Stolen by the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

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       Chapter Three

      Malcolm approached the table, making his way through the crowd of Mackintoshes gathered for the meal. More than once, she noticed that he stopped to speak to one or another young woman. Her brother had that effect on women. Tall and handsome, he drew many an eye as he moved on towards the dais. He smiled at her as he took his place next to her.

      ‘So, two more days and we will be gone from this place,’ he whispered to her as his cup was filled by a very attentive and buxom serving woman.

      ‘Two more days and, aye, we leave,’ she said. ‘I, however, will be brought back to remain here for ever in a few short months.’ He stared at her, perusing her face and then her eyes.

      ‘Are you unwilling to marry here? Have you changed your mind?’ He lifted her chin and narrowed his gaze. ‘Tell me the truth.’

      This was the only person with whom she could share her true feelings. They’d shared their mother’s womb and spent much of their lives together since their birth.

      ‘Willing or not, I will do what is expected of me. You know that,’ she whispered. ‘I just wish I knew more about the two of them. I wish I had more time. I wish...’

      She stopped. Her wishes meant nothing in the negotiations or what would come after it. Her throat burned with unexpected tears and she lifted her cup and drank some of the ale to wash them down.

      ‘What can I do to ease your burden and your worries, sister mine?’ She knew he would help her, if he could.

      ‘Marry the one selected as tanist?’ she suggested. Malcolm laughed loudly at the inappropriate comment, loudly enough to draw attention. Her aunt frowned a warning, the one that meant her behaviour was unseemly.

      ‘Think not that I shall escape a marriage bargain like yours,’ Malcolm said. ‘If there had been a daughter, have no doubt that I would have been offered like the sacrificial lamb that you are.’ He leaned in and added, ‘And think not that I can avoid being sold to the next highest bidder.’

      Someone, one of his friends, called out his name and Malcolm emptied his cup before leaving her side. At the last moment, his expression grew serious.

      ‘Truly, is there aught I can do to ease your mind on this marriage and the bargain made?’

      ‘Find out what manner of men they are.’

      That was her real question. She saw only what they showed her, just as they knew little or nothing about her. But as her husband, either man would have complete control over her—her body, her wealth, her future. They had nothing to fear going into a marriage for they lost nothing while she, as the wife, had many concerns. Concerns she could not voice or discuss, but ones that made her lose sleep.

      ‘Find out...what?’ he asked, nodding again to his friends.

      ‘What kind of men they are. How they treat other women. How they are thought of by their clan. That sort of knowledge.’

      ‘How big their co—!’ She smashed her hand against his mouth before he could finish the word. The heat of a blush filled her cheeks. Only her irreverent brother would say such a thing to her. But, he revelled in shocking her.

      ‘Malcolm!’

      He lifted her hand from his face and kissed the top of it. Standing then, he bowed to their father and the Mackintosh chief and, with a wink, he was walking away. Soon, friends surrounded him and Arabella smiled. He meant what he’d said—he would seek what she needed to know. He would not fail her and would help her prepare for this new life she faced.

      When Arabella turned her attention away from her brother, Brodie caught her eye. He never seemed at ease. Always watchful as he glanced around the chamber out of the corner of his eye, he kept everyone under his inspection. She thought she’d witnessed a few surreptitious nods and signals between him and several other men scattered around the gathering.

      There! He’d done it again—exchanged some hidden message with a tall man standing in the back of the hall. She sipped from her cup and observed him over the rim. He repeated his actions—making contact, signalling in that same way, then moving on to the next one—over and over until his gaze moved back to the front of the hall...and to her.

      Tempted to look away, instead she nodded to him and watched as he approached. Taller than his cousin, he wore his dark-brown hair long, tied back only at his temples. Though she rarely saw him smile, there were lines around his brown eyes and his mouth that spoke of the habit. His long legs covered the distance between them in a few paces and he stood before her, with his arms crossed over his chest, studying her much as she did him.

      Their encounters since that day when they had ridden into the hills, when he had voiced his desire for more cattle rather than her, had been an interesting mix of politeness and challenge. Just last night, at their evening meal, he’d slipped in a question about crops and only the quiet ‘harump’ reply indicated his surprise that she could speak on such things. This morning, in the yard, he’d asked permission to ride her horse. He’d said the beastie needed a good run after being stabled through much of their business, but she recognised an appreciation for horseflesh that matched hers.

      He stood there now, waiting for her permission to join her at table. She placed her cup on the table and nodded. Brodie sat in the chair vacated by her brother.

      ‘My thanks for permitting me to take the horse out, Lady Arabella.’ He smiled then and the combination of male beauty and the way his face lit with it made her breathless. How had she ever thought him intimidating and foreboding?

      ‘What did you think of him?’ she asked, waiting for his cup and hers to be filled. ‘How far did you ride?’

      ‘Several miles past the clearing,’ he said. ‘Into the hills and beyond. I gave him his head and he took it.’ Brodie laughed then and she noticed as many in the hall turned at the sound. ‘He tempted me to continue, but I did not want to overtire him with your journey home coming so soon.’

      ‘I have yet to tire him out,’ she admitted. ‘Most times I am the one to surrender.’ She laughed. ‘Even my brother, Malcolm, cannot, so I know my skills are not so shoddy.’

      He remained at her side, both of them watching as people gathered in small groups before them, clearing the space so that dancing could begin.

      ‘Do you have any mares here he could be bred with?’ she asked. The horse had wonderful traits that could be passed on to his get. Brodie choked then and coughed to clear his throat.

      ‘Lady,’ he whispered. ‘’Tis unseemly a topic...’

      She turned to face him, shaking her head and putting her cup down.

      ‘He is mine and will remain mine, СКАЧАТЬ