“But, Laurel, ye canna say aught,” Monty pressed.
“Who would I tell? I dinna want either of ye stoned or burned or run through. Monty, I like ye most of the time, but I like Donnan all the time. I’d rather neither of ye die,” Laurel said philosophically. Both men gawked at her, their initial panic over.
“Do ye think anyone else kens?” Donnan asked.
“Nay. At least nae that I ken. But ye’re bluidy lucky I convinced Andrew and Alex nae to ride out with me. Ye canna be doing this so close to the keep. Canna ye go on patrol together?”
Donna and Monty looked at one another again, both releasing deep sighs. Monty pulled his sister into his embrace and kissed her crown. “Can ye truly keep this a secret, Laurel? Can ye truly be all right with this?”
Laurel pulled away from Monty and smiled. “I dinna understand it, and I dinna want to ken how it—” Laurel pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Works. But I told ye, I’m glad that ye’re happy. If it’s with Donnan, then that must be what God planned.”
“Most would say we are unnatural,” Donnan mused quietly.
“And most are miserable with their husband or wife,” Laurel countered. “But Monty, what—what will ye do when ye must marry?”
Laurel watched as both men’s faces transformed into matching expressions of despondency. Monty shook his head and closed his eyes. “I have little choice that it will happen one day. But I shall wait as long as I can.”
“Just be careful,” Laurel warned.
Laurel inhaled deeply as she looked up from the food she’d been picking at while she remembered discovering the secret that could ruin her clan. It was a secret that she’d let slip once in a roundabout way. And it had been to the worst person possible: Madeline MacLeod. It had been the piece of information that Madeline suspended over Laurel’s head to coerce her into anything. Madeline threatened to expose Monty, so Laurel felt compelled to do whatever Madeline dictated. She’d never felt more relief than when Madeline’s brother, Laird Kieran MacLeod, dragged her out of the Great Hall while she spewed curses at him. When Kieran relegated Madeline to a priory known as the “island of old women,” Laurel had finally felt free. She and Madeline never mentioned Monty and Donnan’s secret during Madeline’s brief return to court that summer.
But as Laurel watched the two warriors, she wondered if anyone else suspected their relationship. They were still breathing, so she assumed they’d learned to be discreet at Balnagown. At court, if they were circumspect and perhaps added a woman into their liaison, few would speak out unless pressed. Still, Laurel could not help worrying about the couple.
“Which tavern are you off to this eve?” Laurel asked softly. She prayed her brother didn’t name The Merry Widow, the most notorious alehouse in Stirling, so named for all the women from court who conducted their dalliances there. It was also the one where Monty and Donnan would draw the most attention. Both men were charming and exceedingly handsome, making women flock to them. They avoided committing to any liaisons, often pretending to pass out drunk in the main room rather than retire to a chamber with a woman.
“The Crosspool Tavern,” Monty responded. Laurel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Monty named the most respectable inn within the town limits. It was a lively establishment, and while wenches were available to entertain men, they weren’t as aggressive as at The Merry Widow, The Picked Over Plum, and The Wolf and Sheep. Monty, Donnan, and the other Ross men could drink in peace. Those who sought company would find it, but when Monty and Donnan didn’t, no one would consider it odd.
“Would you care to join us?” Donnan asked with a grin. Just before Laurel left Balnagown for Stirling, the men discovered her in the stables consoling herself with a jug of whisky. They thought to teach her a lesson about the dangers of the potent uisge beatha, or water of life, but it had been Laurel who taught her brother and his lover a lesson. She’d been fall-down drunk by that night, but she’d also woken with a clear head and calm stomach, while Monty and Donnan could barely face the day well after the noon meal. The men also discovered she had a ribald sense of humor when intoxicated.
“I shall have to pass,” Laurel said with a pretend scowl.
“Then we shall have to have a round or ten on your behalf,” Monty chuckled.
“You do that, and I’ll look for you in the lists in the morn,” Laurel taunted. “Neither sword will be up for much.” Snickers from down the table told the trio that the other Ross warriors understood Laurel’s innuendo, even if they didn’t understand what it meant between Monty and Donnan.
“My wee sister has a devilish tongue,” Monty grinned.
“Only a fool makes the same mistake ten times over, and I believe you’re at nine,” Laurel said archly. “Then again, you can’t teach an auld dog new tricks.”
“I have a few tricks that serve me just fine.” Monty waggled his eyebrows, to which Laurel rolled her eyes.
“Aye, and they’re naught but tuppenny-ha’penny,” Laurel snorted. Monty’s scowl turned real as the other men howled with laughter. Donnan may have grinned to not stand out, but his eyes darted nervously between Monty and Laurel. She’d insulted Monty’s manhood, or at least what he could do with it, in front of a score of Ross warriors.
“You’d do well to learn a trick or two, sister. You might catch a husband,” Monty snarled. Laurel’s eyes narrowed, knowing she and her brother had both gone too far, but only Monty’s barb held truth.
“If it pays well,” Laurel mockingly shrugged. “Then neither you nor Father would need to spare me another coin. I could die of the clap before either of you have to pay a dowry.” The table sat in stunned silence as Laurel spoke in even tones, no hint of jest in her voice. She locked eyes with Monty and stared.
“That isn’t what I meant,” Monty muttered.
“Aye. You’d rather I capture a husband by crook or by hook to get a bride price for me. Either way, I wouldn’t be a Ross anymore. We all long for the day.” Glances darted back and forth between the siblings as the men at the table shifted uncomfortably. Laurel only spoke aloud what had been whispered about her, but it was entirely different for it to come from the lady herself. Laurel glanced down at her trencher and realized they’d made it to the third course before she wished Monty hadn’t arrived. They’d remained on civil terms longer than she expected.
“Mother and our sisters would never speak that way,” Monty glowered. “You’ve been at court too long. But I suppose when you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”
Laurel’s eyes widened as she stood from her seat, casting a glance at Donnan, who sat in shocked silence. “And yet you wish me to be a bitch in heat. There’s more than one way to make a scandal in this family,” Laurel warned.
“Laurel,” Monty rose too. But he was at a loss for words, since he could see his sister no longer threw out an empty threat. He realized, as he saw the depth of pain in Laurel’s eyes for the first time, that she hadn’t exaggerated how miserable she was at court. She’d been his favorite sister when they were growing up, but he’d scoffed at her bitterness when their parents forced her to live at court. He thought she’d accepted her life, since she’d mellowed over the past few years. But he saw now that Laurel was reaching a point of desperation, and he didn’t doubt she would cause a scandal to be sent away. And he suspected she would do it of such epic proportions that their family would never welcome her back at Balnagown either.
“Dinna fash, brother. I’m nay one’s problem but ma own,” Laurel said as she stepped over the bench. She moved toward the doors of the Great Hall, but a page stopped her.
“Lady Laurel, the king and queen request you join them in their antechamber,” the young boy informed Laurel.
“Now?” She glanced over the boy’s head to see the royal couple was no longer on the dais.
“Aye, my lady,” the page said before turning away. Laurel drew in a deep breath before making her way back across the Great Hall, having no choice but to pass her clansmen. Sh
e didn’t cast her eyes in their direction, and she ignored Monty as he called out to her.
“Where are you going?” Monty asked as he fell into step alongside her. “Your chamber is in the other direction.”
“I told ye, dinna fash, brother,” Laurel muttered.
“Laurel, please,” Monty begged.
“The king and queen have summoned me. Go away.”
“Both of them? Do they do that often?” Monty wondered.
“Do you fear this shall be the scandal? That I’ll insult our monarch? Or perhaps you think I should practice those tricks in a maynage?” Laurel snapped quietly. “One partner would be enough for me. I’m not the one who needs two.”
“That’s not fair,” Monty whispered.
“Welcome to life at court, Montgomery. None of it is fair. Go away,” Laurel ordered. But it was too late. They were already at the doors to the antechamber, and a guard opened it for them. The king and queen looked in their direction.
“Join us, Montgomery,” King Robert commanded. The siblings entered and showed their deference to the Bruce and Queen Elizabeth with a curtsy and bow. The tension crackled between them, but they were accustomed to hiding their thoughts and feelings. Their expressions appeared relaxed while neither felt that way.
“It is well timed that your brother attends court, Lady Laurel,” King Robert addressed her. “This shall save me sending a messenger. Lady Laurel, how long have you been in service to my wife?”
Laurel swallowed but kept her gaze upon the king. Queen Elizabeth knew exactly how long Laurel had been one of her ladies-in-waiting, as did the king. But he would force her to admit to her prolonged tenure.
“Eleven years, Your Majesty,” Laurel spoke clearly.
“That is how long Elizabeth Fraser was at court. Of course, she arrived as a child with her parents. Her service to the queen did not span that entire time,” King Robert mused. Laurel didn’t need the king’s observations to make her feel like a crone. “You are the queen’s most senior lady-in-waiting, Lady Laurel.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Laurel responded after there was a lull.
“I shall come to the point, Lady Laurel,” King Robert announced. “The time is overdue for you to marry. Your friends have wed, and yet you remain. I understand your unsubstantial dowry is part of the cause.” King Robert left unsaid what all four knew—Laurel’s temperament and reputation were the other cause. “None of the younger ladies may marry until you do.”
“Your Majesty?” Laurel glanced between King Robert and Queen Elizabeth. “I must marry, so the others might, too?”
“Aye. Yours will be the next wedding. Once you are married, the other ladies may move forward with their courtships,” Queen Elizabeth spoke up. Laurel felt as though the air that entered her nose lost its way to her lungs. Her heart thudded behind her breastbone and spots danced at the corners of her eyes.
“Who do you wish me to marry, Your Majesty?” Laurel struggled with each word.
“I do not have a groom chosen. Since Montgomery is here, I thought to leave the task to him,” King Robert said dismissively.
Queen Elizabeth stepped forward, concerned by Laurel’s wan pallor. Laurel’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. When the queen reached for Laurel’s hands, Laurel realized they’d gone ice cold. Just like the rest of her, just like her heart. They would marry her off in haste to a man desperate enough to take a bride who came with little investment. She wondered what manner of man he would be. Anger and fear waged a tug-of-war within her chest.
“I will ensure it is a mon who will treat you kindly, Laurel. It won’t be a mon who will abuse you or only look upon you to bear him sons,” Queen Elizabeth pledged quietly.
“Thank you,” Laurel mumbled.
“Perhaps you wish to retire,” Queen Elizabeth suggested.
“Yes, please, Your Grace,” Laurel whispered. She dipped into another low curtsy before backing away. She didn’t look at Monty before turning to the door, but she sensed he followed her again. Once they were in the passageway, Monty grasped her elbow and pulled her to a stop. She swung around, ready to bare her teeth, but when her older brother’s arms opened to her, she fell against his chest. She sobbed for every failed dream she’d had over the past decade, for every mistake she’d made along the way, and for the fear that consumed her.
“Laurel, I don’t take this duty lightly. I will do my best to find you an honorable mon to marry,” Monty said as he held his trembling sister. “If I can’t, then I will smuggle you away. I’ll take you wherever you wish to go, and I will make sure you are safe.”
“There’s nowhere to take me, Monty. The king decreed I will marry, so I shall. It matters not to whom, so find someone, and you can leave. Have done with it and return home to inform Mother and Father I am no longer their problem,” Laurel said as she pulled away.
“Why do you insist upon saying you’re our problem or that we don’t want you?” Monty demanded.
“I’ve been a lady-in-waiting for ten Christmases, Monty. Of those, I’ve been at Balnagown for two. Besides my guards and Ina, no Ross has ever been here for Christmas. When Father arrives here, it’s often days before he seeks me out. He refuses to do more than pay for my chamber and food. What does he think I wear after five years of no allowance? I haven’t been to Balnagown in three years, and then the last time was only for a fortnight when Sorcha died.” A fresh round of tears began when Laurel thought of the sister who’d been born between Monty and Laurel, who had died giving birth to a stillborn daughter. Laurel had returned to her clan for the impending birth and left in deep mourning.
“How do you have such fine clothes, Laurel?” Monty’s brow furrowed. “Are you doing what I suggested? Is that how you have fine clothes? If you’re not a maiden, you must tell me.”
Laurel jerked away from Monty and crossed her arms. “It’s far worse than that, Monty.” Her laugh was hollow as she watched her brother’s horror. “I’m in trade.”
“What?” Monty stammered.
“There are at least a dozen women in the Great Hall at this very moment wearing gowns I made. I’m a seamstress. I sell gowns that I make and embroider, so I have the coin to pay for all the ridiculous and unessential items I’m expected to have here. I wear the same gowns for years on end, changing the embroidery, ribbons, and embellishments. But they’re still the same pieces of material, taken apart and refashioned. Who do you think pays for the gifts I give my guards and Ina at Epiphany? Who do you think buys the extra mugs of whisky and ale for the men at Beltane? Who ensures Ina has clothes that aren’t threadbare after eleven years of service here? Who pays for my soaps? Who pays for the wool for my stockings or the linen for my chemises? My jewels? All paste. Before I realized I could sell the clothes I made, I sold my jewels.”
“But why didn’t you ask Father for more, explain to him why you needed an allowance?” Monty asked.
“You really must think I’m addlepated if you think I didn’t ask—beg—for at least what I needed for the others. I’ve asked through missives. I’ve asked when he’s been here. I’ve asked you to ask him!”
“But I didn’t know you were going without proper clothes. Are you making a gown to sell from that wool you bought today?” Monty wondered.
“No. I need that for myself. My sturdiest gown is wearing too thin for another winter. I have fur trim I’ve been saving that I can use to hide the wool’s flaws.”
“Why did you go to that vendor? Why not buy better quality?”
“Because I can’t afford better, Monty. Do you not understand? I sneaked out of the keep this afternoon and went back into town. I wear my oldest and plainest clothes and cover my hair and face with a veil when I go to sell my wares. I sold three yards of needlework and three gowns today. If I’m careful, the money will last until the new year. I won’t have to sell aught else, but I also can’t buy aught other than essentials. I must save most of it for Ina and the men.”
“Father pays your gua
rds and your maid,” Monty reminded her.
“And forces them to remain prisoner here. They are away from their families for all the holidays. The men have no chance to marry while they’re assigned to me. Ina has stayed out of pity. What Father pays the men won’t even shod a horse.”
“I didn’t know, Laurel.” Monty shook his head and put his hand over his heart when Laurel cast a loathing glare at him. “Truly.”
“You see the ledgers. You’ve been here enough times to understand what life is like here.”
“Aye. I have, to both. Father has been very frugal, but Laurel, there is a dowry for you. I promise. I don’t know why Father has refused your requests for essentials, but I know he has put aside the allowance he used to send. It’s part of the dowry.”
“If the dowry is so healthy, then why hasn’t he found me a husband? Why hasn’t he told me, so I might pursue a marriage in good conscience?” Laurel shook her head. “It matters not. You’re stuck with the Shrew of Stirling to marry off in the next fortnight, or however briefly you’re here. If anyone wanted me, they would have asked Father already.”
“Then what do you want to do, Laurel? Where do you want me to take you?”
“Where is there to go? A convent? I doubt Uncle Hamish and Aunt Amelia will swing the doors open wide for me after the way I treated Maude,” Laurel pointed out. Her aunt was her father’s sister, but the families hadn’t been close while the cousins grew up. And Laurel was already miserable and bitter when Maude and her sister Blair arrived at court. Laurel had begrudged the sisters their relationship and how often their father and their brother Lachlan visited. She’d been just as unkind as Madeline and Cairstine Grant had. But both Madeline and Cairstine had mended their ways and were happily married.
“Do you wish to be a nun?”
“Hardly,” Laurel snorted. She’d barely noticed that they’d started walking until they stood outside her chamber door. “I’m sorry this duty has fallen at your feet.”
“Laurel, stop.” Monty embraced her again. “I don’t begrudge the king’s decision that I find you a husband. I don’t appreciate being rushed, but I would like to see you settled and happy.”
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 3