The somber group grew more sober as the men mulled over Laurel’s predictions. Each man standing around the table knew two things: Laurel’s strategy was the best, and she was right that they would shoulder the blame for what would be a massacre. Brodie looked at the MacFarlane first.
“Mòr, you’ve been our ally for a long time. We’ve fought together many times, but this isn’t your fight for any other reason than our alliance. Are you willing to place your clan in jeopardy of King Robert’s ire?”
“I am,” the MacFarlane answered. “If they have the bollocks to take on the Campbells and think they stand a chance, then they will not think twice to overrun us. It ends before it starts.”
“Ross?” Brodie asked.
“This cements our alliance.”
“An alliance your father, the laird, hasn’t confirmed,” Brodie pointed out.
“If my father wasn’t prepared to form a new alliance, he wouldn’t have sent me to court to see my sister married. He knew it would be to someone. He couldn’t ask for a better choice.”
Brodie looked at Laurel and asked, “Are you prepared to weather this storm? I don’t doubt that you’re right. However, this may be more than the king can overlook.”
“There will be consequences, but the king is no fool. He knew what he encouraged when he sanctioned our marriage. Besides the Gordons, there are no other powerful clans in the Highlands who aren’t linked to us by marriage. He won’t stand against you. He knows the Sutherlands and Sinclairs’ loyalty is unwavering. But he also knows he won’t live forever. He’ll think aboot what he leaves behind for Prince David. Does he want the Highlands fractured again? Does he want his son to inherit a country where the most powerful clans turn their backs once he’s dead? Nay. It’s not the Bruce I worry aboot. It’s everyone else. The Campbells have a long list of allies and just as long a list of rivals. Are you prepared to lose some of your allies and antagonize every rival?”
“We didn’t become what we are by luck or happenstance,” Brodie pointed out. He locked eyes with Laurel. “These four clans threaten our people, our home, our way of life. If I show any mercy, they will believe they can continue. This ends here and now. Whether people like it or not, the Campbells are Glenorchy, Glencoe, and Lorne. This is our land to defend. I am the mon tasked to lead. This isn’t just aboot men attacking my wife. This is aboot my clan’s future, one I intend to solidify as the most dominant clan for generations to come. What think you, Laurel?”
“You know I stand by you. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think it was for the best, but each of you must decide what is best for your clan.” Laurel looked at Monty. “Father will not be pleased. You and I both know that. There is no dancing around that point. But as you said, it cements our alliance and for at least two generations to come. Father would rather be friends than enemies with the Campbells.” Laurel’s lips twisted before she smirked. “He lends but a handful of men and can claim he was among the victorious. Sounds perfect for him.”
“Everything you say is true. But understand this, Laurel: I accept Brodie’s position because he’s right. For him, this isn’t aboot his wife. It’s aboot your clan. But for me, for the Rosses, this is entirely aboot defending you. You carry the Campbell name now, but you are a Ross by blood. I will not turn my back on you—not ever again, little sister.”
Laurel nodded. She didn’t look away from Monty, unwilling to let the MacFarlanes see how Monty’s words moved her. Finally, Monty broke their gaze and looked at the two lairds. Laurel looked past him at Donnan, approval and pride in his eyes. She smiled, the reassurance worth more than she realized.
“We follow Lady Campbell’s plan,” Brodie announced. “I will send messengers by water now. They’ll travel faster and be less obvious. I’ll set my patrols to watch for either clan from the south, and Graham has gone to get reports from those along the river. This is Scotland, yet it hasn’t rained in days. Pray for it tonight. It’ll be miserable fighting in the mud, but it will make the river swell and surge.”
The Andrews shook hands with Brodie, then Monty. The MacFarlanes left Brodie’s solar, but Monty and Donnan lingered. Laurel stepped around the table to stand in front of Monty. “I wouldn’t wish to repeat any of this. I wish I could return the men we’ve lost to their families. But I have my brother back. I am a Ross. I have been my entire life, and what name I bear now and what clan I live among can’t change that. My loyalty is first and foremost to my husband and my new clan. But I no longer wish to sever my ties to my family or the clan of my birth.”
“I no longer wish to let you do it. No matter what comes of tomorrow, you can come to Balnagown. I will stand before you and against Father if I must. You’ve earned the respect and that duty from me.”
“I like it much better when we are like this than pissing vinegar,” Laurel mused.
“Aye. It’s a damn sight better to be on your side than your target. God bless, but you’re terrifying. You may not wield a sword, but you’re ruthless. I’m glad the others listened to you.” Monty embraced Laurel before Donnan did the same. The couple left the newlyweds alone in Brodie’s solar.
“What do you expect will happen?” Laurel asked as she leaned against Brodie while she sat in his lap before the fire. They sipped whisky from their cups.
“I expect a battle. I hope it goes as you planned. Your strategy keeps the fight from our people, but I will summon the villagers into the walls at dawn.”
“Will you meet with Dominic this evening?”
Brodie shook his head and sighed. “I doubt it. It surprises me that he didn’t join us at all this eve.”
“It’s clear they love one another.”
“Aye, but he understands his duties as tánaiste. And Colina didn’t appear any different than she usually does.”
“Perhaps it’s an ailment we can’t see.” Laurel cocked an eyebrow and gave Brodie a pointed look.
“Mayhap, but I’m still disappointed.”
“I understand that.” Laurel ran her fingers through Brodie’s hair as his hand stroked her hip. It felt natural to sit before the fire with Brodie and discuss clan matters. “Once he’s spoken to you, will he let Colina ken what’s happening? Will she prepare the keep?”
Brodie snorted. “Not likely. Colina hasn’t taken an interest in running the keep. I always assumed she figured I would marry, and my wife would assume the position. But it’s been three years.”
“Then I need to speak with Aggie and Berta before it grows too late. I need to be sure we have enough blankets for everyone in case this becomes a protracted fight. I have no idea what the stores are, so I need Berta to tell me how long we can survive if somehow they besiege us. Is it possible for me to meet Nora in the morn? I’d like to ken what medicinals she has on hand and if there is aught she needs foraged close to the keep. I need to ask what she expects me to do.”
“She doesn’t expect aught from you, Laurie. It’s the other way around.”
“Any other day, you’re right. But once the wounded men pour in, Nora is in charge. I need to learn how I can help her and serve our clan.”
“Neither of us shall seek our bed soon. I need to meet with Graham. He needs to know our battle plan and to know I’ve sent men along Loch Awe. He and I need to assign men to their stations. I might even rally Dominic.” Brodie kissed Laurel’s temple, and she sighed. “I’m so impressed with you. I wouldn’t have accepted Andrew’s plan, but neither am I sure I would have come up with yours. I wouldn’t have thought to show it as you did. I love you more with each passing day.”
“My home is where you are. I realized that the other night. It’s not just the Highlands or this keep. It’s you and the life we’re already building together. But I couldn’t be the woman I am right this moment if you hadn’t taken me away from court. You’ve given me opportunity and purpose when you barely knew me. You risked a lot courting and marrying me.” Laurel grinned and tickled Brodie’s ribs, lightening the mood for a moment. “That mak
es you the bravest mon I ken.”
“And the wisest.”
“Aye, and the wisest. Wisdom comes with age, auld mon. We best be aboot our duties. I don’t like admitting it, but we both need to sleep tonight.”
“I ken. I dinna have to like it, lass.” Brodie waggled his eyebrows at her, reminding her of Andrew’s error. With a quick kiss, they parted ways. It relieved Laurel to find Aggie before the woman retired. They had a rapid conversation before the older woman set off to rouse some maids to help her. Laurel found Berta, who scrambled to show Laurel as many of the supplies as she could in the kitchens. Laurel would have to wait until morning to see the undercroft and storage buildings in the bailey. Two hours later, Laurel and Brodie fell into bed exhausted, but in one another’s embrace.
Thirty-Four
Dawn cruelly arrived far too soon for Laurel or Brodie. Laurel sat up in bed as she watched Brodie cross the chamber naked and bend over to stoke the fire. She would have been content with that view for the rest of the day. But once the chamber warmed, she slipped out of bed and padded to a chest that held her meager belongings. She and Ina packed everything in her chamber, but Brodie hadn’t the horses to carry them. They were to be sent by wagon in a moon. The wrinkled kirtles and chemises she had stuffed in her satchel barely appeared presentable, but they were an improvement on the gown she’d worn for days or the breeks she arrived in. She hadn’t considered her appearance when Brodie introduced her to the clan, but she’d groaned when she donned a gown for the evening meal. She’d wondered if that contributed to her brusque welcome from Dominic and Colina. But she cared little for her looks or sense of style when the more pressing issue was helping to keep as many people alive as she could.
Brodie pulled the laces tight on Laurel’s gown. Wishing he could offer her the clothes she had to leave behind, especially the gown made from the fabric he gifted her. But he reminded himself that there would be time for that later. Laurel hadn’t indicated once since they left court that she cared a wit about her clothes or hair. He looked forward to spoiling his bride. He knew she would never ask, nor would she ever expect his generosity, which made lavishing her with it more appealing.
Once Laurel was dressed, she brushed her hair while Brodie pleated his plaid and donned a fresh leine. She giggled when she thought about the one she’d chopped down.
“I expect you to replace that,” Brodie said jovially as he shook a finger at her. He finished dressing and went to a chest Laurel hadn’t noticed. He opened it and lifted a gambeson from it. It surprised Laurel to see he had the padded doublet. Most Highlanders avoided them, arguing that it restricted their movement. Brodie brought it to the bed and laid it out, assessing it.
“Brodie?” Laurel came to stand beside him.
“I’m trying to decide whether I wear it.”
“Do you usually?” Laurel sounded doubtful.
“Nay. Never.”
“Then why would you today? Won’t it be awkward and uncomfortable?”
“Aye. But I didn’t use to have the same motivation that I do today.” Brodie looked at Laurel. “This battle, this war is for our people. But when I swing my sword today, it is so I can come home to you.”
Laurel swallowed. “I know this will help protect you against slashes, but it can’t stop a sword from going through you. There’s no mail in it. If it’s awkward, if it could keep you from fighting your best, then don’t wear it. I ken the danger of you not, but I fear the danger of you not being able to defend yourself is far greater.”
“That is what I’m considering.” Brodie stared at the protective doublet before he shook his head and returned it to his chest.
“Mayhap I could make you a sleeveless cotun instead,” Laurel suggested. A cotun and a gambeson were similar and served the same purpose. But Laurel could make it from leather rather than cloth. The leather would be harder to slice through, so Brodie wouldn’t require as much padding. If it weren’t so bulky, and his arms were free, he could fight more naturally.
“You ken how?”
“Nay.” Laurel grinned and shrugged. “But it’s sewing. I can figure it out. Tell me where the padding goes, and I’ll stitch it. The tanner is bound to have leather I can use.”
“You’re a good wife, Laurie. I didn’t think I needed taking of, but mayhap I do.” Brodie winked and squeezed her bottom.
“None of that, or you’ll be late to your war.” Laurel attempted to keep their conversation lighthearted, but they grew serious as they approached their chamber door. “I ken you can’t promise me, so I won’t ask. Just try. I love you, bear.”
“I will do everything in my power to return to you, thistle. I love you.”
What their kiss lacked in passion, they made up for in tenderness. Hope and devotion poured forth. They walked belowstairs hand-in-hand. They knew there would likely be hours before the first wave of attackers arrived, but they both had plenty of duties to tend. Laurel watched as the first groups of villagers arrived. She smiled and greeted them, offering them a chance to break their fast in the Great Hall. When she could hand that duty off, she found Berta and went on a brief tour of the storage buildings. She was impressed and relieved to see they were overflowing. If forced to, they could survive months.
Laurel had looked for Colina as she broke her fast, but the woman was nowhere in sight and didn’t appear throughout the early morning. She noticed Dominic joined Brodie as her husband left the Great Hall for the bailey. She supposed Brodie was informing Dominic of their strategy. Laurel wondered if Brodie would mention she’d devised it. She sensed Dominic would be less accepting than the MacFarlane had been. With Colina not volunteering, she bustled around the keep and bailey, rattling off a mental checklist, pleased that everyone helped. Everyone but one. There was one wrinkle in the otherwise smooth operation. Gara.
The woman stared at Laurel, even when Laurel offered a pleasant smile. She refused to make it sugary when she’d made her displeasure clear the day before. But she wished to move on. Gara wasn’t of the same opinion. More than once, Laurel discreetly asked Aggie to set Gara back to work. After the fifth time, Laurel finally asked the burning question that plagued her.
“Aggie, is Gara the laird’s leman?”
“What, ma lady? Good God, nay. She might wish it, but the laird’s never done more than smile a few times. He’s practically a monk. And when he does—pardon me, did—seek—ah—well anyway,” Aggie grew flustered, but Laurel wanted the answer. “He never sought it with the women in the keep. He never intended to take a mistress, so he never played favorites.”
A monk? I suppose two years wouldnae be such a sacrifice if he didna that often. But he does now. All the time. Nae that I’m complaining. Mayhap making up for lost time?
Laurel knew she would gain no answers from thinking about it, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. But she kept an eye on Gara. The woman made her uneasy.
Brodie ran along the battlements to meet the scouts, who galloped back to the keep. He met Graham and Dominic in the bailey. He spotted Laurel and called her over. It would save him searching for her and relaying the story. Breathless, the scouts warned that the MacDougalls and Lamonts united and were half a mile from the point where the combined forces would attack. Laurel and Brodie exchanged a look before Brodie called for his men to mount the horses that stomped and shifted restlessly. He watched as the men settled on their horses before he kissed Laurel one last time. Her stoicism would give their clan strength, but he knew it came at a cost. He looked back once before he led the men through the gates.
Conserving their horses’ stamina, the Campbells, Rosses, and MacFarlanes rode toward the planned meeting place. Brodie, Monty, and Andrew Mòr drew forward from the line of warriors at their backs. Brodie watched as Martin MacDougall rode forward. James Lamont reined in beside Martin and glowered at Brodie, who observed them. Neither man seemed any the wiser that there was an army at their backs, nor did they appear curious about the angle at which the Campbells and their
allies sat.
“Did you find your father?” Brodie called out to James, now Laird Lamont. The rage that swept over the new laird’s face told Brodie they had. “My wife and her horse send their regards.” Brodie was certain James had already heard the tale, but he twisted the knife another notch as he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear that an unarmed woman and her mount felled the great David Lamont.
“You smug bastard,” James called out.
“Smug, yes. Bastard—well between the two of us, we all ken which one of us is certain aboot both his parents. Tell me, could you ken it was your—laird because his body was the only unaccounted for mon? It certainly wasn’t from his good looks.”
“If only you swung your sword as well as you talk,” Martin cut in. The men behind Brodie laughed. Brodie earned his reputation fighting alongside Robert the Bruce as he battled for his throne. While he didn’t have the moniker his father did—the Black Campbell—he was certain he caused many a man’s nightmares.
“My swords—both of them—swing just fine. In fact, I’d like to hurry and swing this one, so I can return to my bonnie bride and swing the other one.” Brodie knew Laurel would have his bollocks if she heard him speak about her like that. But he also knew the preamble to most battles was a cockerel fight, and he intended to be the victor of that before the battle began in earnest. It had the power to set the tone for the entire encounter.
“They’re here,” Monty muttered, just loud enough for Brodie to hear. “Center left.”
Brodie swept his eyes over the opposing forces, who gathered more tightly as they waited. It was just what Brodie wished for as he stalled by tossing insults at the Lamonts and their lapdogs, the MacDougalls. Brodie spotted Matthew and Nelson.
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 28