‘Lady—’ he began to answer, but she interrupted him.
‘Arabella,’ she offered.
‘Arabella, I do not think it safe for you to go outside. My men told me that there were many who escaped during your rescue. I would not risk your safety, if they chose to attack.’
‘May I walk in the hall, then? Or up on the battlements? Surely no place could be safer than here or there?’
‘I think you should regain your strength by resting these next days. In preparation for our wedding. In preparation for our wedding night,’ he added, whispering so only she heard those words.
Whether or not he knew she played a role, she could not tell. But, fighting or arguing with him would not bring the results she needed, so she bowed her head to him and accepted his orders.
‘Very well, Caelan,’ she acquiesced to him. ‘I will always appreciate your guidance and your strength.’
He stood and motioned to two of the many guards who stood around the perimeter of the large chamber. They waited at the bottom of the steps. He took her hand and escorted her down to them.
‘Fear not, my love,’ he said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘I will bring him to justice, for you and all that he has inflicted on you.’
She dipped down as low as she could then, to get away from him mostly, but also to make a public showing of her humility and acceptance of their match. The longer he did not suspect her, the better. With a smile when she rose, Arabella left the chamber, with one guard before her and one after her.
A week. Brodie would come for her before the week was out, to save her once more.
* * *
He had watched her every move and listened carefully and closely to every word she spoke. Her servants had reported to him directly. And yet, since she’d returned, there had not been an untoward word or action.
She reacted to him as she had before her kidnapping. She accepted his affections, though a bit stiffly. Still, for someone, a lady, who’d been subjected to such rough treatment, it was understandable. So now, with her return and their marriage, his plans were in place and on schedule.
He’d not sent word to her father at all. The documents had been witnessed and signed and she was, for all legal and religious intents, his already. All it would take would be the reciting of vows and a consummation to claim her and her dowry. Whether her father was present mattered not to him, nor to the priest who would speak the words.
As she walked away now, he could still feel the shiver that had passed through her when he’d mentioned their wedding night and he smiled at that thought. He’d been concerned about whether or not she came to him untouched and would discover the truth soon enough. One of his men reported that she was unwell on the journey home—‘had bled for days’ in the man’s mumbled words—so at least she carried no bastard to his bed.
For now, he would keep a close watch on her and make the arrangements. After a few more days of rest, she would be ready for him. He would make use of her while he needed her alive but he did wonder if Brodie had done so, too. Prisoners, especially women, were often beaten and ravaged during their imprisonment. She said he’d forced her to work for him—had he also forced her to service him? Service his men?
It mattered not. He was not marrying her for her reputation or her looks or her genteel manners. He did it only for the gold he needed to bribe the right people to help him annihilate her entire clan. When this was over, he would find the appropriate wife for a man as powerful as he would be.
A few more days and it would all be well in hand.
* * *
Two days after her abduction, Brodie stood some yards away from the gates of Achnacarry Keep with his hands on his head. He wore no armour and he carried no weapons. He’d left his men a mile or so back in the woods that crept to the edge of Loch Arkaig, far enough away that they would not be seen. If things went badly, they would have enough time to escape.
He knew the guards atop the gate had seen him. Now, they were probably summoning their laird for orders about what to do. He hoped that an arrow in his head or heart would not be the first action taken. When the gate lifted and a troop of warriors headed for him, he thought himself lucky.
Alive was his priority. Alive to save his clan and to save her.Alive, he chanted in his thoughts. A short time later, battered, beaten and bloodied, he was not certain that alive he would remain.
The first five did not wait or explain, they fell on him with punches and kicks. They did not stop until he lay on the ground unable to move or speak. Satisfied with their work, they dragged him in through the gates.
He could not see out of one eye, between the blood and the swelling, it was hopeless. His ribs were broken and he wanted to scream with every breath he took. The last bit of control he had was lost when they tossed him face-first on the cold stone floor before The Cameron and tied his hands behind his back and his feet together.
‘I will get the rope,’ someone said. ‘Draw and quarter him, my lord!’
Rob was right in his guess of how he would meet his end. He would be hanged and then his guts pulled out while he watched. Death would be kind at that point.
‘Wait!’ He recognised Euan’s voice and heard the crunch of boots on the floor coming closer. ‘I would look on the man who killed my son.’ Hands grabbed him roughly and turned him, crushing his arms beneath him. At least one hand was broken.
Then someone knelt on his stomach, crushing the breath from him. The point of a dagger was stuck in his neck and dragged down, cutting through his clothing and exposing his skin. He felt the sting of the blade as it marked him.
‘Talk,’ he forced out. Barely able to drag in breath, he said it again. ‘Talk.’
