Stolen by the Highlander
Author
Terri Brisbin
Reads
17.0K
Chapters
1
Kidnap in the Highlands! The morn of her wedding, Arabella Cameron is filled with dread. But if marrying a man she doesn't love will end the feud between the Cameron and Mackintosh clans, she will do her duty. That is until outlaw Brodie Mackintosh arrives in her bedchamber and steals her away to the mountains! Brodie knows Arabella has every reason to hate him, but a forbidden kiss soon makes these sworn enemies question everything. And when Arabella's intended reclaims her, Brodie must fight with all his strength to make her his once more!
Epilogue
Six months later
‘You are kin.’
‘Not close enough for this,’ Rob said. Crossing his arms over his chest, he was the image of defiance and refusal.
‘Now you know how women feel,’ Arabella said with a laugh. She remembered her brother’s words saying he would be bought or sold just as she was being and laughed again at his disgruntled, insulted expression.
‘Margaret thinks it a good match,’ Brodie said with a shrug. Arabella liked that he relied on the women who’d helped him during his struggle and not just the elders and other men.
‘Make certain to promise enough cattle this time,’ she offered. It was a joke between them now. Whenever difficulties arose, horses and cattle were pledged.
‘I do not think you are taking this seriously, lady,’ Rob pointed out. ‘And neither of you are taking my objections seriously, either.’
‘Rob, it was your idea that I should be made chieftain, so you now must put up with the consequences.’
‘I offered you my loyalty. I offered you my service and my sword, Brodie,’ Rob said. ‘But I do not remember saying you could sell me to another clan.’
Brodie glanced at her and then walked to where she stood looking out the window of their chamber. Though she felt large and cumbersome, he never failed to touch her or place his hand on her growing belly to wait for movement beneath it. And she did not mind at all. Wrapped in his arms, she leaned her head back against him as the battle raged on between Brodie and his best friend.
The matter at hand was a betrothal being discussed by one of the clans newly allied with the Camerons and Mackintoshes. Being unmarried and a blood relative of the chieftain, Rob was the perfect man to be named. However, he was too busy enjoying his life, flitting from woman to woman, bed to bed.
‘I am not selling you,’ Brodie said. ‘I am asking you to go and meet the young woman. If you think you suit, then we will make an offer.’
‘’Tis not as though you will have to leave your home and move to hers. Your place here is secure,’ Arabella added.
‘Is it?’ Rob asked. Arabella left Brodie’s embrace and went to their friend. Touching his hand, she nodded.
‘Of that, have no worries. You kept him alive for me. For all those dark months. Your place here and in our hearts is safe. Always.’
‘Damn it to hell, Arabella!’ Rob cursed. ‘How am I supposed to refuse it now?’ He turned and strode out, still cursing under his breath as he left. They waited a whole minute before they burst out laughing.
‘Do you think it a good match, Brodie?’ she asked. ‘Is that what Margaret said?’ She’d not spoken to the woman about this possible marriage, waiting for Brodie to broach the topic with his friend first.
‘I did not ask her.’ When she stared at him, he laughed. ‘I only said that to confound him.’
‘You torment him so,’ she said. ‘Tell me true, is this good for him?’
‘I need someone I trust to make this alliance. I need kin. I need Rob.’ He’d taken to his duties and responsibilities quickly and she marvelled at the wisdom he showed in branching out their clan’s interests and connections.
‘After all his moaning and cursing, you know he will do it.’ She kissed him. ‘For his clan and for you.’
* * *
Many miles to the north and west, at the very edges of the Scottish Highlands, a young woman received that same news—of a possible betrothal to a Mackintosh—and was so unhappy about it that she ran away the very next morning...leaving her parents to face that Mackintosh when he arrived some weeks later.
* * * * *
