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, sir,’ she said. ‘Even after my husband is given control over everything else I bring to this marriage, that horse is mine. Since you were interested in him, I thought offering him as stud would give you his offspring.’
Arabella knew her aunt and her father would be horrified, almost as much as Brodie was, to hear such words—or even the knowledge of such things—from her. She waited on his response.
He laughed.
Laughed. Raising his cup, he smiled and nodded to her.
‘Then I accept your gracious offer, my lady,’ he said. ‘And I know just the mare to choose for him.’
Watching his eyes change from surprised to curious and then to appreciation made her wonder if marrying a man like him would not be the terrible thing she’d thought it would be. Shocked that she could contemplate such a thing without the fear she’d felt for so long, she listened as he spoke on the topics Caelan never did—lands, farming, animals and more.
Now at a greater ease with him, Arabella wanted to ask him another question, one about the hand signals. Caelan’s arrival and interruption prevented that.
‘The music is starting, Arabella,’ he said. ‘I know my cousin cares not to dance, but that you favour it. So, may I?’ He held out his hand and waited for her to take it.
She did not. For the first time during her visit, her curiosity won over her need to be gracious. Smiling as always, she shook her head and did not take his hand.
‘My stomach is bit unsettled and I would like to wait before dancing,’ she said. ‘It must be the travelling and the excitement.’ When both cousins wore a similar frown at her words, she added, ‘Caelan, I am certain this will pass shortly and I will seek you out to accept your kind offer.’
‘Should I call your cousin or aunt?’ Brodie offered.
‘Nay. I just need to sit for a short time.’ She’d thought Caelan would be the one to offer such aid, so Brodie surprised her. Now, glancing at Caelan, she saw that he edged away from her and his usual pleasant expression had turned slightly grey.
‘Very well,’ he finally said. ‘I will wait over there.’ He pointed to a seat at the other end of the table. And then he walked to it quickly.
Such behaviour came as another surprise. She did not know what to say about it, but Brodie explained.
‘My cousin fears illness. He avoids being around those who are ailing or sick. He has since he was a child.’ A hint of amusement filled his words. He turned to her then, examining her face with that intense stare she’d seen before. ‘Truly, do you have need of assistance? One of your women? Our healer?’
Arabella could not resist a bit of mischief now, though he was being attentive and kind and, for once, not his irritating or insulting self. She looked up at him through lowered lashes and used her most feminine voice—the one that usually had any man she aimed it at doing her bidding.
‘There is something you could do,’ she whispered to him. Dropping her hand between them where no one else would see, she shaped her fingers into one of the gestures she’d witnessed. ‘You could tell me what this means?’
His gaze followed hers down to her hand and then came back up to stare at her. Then down once more as though he did not believe what he saw there.
‘I have my suspicions, but thought I would ask you since I saw you do it earlier.’ His gaze narrowed for a moment and then something that resembled respect filled it.
‘Do you think yourself clever, Lady Arabella?’
He reached down and eased her fingers out of the gesture. His hand was warm and strong and almost twice the size of hers, yet he did not use that size and strength against her. A shiver shook her at the thought of such a thing.
‘You are ill,’ he said, releasing her hand and turning to call someone. She grabbed his hand to stop him.
‘I am not ill. I only wished to ask you about those gestures. What are you signalling to the others?’ she asked.
‘Others?’ he asked in a rough tone. ‘What others?’