Terri Brisbin - Stolen by the Highlander

‘Father, how did he die?’ she pleaded for an answer.

‘Murder.’

Chaos ensued his claim, shouting and yelling, men surging and being held back, insults delivered across the ever-shrinking chasm dividing the two clans there.

‘Who would murder Malcolm?’ she asked aloud, but no one was listening. The crowd shifted then and she noticed Brodie Mackintosh standing near the dais, covered in blood.

No. It could not be him.

Not him. He knew his duty. He was known for his honour.

She was beginning to like...

Arabella shook her head but when he met her gaze and regret filled his, she began to scream. Someone, someone strong, grabbed hold of her and held her in her seat until she stopped.

‘Euan, come and let us speak of this privately,’ The Mackintosh said.

She noticed her father did not refuse. The two chieftains strode into a small chamber off the corridor and the door slammed behind them. An uncomfortable silence descended over those left waiting, pierced only by the loud, arguing voices of the two men. With each curse that echoed out of the chamber, the tension grew.

She could not help but stare across at the man accused of killing her beloved brother. The realisation of his death struck her, making her sick to her stomach. Arabella began to retch. The hands on her shoulders released her and she fell to her knees, her empty stomach heaving again and again.

Her brother was dead. She’d sent him to his death.

She turned back to look on his body and then at the man who’d struck him down. Brodie’s face might as well have been carved from stone, for there was no emotion there now. Whatever regret she thought she’d seen was gone, replaced by that empty expression. The only movement she could detect was that of his jaws as he clenched his teeth shut.

Her heart hardened against him in that moment. She would find a way to avenge her brother’s death. Finally, her father and The Mackintosh returned. Now there would be justice for her brother’s death.

‘Did you kill the Cameron’s son, Brodie?’ the Mackintosh laird asked his nephew. Part of her wanted him to deny it. The part of her that was beginning to like this man wanted him to declare it a lie. She waited.

‘I...’ He shrugged and shook his head. ‘I do not know. I do not remember.’ Those gathered groaned and shouted at his words. How could he not remember taking her brother’s life?

‘There were witnesses?’ her father asked. The Mackintoshes parted and Caelan and another man walked forward. ‘What say you?’

‘We were across the fire from them, my lord,’ Caelan said. She could hear the resistance in Caelan’s voice—he did not want to be the one who accused his cousin.

‘What did you see?’ her father demanded once more, walking closer to them both. ‘I want the truth of this!’ he shouted.

The Mackintosh stood at his side and nodded at the two. It was clear to her that Caelan was trying to protect Brodie in this. She clenched her hands into fists, awaiting the telling of her brother’s last moments. The hall grew silent in anticipation, too.

‘We were all drinking,’ Caelan explained. ‘All of us. Brodie drank more than was usual for him.’

‘They seemed to be just talking, but then they began arguing,’ the other man said. ‘Over her, over Lady Arabella.’

She gasped as everyone turned to look at her and then Brodie. They had argued over her? Arabella met his gaze and could not hold it. Dear God, what had been said between them?

‘Why did no one intervene?’ The Mackintosh asked. ‘You all know how important the truce is. How violating it would not be tolerated and could result in further bloodshed.’ The other man looked at Caelan and back at his chieftain before saying anything.

‘It happened so quickly. We were all...’ He gestured as though trying to think of an explanation.

‘Drunk?’ her father offered. ‘Too drunk to use reason? Too drunk to stop yourself from killing my son for defending my daughter’s honour from insult?’ Her father charged Brodie then, only being caught and held back at the last moment.

‘Aye, too drunk to intervene, my lord,’ Caelan replied. ‘The daggers were drawn so quickly we did not see them at first, but then Malcolm fell.’

‘He was dead before we could get to him,’ the other whispered. The man looked as though he had more to say but her father interrupted before he could.

‘I want him executed.’

Complete silence met those stark words. No one moved or spoke or even whispered.

‘Euan, you agreed to settle this,’ The Mackintosh said softly.

Her father let out a breath and returned to where the Mackintosh chieftain yet stood. Would he order the execution of his nephew?

‘Aye, Lachlan, I did agree. Get to it then,’ her father said. What was this devil’s bargain? What about the negotiations already completed?

‘With witnesses that can speak of your guilt and with you not being able to refute their words, I find you are guilty of murder.’

A gasp went up, echoing through the hall. Whether the Mackintoshes believed him guilty or were shocked that his uncle declared him to be, she knew not. Next would come the...

‘I sentence you to be outlawed from this clan and our allies. From this day forward, you are no longer kith or kin to the Mackintoshes or any of the Chattan Confederation.’

A few shouts erupted from the crowd—even Caelan called out against this punishment. The pronouncement shocked even her but she listened to the rest of it.

‘You are no one. Your name is gone. Anyone who kills you does so with impunity and without fear of punishment or retribution. All ties of blood or marriage are torn asunder from this moment on.’ His uncle’s voice wavered then and Arabella found her throat and eyes burning with tears. For Brodie? For Malcolm? For them all? She knew not which.

She waited for him to argue, to plead for mercy or appeal in some way, but he did nothing. His face lost all its colour and other than a slight shake of his head, he remained wordless.

The Camerons there did not remain silent, the cheering began and spread through the warriors. They would have the chance to avenge their kinsman’s death with no repercussions at all. She could see the lust for it in their eyes. It would not take them long to hunt him down and hang him like the mad dog they thought he was. She shuddered.

‘You have two hours,’ the chieftain continued. ‘You leave with what you have on your back and nothing more.’

‘Uncle...’ Brodie finally spoke. When he would have said more, his uncle backhanded him across his face, sending him reeling back.

‘You are not of my family, so do not call me that again. Go. Now. And never return here.’

She wanted to scream. She wanted...something. None of this felt real. Surely someone would wake her from this nightmare and tell her it was the stuff of dreams. Glancing over at her dead brother, she had to accept it as it was.

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.