Laurel told herself to relax when Brodie smiled, but the other women’s presence put her nerves on edge. She nodded and slipped into her chamber, relieved to find Ina awaiting her. Laurel considered the gown Ina had selected, wishing she hadn’t worn her newly reconstructed gown so recently. She twisted her lips from side to side, knowing the king would announce their betrothal that night. While Ina chose one of Laurel’s more favorite gowns, it was rather subdued. Narrowing her eyes as she considered what hung in her armoire, Laurel’s lips twitched before she drew them in to keep from grinning. She crossed the chamber and flung open the doors, pulling out the one she desired.
Sensing her lady’s impatience, Ina worked quickly to lace Laurel into the dress she selected before her deft fingers created an intricate coiffure of braids and ribbons. When Ina finished, Laurel beamed at her maid. What Ina accomplished in a hurry impressed her.
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Ina. I don’t thank you nearly enough for all that you do for me. Please know that I appreciate it all,” Laurel said as she stooped to kiss the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“Och, ma lady, wheest. Ye’ll have me blubbering into ma hanky,” Ina chuckled. “Go to yer mon. He’s been pacing in yon passageway for at least the last half hour.”
“He has?” Laurel asked as she glanced at the door.
“Aye. Gave me a right fright, he did, when I came around the corner with the pitcher of warm water. Nearly sloshed the entire thing down the front of me.” Ina grinned. “I nearly forgot! The laird asked me to give ye this.” The maid moved to the window embrasure and lifted something Laurel hadn’t noticed. She sucked in a whistling breath when she recognized the swath of Campbell plaid. She took it from Ina and held it up to her face. She could smell a trace of Brodie’s scent on the wool. He’d worn his own breacan feile the entire time he’d been at court, which many Highlanders abandoned in favor of breeks and a doublet. Brodie would have draped the plaid she held over his shoulder if he opted for the Lowland attire. Instead, it now draped over Laurel’s. She moved to her jewelry box, a moment of regret that none of her jewels were real or fine enough to compliment the Campbell plaid, but she selected a brooch and clasped the sash as her waist on the opposite side from where it covered her shoulder.
“I wish ye happy, ma lady,” Ina said as she opened the door for Laurel.
“Laurie,” Brodie breathed as he turned to watch Laurel enter the passageway. She took his breath away. Her cream gown made her alabaster skin glow, while it made her hair shimmer like flames beside snow. She was the image of fire and ice, innocence and passion. The stitching along the top of her skirts just below her waist was exquisite. But it was his plaid resting over her heart that made him smile with happiness. She fingered the hem of the plaid with unease, and Brodie realized she wasn’t certain how to interpret his greeting. “You look beautiful. Thank you for wearing my colors.”
“Does it mean you’ve signed the contracts?” Laurel asked tentatively.
“Aye, Laurie. We are betrothed now.” Brodie watched to see if Laurel gave any sign of regret. What he spied was excitement and relief. “Are you happy, thistle?”
“I didn’t imagine I would be, at least not this much, but I am, Brodie. I really am,” Laurel admitted. “I wish I had something to give to you.”
“I don’t expect aught,” Brodie slid his arms around her, holding her in place. “And don’t think I said that because I believe you haven’t aught to give. I didn’t give you the plaid because I wanted aught in return. I gave it to you because I want you to ken I’m proud to call you my bride. I want you to ken I welcome you into my clan and my family.”
“Why are you so wonderful?”
“Och, we shall see how wonderful you think I am when you discover I snore. And when I track mud into your Great Hall,” Brodie grinned, then lowered his voice. “Or when I make love you in our bed throughout the night and well into the morn.”
Laurel’s cheeks blazed scarlet, but she didn’t shy away from Brodie. “When?”
“Three sennights. The time it takes to post the banns,” Brodie informed her.
“I thought you only intended to stay a fortnight. That would mean only a sennight longer. Don’t you need to return to Kilchurn?” Laurel bit her lower lip. “Are you going home then coming back to claim me?”
“Kilchurn needs its laird, but right now, I need to be here more,” Brodie answered.
“I shouldn’t be what keeps you from your duties, Brodie. That’s not a good impression to make with your people.”
“Laurie, I told you I wish to court you. I signed the contracts, but I was clear to King Robert and Monty that you may refuse me without penalty. We have three sennights. It’s not long, but I hope it is time enough for you to ken if you wish to come back to Kilchurn with me, whether it’s as my wife or a villager.”
“I already told ye, I canna live there as just another member of the village,” Laurel said as a lump formed in her throat. Her emotions pushed her burr back into her accent.
“And I dinna want ye to, but I will do what ye wish. If ye dinna wish to marry me, I willna leave ye here, and I willna let Monty take ye to Balnagown or somewhere ye’d be miserable.” Brodie’s brogue came back when he heard the familiar rolling sounds of Laurel’s Highland speech.
“Thank ye, mo dhìonadair,” Laurel said as she leaned into Brodie’s chest, and he drew her into his tight embrace.
“I will always be yer protector, thistle.” Brodie pressed his lips to Laurel’s in an achingly tender moment that was shattered by a slamming door. The word “strumpet” floated to them, but when Brodie and Laurel looked around, there were too many shocked faces to know who’d uttered the accusation. Laurel sighed before she glanced up at Brodie.
“Mayhap one of these days we’ll learn.”
“Keep kissing me like that, and the only thing I will learn is to find more ways to keep kissing ye.”
Fourteen
Laurel steeled herself for entering the Great Hall with Brodie. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been that morning when she’d spat on his boots in front of half the court. She’d insulted him and been more disrespectful than she had ever been on her worst day in the past. They’d argued in the stairwell, then kissed. They’d argued in her chamber, then kissed. They’d met with the king, and Laurel faced the most debilitating news she’d ever received. Rather than abandon her, Brodie had remained with her while she slept for several hours. Then they’d kissed.
Now she walked beside him as they approached the table where the Ross and Campbell men sat together. Laurel couldn’t help but overhear the whispers about Brodie being forced to marry her, that he’d only kissed her to silence her. She heard more than one man whisper suggestions about how to keep her from talking. She swallowed her rising gorge, forcing herself to breathe lest she cry or her cheeks go up in flames. Despite her fair complexion, she wasn’t prone to flushing.
Brodie adjusted their arms, so they held hands rather than Laurel’s arm looping through his. That set off another tsunami of gossip, but Brodie merely squeezed her hand. Monty and the other men rose when she approached the table, showing her deference that normally didn’t exist. She supposed it came from her soon-to-be position as Lady Campbell, assuming she did nothing to ruin her buddy relationship with Brodie. She tensed when King Robert and Queen Elizabeth entered the gathering hall, knowing the announcement was imminent. The queen seated herself, but the king remained standing.
“We toast today to the upcoming nuptials of Laird Brodie Campbell and Lady Laurel Ross. As of this afternoon, they are betrothed to wed within a moon. May they be blessed with a prosperous marriage,” King Robert cheered as he raised his chalice.
Laurel plastered a serene expression on her face. She hadn’t missed that King Robert hadn’t wished them a long or happy marriage, merely a prosperous one. She couldn’t imagine how that was possible since she was the pauper she’d feared. Before arriving at the eve
ning meal, Brodie and Laurel met with King Robert and Monty in the Privy Council chamber. She discovered her father included land along the coast in her dowry. Had it been on the western side of the country, it might have benefited Brodie. But on the east coast, there were few trading routes that would help his clan since they lived diagonally across the country. There was a paltry sum of coins and the wardrobe which Laurel currently owned. There were no household items, but her father’s mother bequeathed her a handful of jewels. The woman died after Laurel arrived at court, so she had no knowledge that she’d inherited them. Since nothing else would be sent from Balnagown, she didn’t hold her breath that the jewels would arrive.
Monty appeared shaken when he heard the king read her dowry, confusion flashing across his face more than once despite having read it himself earlier. Laurel watched him the entire time. She knew her brother’s expressions, so she knew he’d believed there was more. She’d wanted to tell him smugly, “I told you so,” but it would have gained her nothing, and she knew there would be little vindication in it. She wondered what their father told Monty before he departed. When the king finished reading the brief list, Laurel turned her gaze to Brodie, who’d been observing her. Shame washed over her. It had been one thing to know, in theory, that there was an insufficient dowry, but it was entirely another for her groom to hear it proven.
Brodie had leaned to whisper in Laurel’s ear, “I’ve told you I’m not marrying you for the dowry.”
“I ken. You’re marry me because the king is making you.”
“Laurie,” Brodie didn’t hide the exasperation from his voice. But he said no more, knowing Laurel struggled with the vast changes laid out before her. He would return home with a wife on his arm, but little else would change. Laurel faced meeting a new clan and a new home. She would once again have her world turned upside down. She would leave behind the life she knew, even if she didn’t like it. She would assume the duties of chatelaine for the first time in her life. And she would do all of that knowing her new clan would realize she brought little but the clothes on her back.
As they sat together in the Great Hall, Brodie slipped his hand onto Laurel’s leg, stopping it from bouncing with nervous energy. He encouraged her to eat by moving the most select cuts of meat onto her half of the trencher they now shared. But Laurel could do little but pick at it. Her stomach ached, and she felt people watching. Despite her feigned bravado, she feared she would be ill if she ate. The only time she relaxed was when she danced with Brodie and Donnan. She accepted two dances with Monty, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as she thought. Her brother was kind to her, not mentioning anything about that day or what was to come. Instead, he offered to take her riding the next day. She accepted, eager to escape the castle, even if only for an hour. Donnan told her off-color jokes, much as he had when they were younger. She couldn’t help but giggle at several, especially the one that involved a goose’s bill and a sheep’s back end. But it was the dances with Brodie that strengthened her resolve to muster through the coming weeks. He held her closer than propriety dictated. She supposed it was a combination of lust and his intention to prove to the crowd that he wished to be with Laurel. She didn’t question it, instead, drawing strength from his silent encouragement.
Laurel’s feet ached by the time the queen signaled the ladies-in-waiting may retire. Even though she sat with the men, the queen’s expectations still bound her. Brodie walked her to the door of the Great Hall, but Laurel declined his offer to escort her to her chamber. People had witnessed him on the ladies’ floor far too many times that day.
“Monty told me he offered to take you riding tomorrow,” Brodie said as they came to a stop before the stairs. “Is that what you would like?”
“I wish to escape the keep for as long as I can,” Laurel smiled ruefully, but then pulled her lips in and looked at the floor. Brodie sensed what she wished but was too afraid of his rejection to ask.
“May I join you?” Brodie asked. He wanted to cringe when his tone sounded needier than he intended, but he wished to spend the day with Laurel. He wanted to see her on horseback, free of the courtly trappings.
“Yes,” Laurel blurted. With a plan set for the morning, Laurel retired to her chamber. Despite the long nap, the day’s events exhausted her. She barely undressed before she collapsed into bed. Brodie considered finding his men and venturing out to a tavern, relishing several drams of whisky after the unpredictability of the day, but he decided to pass. He may have wanted the relaxing sensation whisky would bring, but he was in no mood to face anyone from court. He settled for a swig from his own flask before he fell into a sound sleep.
Fifteen
Monty and Donnan nursed their mugs of ale at the Fox and Hound. Neither felt talkative after Monty relayed the day’s events. Discovering Laurel’s scant dowry was a shock. He’d been certain her dowry was less than their sisters’, but he couldn’t conceive of how meager it was. He was certain his clan’s finances were strong enough to weather more generosity. But he considered how his mother bemoaned Laurel’s reputation, harping on her unmarried status. It only irritated his father, who grumbled that the money spent on her lodging at court would have been better spent on a dowry. But often, Monty wondered—even asked—why his father didn’t choose someone who wanted the dowry more than he cared about Laurel’s reputation or personality. It wouldn’t be the first arranged marriage where the couple couldn’t tolerate one another. He’d given up suggesting she come home to Balnagown. At first, he’d noticed interest in his father’s eyes. But it dulled over the years as his mother continued to complain about her daughters who moved away and the one who was a failure.
As the two men sat mulling over life in silence, Monty wondered if his mother had more influence than he realized. He considered whether she could be the reason for Laurel’s mockery of a dowry. While it might have sufficed for a lesser laird’s daughter or a chieftain’s, it was insulting for an earl’s child.
“Do you think your father made that hideous ultimatum to actually force Laurel home?” Donnan spoke up.
Monty considered Donnan’s question, replaying various conversations with Laird Ross and then factoring in what he now suspected about Lady Ross. “He might have. He wouldn’t be asking her to come back, but he would be duty bound to accept her. It would put the shame on Laurel’s shoulders, but it would bring her home. It would likely give him a reprieve from Mother’s nagging.”
“Does no one realize how similar Laurel and Lady Ross are?” Donnan mused. “For quite different reasons, mind you. But the outcome is the same. They’re both harpies.” Donnan had no love lost for Lady Ross, but he rarely spoke against his lover’s mother.
“I think that’s why Father hasn’t wanted her to come home enough to make it happen. I think he fears having them both under the same roof.”
“Doesn’t he remember how she used to be? Does he believe it’s impossible that she might sweeten if she were away from a place she loathes and people she detests?”
“I’ve suggested as much, but I don’t think he does. I think he believes she’s unredeemable,” Monty confessed.
“What do you think? You know my opinion.”
“I believe she is. I think that’s what Brodie sees in her. Despite their scene this morning, have you not noticed how she’s calmer when she’s with him? I mean, she’s still a spitfire—her glares threatened to make me go up in flames—but she’s not as on edge, as defensive as she used to be.”
“I noticed at the evening meal,” Donnan shared. “I even sensed it while we danced. She’s always grinned at my jokes when we’ve danced in the past, but this eve, she fully laughed—even giggled. She’d danced with Brodie the set before each of ours.”
“He said he liked a challenge. Mayhap his goal isn’t so much to tame her as it is to enjoy her fire.”
“From how you described her face when you discovered him in her chamber, I would assume he’s enjoyed it already,” Donnan grinned, and Monty grimaced. The
door to the inn swung open, and a rowdy group of courtiers entered. Both Donnan and Monty groaned. “Why are they choosing respectable places? I can think of three taverns they’re better suited to.”
“They can’t afford the whores there,” Monty muttered. The couple lowered their heads, hoping not to draw attention to themselves, but Monty’s hair was unmistakable.
“Ross!” Andrew MacFarlane, Lady Catherine’s cousin, bellowed. The man swiped a mug from a passing serving wench’s tray and dropped a coin down her cleavage with a wink. He and half a dozen men made their way to Monty and Donnan’s table. Monty flashed Donnan a wary gaze before they smiled at the newcomers. Monty recognized only half. “I’d introduce you to Montgomery Ross and his second, Donnan Ross,” Andrew chirped.
“Good eve, I’m Seamus Mackenzie. I represent my laird at court,” a blond man nodded.
“I’m Stephen MacBain,” the man who sat down beside Daniel said.
“Matthew MacDougall,” the last unfamiliar man grunted at Monty. “Nelson’s brother.”
“Speaking of the arse,” Andrew turned to Matthew. “Where is he?”
“The Merry Widow as far as I know. With bluidy Oliphant up his arse. Likely buggering him.”
Monty and Donnan knew better than to look at one another, but their grips tightened on their mugs. “Gunn, Mackay, MacKinnon,” Monty greeted the three he knew. He was indirectly related to the Mackay representative through marriage. He was on friendly terms with him since he was Laird Tristan Mackay’s cousin.
“What brings you here?” Magnus Mackay asked.
“The lack of a crowd,” Monty said pointedly, to which Andrew guffawed.
“More likely escaping your wee sister. I was surprised she wasn’t breathing fire at you. She’s a dragon if ever there was one,” Andrew laughed.
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 12