A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,106

did naught to convince the others not to murder me. Are you sorry for that? Or can you only admit you did something wrong because your da made you?”

Laurel watched Brodie’s shoulders tense for a moment, but she still didn’t feel contrite. He would negotiate with the laird, but Laurel would deal with the perpetrator. She knew accusing Andrew of being dishonorable would have wound her up in a fight to the death if she were a man. After what she endured, she couldn’t resist taunting him. She trusted that Andrew Mòr was intelligent enough not to let his son take on Brodie in her stead.

“I never heard how much my death was worth. Twenty pounds? Thirty pounds? One hundred? How much did you lose because I’m still married?”

Andrew drew in a deep breath. “Two hundred and fifty pounds.” He exhaled with a puff.

“Hmm.” Laurel looked to contemplate what he said. “I’ll admit, seeing me dead is worth more than I expected. Or you just really wanted to be right. We shall see whether your father thinks I’m worth that two hundred and fifty pounds by the end of the tomorrow, shalln’t we?” Laurel turned her head away, dismissing Andrew as though he weren’t heir to a lairdship.

“As sharp as a thorn, and as hard-hearted as a Scot from Scotland,” Andrew Mòr said approvingly. “She might make a mon of you yet, Campbell.”

“Aye. That’s why I’m bent on keeping her at my side.”

“You’d rather her with you than against you.”

“Now you ken who to wager on. That’s if you’re daft enough to try.”

“I’ll leave that to my son.”

Laurel thought for a moment that she would accept his apology aloud to ease his obvious discomfort, but she knew it was a lie. And she thought a dose of public shaming would serve him well. He would be a laird one day. He needed some humility. So Laurel sat quietly, having said her piece.

Brodie enjoyed Laurel’s assertiveness and fought not to laugh. Not because the situation was humorous, but because Laurel was still one step ahead of most. But he was ready to end the chitchat and move the combined clans to Kilchurn. He needed to send riders to the other Campbell keeps and men to the River Orchy to scout the MacArthurs and MacGregors. He needed to know if his idea about the dam was feasible.

“Come. Your men can make camp outside my walls. I’m certain we can have chambers prepared for you both,” Brodie announced. He glanced at Laurel as he turned his horse.

“I shall even make certain there are fires in both hearths,” Laurel quipped before spurring her horse to follow the others. Brodie led the members from the three clans, Monty now riding to his right and Andrew Mòr on his left. Donnan rode alongside Laurel on one side while Graham rode on the other. She kept a lively conversation with both men when their pace allowed it. She found the last hour went quickly. But her stomach knotted when Kilchurn Castle came into view. Her new home and her new clan awaited.

Thirty-Two

Brodie signaled for the riders to rein in, pointing out to the MacFarlanes where they could pitch their camp. The Rosses were few enough that they would bunk in the barracks. Laurel wondered if she should remain where she was, even as the group largely dispersed. Brodie turned back to look at her.

“Laurie?”

Laurel nudged Teine on until she came to be side by side with Brodie. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her into his lap with a squeak. She was unprepared for him to capture her mouth in a kiss, but she surrendered immediately, eager for it just like him. As the kiss drew on, she sensed impatient horses swaying around them, their owners not much more pleased to be kept waiting. But she cared not. They’d defied death countless times in the past two days. She would savor this moment of love and security.

“I’ve waited all bluidy day to do that, thistle,” Brodie murmured against her lips.

“Mmm. I’m glad you didn’t make me wait anymore.”

“How do you wish to enter your new home? On your own horse or with me on mine?”

“What I wish and what I must do are, as usual, not the same. I wish to remain as we are. But I must enter on my own. I’m your wife and lady of this clan. The first impression I make will be hard to undo if I appear too