“I bet he will,” Magnus replied. “She doesn’t need to speak if he keeps her occupied enough, and she has a fine figure to distract him if she does.”
“You will not wager on my sister,” Monty snapped. “Put your money away, Gunn.”
“Join the wager or not, but you cannot stop me,” Edgar taunted. “Aye, throw your fist at me. I shall just arrange the bet elsewhere.”
“I wager you’re likelier to marry before she does,” Stephen suggested.
“I’m not here to see to my own wedding. I’m here to arrange my sister’s, which I’ve done. It will happen as soon as the banns have been read,” Monty insisted.
“That gives the poor bastard three sennights to get lost among the hills,” Andrew snorted. “He’d do well to ride off tonight.”
“Leave off,” Monty threatened, rising to his feet with his hand raised toward the claymore strapped to his back. At his movement, all the Ross men rose. The newcomers foolishly arrived without guards, presumedly believing they could defend themselves and one another. The Rosses outnumbered them.
“Bah. Dinna get in a twitch, Ross,” Andrew waved at his seat. “I say, rather than betting whether Campbell marries, we save the poor bastard.”
“Have him compromise some other lady?” Edgar snickered.
“Doesn’t he know Lady Laurel is a pauper compared to your other sisters?” Matthew asked. “He must have read the contracts.”
“He’s not interested in her dowry,” Monty stated, his chin raised.
“Then she must be good for a tumble,” Magnus said, and the men roared with laughter.
“Cease,” Monty slammed his hand on the table, making it wobble. “My men and I leave now before there is bloodshed. But I promise you I will kill each of you in your sleep if you continue to disparage my sister. She’s always been my favorite, and I shall always be her brother. Attack her character again, and I will watch you laid in the ground.” Monty didn’t wait for any of the men to respond. Monty, Donnan, and the Ross guards left the tavern with haste.
“His favorite?” Edgar sniffed. “How bad are the rest?” The men roared at the snide comment.
“You heard aboot Lady Myrna and her antics with Padraig Munro. And his brother,” Stephen reminded them. “MacGillivray is miserable, and she still hasn’t bore him a son.”
“Pitiful sod,” Matthew said as he raised his mug in Chieftain MacGillivray’s honor. “I say Andrew has the right of it. Campbell needs rescuing, and since ours isn’t the only wager we’ve each entered, we’d do well to see their marriage doesn’t last.”
The six men raised their mugs and grinned before each of them drained it and bellowed for more.
