Fifteen
Monty and Donnan nursed their mugs of ale at the Fox and Hound. Neither felt talkative after Monty relayed the day’s events. Discovering Laurel’s scant dowry was a shock. He’d been certain her dowry was less than their sisters’, but he couldn’t conceive of how meager it was. He was certain his clan’s finances were strong enough to weather more generosity. But he considered how his mother bemoaned Laurel’s reputation, harping on her unmarried status. It only irritated his father, who grumbled that the money spent on her lodging at court would have been better spent on a dowry. But often, Monty wondered—even asked—why his father didn’t choose someone who wanted the dowry more than he cared about Laurel’s reputation or personality. It wouldn’t be the first arranged marriage where the couple couldn’t tolerate one another. He’d given up suggesting she come home to Balnagown. At first, he’d noticed interest in his father’s eyes. But it dulled over the years as his mother continued to complain about her daughters who moved away and the one who was a failure.
As the two men sat mulling over life in silence, Monty wondered if his mother had more influence than he realized. He considered whether she could be the reason for Laurel’s mockery of a dowry. While it might have sufficed for a lesser laird’s daughter or a chieftain’s, it was insulting for an earl’s child.
“Do you think your father made that hideous ultimatum to actually force Laurel home?” Donnan spoke up.
Monty considered Donnan’s question, replaying various conversations with Laird Ross and then factoring in what he now suspected about Lady Ross. “He might have. He wouldn’t be asking her to come back, but he would be duty bound to accept her. It would put the shame on Laurel’s shoulders, but it would bring her home. It would likely give him a reprieve from Mother’s nagging.”
“Does no one realize how similar Laurel and Lady Ross are?” Donnan mused. “For quite different reasons, mind you. But the outcome is the same. They’re both harpies.” Donnan had no love lost for Lady Ross, but he rarely spoke against his lover’s mother.
“I think that’s why Father hasn’t wanted her to come home enough to make it happen. I think he fears having them both under the same roof.”
“Doesn’t he remember how she used to be? Does he believe it’s impossible that she might sweeten if she were away from a place she loathes and people she detests?”
“I’ve suggested as much, but I don’t think he does. I think he believes she’s unredeemable,” Monty confessed.
“What do you think? You know my opinion.”
“I believe she is. I think that’s what Brodie sees in her. Despite their scene this morning, have you not noticed how she’s calmer when she’s with him? I mean, she’s still a spitfire—her glares threatened to make me go up in flames—but she’s not as on edge, as defensive as she used to be.”
“I noticed at the evening meal,” Donnan shared. “I even sensed it while we danced. She’s always grinned at my jokes when we’ve danced in the past, but this eve, she fully laughed—even giggled. She’d danced with Brodie the set before each of ours.”
“He said he liked a challenge. Mayhap his goal isn’t so much to tame her as it is to enjoy her fire.”
“From how you described her face when you discovered him in her chamber, I would assume he’s enjoyed it already,” Donnan grinned, and Monty grimaced. The door to the inn swung open, and a rowdy group of courtiers entered. Both Donnan and Monty groaned. “Why are they choosing respectable places? I can think of three taverns they’re better suited to.”
“They can’t afford the whores there,” Monty muttered. The couple lowered their heads, hoping not to draw attention to themselves, but Monty’s hair was unmistakable.
“Ross!” Andrew MacFarlane, Lady Catherine’s cousin, bellowed. The man swiped a mug from a passing serving wench’s tray and dropped a coin down her cleavage with a wink. He and half a dozen men made their way to Monty and Donnan’s table. Monty flashed Donnan a wary gaze before they smiled at the newcomers. Monty recognized only half. “I’d introduce you to Montgomery Ross and his second, Donnan Ross,” Andrew chirped.
“Good eve, I’m Seamus Mackenzie. I represent my laird at court,” a blond man nodded.
“I’m Stephen MacBain,” the man who sat down beside Daniel said.
“Matthew MacDougall,” the last unfamiliar man grunted at Monty. “Nelson’s brother.”
“Speaking of the arse,” Andrew turned to Matthew. “Where is he?”
“The Merry Widow as far as I know. With bluidy Oliphant up his arse. Likely buggering him.”
Monty and Donnan knew better than to look at one another, but their grips tightened on their mugs. “Gunn, Mackay, MacKinnon,” Monty greeted the three he knew. He was indirectly related to the Mackay representative through marriage. He was on friendly terms with him since he was Laird Tristan Mackay’s cousin.
“What brings you here?” Magnus Mackay asked.
“The lack of a crowd,” Monty said pointedly, to which Andrew guffawed.
“More likely escaping your wee sister. I was surprised she wasn’t breathing fire at you. She’s a dragon if ever there was one,” Andrew laughed.
“She’s my sister,” Monty warned.
“If anyone should fear for his arse, it’s Campbell,” Matthew MacDougall sniped. “I don’t even like the mon, but I’d rather he roast in hell than from Lady Laurel.”
Donnan nudged Monty under the table before placing coins on the table. Because of Donnan’s position as Monty’s second, he was able to share a chamber with Monty, rather than sleep in the barracks. The arrangement suited them well. The Rosses made to rise, signaling their men, but Laird Edgar Gunn placed a pouch of coins on the table.
“I didn’t have an opportunity to enter the wager Oliphant placed. But I offer a new one. I wager fifty pounds Campbell doesn’t show up to his wedding,” Edgar announced.
“I shall up that ante,” Daniel said. “To one hundred pounds, just as Oliphant offered.”
