A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,31

be tempted to ride off with ye, uncaring if anyone kenned where we went or what became of us?”

“I dinna ken,” Laurel confessed, barely able to follow Brodie’s logic since she cared about little beyond the next kiss. Brodie rocked his hips against her, and a whimper escaped Laurel’s lips as she nudged his head toward hers, bringing their mouths together again.

“Lady Laurel!”

Laurel and Brodie turned toward the shocked voice, finding a group of stunned, openmouthed ladies-in-waiting, staring at them. It had been Sarah Anne who screeched her name. Brodie twisted, pushing his sporran back into place, shielding Laurel from the prying eyes of the courtiers. But he and Laurel knew it mattered little. All the damage had already been done.

Nine

Laurel stepped out of Brodie’s shadow, determined to accept the fallout of her actions, both in the Great Hall and in the passageway. She notched up her chin and cast her gaze down at Sarah Anne, who stood nearly a head shorter than Laurel. She flicked her gaze to the other women, daring any of them to speak aloud their accusations and questions. A malicious gleam came into Sarah Anne’s gaze as she accepted Laurel’s challenge.

“I see Laird Campbell found a way to occupy your tongue that doesn’t involve you talking,” Sarah Anne proclaimed.

“Aye. Shame you can only speculate on how enjoyable it is,” Laurel sniffed.

Sarah Anne gasped, unprepared for Laurel to accept the accusation even if it came with a jibe. “Only a trollop would say such a thing.”

“Just as a prude would say such a thing.”

“Lady Laurel,” Emelie stepped forward. “Are you all right?” Emelie didn’t look as convinced as everyone else that Laurel welcomed Brodie’s attention.

“Quite. Laird Campbell and I resolved our disagreement and made amends,” Laurel said offhandedly. She glanced up at Brodie and nodded. “Thank you. I bid you good day.”

Brodie stood in stunned silence, unsure what to make of Laurel’s calm acceptance of being caught. She neither railed at him for the inevitable outcome, nor did she attempt to make excuses to avoid it. He wondered if she might wish to marry him as much as he was finding he wished to marry her. She said no more as she walked past the women and entered her chamber without looking back, leaving Brodie with a gaggle of tittering ladies.

Brodie adopted his most menacing glare, and the women scattered. When no one remained in sight, he stalked to Laurel’s door, knocked once, and pushed it open. He found Laurel sitting in the window embrasure, with her embroidery in her hands. If he hadn’t known she’d been locked in the most erotic interlude of his life and then stared down the accusatory looks from her fellow ladies, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it from the look of serenity on her face.

“Laurie,” Brodie started, but he didn’t know what to say next.

“I meant what I said, Brodie. Thank you.” Laurel spared him a glance before she continued her stitching. Brodie hadn’t a clue what she was thankful for, since her reputation as a maiden now laid in tatters. He closed the door and crossed the chamber. With an aggrieved sigh, Laurel lifted her legs from the window seat and made room for Brodie, but he opted to stand. When he didn’t move, she shrugged, and extended her legs once more, crossing them at the ankles.

“What are you thanking me for exactly?” Brodie wondered.

“For accepting my apology. For understanding me. For not blaming me. And most of all, for giving me my freedom.”

“Your freedom?” Brodie understood each sentiment but that.

“Aye. With my reputation now completely obliterated, I am free. Whether I remain here or go where I please, I owe no one aught anymore,” Laurel said with a shrug.

“Go where you please? Owe no one?” Brodie was baffled by what she meant. She would go to Kilchurn with him, and she would owe him—or rather, they would owe one another—the customs of marriage.

“Aye. I’ll likely be sent down from court since the queen won’t countenance the scandal, but I won’t be welcome at Balnagown either. Monty might suggest a convent, but he said he wouldn’t force me. I shall find a village somewhere in the hills and say I’m a widow. I’ve done it before. I can be a seamstress for real and do as I please. Any way I look at it, I’m free, so thank you.”

“You cannot be serious, Laurel.”

“And why not? It won’t matter to you or your clan that they found you