“Laird Gunn.” Laurel was eager to find Brodie. “MacBain.”
“What are you doing alone, Lady Campbell?” Stephen looked over her head.
“I became separated from my guards, but I’m on my way to the farrier where my husband awaits. Good day.”
“We will walk you there.” Edgar’s tone was adamant, and his expression matched it. Laurel didn’t want to make a scene, but she intended to do just as Michael had—slip away in the crowd. She would find her own way to the farrier’s or return to the inn and await Brodie there. But her intentions slipped away when Edgar pulled her arm around his. “I wouldn’t want you to get separated from us either.”
Laurel glanced at Stephen, who studiously avoided looking at her once they began walking. Edgar steered them from where Laurel thought she saw Michael headed. In the short time she’d stood talking to the two men, more people arrived at the market. It dawned on Laurel that this might be the only market in several miles. What appeared like a sleepy hamlet when they arrived was now a bustling village with vendors calling out and pushing their way in front of passersby. Forced toward the water when a herd of cattle blocked the way, Laurel strained to pull free of Edgar’s grip. He released her so suddenly that she stumbled. Catching herself before she fell, Laurel tried to walk against the tide of people headed to the ferry. They pushed her along as she fought to make her way free. When the crush of people arrived at the dock, Laurel couldn’t fathom how so many could fit on the boat without it capsizing or sinking.
“I have no coin,” Laurel said to the ferry master. “I don’t intend to board.”
“I’m paying for her.” Laurel’s head whipped around when she heard Nelson MacDougall. Her heart raced as she looked at him and his brother. Stephen was already aboard, and a shove from behind with a snicker told her Edgar intended to make her get on the boat. She tried harder to break free, but the crowd and Edgar were too much to fight against. She found herself caught in the center of the two MacDougall brothers, Stephen MacBain, Andrew MacFarlane, and Liam Oliphant. Despite being tall for a woman, the five Highlanders hid her from view.
“You’re allies,” she hissed at Andrew.
“But we’re not allies with the Rosses.” With that, Andrew crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. She glanced at Liam and knew she would be at their mercy until Brodie found her, or they killed her. She’d burned every bridge, so she had no way off the ferry.
Twenty-Three
“What do you mean you lost her?” Brodie roared as Michael stood before him. The younger man didn’t cower; he didn’t even look remorseful.
“She wandered off, ma laird.”
“There is no wandering off when you’re her detail. You go where she goes.”
“Some bright little bauble likely caught her eye. She’s probably spending yer coin on a new hair ribbon or to get more expensive fabric that she likes.”
“Shut yer gob afore I knock every bluidy tooth from yer flapping gums. Dinna think I will forgive and forget because I dinna deal with ye now. Once Lady Campbell is with us, I shall beat ye within a hair’s breadth of yer life.” Brodie shoved Michael away, furious at the news that Laurel wasn’t with them. But he trusted she could manage the market on her own. It was Michael’s flippancy that angered him. He’d known the man since Michael was a child and had never liked him. But Michael entered the lists because his father and uncles were warriors for Brodie’s father. There was little thought given whether he would remain among Brodie’s forces when Brodie inherited the lairdship. But now Brodie wondered if he’d erred in assuming Michael would mature. He’d brought him on the journey to give him that opportunity. Not only had the man disappointed him, Brodie no longer trusted him.
“Lead the way,” Graham barked as he shoved Michael’s shoulder from behind. Brodie ordered one man to remain behind with the horses, then followed Michael and Wallace, the other man he’d tasked with Laurel’s safety. They worked their way through the market, but Brodie couldn’t spot Laurel, and his two derelict guards were no help. Brodie grew alarmed when he realized how busy the market had grown as they moved toward the waterfront. He scanned the crowd, praying he would spy a head of reddish-blonde locks, but he found nothing.
“Naught but trouble.” Brodie heard the grumble from one of his men. The man muttered it under his breath, so Brodie couldn’t tell who said it.
“Should have kenned. Michael’s likely right. She’s gotten herself lost after buying some do-dad or another. Ay up!” Brodie looked back to find Graham’s hand moving away from Walter’s head. The man was Wallace’s uncle. Brodie wondered what else his men thought. He’d believed they’d accepted Laurel after spending so many hours with her, but now he feared they’d already closed their minds to her despite the kindness she’d shown them on their wedding day.
“She’s still your lady,” Graham snapped.
“Pair up and ask around. We meet here in twenty minutes,” Brodie ordered. He looked at Graham, but his second looked as perplexed as he felt. “Where could she have gone? Laurel would not wonder off. If she wanted something from the market, she would have told me. If she was upset aboot something she would have most definitely told me.”
“I ken, Brodie,” Graham kept his voice low, abandoning formality. “Something is very wrong with this.”
“Do you think she went back to the tavern?”
“That would be my guess.”
The pair turned toward where they’d had lunch, struggling to make their way along the busy lanes. When the tavern keeper told them what he’d heard, Brodie was certain he would tear Michael apart. He’d never sent a message that he was ready for Laurel to join him. One horse needed a new shoe, so they would have been delayed an hour. He wanted Laurel to rest for as long as she could. Between their lack of sleep as newlyweds and the rigors of traveling on horseback, Brodie knew the journey exhausted her.
“I need to find her. Then I will kill Michael and Wallace. Whatever’s befallen my wife, they were a part of it.”
“But why?” Graham looked as baffled as Brodie felt—when his anger wasn’t about to boil over.
“You heard what they said. They think she’s frivolous and selfish. They know aboot the wagers and aboot me compromising Laurel. Do you think they believe I didn’t marry her by choice?”
“That’s my thought. If they think she trapped you, they might think you don’t want to be married. How far do you think they would go to free you, so to speak?
“They’re men trained to fight and kill. I wouldn’t put aught past them,” Brodie growled. Then shook his head. “Nay. They may not like her, but not every one of them is dishonorable. I don’t think it involves all of them.”
“I pray that’s the case, or we have another disaster on our hands.”
“Aye. Treason.”
Graham watched the resolve settle across Brodie’s features, and he caught himself shivering. He didn’t expect Michael or Wallace to return to Kilchurn with them, but he wondered what fate awaited anyone else involved. He couldn’t be the only one to see his laird loved his lady. They returned to where they left the men. Each pair reported the same thing: they hadn’t seen Laurel, and neither had anyone they asked. Brodie noticed a shift in the men’s demeanor. Most looked worried, and a few ever looked fearful.
“Laird?” Brodie looked at Walter, who shifted nervously before looking at Wallace. “Ma nephew or Michael must have led Lady Campbell to someone. If they’d just left her alone, one of us would have found her.”
Michael glared mutinously, but Wallace looked conflicted. “If you ken aught, Wallace, speak up,” Walter pleaded. “Think what will happen when yer ma and da learn ye were a part of this. Yer da will nae forgive ye.”
“Aye, so what’s the point in speaking up?” Michael snapped. “He doesnae ken aught, anyway.”
Brodie stepped in front of Michael. “As much I wish to kill you where you stand, I won’t until you tell me who you handed Lady Campbell over to.” Michael looked
unimpressed. “I said I wouldn’t kill you. I didn’t say I wouldn’t torture you.”
“Laird!” Graham ran toward Brodie, who hadn’t seen Graham walk to the ferry landing. “The dockmaster saw Lady Campbell board on the arm of a mon. He said she tried to get out of the crowd, telling him she had no coin to pay her fare, but another mon already on board said he would pay. He said she looked surprised but didn’t try to get away. But he also admitted that they were already underway, and a group of men in different plaids surrounded her.”
“Lamonts?” Brodie demanded.
“Nay, but two MacDougalls.”
“Bluidy fucking hell. Nelson and Matthew.” Brodie plowed his fist into Michael’s face. “Why?”
“What does it matter? Ye’re free of the bitch now.”
“What did you call my wife?” Brodie’s deadly quiet voice made the others take a step back.
“Ye heard me,” Michael smirked, and with added sarcasm, “ma laird.”
“Och, I shall enjoy making your death the slowest, most painful torture I can imagine.” Brodie looked at Graham. “When’s the next ferry?”
“Not until tomorrow morn,” Graham said.
“Then we ride. Bind and gag him.” Brodie didn’t look back as he marched to the stables. He trusted his men would follow his orders. He’d seen how aghast they were when they learned other Highlanders had taken Laurel and heard Michael’s death wish. They were mounted and riding along Loch Earn’s coast within a quarter hour.
Twenty-Four
Laurel drew the Campbell plaid she wore as an arisaid over her hair. She looked over the side of the ferry into the depths of the deep blue water. It was clear the loch was a deep body of water. While she’d learned to swim in the North Sea, she’d done so in a chemise that she would tuck into the neckline. She would sink with the layers of velvet and wool she wore now. She wouldn’t free herself. She would drown herself. She would go from little likelihood of seeing Brodie again to no likelihood.
“He must have noticed,” Nelson laughed. “Probably thinks she ran off.”
“You don’t think Michael will cave?” Stephen asked. He’d been the only one to handle her kindly. He’d ensured the waves didn’t knock Laurel off her feet until she found a spot where she could huddle against the wind and fear.
“He’ll die before he tells,” Matthew grinned. “He’s been tupping our cousin for years. She’s borne him two bastards. The poor sod’s in love with her.”
“Don’t you think Campbell loves her?” Stephen pressed. “You saw him at their wedding. He was eager to be there. He didn’t look like a mon trapped.”
“Hurried to get it over with,” Edgar chuckled. “Mayhap we’ll discover if she’s as good as the Campbell makes it seem. Spread your legs for us, will you, lass?”
Laurel didn’t look in his direction as her stomach tightened into a knot yet again. She watched Stephen shift his weight, so he hid her from Edgar’s sight. He made it look like the roll and pitch of the ferry caused him to move to remain on his feet. Laurel couldn’t understand why Stephen was shielding her from anything if he was part of her kidnapping.
“The more I think on it, the more I think we’ve underestimated the mon’s feelings. And even if he doesn’t love her, he’ll still search for her. He’ll demand justice,” Stephen insisted.
“Like he did for the MacMillan chit? He gave that up as soon as the wind changed, and he got a whiff of her.” Liam jutted his chin in Laurel’s direction. “He’ll be glad to have her off his hands. He’ll move on.”
We’re married, not handfasted. The only way Brodie could move on without being a bigamist is if they kill me.
“What’re we going to do with her?” Andrew finally broke his silence after two hours of watching and listening. Laurel hadn’t perceived a moment of remorse or doubt from Andrew. He’d simply remained quiet and alert. “Whatever it is, my name can’t be linked. The MacFarlanes are allied with the Campbells.”
“Then mayhap you should have considered that before you wagered against your friend,” Nelson snapped.
“I thought you intended to return her to court or to her clan. I didn’t think you intended to kill her,” Andrew insisted.
“Did I ever say that?” Nelson narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t have to. But none of us are fools. There can be no annulment, so the only way for Campbell to marry again is if he’s a widower. That mean she’s,” Andrew pointed at Laurel, “got to die.”
“Cheaper than losing the wagers. I wagered it wouldn’t last a sennight. They married four days ago.” Liam patted his sporran.
“But they handfasted nearly a fortnight ago,” Stephen pointed out.
“Nay one is counting that.” Nelson waved away Stephen’s comment.
“But if he’d intended to set her aside, that would have been when he would do it,” Stephen insisted. “He wouldn’t have shown up at his wedding looking like he’d just walked off the battlefield if he hadn’t been in a hurry to reach her, to get to their wedding.”
“You sound like you’re having second thoughts,” Liam accused. “You don’t have to be involved.”
Stephen looked at the men standing before him. He didn’t dare look back at Laurel. If he wasn’t careful, they’d both wind up dead. “Just not looking a for clan war. I told you that already.”
“What’s done is done. She’s with us now, and we each wagered less than a moon. Those who wagered he wouldn’t show up have already lost, and those who wagered longer than a moon lost as well. We keep the kitty and split it among us, Matthew and I being closest to the date get the bigger shares.” Nelson looked at the barge tethered to the stern of the ferry. It carried the livestock, including the men’s horses. “We’ll be on shore in an hour. They won’t catch us even if they figure out how we traveled. Don’t buy trouble, MacBain. You’ll earn your portion if you just go along to get along.”
The men fell silent, and Laurel let herself doze. She felt fairly safe among the passengers, so she capitalized on the chance to sleep. She wouldn’t let herself sleep when she was alone with the men, so she needed what rest she could catch. But the ferry’s sudden lurch jolted Laurel awake. She looked around and realized they’d reached their destination, and people were disembarking. She struggled to her feet before falling into step behind Nelson and Matthew. She’d had time to consider why Nelson watched her so often while Brody was away. He’d been plotting all along. She even wondered if he had something to do with the MacDougall and Lamont attacks on the Campbells that drew Brodie away.
The more Laurel thought about it, the more she wondered if Nelson had hoped to get her separated and alone while Brodie was gone. He’d trailed her more than once, so she’d been more cautious. She’d stayed with the ladies or asked her guards to accompany her, even when she moved about the keep. She hadn’t shared her fears with the Ross warriors, but she’d sensed they perceived a lurking threat too. She knew she’d chosen wisely to remain in her chamber as much as she could. Now she was on her own with no one to protect her but herself. However, she knew her usual tactics to keep people at a distance wouldn’t work now. Using her viperous tongue was more likely to get her assaulted, then killed. She would watch and bide her time.
“Up you go, my lady,” Nelson said as he grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of him. He didn’t wait for her to respond before he lifted her into a saddle and mounted behind her. She wanted to retch at the feel of his arms around her. He lowered his voice. “I shall enjoy this.”
Laurel kept her back ramrod straight as she attempted to maintain some distance between her body and Nelson’s, but he pulled her back hard. She was grateful his sporran rested between them because she suspected what she would have felt otherwise. They rode through the evening until darkness forced them to make camp. Matthew bound her wrists after she ate, but he didn’t bind her ankles or tie her to a tree. She could have gotten up, even tried to run. But she knew she wouldn’t outrun any of the men, especially if they were
on horseback. She didn’t want to die. She wanted her husband. She would wait until she could find a safer alternative.
When the sun rose, Matthew tossed a waterskin at her. She pulled the stopper and sniffed.
“Just drink it.” The barked command resulted in her casting a scathing glare at Matthew, but she put the waterskin to her lips. She was thirsty, and she doubted they would give her another chance to drink for several hours. She hesitated when the water had a bitter taste to it. She sniffed it, but there was no scent. “Drink it or go without. But don’t ask for aught if you don’t drink this first.”
Laurel closed one eye and looked down the neck of the waterskin, spying some sediment at the bottom. She assumed it was from the river they’d camped near. She prayed it wouldn’t make her ill. Using her teeth to strain the water, she kept whatever had settled at the bottom from entering her mouth, but the water still tasted off. When she finished, she handed the container back to Matthew. He watched her as she slipped behind a bush for a moment of privacy. With no more reason to dawdle, she joined the men and found herself in front of Nelson once more.
The sun wasn’t high in the sky, but Laurel was sweating profusely. Her stomach churned as she considered what she might have ingested. She no longer assumed what she’d tasted in the water was there when it was drawn from the river. She was convinced she’d been drugged. She felt light-headed, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Her lids were heavy, and she caught herself dozing off more than once. She thanked God for small mercies since Nelson left her alone, his hold around her waist light as he steered his horse with his other hand. Whatever tincture they added to the water, Laurel doubted any of the men knew how to brew it. Someone—some woman, more likely—brewed a tea or made a tincture that Matthew or one of the others later added to the water. They wanted her to sleep, but she couldn’t understand why she was sweating so horribly.
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 19