“Och, I love ye. Ye are a good husband. I canna think of another mon who would think aboot such things for his wife.”
“Laurie, that isnae true. Think of the ladies ye ken who married. Their husbands adore them just as I adore ye. I’m sure they all did things to help their wives. All but mayhap Padraig.”
Laurel’s face turned into a thundercloud, and Brodie wished to bite his tongue. “I’m nae angry at ye for mentioning Padraig. I just havenae moved past how much I loathe Myrna. I’m nae too keen on Padraig either. I ken he and Cairren are happy now, but I dinna like how things started between them. Probably because I feel guilty for nae telling Cairren more before she left court. Anyway, that isnae the point ye were trying to make. I dinna ken how their husbands treat them, but I can imagine it, and ye’re right.”
“If ye feel up to it, would ye go for a walk with me this afternoon?”
“I’d like that, bear. But will ye promise me something?”
“What do ye wish, Laurie?”
“Dinna go into the lists for at least two more days. I dinna want ye to rip yer stitches.” Laurel glanced down, embarrassed by her request. It seemed silly once she said it aloud. Brodie had been swinging a sword for at least thirty years—longer than she’d been alive—and likely riding out to fight for more than twenty. He didn’t need her telling him what to do.
“I admit I’m tempted to, but yer request speaks of common sense nae just concern. I willna train for a couple days. Besides, there will be plenty to deal with over the next few days.”
“How soon do ye think the king will demand ye return?”
“Och, that summons will be here in less than a sennight. Someone is already hying off to tell him what wickedness we did to them. He’ll dispatch a messenger the same day.”
Laurel nodded. She’d assumed the same thing. She didn’t revel in the idea of being left at Kilchurn so soon after she arrived, but she’d survived harder introductions to new ways of life. She worried about what would happen to Brodie while he was in Stirling. She jumped when Brodie’s hand slipped down to her bottom and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Unless ye dinna want to, I assumed ye’d be coming with me.”
“After the mess I caused on the way here? I didna think ye would want to travel with me again so soon.”
“That ye caused? Laurel, I wasna fighting ye on the battlefield yesterday. I fought the bluidy causes of this nightmare. Ye didna do aught but get stuck in the middle. Nelson and Matthew were looking for ways to cause trouble with me. They realized ye would be the best way to draw me into a fight. They did it because we were already feuding with the MacDougalls, and they allied with the Lamonts because we were feuding with them, too.”
“All the more reason I shouldnae travel. If I stay here, then I canna be used against ye.”
“Laurie, there are two reasons I wish ye to come. One is completely selfish, and one is unfortunate. I dinna want to miss ye. If ye come with me, then I can see ye, touch ye, talk to ye the whole time. But I’m also nae comfortable leaving ye here without kenning who caused yesterday’s incident. Even if I asked yer kin to remain, they dinna ken who to watch for. They dinna ken who is or isnae trustworthy. I dinna feel it’s safe. I hate admitting that when I want this to feel like yer home and yer clan. It angers and embarrasses me. I willna leave here if I canna be certain ye’re safe. But neither can I ignore a summons.”
“I feel the same way. If ye dinna mind me coming, I would rather be with ye, even if it means returning to Stirling so bluidy soon.”
“Then expect to leave here within a sennight.”
The hairs on Laurel’s nape rose again as she walked alongside Aggie as they made their way to the buttery. Three Campbell guards accompanied them. Laurel had already grown used to the men being her second shadow. Brodie tasked them as her personal guard the morning after he found her in the larder. That was three days earlier, and the men were polite and dutiful. They’d even fought not to laugh at some of Laurel’s more choice comments about gaining three wet nurses when she wasn’t even pregnant.
But even with the men in tow everywhere she went, she still had moments of inexplicable unease. She couldn’t pinpoint if she felt like someone watched her, or if she feared something was about to happen, or if it was something else entirely. It was unnerving and tiring. She hadn’t shared her feelings with anyone. She couldn’t articulate them clearly to her guards, she didn’t want to worry Brodie, and she didn’t want to accept that they might be accurate.
She found she felt safer outside the castle walls than inside. The afternoon following the battle, Laurel accompanied Brodie when he met with his dead warriors’ families. She’d begun her role as Lady Campbell by helping the clan through a crisis. She didn’t relish such tasks as Brodie’s, but she knew her presence served a purpose, that she could help people. She consoled women and children, then helped the widows and mothers work through what they would need now that at least one man in their life was gone. Brodie praised her in public and in private, impressed with her compassion and level-headedness. She relished the praise, even though she wished she could have earned it some other way. She looked forward to her daily visits to the village and the opportunity to meet more clan members. But she was happiest when she went riding with Brodie. They raced as they left the keep, but they returned with Brodie’s arms wrapped around Laurel as they shared a mount.
However, a sense of doom—or at least trepidation—returned to Laurel each time she rode back into the bailey. She felt it even more strongly as she opened the door to the buttery and entered with Aggie. One of her guards entered with the women while the other two remained in the corridor.
“These are the casks I mentioned,” Laurel said to Aggie as she lifted down ones that smelled like vinegar. “Are they meant to be fermented like this?”
Aggie leaned forward, then jerked away as her lips puckered. “Nay, ma lady. That’s foul.”
“How old are they?”
“Last year’s fruit. Even if the batch went off, they shouldnae smell that horrendous so soon.”
“The ale seems fine. Do the brewer and vintner work together?”
Aggie chuckled and shook her head. She glanced at the man who stood at the door. Laurel looked back and found the guard struggled not to laugh. She raised her eyebrows in question. Aggie laughed again. “Too competitive, they are.”
“So they don’t get along?”
“Worse than that,” Aggie chuckled. “They’re brothers!” Aggie and the guard both gave up trying not to laugh.
“Ye’ll see, ma lady,” the guard chimed in. “Bernard—the brewer, ma lady—willna let his brother live this down. Cal will be stuck listening to Bernard crowing for sennights.”
“But the other wine isn’t spoiled. It seems quite fine, even if I didn’t care for it. If Cal makes decent wine, then what happened to this newest batch?” Laurel lifted another cask from the shelf and sniffed. It was putrid too. However, when she pulled three casks from the shelf below, they smelled delicious. Laurel handed Aggie a rotten cask, and she picked up another two. When they entered the corridor, the guards tried to take the casks from Laurel, but she refused. She insisted that their laird didn’t assign them to her as her servants. He assigned them to swing a sword if need be. They couldn’t do that if they were carrying things for her. She noted their displeasure and carried on without relenting.
Laurel led them to a patch of grass outside the undercroft. She and Aggie set the wine down on the ground. Laurel stared at it as she wracked her memory for what she’d learned while her mother trained her. She’d spent time with the Ross brewer and vintner to learn the process and to distinguish quality. She pulled the stopper out of one offending container and poured out the contents. The color looked as it should, but the smell nearly overpowered all five of them. Laurel shook the empty container, certain something remained in the bottom, even though she couldn’t see anything.
“Smash it, please,” Laurel asked her largest g
uard. The man stomped on the small wooden barrel, and the wood splinted apart. Laurel lifted the bottom of the barrel and pulled apart a few slats of wood. She’d been right. There was something stuck to the bottom of the barrel.
“What is that?” a guard asked.
“Tar,” Laurel and Aggie answered together.
Laurel looked at Aggie, certain she already knew the answer. “Would Cal do this?”
“Never, ma lady,” Aggie said while shaking her head. She looked distraught.
“I’m not going to do aught to Cal. Someone else is involved.” If only Laurel knew who. But she still struggled to put names with faces. Now she needed to determine who intended to poison the laird’s family and senior warriors. The wine was only intended for those who sat at the dais. She looked back at the evidence before speaking to the guards. “I need your help after all. I want to put these on the top shelves in the grain storeroom. Well above most people’s reach. I don’t want anyone accidentally or intentionally serving this wine. Will you help me, please?”
The guards were still unaccustomed to Laurel’s requests. They all knew they were rhetorical, but the courtesy she included was foreign. She supposed she hadn’t been very polite until the last few years. She was making the most of a fresh start and trying to set the tone for her life at Kilchurn as one with courtesy—most of the time. A guard took both remaining casks that had been rather cumbersome for Laurel and Aggie but were dwarfed by the imposing arms that carried them. Laurel opened the storeroom and pointed to where she wished the man to place them. He didn’t need to stretch to place them above his head on the top shelf. She thanked all her guards, then dismissed Aggie before going in search of Brodie.
Thirty-Eight
Laurel hurried up the stairs to her solar, assuming Brodie was already there since she hadn’t found him anywhere else. She turned on the landing and ran into Colina.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Laurel smiled, but it fizzled at Colina’s look of disgust. It raised Laurel’s hackles.
“You should be,” Colina snapped. Laurel narrowed her eyes.
“I should be what? Which part?”
“Both, I suppose.” Colina sniffed. Laurel was accustomed to the habit now, and she knew it had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with demeanor.
“I ken I’m still new to your clan, so mayhap I must learn that the laird’s family isn’t held to the same high standards as the clans I’m accustomed to.” Laurel looked down her nose at Colina. Then sniffed. “Because I’m certain the wife of the laird’s little brother doesn’t issue commands to the clan’s lady.”
Colina’s back went rigid, and Laurel was certain the woman bared her teeth for a heartbeat. “You’d do well to remember how new you are.”
“And if I should forget?” Laurel taunted. She’d seen Brodie step into the passageway from the corner of her eye. He crept along the wall until he could hide within arm’s reach of the women.
“You seem accident prone, my lady,” Colina mused.
“It cannot be both accidental and intentional.”
“So you say.”
Laurel narrowed her eyes and looked questioningly at Colina, as though she tried to figure her out. “You do understand why something can’t be both, correct?”
Colina sneered, “I’m not stupid.”
“Just lazy.”
“Too good for the likes of you or this clan.”
“But you chose to marry into it.”
“Aye, well, I didn’t get everything I chose.”
“Didn’t you know you were getting the baby brother?”
“I chose a mon determined to lead. I got a milksop.”
“You chose Brodie but got Dominic?” Laurel pretended to sound confused. She was intrigued by what she might learn.
“Nay, you eejit.
Laurel furrowed her brow and looked up at the ceiling as though she was trying to work through what Colina said. “You thought Brodie was a choice. You thought he might marry you.”
“If that’s what I wanted.”
Laurel struggled not to laugh. “You knew Dominic is the younger brother. You believed you could have had the aulder brother. You were certain Dominic was the better leader of the two. Even if he were, what would it matter? You passed up the heir for the spare.”
“There’s a spare for a reason.”
Laurel kept her expression light, but she grew deadly serious. “One person’s accidental is another person’s intentional.”
“Now you understand.” Colina glared at Laurel before offering a sugary smile. “And you do seem accident prone.” Colina tried to step around Laurel, but Laurel shifted to block her.
“And if I’d like to stop being accident prone?”
“It’s not aboot what you’d like.”
“Who is it aboot?”
“Me. Are you daft? Can you not keep up?”
“It’s aboot you wanting to be Lady Campbell and not picking the right brother. You’ve had a chance to be the lady of the keep for three years, but you didn’t take it.”
“I didn’t take the job of being a servant.”
“What do you do all day?”
“What a genuine lady does.” At Laurel’s studiously blank expression, Colina huffed, “Sew.”
“Sew? Like a seamstress?” Laurel grinned.
“Hardly. I embroider.”
“Seamstresses do that too.”
“I’m through with you.” Colina tried to move again, but Laurel remained in the way.
“For today or for forever?” Laurel narrowed her eyes. “Just to be clear, since I’m such an eejit, you wish for me and the laird to die, so your husband the tánaiste becomes laird. That makes you the lady of the clan. But you didn’t want to actually be the lady while you had a three-year chance because that involved work. You merely want the title.”
“I ken you tell your husband everything. Speak of this to him, and your next accident will be sooner than you expect.”
“Like Gara’s?” Laurel tossed out. She suspected who encouraged Gara to be so hostile. The maid was a perfect scapegoat.
“Exactly,” Colina snapped.
Laurel wasn’t going to press for more. She’d learned an intriguing—or rather disturbing—number of things about her sister-by-marriage. The woman’s scorn was too genuine for her to just be testing Laurel by saying outlandish things. What concerned Laurel more than Colina’s thinly veiled threats was Dominic’s role in all of this. She decided she had one more question.
“Dominic must look forward to elevating his status. Is he as eager as you?”
“Bah. He’s content as the tánaiste. I told you, I thought I chose the better one. He’s a follower, not a leader. I was duped, but never again.”
Laurel couldn’t resist. “Why tell me this if you think I might tell the laird?”
“Because you’re not so simple that you won’t understand your role now that you know.”
Laurel moved out of Colina’s way, letting the woman descend the stairs to the main floor before nodding to Brodie. Her husband slipped from the shadows and drew her into his arms. He didn’t know what to make of what he saw and heard. He’d feared several times that Colina would shove Laurel down the stairs. But Laurel’s skill for ferreting out information impressed him. Grateful that she’d survived the conversation without harm, he held her close.
“I was on my way to our solar,” Laurel explained.
“I ken. I heard your voice, then Colina’s. I was worried.”
The couple walked to their shared solar, and Laurel locked the door. Brodie joined Laurel on the window seat, and she recalled when he’d sat beside her on the window seat in her chamber at court. Brodie’s smile told Laurel he remembered too. They laced their fingers together, and Laurel leaned her head on Brodie’s shoulder.
“Could you hear everything?” she asked
“Aye. The woman is addlepated. There was never a choice. I never considered her as aught bu
t my younger brother’s intended. She could have chosen me, but I never would have chosen her.”
“She basically admitted she’s responsible for me being locked in the larder. And it sounded an awful lot like she indirectly admitted killing Gara.” Laurel froze. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her mouth went dry. Slowly, she raised her head and leaned away. “Brodie, you said they’ve been married for three years. Hasn’t your mother been gone that long too?”
Laurel wished she could pull back and swallow her words when she witnessed Brodie’s stricken expression. He nodded as he stared into space. “They’d been married a fortnight when mother fell ill. Colina gave everyone the impression that she would one day be an excellent chatelaine until I married. She cared for Mother and seemed so concerned for her. But once Mother faded away, Colina no longer seemed interested in running the keep. Dominic and I thought it was grief. We thought she and Mother had grown close.” Brodie sprang to his feet. “Fuck.”
“Brodie?”
Brodie tipped his head back, an anguished groan seeming to pour out from his soul. When he looked at Laurel, the pain in his eyes made tears come to hers. “When Dom and I visited Mother, Colina would step out. Mother would become agitated. Dom and I thought she missed Colina, so we didn’t linger. She couldn’t speak much the last couple of months. Do you think she grew upset because she couldn’t tell us what Colina was doing to her?”
“Oh, Brodie.” Laurel’s heart ached. She had little doubt that Colina caused the previous Lady Campbell’s death. While Colina appeared sallow and mousy, the woman Laurel encountered today was menacing. If she’d been Brodie’s mother’s frequent caregiver, then it was likely she played a role. “I don’t know.”
“You do, Laurie. You just don’t want to say it.” Brodie sank back onto the window seat, and just as she had in her old chamber, she wrapped her arms around Brodie as he leaned his head against her middle. They remained silent, each lost in thought, but comforted by the other’s presence. When Brodie could no longer keep his thoughts to himself without going mad, he asked Laurel, “Do I tell Dominic?”
A Hellion at the Highland Court: A Rags to Riches Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 9) Page 32