Brodie thought about her words, glad that Arabella was well after their passionate night. But later, as he finished his tasks for the day and sought refuge and sleep, he wondered just how much time there was for him and his quest.
The next day brought his answer...
No more.
Chapter Nineteen
As the sun rose, Arabella forced herself awake.
She’d sought the refuge of the smaller cave where they’d held Alan after Brodie discovered the truth, partly because of self-pity and partly because of embarrassment. But mostly because she was exhausted—heart, body and soul—and simply wanted to be alone.
After gathering together some blankets, she had added them to the pallet and then collapsed on them. There was not a place on her body that did not feel the strenuous use that had happened throughout the night before. Muscles deep in her legs ached. Her back protested. But those private places, untouched until hours ago, ached in a different way. The skin on the inside of her thighs bore the marks of his beard’s stubble. Her lips and breasts yet felt swollen.
But, even with all the physical pain and soreness, it could not match that in her heart.
She had not trusted him even to tell him the truth. In spite of knowing how dearly he held true to his word and his promises to her, she did not trust him to see to Alan’s safety. And she knew the exact moment he’d comprehended her ruse. She’d read it in his eyes and in his stance.
He probably did not even realise how he’d turned as though preparing for a blow, but she’d seen it. What past betrayals had prepared him for hers? Rob and Duncan saw it and it made them even angrier at her than they had been. When Brodie left, Rob had escorted her to this cave and left her without a word, but he’d practically glowed with the heat of his fury.
Some time later, hot water and soap had arrived, left at the opening to the cave by unseen hands without a word. Then Margaret had come with food. Arabella felt guilty since she knew the woman was always busy and she could have got it for herself, but Margaret had waved off her words of apology. She would not share the food she’d brought and instead simply watched Arabella’s every move and step. Finally, she’d just asked the question that hung there in the space between them.
‘Are you well, lady? Have you need of any remedy I can give you?’ Margaret’s gaze softened for a moment. ‘Or have you questions you might want to ask, having no kinswoman here to speak to?’
‘I am well enough, Margaret. My thanks for your concern.’ Then as the woman was leaving, Arabella just could not help but ask her own question. ‘Does everyone know?’
‘Aye. Everyone kens.’
Arabella could feel the heat of a blush filling her cheeks then. What must they all think of her? She pressed her hands to her cheeks to cool them.
‘Oh, about you and Brodie?’ Margaret asked. When she met the woman’s gaze, she saw the teasing there. ‘I thought you meant...’ Arabella shook her head.
‘Aye, my lady, we know about your cousin, as well.’
Margaret turned to leave once more, but Arabella had another question.
‘How does Brodie fare?’
‘He will be fine, when he is done being stupid.’
She smiled for the first time that day. So she was not the only one he exasperated.
‘I have known him all his life, him being Rob’s friend, and he is always willing to do for others. He puts his family first, even when he deserves that consideration,’ she explained. ‘And when he is being this stubborn, I want to smack him and tell him he is daft.’
Arabella could believe that Margaret was a woman who would do such a thing. Her father would never have stood for such behaviour from the women of the clan, or his daughter. But Brodie respected Margaret and her opinions and took the counsel of the women who’d escaped with him. He would make a good husband when he married.
The kind of husband she would like to have.
The pain of that realisation pierced her heart and she nearly gasped out loud. Luckily Margaret had turned to leave and did not seem to notice it.
The man who would be the perfect husband for her—if only he had not been the one to kill Malcolm. He’d been right in saying that her father would never accept a peace that included him. Her heart might have fallen to him, but her hand in marriage would not.
So, mayhap her actions which had pushed him away were for the best? He would never trust her again. She sighed and sat back down on the pallet once more.
With Margaret gone, Arabella had managed to sleep for several hours. She had woken to the sound of orders being called out and people passing by the cave carrying out those orders. Part of her had wanted to offer her help. The part that won knew she would be more of a distraction than a help so she had remained within, getting the rest she did not get the night before.
So, as the sun rose on this morn, she decided she must face the day and any repercussions to her actions—both those with Brodie and in helping Alan to get away. Pushing back the cocoon of blankets she’d fashioned, she stood up and shook out her gown. As she stood, her body protested once more, so she stretched tall to ease the tightness in her back and legs.
Although they would be busy with the preparations to move the camp that she could hear being ordered outside, there would be a cooking pot in the centre of the camp. She gathered her hair up into a braid, grabbed a length of plaid to use as a shawl in the cool air of morning and walked outside. Nodding to the guard who would now dog her every step, Arabella headed to the centre of the camp.
