“We’re approaching the next fishing village, Milton Morenish. We’ll see if we can hire birlinns to take us across. We ride back toward Kinnell and then onto Kilchurn.”
“And if they cross too?” Laurel worried her bottom lip.
“It still puts us ahead of them and back in the right direction,” her brother reassured. “And in the right direction to find Brodie. He’ll be tracking you.”
Laurel nodded. She believed they would follow the route Monty described; she even prayed that they would find Brodie. But she was unconvinced that they would outwit Nelson MacDougall. He wanted her dead too much to have given up. She’d puzzled out the reason for her captivity during her brief moments of lucidity. The MacDougalls, nor any other rival clan for that matter, could afford the Campbells doubling their strength by allying with the Rosses. The Campbells were already more powerful than any singular clan in the Highlands. While Laurel and Monty weren’t close to their cousins, it didn’t negate that their father and the Earl of Sutherland were brothers-by-marriage, and the Earl of Sutherland was brothers-by-marriage to the Earl of Sinclair. Rarely did she think of the three men by their official titles because they were family. But no one else would underestimate the forces each man commanded. Should they call upon the tangled web of familial connections, the Campbells and Rosses would be unstoppable.
“I’m sending Martin back to Balnagown,” Monty said, naming their best rider. “Father needs to ken what’s happened. All of what’s happened.” Monty’s pointed look made Laurel purse her lips.
“Vera well. He’ll ken one way or another. Hopefully, he realizes patience is a virtue. His least favorite child has made the best match in the bunch.”
“Laurel,” Monty glanced over her head at Donnan as they continued to ride. “We don’t think it was Father’s doing so much as Mother’s insistence. She’s always been the first to insist on her title as the Countess of Ross. It’s always been obvious that’s the only reason she married Father. You going to court but not marrying aggravated Mother. We think she’s the one who refused to let you come home. She would have considered it her own failure. Father gave in to keep the peace.”
“He feared having two carping women was more than he could tolerate,” Laurel surmised. She’d long suspected the same, but it hadn’t mattered where the lack of parental support stemmed. Her father could have, and should have, done more for her.
“Aye. But he’d still our father. He won’t stand for what’s happened. Affection or not, his pride won’t allow such an affront.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Laurel muttered.
The fishing boats bobbing high in the water came into view, and the Rosses spurred their horses forward. When they arrived at the docks, Laurel remained with Donnan and the men while Monty negotiated their passage. She no longer felt comfortable around any of the men. The men who rotated through her detail were always civil to her because it was their duty. But she knew none of them liked her. As a direct link to the life she lost, her bitterness kept her from being kind to them for years. It was only the men who’d been assigned to her over the past five years who had seen a softer side to her, who had received thoughtful gifts rather than perfunctory ones at Hogmanay and Epiphany. As she sat upon Monty’s horse, she knew none—not even the men who had served her at Stirling—were happy about the delay she caused. They wished to be at Balnagown, not chasing across the Highlands to return a wayward bride to her addlepated husband. She’d heard their grumbles while they waited.
“I paid extra to ensure they don’t give passage to the others once they discover we’ve crossed over.” Monty said as he reached for his horse’s bridle and led them to the birlinns. “We’ll be across in less than a half hour.”
It was Laurel’s second boat ride, but at least this time she didn’t fear winding up in the water and dying. Besides the handful of fishermen on the two birlinns, there was no one else in sight. She preferred it that way.
Twenty-Six
“Riders approaching from the hill, my laird,” Graham called out. Brodie had spotted them too. Whoever they were, they were galloping toward the Campbells and had clearly already caught sight of them from the higher elevation. It was too late for the Campbells to move off the road to avoid whoever approached. Instead, the men drew their weapons and prepared to stand their ground.
“Brodie! Brodie!”
Brodie heard the voice at the same moment he recognized the two heads of flame-orange hair racing toward him. He spurred his horse, sword still in hand. When he drew close enough to see Monty and Donnan’s smiles, he didn’t fear an attack. He sheathed his sword as his horse came abreast Monty’s. Laurel launched herself into his arms and nearly slipped between the horses. Brodie caught her, and Monty untangled her skirts. He crushed her against his chest, and she collapsed into his embrace.
“Laurie,” Brodie’s voice rasped. They turned their faces to one another, their elated expressions matching before they came together in a passionate kiss. The rest of the world—their witnesses and their woes—ceased to exist for the couple. Their lips mashed together as their tongues tangled. Need and fear melded into joy and relief. It made for a conflagration of emotions. Those who watched could never deny that the couple’s feelings were mutual, and there was no hesitation on either’s part.
As their kisses calmed and became shorter and less intense, Laurel allowed herself to believe she was truly reunited with her husband. Brodie had never experienced a feeling more consuming than the power of having Laurel in his arms once more. While he never could have imagined it, it surpassed even their most tender or their wildest lovemaking. They rested their foreheads together as Brodie stroked Laurel’s hair back from her face and shoulders. She wrapped one arm around his waist and the cool fingers of her other hand pressed against his neck.
“I will always come for you, thistle,” Brodie whispered.
“I ken, bear. I didn’t doubt that.”
“I can’t express how sorry I am that my men—that I—failed you.”
Laurel pulled back, her brow furrowed. She glanced at the Campbells; her face morphing into a visage of pure hatred as her gaze fell on Michael. “You are alive and breathe this very moment because my husband has me in his arms, you stinking pile of dung. If my husband doesn’t kill you, I will find you while you sleep. I will geld you and send your wee, shriveled bollocks to that MacDougall bitch you’ve been tupping for years. Then I will have you hanged from the gallows, so all may see how the Shrew of Stirling had you by the cods. Believe you me, my reputation doesn’t even touch on how merciless I can be. You’ve plotted against your laird, my husband. I will see you dead for that. You, I will never forgive.”
“What’re you talking aboot?” Brodie asked as he looked between Laurel and Michael. He’d been unable to reason why Michael betrayed him. Michael’s mutinous demeanor had gone far beyond claiming he’d led Laurel astray for Brodie’s or the clan’s sake.
“He’s in bed with the MacDougalls. Literally. He’s been bedding Nelson and Matthew’s cousin for years. He has two bastards with the woman. The MacDougalls don’t want an alliance between the Campbells and Rosses. With me out of the way, there would be no ties to bind you. How Michael came to be involved with the woman, I don’t ken. But he’s obviously been disloyal for years. Lord only knows what he’s told them during that time.”
Brodie signaled to the man riding beside Michael, who’d been tied to his saddle. The man removed Michael’s gag, and the traitor spat in Laurel and Brodie’s direction. Laurel cocked an eyebrow at him. With Brodie cocooning her, she didn’t fear Michael any longer. She wouldn’t cower as he returned her loathing. She hadn’t exaggerated the malice she felt toward the conniving guard.
“Have you aught to say?” Brodie demanded.
“Ye are a fool, and every mon here kens it. It’s nae ma bollocks that’ll go missing. Hellfire, she’s already taken yers. Ye’re weak. Ye’re nae fit to lead our clan. I’ve hated ye since I was auld enough to swing a sword
. Smug bastard, just because ye were the laird’s son and tánaiste. Ye’ve always been a fool. Do ye ken how I know? Because ye never once figured out that I was the once who told the MacDougalls the route ye were taking with the MacMillan bitch. They told the Lamonts.”
“You caused the most recent raids,” Graham accused.
“Ye mean the ones that drew our laird away from his slut. But ye should ken that the most recent ones are happening while the great Laird Brodie Campbell chases after a quim.”
Laurel looked at Brodie, and everything fell into place. “While you were gone, Nelson was always watching me. He hoped to get me alone, either to kill me or abduct me. He knew you’d look for me as soon as you knew I was gone. It would have kept you away even longer. When he couldn’t do that, he had to get me away from you once we set off. This was all a distraction.”
“So were the wagers. I don’t doubt he hoped you would humiliate me, and that I would fail to earn your hand. When he realized that he would lose a small fortune, he couldn’t let it go.”
“He changed the wagers.” Laurel looked at Monty, then back to Brodie. “He wagered against how long we would remain married. You found us by accident. He likely intended to kill both of us, hoping it would cause conflict between the Campbells and Rosses. He couldn’t stand the idea that our clans would ally.
“He claimed that while the MacDougalls and Campbells might be feuding, he didn’t dislike you.” Andrew MacFarlane walked out of the trees, leading his horse’s bridle. “He claimed you would regret your decision, and that you deserved your freedom.”
“You were in on it!” Laurel pointed an accusing finger at Andrew. “You knew he intended to kill me.”
Campbells surrounded Andrew, but MacFarlane men and MacBains emerged from the woods. The MacFarlanes and MacBains rivaled the Campbells and Rosses in numbers.
“I bet far too much on your courtship failing and then your marriage being a disaster. I believed we were taking Lady Campbell back to court or Balnagown. It wasn’t until after we had her that I realized the MacDougalls wouldn’t settle for that. I should have known, and I’m a fool not to. You married, ending your handfast. There could be no repudiation or annulment. The only way to sever the Campbell and Ross alliance was to make Brodie a widower.”
“MacFarlane and I led our men from camp last night,” Stephen said as he stepped forward.
“Last night?” Laurel said in confusion. “You rode with us this morning. I’m sure of it.”
“Laurel, you slept through all of yesterday and half of today,” Monty said quietly. She turned a confused mien to Monty and Donnan, then Stephen and Andrew.
“Let me see what you gave me.” Laurel held out her hand, and Donnan maneuvered his horse closer. She opened the pouch and poured the remaining herbs into her hand. She poked it with her finger, spreading the tiny pieces before bringing it to her nose. She pinched a few, rolling them between her finger and thumb before bringing it back to her nose. “Catnip. No wonder I couldn’t stop sweating, and I couldn’t stay awake.”
“Catnip?” Brodie asked in confusion.
“Aye. It’s a remedy for the ague. It causes a person to sweat heavily, releasing whatever bad humors cause the illness. It helps the ailing person to sleep and recover. But I wasn’t sick, just sedated.”
“We didn’t know why she wouldn’t wake,” Monty interjected. “When we found her with them—” he nodded toward Stephen and Andrew “—she looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. They said she’d been trying to escape you. Nelson claimed the herbs were to rouse her, that they’d gotten them from a healer at a village they passed. I doubted them, but when Laurel wouldn’t wake, I grew desperate enough to try it. Little did I ken it only made it worse.”
“That bitch Margaret,” Laurel muttered then looked up at Brodie when she sensed he stared at her. “To think I ever felt sorry for her because she reminded me of me.” Laurel pointed at her chest. “And Sarah Anne reminded me of Myrna. I should have kenned better. She’s the one who would have given Nelson the catnip and told him what to do.”
“How would she have known?” Donnan asked.
“For the same reason I ken. She and I were both trained to be chatelaines, and catnip isn’t an uncommon remedy. A healer would do better, but most ladies raised to run a keep know the basics aboot medicinals. Nelson’s supposedly courting her. She would have given it to him if he asked.”
“Aye. She has the right of it,” Andrew confirmed. “Campbell, MacBain and I kenned there was nay choice but to leave when we overheard the brothers speculating how much longer it would take before their clan and the Lamonts attacked. MacBain and I believed this was aboot a bet and helping you out. That you were too besotted to ken what ye were doing. They always intended it to be a distraction.”
“Fuck,” Brodie breathed. He needed to get to his land, but he had Laurel to consider, too.
“We ride back to Kilchurn,” Laurel whispered. “Whether or not I’m with you, you must get back to our people. You need my brother and his men, and neither of us would be wise to trust MacFarlane or MacBain to take me back to court. There’s no other choice. I ride with you, and we ride to Kilchurn.”
“I ken. But it doesnae mean I must like it,” Brodie said. He was weary from chasing Laurel and the ongoing conflict with his neighbors. Now he had to consider whether to end his alliance with the MacFarlanes. The one thing he wanted most—a happy welcome home with his bride—was the furthest thing from his reach.
“We ken the attacks are coming,” Laurel said. “It won’t be a surprise. I can hide somewhere before you ride into battle.”
Brodie gazed into Laurel’s earnest expression. He wished it would be as simple as finding trees for Laurel to hide among, but he knew it wouldn’t be. He was certain he knew which villages the Lamonts and MacDougalls would target. Neither clan would come within spitting distance of Kilchurn alone because they’d know they couldn’t defeat Brodie’s full army of men. They would fan out and raid the outlying settlements. He would send Danny to Kilchurn to summon more men to fight alongside him and demand Monty take Laurel there too. He wouldn’t ride into battle with his wife. Not again.
“MacBain, you’ve done enough.” Brodie turned his disdainful glare at Stephen. “Do not presume this is over just because you live. You’d do well to warn your uncle. There will be reprisal. You’re just not important enough to deal with now.”
Wisely, Stephen MacBain nodded and mounted. He and his men rode out without a word or a second glance. Brodie turned his attention to Andrew. “You have one chance to redeem yourself. I will let you live, so you can ride home and call your clan to arms. I expect you to show yourself, ready to fight on my side, within three days. If you don’t appear—with or without men—I will end our alliance and allow the Colquhouns to tear you apart. I will send them coin and weapons to do it. You sentenced yourself to death the day you thought to harm my wife. I will decide whether you have a reprieve. Go.”
Laurel listened as Brodie commanded Stephen and Andrew to do his bidding. Both men owed no allegiance to Brodie, and he held no authority over them. But both men knew he’d spared them. The man who sat atop the horse with Laurel was the man who’d earned his reputation on the battlefield, and the man who ensured his clan dominated those who crossed his path. She shivered as she considered the fate that awaited the Lamonts and MacDougalls. She feared it would be years before either clan recovered. While her heart ached for the innocent, just as it did when her family feuded with others, she felt no sympathy for those who cast their lot against the Campbells, against Brodie.
“Laurie, are you cold?”
“Nay, Brodie. I just thought aboot the grievous error the Lamonts and MacDougalls made when they took you on. Naught bodes well for them. That made me shiver.”
Brodie kissed her temple before he nodded. He didn’t relish his bride seeing this side of him, the ruthless warrior. However, he had no choice. While we would have preferred to be a husb
and first and a warrior second in front of Laurel, he would always be a laird first.
“Dinna fash. I ken what must be done. I was five-and-ten when I left Balnagown. Auld enough to remember my father and Monty riding out. Auld enough to understand what they did. I arrived at court only a few years after Queen Elizabeth returned and the wars ended. I heard the stories aboot the Bruce. I heard the stories aboot you. I didn’t know who you were at the time, but now I recall. You’re the ‘Black Campbell.’”
“Nay, Laurie. That was my father. But my reputation isn’t any different from his. This isn’t what I want for you.”
“But this is what we have.” Laurel gave Brodie a quick, hard kiss before she released him and slid from his lap. She darted to where Teine stood watching her. The horse nodded his giant head and pawed at the ground. When Laurel took his reins and stroked his nose, he released a loud whinny, his rump dancing from side to side. Laurel grinned and looked back at Brodie, giving him a saucy wink. “Nay the only male happy to see me. But alas, the only one I’m riding.”
As if Teine agreed, the horse nickered before Laurel kneed him, and the horse surged forward. The band of riders settled into formation with Laurel riding in the middle of the pack, Monty and Donnan on each side. When Brodie looked back at her from the lead, she gave him an encouraging nod. Laird Campbell led the charge to defend his land and his people.
Twenty-Seven
It was an unrelentingly hard two-day ride to Campbell territory. Rather than continue west when they reached the border, they swung south. They’d seen the charred shells of two villages and stopped to search for survivors. But they found nothing more than remains. The violence with which the attackers killed their victims made Brodie uneasy about separating Laurel from the larger group and sending her to Kilchurn with the Rosses. There were only two score of them, including Monty, Donnan, and the men who’d been at Stirling with Laurel. But neither did he relish bringing her near the inevitable battle.
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 21