“You fear I will succumb to temptation?”
Laurel turned her lips down in a mock frown before playfully winking. “I might be the one who can’t resist the temptation.”
A knock at the door interrupted their banter. Their aggrieved sighs were timed perfectly before Brodie bid the servants enter. Laurel watched as a troop of servants hauled in the largest copper and wood tub she’d ever seen. She figured it made sense given her husband was a veritable Goliath at nearly six and a half feet tall. He needed space to fit his legs. Steam rose as the last bucket of water was dumped into the bath.
“Would ye care for help, ma lady?” a blonde asked, but her attention was on Brodie.
“Do you usually help with baths?” Laurel countered. The maid blinked several times before she shook her head. “Then I don’t see why you’d start today.”
“I could help ye undress then dress and fix yer hair, ma lady.”
“Do you usually assist with undressing?” Laurel narrowed her eyes at the woman, who continued to stare at Brodie.
“Only maself, ma lady.” The maid shook her head, confused.
“Then I don’t see why you’d start today.” Laurel leaned forward, lowering her voice, but not so much that Brodie couldn’t hear. “Find somewhere else to rest your eyes lest I pluck them out and feed them to the crows.”
The blonde gasped, turning a stunned expression to Laurel before looking to Brodie for help. He stood with his arms crossed, his face set in stone. When she just kept blinking and shifting her weight, Brodie frowned. “You were in the courtyard not an hour ago. I know you heard what I said. Lady Campbell’s word is law when it comes to everything in this keep. That includes me. It seems she isn’t interested in sharing, nor do I intend to accept any offers.”
“What’s your name?” Laurel asked, softening her tone.
“Gara, ma lady.”
“When you run belowstairs to tell everyone what a bitch I am, be sure not to forget to tell them I don’t share.”
“Aye, ma lady.” Gara dipped into a wobbly curtsy before dashing from the room.
Laurel wasn’t ready to face Brodie. She’d made an assumption that could have resulted in her humiliation instead of the maid’s. She steeled herself for Brodie’s disapproval. She was confident he wouldn’t speak against her in front of anyone, but she knew he wouldn’t hold back in private. She turned around, unprepared for the Cheshire-cat grin he sported.
“I do like it when you’re fierce,” Brodie said as he kissed the skin behind her ear and pulled at her belt. But Laurel stepped back.
“That wasn’t my place,” she whispered. At Brodie’s confusion, she clarified. “It wasn’t my place to turn down an offer made to you. I—We didn’t talk aboot whether you’ll—”
“Laurel.” Brodie’s tone warned her to stop. “Perhaps you don’t recall, but we’ve had this conversation before. It bears repeating. I do not have a leman. While I dislike comparing you to Eliza, I would have you remember I was prepared to accept celibacy for at least two years.”
Laurel nodded. She clearly remembered the conversation they had, but the maid’s attentiveness to Brodie made her suspicious. “It felt like what she offered wasn’t really intended for me.”
“Gara and I have flirted from time to time, but naught more.” He offered no more explanation, and she supposed there was no more to give.
Brodie guided Laurel to sit before he unlaced her boots and took them and her stockings off. With a light tug, he brought her back to her feet and pulled his cut down leine from the waist of her rolled over breeks and pulled the waist open. Laurel pushed them past her hips until they dropped to the floor. She bent to pick them up, but Brodie stopped her, reaching for them himself. He laid the breeks over the back of a chair before he lifted the leine over her head. She’d never been self-conscious in front of Brodie, but his silence was unnerving.
“Laurie, I love you. I love every bit of you. I am not telling tales when I say how blessed I am to be your husband. You make me happy in ways I never imagined. I won’t do aught to jeopardize it. It’s too precious to me. Our lives will demand much of us, and there will be sadness and frustration, even anger, as we serve our people. Happiness was all too fleeting until I met you.”
“I love you, too. Despite everything that’s happened since we left Stirling, I feel like the Laurel I once knew. I feel free. You’ve given me that. I imagined the only way I could have it was to be on my own. I’m so glad that isn’t true. I want to be the one you turn to during those trying times. Not only the happy ones.”
“You will be. We are partners. I wish for you to be by my side this evening when I meet with the others.” Brodie looked past her shoulder at the wisps of steam still rising from the water. “I ken Aggie arranged baths for everyone else. I don’t need to rush. Shall we discover if there’s room for two?”
Laurel smiled as she helped Brodie undress. When they stood naked, Brodie lifted Laurel, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She cupped his jaw as they kissed before he stepped into the tub. As they settled into the soothing heat, their bodies joined. Brodie kneaded her breasts as they floated just above the surface. Laurel’s head fell back with a moan. Brodie’s tongue trailed along her throat as her hands skimmed his arms before moving to his shoulders, massaging the muscles that bunched beneath her hands. Their kisses grew more insistent as they moved together. Laurel closed her eyes, reveling in everything she felt inside and out.
“Oh, Brodie,” she breathed as his love poured into her, and she knew she was finally home. But it wasn’t the chamber or Kilchurn that made it home. It was Brodie.
“Laurie, I want to last, but I dinna think I can. I need ye too much. I’m struggling nae to finish without ye.” With his guard completely lowered, Brodie gave no consideration to his speech. He wanted only to share how he felt, what Laurel made him feel.
“I’m close, bear. Dinna stop. Just a wee more.”
Brodie grasped her hips, grinding her pubis against his. Laurel cried out as her belly tightened before pleasure spread through her body and into her limbs. Brodie moved her faster, with a determination that hardened his expression. Laurel watched as his muscles rippled. Need for her husband flared again. She moved with him, edging toward another wave of euphoria. They tumbled over the edge together.
“Laurie!” Brodie roared. Laurel collapsed against his chest, heaving to catch their breath. They filled the calm after the storm with affection as they soaked together. “Sleepy?”
“Aye. But this happens every time ye hold me. I canna keep ma eyes open. Ye’re so comfortable.”
Brodie’s laughter rumbled through his chest, and Laurel felt her body absorb it. “I dinna ken that anyone else would describe me as such.”
“Nay one else better be finding out. I claim all of this,” Laurel waved her hand in his direction, “as mine.”
“That it is, thistle.”
“Brodie, I ken why ye’re so comfortable.” Laurel whispered as she played with the hair at his nape, then ran her fingers over his stubble. “Because ye’ve done what ye promised. Ye’ve given me freedom. Ye havenae tried to change me. Ye havenae turned away from me when ma tongue gets the better of me. I dinna fear what ye will say. I dinna feel like I have to protect maself from yer words, that I dinna have to always be on guard. I ken I’m nae alone anymore.”
“Ye arenae alone.” Brodie tickled her rib before reaching for the soap. “I suspect that ye shall be so nae alone that ye will tire of me trailing yer heels.”
“I like it when we can talk like this,” Laurel admitted shyly.
“So do I. I ken I can confide in ye, and I want to. I think when I realized that, I realized I would marry ye nay matter what.”
Laurel smiled as Brodie ran the soap over her body before washing her hair. As he made her hair sudsy, she washed everywhere she could reach on his body. Brodie poured fresh water over Laurel’s head before she returned the favor and scrubbed his. She was certain it was the bes
t bath she’d ever taken, not only because she shared it with Brodie, but because it washed away the week’s worth of dust and grime. She felt fresh and ready to begin her new life.
But temptation proved too great once again for the newlyweds as their hands ran over one another as they dried each other off. With a sudden and frantic need, Brodie pressed Laurel backwards until her back hit the bed poster. He lifted her leg until her foot rested on the bed frame. His fingers surged into her as her hips jolted forward. His fingers intensified her need, making her body ache with desire. She stroked him, alternating speed and pressure. She watched as a drop of creamy, viscous fluid leaked from the tip. But her concentration frayed when Brodie enticed the pearl that hid within its shell with his agonizingly slow movements. He rubbed over and over as Laurel grew more desperate, begging Brodie to ease the burning need for them to join. She gripped the poster over her head, barely able to remain on her feet as her legs trembled.
Brodie was in purgatory. It certainly wasn’t hell because Laurel’s body rubbing against him was hardly a punishment. But he was in limbo as he worked her flesh. Not yet in heaven but waiting for the torture to end and the glory to begin. When he feared Laurel was on the brink of frustration that ended her pleasure, he eased into her. He was certain he’d found the promised land. Laurel’s hips undulated against his as her nails raked over his back. He spun them so he could climb onto the bed, still supporting Laurel’s body. She pulled him down onto her as they rocked together. Bracketing his hips with her knees, she met each of his thrusts until she could no longer keep her eyes open. The intensity of her physical reactions and emotions were drugging her once more.
“I want to hear ye call out ma name, Laurie. I want to hear ma name on yer lips and ken I’m the one who brings ye the pleasure ye seek.”
“Brodie,” Laurel moaned. “How do ye do this to me? How is it always nearly more than I can handle, but always perfect?”
“Because our bodies were made to be together. We are a perfect pair.”
“I’m so close again. I can feel it. So close,” Laurel panted as she strained against Brodie, edging closer and closer to edge. “Brodie!”
Brodie felt Laurel’s body contract around his, milking his cock as he thrust harder and faster, ringing another climax from her before he could no longer hold back. “Yes,” he growled as he surged into her, uncaring if he was rough since she encouraged him, begging him to keep going. “Laurie!”
They collapsed together, rung dry once more. Brodie’s arms shook as he rested on his forearms, trying not to crush Laurel. She pressed him down onto her, and he rocked his hips against her gently, sensing she still wanted more despite her breathlessness. When she moaned, and her back arched, he knew he rang the last drop of strength from her and left her blissful. They lay together in silence, content with one another’s company as they basked in the afterglow.
Thirty-Three
The evening meal was a quiet affair. Both Andrews, along with Monty and Donnan, joined Brodie, Laurel, Dominic and Colina at the high table. The somber mood of looming battle spread through the clan. Brodie decided he wouldn’t explain the situation until he discussed strategy with Laurel and the men. Annoyance nipped at him when Dominic excused himself along with Colina, claiming she wasn’t feeling well, and he needed to tend to his wife. He’d always thought his brother doting on his wife was nice, and he better understood it now that he married Laurel. But Colina looked no different from she always did: pale and snooty. His brother missing the strategy meeting rankled. Brodie predicted the MacFarlane men would balk at Laurel’s presence while Monty and Donnan would cross their arms and grin. He wasn’t wrong.
“Campbell, I ken you’re newly married, but can you let the lass go for a moment?” Andrew Mòr grumbled. Brodie glanced at Monty and Donnan. The men’s arms were crossed, their expressions smug.
“Nay, I can’t. Both because I don’t want to, and because I ken my wife is a strategist. She’s likely to win the war for us.” Brodie rolled out a map of Kilchurn Castle and the surrounding area of Glenorchy. Laurel leaned forward and studied, finding the marks that represented the nearby keeps. She shifted her focus to Ben Lui, and the distance they’d traveled that day. She struggled to remember what she’d learned of where the Lamonts and MacDougalls intended to meet. She spotted the dam and where the MacArthurs and MacGregors likely camped. It surprised her how close their northern enemies dared come.
Laurel’s mind ticked over, envisioning men on both sides moving from various directions. She pictured how the groups might move dependent on their enemy. She thought of at least five scenarios before anyone spoke. She listened attentively to Andrew Mòr when he was the first to make a suggestion.
“Rally your branches here. Send them across the Orchy to take on the MacArthurs and the MacGregors. We remain with you to fight what’s left of the Lamont and MacDougall bastards who dare show their faces.” Andrew nodded, pleased with his suggestion, sounding as though their battle plan was complete. Laurel looked at Brodie, who watched her. She said nothing, nor made any gesture, but her mouth thinned.
“How shall we place our men?” Brodie asked, looking at Monty. Laurel’s brother jutted his chin at her.
“Ask Laurel. She already kens.”
“Bah. Women are like weans. They’re best seen and not heard,” Andrew Mòr sniped.
“Father,” Andrew Óg dared enter the conversation. It was clear he hadn’t returned to his father’s good graces. “Lady Lau—Lady Campbell earned her reputation at court because of her intelligence. People heard the barbs and sarcasm and thought her haughty or just mean-spirited. But a few of us realized they came easily to her and cut so deeply because she’s more observant and astute than most. If Ross says you should consider her suggestions, then we should.” Andrew shot another apologetic glance at Laurel. This time she believed it was genuine.
“Very well. The lass speaks,” Andrew Mòr grumbled.
“I prefer Lady Campbell, but I’ll accept Lady Laurel. I haven’t been a lass in a decade,” Laurel corrected. While people called women “lass” until their last days, she would demand the respect due to her. She didn’t want the MacFarlane to think she played games. She looked around Brodie’s solar before she collected a handful of quills, the inkwell, and a block of wax. She returned to the table and examined the map once more. She placed the inkwell where the mark for Ben Lui laid. She angled the quills over the other castles, and the wax was Kilchurn. “The Lamonts will follow the same route as we did. They’re likely less than an hour’s ride from here already. Since they cannot rendezvous with the MacDougalls like they planned, both clans will send scouts either to relay messages or to agree to a new stepping off point.”
Laurel pointed to the inkwell. She made a triangle with her forefinger and middle finger upright against the tabletop. She spread the fingers of her other hand at the point she figured the MacDougalls would make camp. They were probably closer than originally planned, since they were unsure whether the Lamonts were still in the war. She walked her two fingers from the inkwell toward Kilchurn Castle. Her other hand slid toward Kilchurn at the same time.
“If they’re smart, the Lamonts will wait until they see the MacDougalls regardless of what time they arrive. I would estimate they will meet here.” Laurel nodded to where both hands rested. She lifted them and looked at the men, surprised to see even the MacFarlanes watched and listened. “The other keeps are well-positioned for Kilchurn’s defenses. I assume that was the plan all along. But rather than using their proximity to summon them directly to Kilchurn, they move east from their homes. The MacDougalls will move past them undetected because they will assume one of two things. All the branches already rallied here, or that there wasn’t time to rally them at all. Either way, they won’t expect them along their route. Innes Chonnel stands the furthest south.”
Laurel used the fingers of her left hand this time to represent the MacDougalls. She slid the quill furthest from her slowly toward her travel
ing fingers. She inched it along until it lay parallel to her fingers. As she moved her left hand forward, she slid the second quill directly toward them.
“This is Inishail, correct?” Laurel looked up at Brodie, who leaned over the map with rapt attention, his weight resting on his fists. He nodded. “When they reach this point, they’ll be east of Fraoch Eileen. If these three forces merge into a wall that blocks the MacDougalls and Lamonts’ retreat, they can press them to the river just south of the dam. If the Lord and the saints see it fit, the MacArthurs and MacGregors are already in the drink, or they’ll launch their attack when they see the MacDougalls and Lamonts approach. The men here at Kilchurn join ranks with the Campbells to squeeze the MacDougalls and Lamonts into the river. If they attempt to stand their ground in hopes the other two clans will cross and join them, it will still leave them on their own. Block any path for them to escape. They wind up in the water, drowned or floating into the bay and at our doorsteps.”
Laurel stood upright and looked at each man. All five of them continued to stare at the map. Slowly, one by one, they nodded their head. Laurel knew they were picturing for themselves the strategy she envisioned. She wouldn’t rush them. When they finally all looked at her, she crossed her arms.
“There is one last thing you must consider.” Laurel looked at Brodie, then Monty, and finally Andrew Mòr, the leaders of the three clans and the men who would bear the fall out. And she was certain it would happen. “As Brodie said before, this is no longer a feud. This is a war. This plan doesn’t leave room to allow them to retreat. Its intention is to kill as many as we can.”
Laurel looked Brodie in the eye. She drew in a breath before she continued, knowing she trod a fine line.
“Our clan has wronged the MacGregors since the Bruce granted you most of Glenorchy. They have nearly no land left. Their clan shrinks each year. Depending on the force they send, this could destroy them. We must all prepare for this to be named a massacre. They may attack our home—” Laurel looked at Brodie once again, then to Monty and the Andrews. “—and your allies, but there will be no confusion aboot who the victors are. Are you prepared to be painted the villain for generations? Are you ready for people to say you led a massacre over a woman—two women?”
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 27