When a blonde woman walked toward the well in the center of the bailey, a thought permeated the others churning and whirling through Brodie’s mind. “Where’s Gara?”
Brodie spoke to any and everyone. The woman had shot daggers from her eyes at Laurel throughout the morning meal. She’d bumped into Laurel’s chair several times the night before. He didn’t understand the woman’s hostility since he’d done nothing more than tease her a few times. There was no relationship beyond laird and servant. He looked around, but the woman didn’t appear. Furious and frightened, Brodie stormed into the Great Hall.
“Gara!” Brodie bellowed, and he was certain the rafters shook. He waited, but she still didn’t appear. “Gara!”
“Ma laird, nay one’s seen her either,” Berta said, wiping her hands on a linen towel as she rushed from the kitchens.
“Search every chamber and the attic,” Brodie commanded.
“We already did, ma laird,” Aggie said.
“Do it again. Lady Campbell is the priority. If you find Gara, bring her to the Great Hall and don’t let her move.” Brodie didn’t look to see where Monty and Donnan went. He suspected out to search the bailey. Graham helped give orders alongside Aggie and Berta. Brodie took the stairs to their chamber two and three at a time. He burst into the room and went to Laurel’s satchel. The same clothes she arrived with were still there. The only things missing were the clothes and boots he’d seen her don that morning. He rushed to his solar, but nothing looked out of place. The map remained on the table with the objects positioned how Laurel left them. He crossed the room and pulled the drawers to his desk open, riffling through papers, but nothing was amiss.
Brodie left his solar and ran through the Great Hall to the main doors. He sprinted across the bailey to the postern gate. Before he could ask, the guard assured him that he hadn’t seen Laurel except for when she was near his section of the wall and met with the shepherds. Brodie called up to the men on the battlements, but none saw anything.
“Laird!”
Brodie spun around and spotted James, a guard he’d planned to assign to Laurel’s personal detail. “Lady Campbell?”
“Nay, but ye need to see something.”
“It waits until I find Lady Campbell.”
“This canna wait, Laird.”
Brodie looked at James’s expression before he nodded. The man was shaken. He’d known James their entire lives. The guard was a year older than Brodie. A reason he wanted James to help protect Laurel was because it was nearly impossible to rattle the man. Brodie grabbed James’s shoulder as the guard spun around.
“Tell me now. Is it my wife?” Brodie whispered.
“Nay, Laird. But it’s vera bad.” James led Brodie toward the back of a storage building. Brodie squinted at a shape on the ground in the shadows. As he drew closer, he noticed blonde hair. His stomach sank, suspecting who he would see. But he was unprepared for what he found. He glanced at James, who shook his head. Brodie squatted beside Gara’s dead body. Whoever killed her had been vicious. Someone had stabbed her twice in the throat and several times in the belly.
“Get Ross and Graham,” Brodie ordered. He rolled Gara’s body onto its side, looking for any wounds to her back. But he found none. He rose when Monty, Graham, and Donnan joined him.
“What the bluidy hell?” Donnan hissed.
“I don’t ken.” Brodie looked at the men and shook his head before he squatted again. “This one on her throat killed her. It hit her jugular. It would have geysered blood, so why continue stabbing her? Or why not stab her there first?”
Donnan squeezed past Monty and Graham to kneel on one knee across from Brodie. He glanced around before he pulled the dead woman’s blouse up to her neck. “Look at how shallow these are. One of two things happened. Whoever killed her wanted to torture her before killing her, or they killed her but were furious enough to keep going even as she lay dying.”
Brodie nodded. He picked up each of Gara’s hands and looked at her fingers, turning them over. “No blood or hair. No more dirt than you’d expect. She didn’t fight back.”
“She knew whoever led her back here. She trusted them,” Monty mused. “Does she have a lover? Why else would she be back here during the day?”
“I don’t ken.” Brodie shrugged. Beyond her being a servant in the keep, he didn’t know the specifics of Gara’s personal life. He knew a couple men showed an interest in her, but he didn’t think she was involved with anyone.
“I’m thinking aboot what Donnan said. Other than the lethal strike, the other stabs are shallow. Would a mon do that? Wouldn’t you expect them to be deeper?” Graham asked. He pulled a dirk from his boot and one from his waist. “And look at the size of the holes. A mon’s blade isn’t that narrow. Even a sgian dubh would create a wider cut. These look like they came from an eating knife.”
“You think it was a woman,” Brodie said to Graham, who nodded. “But why would a woman lead her back here? Or rather, what could a woman say to lead her back here? A mon I could understand. He could lure her back here for a tryst or force her.”
Donnan pushed up Gara’s sleeves, twisting her arms side to side, but there were no marks to show someone pulling her. Graham shifted uncomfortably, and it caught Brodie’s attention. He narrowed his eyes at his second.
“Speak.”
“Laird, we assume it’s someone she trusted. What if it was someone who ordered her?”
Brodie rose in one fluid motion as he turned to look at Graham, a man he trusted with his life. A man, who just that day he thought he could trust more than his brother, now stood before him, implying Laurel killed the woman at his feet. Graham took a step back, unnerved by an expression he’d never seen on Brodie’s face before.
“Laird, there’s more than one woman with that authority,” Graham rushed to say. Brodie’s expression didn’t change.
“It’s not Laurel,” Monty stated matter-of-factly. “I saw Gara’s rudeness to Laurel last night, so I asked her aboot it when you stepped off the dais this morn to speak to Dominic. She told me what happened yesterday over the bath. She may have been unimpressed by Gara, or even disliked her, but she wouldn’t kill over such a slight. If she would, there wouldn’t be a lady-in-waiting still alive. And aye, I ken, she’s never had a mon she’d fight for, but that isnae Laurel. She’d tear the woman apart with her words and leave her a shell of her old self, devastated for days. That is how Laurel punishes.”
“And she wouldn’t have used an eating knife,” Donnan chimed in as he rose. With a shrug, he explained. “After what happened with the wager and being left among strangers today, I didn’t like kenning she only had her eating knife. I left her with a dirk this morning. Monty and I ken she knows how to use it. We taught her.”
“True. And she would have gone for a clean, swift kill like we showed her. She would have gotten this right with the first strike and not waited around to do more. This isn’t Laurel,” Monty repeated.
“Then who?” James chimed in. He’d remained still and silent while the other men spoke.
“Who’s left in a position to order her to do aught? Aggie, Berta, and Colina,” Brodie answered.
“None of them would do this,” Graham stated. Brodie’s eyebrows twitched, and he sighed before nodding.
“Graham, James, tend to Gara. Don’t let anyone ken aboot this until we find Lady Campbell. I don’t think these are unrelated.” Brodie fought against the returning panic. If Gara’s death and Laurel’s absence were connected—and Gara was dead—he feared how he would find Laurel. He, Monty, and Donnan left Graham and James to move Gara’s body and cover it. He scanned the bailey as he tried to imagine where Laurel could be. He spotted Aggie speaking with the laundresses, clearly still agitated. He called out, “Aggie.”
The woman met him halfway. She still trembled and appeared distraught. But she greeted him with a steady voice. “Did you give Lady Campbell the chatelaine’s keys?”
“Aye, ma laird. Berta gave her a
wee tour of the undercroft, then she came to me and asked for them. She wanted to look in the barrels and crates in the storage buildings.”
“The undercroft? How brief was the tour?” Brodie asked.
“I dinna ken. Nae long. I think Berta only took her down and pointed out the doors and what we use each room for,” Aggie answered.
“Take me down there,” Brodie ordered. He knew where his wife was. A brief tour wouldn’t have satisfied her. She would want to count every barrel and cask, check all of them herself. Aggie nodded and picked up her skirts to keep up with the three men and their long legs.
Thirty-Six
Brodie swung open one door after another, waving the torch in front of him, but he didn’t find Laurel. He began to doubt he’d figured out where she’d gone. Monty, Aggie, and Donnan remained in the corridor as he stepped into each room. When he entered the smallest room, he paused and sniffed. “She’s been here. I smell lavender,” Brodie announced.
“The only place ye havenae checked yet is the larder,” Aggie pointed out. “Merciful Lord, if she’s been down there for hours—well, I dinna want to imagine.” The woman fumbled to find the right key before she handed the ring to Brodie, who stared impatiently at the flight of descending stairs. He practically snatched the keyring from Aggie’s hand when she held it up.
Laurel heard heavy boot steps outside the door. She drew a deep breath and twisted toward the door. It took the last dregs of her strength to lift her hand and slap it against the door. Her fingers were too inflexible to make a fist, and she didn’t have the energy to pound on anything. She tried to call out, but the only sound she produced was a cracked whisper. “Brodie,” she rasped.
She fell back against the wall when she heard a key in the door. She was certain it was Brodie, but she would be happy with anyone at that point. The torch had guttered hours ago, so she sat in the dark. When the door flew open and torch flight flashed before her, her sensitive eyes made her moan.
“Dear God, Laurie!”
She opened her eyes to see Brodie thrust the torch behind him before he swooped down and lifted her into his arms. Her head lolled onto his shoulder as she looked at him. She had no strength left to smile or nod. Even the notion of keeping her eyes open was daunting. She’d stopped shivering hours ago, too weak to continue. She’d never imagined she could be so cold and yet still be alive. She knew if Brodie hadn’t found her, she likely wouldn’t be for this world in another hour.
“Get a bath to our chamber,” Brodie commanded. Laurel tried to see who he was ordering around.
“M—” Laurel only produced the sound when she recognized her brother and Donnan. Brodie’s warmth, and the security she felt now that he’d found her, made her want to sleep. She hadn’t let herself, fearful that if she fell asleep, she would never wake.
“Thistle, nae yet. Mo ghaol, ye canna sleep yet. I ken ye’re so tired, but I must get ye warmer before ye sleep. Stay with me, Laurie.”
Laurel heard the desperation in Brodie’s voice, and her heart ached for how her husband must feel. She mustered energy she didn’t think she held and nodded. She pushed forth the sound, “Bro—”
“Aye, mo ghaol, I’m here.” Brodie bounded up the steps as though he carried nothing at all. He rolled Laurel, so her face nestled against his chest, protecting her eyes from the sunlight. Clan members stopped in their tracks as they watched their laird running toward the keep’s main doors with their lady in his arms. The guards at the top of the steps pulled the double doors open for Brodie. He didn’t slow as he ran the entire way up to their second-floor chamber. Monty and Donnan were behind him, but Monty sprinted forward to reach the door and open it for Brodie.
Without a word, Monty went to the fireplace, adding bricks of peat and poking the embers alive. Brodie laid Laurel on the bed and stripped off boots and stockings. Donnan went to the chest Brodie silently pointed to and pulled out two extra plaids. He went to the bed and unfolded them halfway before stacking them. Looking at one another, all three men reached for the brooches at their shoulders, unpinning the extra yards of wool. They dropped their scabbards and belts to the floor as they unwound their breacan feiles. Standing in just their leines, they added their plaids to the two already laid out on the bed. Monty and Donnan looked at Laurel, then Brodie before they left the chamber.
Alone with Laurel, Brodie stripped her of all her clothes, alarmed by how cold the material was. He ripped off his leine and climbed onto the bed beside Laurel. He covered them both with the five plaids before he pulled Laurel’s body flush with his.
“Laurie, dinna sleep. Nae yet. Ye can sleep the night and the day away, but nae until I ken ye’re warm enough to—” Brodie couldn’t finish. What would he say? Survive. Live. Not die. He didn’t want to say any of those aloud. When Laurel’s moans grew more pain-filled, he knew it meant sensation was returning to her extremities. He knew it would be excruciating, but it meant she would regain feeling. He prayed that without a biting wind and truly frigid temperatures, she wouldn’t suffer frostbite and risk losing fingers and toes. But try as he might, Laurel gave in to her body’s demand to sleep. Less frightened as her body started to warm, Brodie didn’t force her awake.
When Nora the healer knocked, Laurel didn’t stir. The old woman had helped deliver Brodie and Dominic. She’d stitched up Brodie’s wounds since the first time he got hurt and needed tending. He’d positioned Laurel, so he didn’t lie on his wound. Not moving and panic subsiding left Brodie in his own pain. He winced as he drew back the covers and revealed the slash to the back of his ribs.
“Och, nae more than a wee scratch, lad,” Nora reassured as she peered at Brodie’s wound while she fished around in her basket. “That willna take me more than five minutes.” The wizened healer hadn’t exaggerated. She finished stitching the gash before Brodie registered the additional pain. The gash was at least six inches long, but Nora’s experienced fingers were deft and efficient. She rubbed an ointment on it and told him to let it breathe for a bit. She looked at Laurel, frowned, but nodded her head and slipped out of the chamber. Until Laurel joined his clan, Nora was his favorite woman on Campbell land.
Brodie wrapped his arm around Laurel’s middle and slung his leg over her hip. He clung to her so tightly he feared he might crush her, but it made him grow warm faster. His heat poured into Laurel as she moaned. She stirred, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Brodie?”
“Wheest, thistle. I’m here. I swear I am tying us together, and I am nae letting ye out of ma reach again.”
“Too hot.”
“What?”
“Too hot, too soon. Hurts.”
Brodie eased his hold and drew back his leg, but he kept his wife pressed against him. When she sighed rather than moaned, he counted it as progress. A knock at the door kept Brodie from asking Laurel how she felt. He called out, and a troop of servants entered with the tub and buckets of hot water that they poured into the tub. Aggie ordered additional buckets placed before the fire to remain warm. The empty buckets remained for when Brodie needed to change out chilled water for more heated water. His brow furrowed when he glanced at the passageway. He was certain Colina stood watching just beyond where Monty and Donnan stood staring at Laurel. He leaned for a better look, but whoever it was, turned away. He didn’t understand his sister-by-marriage.
I understand why Dom wouldnae come, I suppose. But why wouldnae Colina? They’re nae friends, but it would be decent and right. How did I nae notice just how off-putting Colina is? Because she makes Dom happy, and that’s all ye wanted. Mayhap she feels out of place and doesnae want to intrude. I’m judging her without reason.
Aggie lingered after the other servants left. She offered to help Brodie, and he admitted he needed it. While Laurel was regaining feeling, she was still too worn out to support her own weight. And he knew the pins and needles she faced would likely make her thrash. Preparing the items around the tub, Aggie looked away while Brodie retrieved his leine. Once he was covere
d, he carried Laurel to the bath and eased her in. When the bathwater touched her skin, she screamed. Brodie knew that against her freezing body it would feel scalding.
“Thistle, it’ll ease in a moment. Then it will feel much better.”
“Dinna lie, bear. Going to hurt more soon.” Laurel rasped. “Water. Drink.” She added the second word to clarify. Aggie held a waterskin to her lips, but Laurel’s eyes darted to Brodie. The last time someone she didn’t know offered her a drink, they drugged her. Brodie reached for it and took a long draw before he placed it to her mouth and nodded. The water was more restorative than it had ever been before. Laurel squirmed but positioned herself, so she could hold her body up on her own if she leaned against the tub.
Laurel knew Brodie wanted to pepper her with questions, but she was grateful that he left her in peace. Soaking in the tub was all she could manage at the moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, flexing her fingers open and closed when the pins and needles started. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even make a sound. But Brodie knew she suffered. As he watched his plucky little bride struggle in silence, he was certain he would kill whoever caused her a moment of discomfort. He cared not who it was. A member of his clan, a stranger, whoever.
Laurel winced several times as her feet twitched and moved on their own accord. She remained silent lest she started screaming and never ceased. She rubbed her thumb over her palm before switching sides. She squeezed her fingers and rubbed them. Anything that would make the sensation end faster, but she knew it would go away when it was ready, not when she wanted it. Inhaling deeply and releasing it slowly, Laurel forced her eyes open as some of the initial pain eased. She glanced at Aggie and knew the woman suffered from guilt. It was clearly etched in her face, but Laurel knew it wasn’t guilt from committing a crime. It was guilt from not having prevented it. Struggling against the pain and the leaden weight of the water on her arm, she reached her hand for Aggie’s, which rested on the lip of the tub.
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 30