A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,46

his greeting. “You look beautiful. Thank you for wearing my colors.”

“Does it mean you’ve signed the contracts?” Laurel asked tentatively.

“Aye, Laurie. We are betrothed now.” Brodie watched to see if Laurel gave any sign of regret. What he spied was excitement and relief. “Are you happy, thistle?”

“I didn’t imagine I would be, at least not this much, but I am, Brodie. I really am,” Laurel admitted. “I wish I had something to give to you.”

“I don’t expect aught,” Brodie slid his arms around her, holding her in place. “And don’t think I said that because I believe you haven’t aught to give. I didn’t give you the plaid because I wanted aught in return. I gave it to you because I want you to ken I’m proud to call you my bride. I want you to ken I welcome you into my clan and my family.”

“Why are you so wonderful?”

“Och, we shall see how wonderful you think I am when you discover I snore. And when I track mud into your Great Hall,” Brodie grinned, then lowered his voice. “Or when I make love you in our bed throughout the night and well into the morn.”

Laurel’s cheeks blazed scarlet, but she didn’t shy away from Brodie. “When?”

“Three sennights. The time it takes to post the banns,” Brodie informed her.

“I thought you only intended to stay a fortnight. That would mean only a sennight longer. Don’t you need to return to Kilchurn?” Laurel bit her lower lip. “Are you going home then coming back to claim me?”

“Kilchurn needs its laird, but right now, I need to be here more,” Brodie answered.

“I shouldn’t be what keeps you from your duties, Brodie. That’s not a good impression to make with your people.”

“Laurie, I told you I wish to court you. I signed the contracts, but I was clear to King Robert and Monty that you may refuse me without penalty. We have three sennights. It’s not long, but I hope it is time enough for you to ken if you wish to come back to Kilchurn with me, whether it’s as my wife or a villager.”

“I already told ye, I canna live there as just another member of the village,” Laurel said as a lump formed in her throat. Her emotions pushed her burr back into her accent.

“And I dinna want ye to, but I will do what ye wish. If ye dinna wish to marry me, I willna leave ye here, and I willna let Monty take ye to Balnagown or somewhere ye’d be miserable.” Brodie’s brogue came back when he heard the familiar rolling sounds of Laurel’s Highland speech.

“Thank ye, mo dhìonadair,” Laurel said as she leaned into Brodie’s chest, and he drew her into his tight embrace.

“I will always be yer protector, thistle.” Brodie pressed his lips to Laurel’s in an achingly tender moment that was shattered by a slamming door. The word “strumpet” floated to them, but when Brodie and Laurel looked around, there were too many shocked faces to know who’d uttered the accusation. Laurel sighed before she glanced up at Brodie.

“Mayhap one of these days we’ll learn.”

“Keep kissing me like that, and the only thing I will learn is to find more ways to keep kissing ye.”

Fourteen

Laurel steeled herself for entering the Great Hall with Brodie. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been that morning when she’d spat on his boots in front of half the court. She’d insulted him and been more disrespectful than she had ever been on her worst day in the past. They’d argued in the stairwell, then kissed. They’d argued in her chamber, then kissed. They’d met with the king, and Laurel faced the most debilitating news she’d ever received. Rather than abandon her, Brodie had remained with her while she slept for several hours. Then they’d kissed.

Now she walked beside him as they approached the table where the Ross and Campbell men sat together. Laurel couldn’t help but overhear the whispers about Brodie being forced to marry her, that he’d only kissed her to silence her. She heard more than one man whisper suggestions about how to keep her from talking. She swallowed her rising gorge, forcing herself to breathe lest she cry or her cheeks go up in flames. Despite her fair complexion, she wasn’t prone to flushing.

Brodie adjusted their arms, so they held hands rather than Laurel’s arm looping through his. That set off another tsunami of gossip, but Brodie merely squeezed her hand. Monty