of her nose as her aunt had done many, many times.
To ease her bad dreams. To ease the frequent megrims that throbbed in her head. To ease the pain in her heart over the loss of her mother and, then more recently, her brother.
And, though she could not understand how this man would have or could have taken her brother’s life, apparently her heart had decided to accept him, anyway. She doubted any good could come from her feelings and she would not tell him. There were no assurances that he felt the same or that either or both of them would survive the coming battle.
Certainly, there would be battles to finish this. Of that, she had no doubt.
* * *
Arabella was sitting there in the quiet, thinking about all she’d learned, still holding his hand, when Rob entered and found her so. He opened his mouth to speak and she waved him off. Brodie had not slept for too long to wake him now. The shock clear on his face, Rob nodded and left, but not without giving her several quizzical looks.
Comfortable and warmed by his nearness, she drifted off to sleep as she was. Some time later, he released her hand and rolled to his side. She slid her fingers into his hair and caressed his head gently.
When he settled again, she stopped moving her fingers and just let her hand rest on his head. Content with her feelings about him, she fell deeper into sleep’s grasp.
* * *
His restlessness woke her quickly. He struggled in his sleep, trying to move, but unable. Then he began calling out to people he saw in those dreams.
‘The boy!’ he said, gruffly. ‘The boy.’ She was going to try to wake him when he groaned, in pain.
‘Malcolm! The dagger. The blood. Not Malcolm.’
God in Heaven, he was reliving that night! He thrashed around then, struggling against something or someone. The words were unintelligible, but the pain and grief and guilt were clear.
‘Not Malcolm,’ he moaned out. ‘Pray God, not him. Not Bella’s brother.’
Her own tears flowed freely at the sound of the name only her brother used for her and at the thought of what had happened between them that night. He quieted for a moment and then lifted his hand and pointed to something.
‘The boy! The boy saw it.’
The boy. The only boy she could think of was...Alan! Had Alan been there? Had he followed her brother as was his habit and witnessed it all? Brodie calmed then, back into a more restful sleep while she pondered the meaning of his words.
These dreams had begun just when Alan had stumbled into the camp and tried to help her escape. Brodie had reacted strangely to her cousin and she’d caught him staring at the lad several times since. As though his mind struggled to recognise him.
Had Alan’s appearance spurred these dreams? Was his mind trying to remember the events he swore he could not? She did not believe Brodie would harm the boy, but if he had witnessed Brodie kill her brother, others who would stand in his defence might take action.
If they knew. If he remembered. For if Caelan was discredited, there would be no other witness against Brodie but for Alan. If he remembered.
She must get Alan away from here. And she must send word to her father to prepare for attack.
Once Brodie slept deeply, she eased her way out from under his head and made her way across the cave. Glancing back, she was struck again by the love she felt for him. An impossible, irrational love that would not, could not end well. But, as she walked back to Bradana’s tent, Arabella knew she would treasure the time they’d had before their world here was destroyed.
