Stolen by the Highlander

They released Brodie and he staggered through the hall and out into the yard. Though some looked as though they would speak to him, none did. Several minutes passed before her father and The Mackintosh spoke again.

‘I declare Caelan Mackintosh to be tanist of the Clan Mackintosh and heir to me personally and to the chief’s chair,’ he called out.

‘And I declare a betrothal agreement has been reached between us. My daughter, Arabella, will marry Caelan,’ her father replied.

Her father motioned to her to rise and come to him. Marriage? They thought of marriage now while her brother lay unshriven and unburied there between them? She struggled to her feet, helped and escorted by her aunt. Her father took her hand and the Mackintosh took Caelan’s and joined them. She could not breathe. She could not think. This was indecent and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

‘The marriage date will be set and our clans will be joined. The feud will end,’ her father said loudly. Releasing their hands, he walked away, calling out orders to ready for the journey home.

Lost, alone and in pain, Arabella did not know what to do.

‘Come, Lady Arabella,’ Caelan said softly, placing his arm around her shoulders and guiding her away. ‘Let the servants see to the tasks at hand and I will see you to your chambers.’

‘My thanks, Caelan,’ she whispered. She appreciated his strength right now. She needed something, someone, to hold on to and he was there for her. At her side where Malcolm had always stood.

‘This is not the way I wanted to win your hand in marriage, my lady. But we shall find a way through this. Together.’

Overwhelmed by the grief and shock, she allowed him to escort her to her chambers. In just a few hours, her entire world and family and dreams had been turned asunder. There would be a burial on their arrival back home. And a wedding to plan after that.

The only thing she could count on now was that she would be marrying Caelan Mackintosh. At least she’d learned the truth about the real nature of his cousin before she’d found herself married to such a despicable man.

Chapter Five (#ulink_73e09244-12f2-5737-bacb-0458c6a6081f)

Four months later...

Arabella walked around the large chamber and came to stand next to the window in the north wall. Her father had slept in this room during their last visit here, but he slept below in a smaller one now. Ailean and Aunt Gillie occupied the chamber outside this one.

The storms battered the stone keep with relentless winds and rain. This one had begun as soon as they passed under the gates and entered the yard three days ago. It was as though the weather felt her sadness and responded in kind. She sighed then, peering through the rain down into the yard.

The last time she’d seen Malcolm alive was there, in the yard, fighting with his friends against some of the Mackintosh warriors in a training exercise. It was all in the spirit of the approaching treaty, when they would become allies instead of enemies. Wiping the tears from her cheek, she turned and glanced around the chamber.

It had been four months yet the pain and tightness in her chest crushed her now just as it had then.

Malcolm dead. His murderer exiled and still uncaptured. The Mackintosh chieftain dead. And, on the morrow, she would wed Caelan Mackintosh, the new chieftain, and seal their treaty. And any sense of excitement or anticipation had died along with her brother.

‘Arabella?’ She’d not heard Ailean open the door.

‘Aye, I am ready,’ she said. Accepting the gold circlet that Caelan had presented to her on her arrival, Arabella placed it on her head as Ailean adjusted her hair. She took a deep breath and tried to let the sadness leave her as her breath did. Attending a feast to celebrate your marriage was not the time to be crying and mournful.

Caelan stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, smiling and nodding as he saw her. Ailean stepped aside and allowed Caelan to walk at Arabella’s side. He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers in an intimate way. Lifting their joined hands to his mouth, he kissed hers and smiled again.

‘All will be well, Arabella,’ he whispered. ‘I know that you are feeling the loss keenly right now, but I hope it will pass.’ She felt a fool then, forgetting for that moment about his loss.

‘My lord, your pardon please,’ she whispered back. ‘You have suffered your own loss and I have not offered my condolences.’

His eyes lost their merriment and he nodded. They entered the main hall and he escorted her to the table on the dais. Her father stood there waiting and nodded to both of them. Caelan introduced her to the chieftains of the other branches of their Chattan Clan, some young, some old, but none appeared happy. When they reached their places, he waited for her to sit and then raised his cup.

‘To Arabella Cameron, soon my wife—’ Boisterous and bawdy cheers interrupted his words and he laughed. Then growing serious, he added, ‘And to the alliance our clans gain by this marriage.’

The hall erupted in cheering and clapping then, though some did not enter the frivolity. Some of the Mackintosh elders did not seem pleased...by her or the alliance.

When he said those words, she realised that her attempts to remain gracious during that earlier visit were completely missing now. And it was critical to both families that this marriage happen and this alliance be confirmed. There had been more outbreaks and skirmishes since her brother’s death and there would be more unless...

Unless she saw her duty through in good faith and humour.

Once the crowd calmed and Caelan sat beside her, she rose, cup in hand, and nodded at him.

‘To my lord, Caelan, The Mackintosh, soon to be my husband,’ she called out. She drank from the cup as they cheered and then raised it again. ‘To our alliance!’

Caelan stood then, took her hand in his and raised them. After a few moments, he lowered them and leaned closer. His intention clear, he did not pause. He kissed her, on the mouth, and though the action surprised her, the kiss was as expected.

Nice. Calm. Friendly.

She watched his eyes and closed hers for a moment before he ended it. The first true kiss between them and not a hint of the things the married women whispered about in it. For part of her, that was fine and good. Since Malcolm’s death, Arabella had been empty. She’d cried for days once they’d arrived home and through his burial for she felt as though part of her had died.

Then nothing. Empty.

Caelan waited for her to sit and then nodded at the servants to begin serving the meal. Since his uncle’s unexpected death two months ago, he had assumed the chieftain’s chair and inherited his titles and lands. Coming on the heels of... She could not keep her gaze from going to the other end of the table where Bro...he would have been seated.

The feelings she’d denied for months now began to bubble up within her then. Sorrow, loss, pain and hate pierced her heart and made her want to scream. Or run. Or both. Then Caelan reached over and covered her hand with his.

‘Hush now, Arabella,’ he whispered to only her. ‘I know how difficult it is to sit at this table in this hall. I must force myself every day to sit in my uncle’s chair and not to expect his entry into the hall. It will pass. For you and for me.’

Fighting back the tears, she nodded and he squeezed her hand once more before releasing it and turning back to speak with her father. Caelan was being kind in his understanding and she knew that she would do her duty and make this marriage work. She owed it to her father and to her brother who’d died because of her.

As they ate, she glanced around the hall. She noticed that not everyone was joining in the celebration. She searched for other Mackintoshes she might remember from the last time and could find none. What was his name? she thought as she looked for the man who’d ridden with them that one day to the clearing? Rob.

Arabella tried to be discreet while looking around. She realised that many people were not here. The hall, filled to the doorways and rear wall during previous feasts, stood half-empty this time. She knew that the number of Camerons was the same—well, but for one—so where were all the Mackintoshes?

‘I thought you would appreciate it if we kept the ceremony small. Considering...’ Caelan did not finish his words.

She sighed then. Their families had always had a history of pain and loss, caused by the other clan and visited on each other with severity and regularity. This was the way to end it. There would continue to be deaths and loss if she did not enter this marriage willingly. She’d been raised to this and not even grief would prevent her from bringing about peace between them.

‘I thank you for thinking of such concerns, Caelan,’ she said, nodding.

‘Are you anxious?’ he asked.

‘Aye,’ Arabella admitted to him. ‘But my aunt Gillie told me that it is customary for the bride to be a bit nervous the day before her wedding.’

She did not want him to think she was not willing to fulfil her part of this treaty. She would do her duty even as he did his, in the midst of sorrow and loss, but with a hope for peace between their families. So, in the long view of this situation, she was glad it was him she would marry. He was kind and polite and even caring towards her and she would do whatever she needed to do to make this a good marriage.

‘Ah, and so comes your aunt to claim you,’ he said, standing at her aunt’s approach to greet her. ‘Is it time then?’ he asked.

‘Aye, my lord,’ Aunt Gillie did her best curtsy before them. ‘You will see her on the morrow.’

‘Sleep well, Arabella. I will see you at the church.’

He leaned over and kissed her, on her mouth, much to the delight of those watching. They clamoured for more so he took her in his arms and kissed her again. Arabella tried to relax in his arms, knowing most of this was simply to demonstrate his willingness to accept her as his bride. He eased his embrace but held her close for a moment more before letting her go with her aunt.