“Why are you being so cruel, Monty?” Laurel whispered. She and her brother had exchanged various tart and belittling comments, but none had ever been to this degree.
“Because it was one thing when everyone thought you a bitch. Now you’re a bitch and a whore.”
Brodie lunged past Laurel, who whimpered, then shrieked as Monty’s words pierced her heart, and Brodie terrified her. He wrapped his hand around Monty’s throat and squeezed. But the men were close in size and equal in strength. Monty swung, but Brodie lifted his arm to shield his face. However, Monty slammed his other fist into Brodie’s jaw. Brodie couldn’t block that blow since his hand was still strangling Monty.
“Stop!” Laurel screamed, unsure of who would be the victor. She may not have wanted to see Monty again, but she didn’t wish her brother dead. But her word fell on deaf ears as the men tumbled to the ground. Brodie lost his grip on Monty’s throat as they landed with a bang. They rolled around, one gaining an advantage only to lose it the next moment. Laurel looked around her chamber for anything she could use to break them apart. She glanced at the ewer of water on her washstand, but there wasn’t nearly enough to even faze them. She searched for something that might make a loud noise, but she could think of nothing. She looked back and spied her sewing basket. With a glance at the brawling men, she dashed to the basket and fished out two long pins. Daring to draw close to the flailing arms and legs, she stabbed one into Monty’s waist, just below his ribs. She pressed the other equally hard into Brodie’s backside. She was quick to withdraw them as the men roared and broke apart. Both men lithely came to their feet, ready to attack whoever interrupted. Laurel stood wide-eyed with a sewing pin in each hand.
“You wouldn’t stop,” Laurel said lamely.
“So you stabbed me?” Brodie said incredulously.
“Och, it didn’t go in very far. It was like pushing a pin into stone,” Laurel scowled.
“Where did she get you?” Monty asked as he pulled up his already untucked leine and found the prick where a dot of blood bubbled.
“In the arse. At least she got you in a respectable place like your side,” Brodie grumbled.
“It was what I could reach,” Laurel snapped. “If you want to duel, take it to the lists. Not in my chamber, where you’re likely to tear it apart. Monty, you should leave. I won’t say it again, and I don’t believe Brodie wishes to hear it again.”
“Naught is resolved,” Monty argued. “You still disgraced yourself, and he compromised you.”
“So you’ve said,” Laurel said as she cast Monty a withering stare. “Sort out the contracts and inform Father that whatever pittance he calls my dowry needs to be delivered to the Campbells. For all my faults and sins, I just allied the Rosses with the most powerful clan in Scotland. If the next words out of your mouth, Monty, aren’t thank you, I’ll run you through myself.”
Monty shifted his gaze to the resolute expression on Brodie’s face, and his defensive posture near Laurel. He shook his head but smiled. “I sense you deserve one another. If you are so quick to defend my sister, I believe you carry genuine sentiment toward her. And I suspect she ended our fight out of pity and fear for my life more than worry for your safety. Laurel, I will send a missive to Father to inform him of these good tidings. And despite the words—and blows—exchanged here, I will stand beside you no matter what anyone says. And I do not doubt Father and our clan council will be, dare I say, jubilant to learn that you’re marrying into the Campbells.
“I shall sleep well kenning I’ve made Father and the clan council happy,” Laurel said snidely. “And you’re welcome, Monty.”
“Och, thank you, Laurel,” Monty stepped forward to kiss his sister on the cheek, but her pinched look and her eye that twitched made him pull back. “We should see the king as soon as we can gain an audience.”
