Page 21 of Claiming His Highland Bride (A Highland Feuding #4)

A lan was not rash or ill tempered. He did not rush forward in a task without a plan, without a process. For this one, he took his time and thought long about how to first approach and then challenge his uncle. To run in and throw allegations in his face would end exactly as Alan had always feared it would—with his death and his parents disgraced and exiled.

So, to battle a man such as Gilbert Cameron he must be deliberate and prepared. He must have evidence and he must somehow make Gilbert confess his plan before witnesses. He had already tracked down enough of the story to ken the whole of it and Alan would reveal it bit by bit, goading Gilbert’s temper and waiting for him to play his part in his own downfall.

The most difficult thing would be not involving Sorcha—not by word or whisper. Her name must remain out of it or her safety would be threatened. Her life would be at risk. A thing he simply would not risk. For if he failed and left a trail to her, his uncle would destroy her as surely as he lived and breathed.

Brodie did not approach him or offer counsel during those days. He showed up in the yard when Alan was training and fought him with sword and staff and targe, teaching him without saying a word. Brodie moved in a different way in the training yard than most others Alan had observed over time. He had gained his knowledge through battle so Alan tried to absorb as much as he could.

For Gilbert Cameron had learned his skills in battle, too.

* * *

But it was Gilbert who gave him the perfect opportunity for his plan when he summoned Alan back to Achnacarry the next week. Clan business, the messenger said, which was the way Gilbert ensured Alan would not ignore his call. This time, though, Alan was pleased to be beckoned home. Pleased to finally take this step and claim his life as his own and free his clan from Gilbert’s treachery.

The messenger’s words gave a day and time of the gathering—four days hence—but Alan would not wait for his uncle to get his pieces and pawns in place and walk in to find himself the only one not ready for this game. He packed and left that night, bidding Brodie and Arabella a private farewell before he walked out of the keep alone, into the dark.

He kenned his uncle had spies there in Glenlui, probably as many as Brodie had at Achnacarry, so he made it appear as though he was going to the village when he left. No horse, no supplies, no weapons. Those waited for him at the cottage where he’d spent that glorious night with Sorcha. He would retrieve them under cover of night and be hours away by morn. That would give him the opportunity to examine and study Achnacarry and its approaches and to see more of Gilbert’s plan before walking into it.

It was part of him, this process of tracking. He’d begun when barely out of childhood for it gave him something to concentrate on during the dark days of the clan feud with the Mackintoshes. Then, it made him feel important and valued to the Camerons even while being a vital service to his uncle, the then chieftain Euan Cameron. Arabella’s father had led them through the last battles and seized the opportunity to seek a lasting peace and end to the mutual destruction of both families.

Once Alan’s reputation as a tracker was in place, he used those skills to take him far and wide, out of Cameron lands, even all the way to Edinburgh and the Lowlands. And though Gilbert had sent him out to help other chieftains or allies of his, it gave Alan a chance to be away from his uncle who was now in the chieftain’s seat at Achnacarry.

A chance to avoid watching his father be belittled and harassed by a younger brother unworthy of the position he held. A chance to ignore the thinly disguised contempt his uncle had for him. A chance to pretend his life was as he wanted it. Now, in spite of his father’s hesitation to act, for some reason known only to him, Alan would.

* * *

He arrived in the middle of the night two days before the time the messenger gave him and hid himself in the thick forest that surrounded the castle near Loch Arkaig. And he sat back and watched and waited to learn the true intent of Gilbert Cameron’s plan for him.

* * *

Sorcha stared at the note in her hand once more. Reading it for the first or for the twenty-fifth time made no difference to her understanding of it. It was not that she could not read its meaning, but rather that she could not believe the information there and what it meant.

He goes to our uncle.

The message came from Arabella, though the man did not say her name as he handed the small piece of folded parchment to her. Though Brodie had assured Sorcha that no one else but he kenned her location, she did not doubt for a moment that his wife could wheedle any secret she wanted out of him. Or discover it on her own.

The piece of parchment proved that. Sorcha thanked the man and asked him to wait for a reply. When he’d left, she collapsed into a chair and began to tremble.

Picking up the bad habit that Rob was known for, she whispered out the harshest words she could think of in the moment. Nothing close to what she’d heard uttered by that man or even Alan or Brodie, but it made her feel better for a short time. Glancing at the message again, she closed her eyes and tried to come up with a reply.

She had brought this about. She had caused Alan to go and confront his uncle about the plans the chieftain and her father had made. With no proof, he would be, at best, laughed out of his clan or, at worst, executed as a outlaw. Cold chills pierced her body and soul at the thought of his death.

Sorcha had been convinced that her leaving solved everything. She would disappear and no more thought would be given to the still-dead Lady Sorcha MacMillan. No one would link her to Alan or Brodie or think anything about the distant relation to the late Erca MacNeill who bought her way into the prayer community in the north-west of Skye.

Life would be as her mother had planned—she would be free of her father and his machinations and live out a quiet life. Of course, Erca MacNeill never dreamt that her daughter would meet a man along that path and fall in love with him. Erca never considered the many flaws in her plan, but then, her mother was sick and dying when she’d concocted this. Her only hope was to save her daughter from a life like the one she’d suffered through.

So, running away and walking away had not worked. People she loved and cared about were still in danger. The man she loved would face his own demise because of his desire to prevent his uncle from ruining another life and trading the security of his clan for his own aims.

Loyalty. Honour. Courage.

Sometimes she wanted to curse her mother for teaching her those values. For instilling in her the belief that those traits were just as important in a woman as in a man. For giving her the desire to live those qualities in memory of all her mother had sacrificed to see her free.

More so, she wanted to be a woman of loyalty and honour and courage.

Putting the note into the flame of the candle on the table, Sorcha watched it burn. Then she sought the leather satchel in the trunk and packed her clothing into it. Pulling open the chamber’s door, she waited for the man to approach.

‘I will take my answer back to the lady myself.’

He sputtered a bit, clearly unprepared for such a thing, but he did not argue it. The man must be used to serving Arabella Cameron for he did not try to dissuade her from her decision. Instead, he stepped back and directed her out of the cottage and to the yard where the horses were kept.

Within an hour of receiving the note, she was on the road south and back to Glenlui.

* * *

Two days later, she walked into the lady’s solar and curtsied to Arabella. Though the lady seemed to expect her arrival, the laird did not. Sorcha forced herself not to take a step back when he rose, growling his displeasure. It was not Sorcha’s name he spoke, but his wife’s.

‘Bella!’ he yelled out, as he faced her. ‘Why must you meddle in everything?’ Sorcha swore the costly glass panels in the windows of the chamber rattled at the intensity and fury of his voice.

Sorcha watched as a silent battle raged between these two strong people. Both of them loved the other without bounds and it made them even stronger together than separately. If he thought to convince her not to go to Alan by his behaviour with his wife, he would fail. For, in spite of the ear-shattering loudness of his words, she needed only to look at the love that was visible there between them to know her choice was the correct one.

‘She has the right to know what he’s doing, Brodie,’ Arabella said in a calm, soft voice that was the perfect counterpoint to his angry, boisterous one. ‘This is her battle, too.’ The bluster drained from him in an instant and he nodded, first to his wife and then to her.

‘I do not like you being involved. The worrying is not good for you or the bairn,’ he said as he reached out and took hold of her hand. As he kissed her there, Sorcha tried to ignore the whispered words of love and concern she could not help but hear.

‘The bairn will take hold or not, my love. ’Tis the Almighty’s plan, not yours nor mine,’ Arabella said in a resolute tone. ‘But He will find me lacking if I stood by and allowed our cousin to face his enemy without friends at his side and our love at his back.’

‘Must you make so much sense, Bella?’ he asked, clearly hating the answer he already kenned. ‘There is one thing, Wife.’ The chieftain who was used to commanding hundreds of men and loyal kith and kin faced a far stronger foe here than any of them presented. ‘You will remain here.’

Sorcha watched as Arabella struggled with this order from her husband. When she capitulated quickly, Sorcha understood the seriousness of her condition and the danger she faced. The lady feared for the bairn she was trying to carry.

‘Promise me you will stand by him, Brodie.’ It was not a question, but an order of her own that brooked no refusal. ‘No matter what.’

Brodie did not answer her demand directly, but did by dismissing Sorcha from the chamber.

‘We leave at first light,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘The servant will take you to a chamber and see to your needs.’

‘I will be ready, my lord,’ she said. Then she turned and left the two alone in their chamber as they wished to be.

* * *

The storms that greeted her at dawn somehow seemed appropriate. As they rode from Drumlui Keep, she watched the way the clouds swirled in greys and blues above their heads, promising rain and reminding her of Alan’s eyes.

* * *

Brodie waited for the young woman to leave before facing his beloved. He should have kenned what she would do. It was not the first time she’d overstepped and overrode his orders and he was as certain that it would not be the last time.

‘I wish you had told me, Bella,’ he said, pulling her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her. Things felt better, felt right, when he could feel her against him and listen to her breathing.

‘You would have warned me not to interfere and I would have interfered.’ He kissed her lovely mouth at the truth she told.

‘So you thought to skip those steps and get us right into the thick of it then?’

‘Sorcha has the right—’

‘Sorcha MacMillan is dead!’ he said sharply, releasing when Bella pushed against his hold. ‘’Twould be better for her to remain that way. For all concerned.’

‘You would let Alan face down that bastard without her?’ Bella asked, staring at him. ‘Come now, Brodie. You do not allow your men into battle without their weapons.’

‘Battle is the key here, my love. For more than the last ten years, there have been none between our families or in this area that we control. All of that will change when Alan accuses Gilbert of his crimes.’

‘Then you ken him to be guilty?’

‘Certainly he is that. I had suspicions of it long before that lady stepped foot into my village or hall. Gilbert has been dealing behind our backs since before he took the high seat. Indeed, even in how he took it over instead of Robert. But that does not mean this will not lead us back into the depths of the feud.’

She shuddered then and Brodie took her back into his embrace. Nuzzling her hair, he inhaled the scent of her and knew he would do whatever was necessary to keep her and their loved ones safe. Even if it included standing by a young man who had no idea what he was walking into and the young woman who loved him.

‘All will be well, Bella. I swear it to you.’

* * *

He did not leave her side until he slid silently and carefully from their bed the next morn. Brodie did not doubt that she was awake and aware he was leaving. But it was not her way to make a situation worse by speaking of dangers or more. They had faced everything together and he had no doubt there was more left for them to do.

Still, it did not lighten his spirits when he mounted his horse and saw her staring at him from their chamber. He nodded at her, confirming everything he’d said to her in that one gesture. He gathered the reins in one hand and motioned for their group of warriors and a woman to follow.

But he could not fight the need to take one more look at his wife as they rode through the gates.