Three
Laurel smiled warmly at Donnan, the man who sat across from her and beside Monty. Donnan and Monty had been inseparable since they were children, so it surprised no one when Monty named his fellow warrior as his second-in-command. Laurel’s gaze shifted to Monty before returning to Donnan, then gave both men a warning glance when their shoulders brushed against one another. As the meal progressed, Laurel enjoyed the banter between Monty and Donnan, and she recognized the ease with which they teased. But when they both reached for the same chalice, and their hands overlapped for a moment too long, Laurel shot them a speaking glare before her eyes darted to the other men at the table.
Laurel had discovered Monty and Donnan together when she was thirteen, and they were eighteen. She’d been out for a ride, telling her guards that she would easily catch up to her brother, who she’d seen leave with Donnan. To this day, she counted her blessings that she’d ridden into the woods on her own. She’d spied them in a passionate kiss that made her yank her horse to a stop. The animal reared and threw her. The couple broke apart and raced to help Laurel, but all she could do was stare at them until air finally filled her lungs again. They helped her to her feet before exchanging a private glance. Laurel still remembered the conversation they’d had.
“Dinna act surprised,” Laurel tsked. Monty and Donnan stared down at the young Laurel, who shook her head and patted both young men on the chest. “We have three married sisters, Monty. I’ve walked through the Great Hall at night. I ken what happens between couples.”
“Laurel,” Monty gasped.
“Dinna fash, Monty. Though I would recommend ye each pay a little more attention to the lasses if ye wish to keep everyone else fooled. I only reined inTeinebecause I thought to leave without interrupting. I suppose he didna appreciate that,” Laurel said as she patted her chestnut gelding, aptly name Fire for his coat.
“Ye ken?” Donnan asked, his face ashen, and his voice trembling.
“I figured out there was something different between ye years ago, but I didna understand it until Sorcha married. She actually likes her husband, so I’ve seen how they look at one another. I’ve seen ye two looking at each other the same way when ye think nay one is watching,” Laurel explained. “This just confirmed it.”
“And ye arenae running for the hills?” Donnan pressed.
Laurel shrugged. “At least two of ma siblings are happy. Morag and Sileas despise their husbands.” Laurel shrugged again. “Mayhap one day I’ll be as lucky as ye two.” She nudged her chin in the men’s direction.
“But, Laurel, ye canna say aught,” Monty pressed.
“Who would I tell? I dinna want either of ye stoned or burned or run through. Monty, I like ye most of the time, but I like Donnan all the time. I’d rather neither of ye die,” Laurel said philosophically. Both men gawked at her, their initial panic over.
“Do ye think anyone else kens?” Donnan asked.
“Nay. At least nae that I ken. But ye’re bluidy lucky I convinced Andrew and Alex nae to ride out with me. Ye canna be doing this so close to the keep. Canna ye go on patrol together?”
Donna and Monty looked at one another again, both releasing deep sighs. Monty pulled his sister into his embrace and kissed her crown. “Can ye truly keep this a secret, Laurel? Can ye truly be all right with this?”
Laurel pulled away from Monty and smiled. “I dinna understand it, and I dinna want to ken how it—” Laurel pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Works. But I told ye, I’m glad that ye’re happy. If it’s with Donnan, then that must be what God planned.”
“Most would say we are unnatural,” Donnan mused quietly.
“And most are miserable with their husband or wife,” Laurel countered. “But Monty, what—what will ye do when ye must marry?”
Laurel watched as both men’s faces transformed into matching expressions of despondency. Monty shook his head and closed his eyes. “I have little choice that it will happen one day. But I shall wait as long as I can.”
“Just be careful,” Laurel warned.
Laurel inhaled deeply as she looked up from the food she’d been picking at while she remembered discovering the secret that could ruin her clan. It was a secret that she’d let slip once in a roundabout way. And it had been to the worst person possible: Madeline MacLeod. It had been the piece of information that Madeline suspended over Laurel’s head to coerce her into anything. Madeline threatened to expose Monty, so Laurel felt compelled to do whatever Madeline dictated. She’d never felt more relief than when Madeline’s brother, Laird Kieran MacLeod, dragged her out of the Great Hall while she spewed curses at him. When Kieran relegated Madeline to a priory known as the “island of old women,” Laurel had finally felt free. She and Madeline never mentioned Monty and Donnan’s secret during Madeline’s brief return to court that summer.
But as Laurel watched the two warriors, she wondered if anyone else suspected their relationship. They were still breathing, so she assumed they’d learned to be discreet at Balnagown. At court, if they were circumspect and perhaps added a woman into their liaison, few would speak out unless pressed. Still, Laurel could not help worrying about the couple.
“Which tavern are you off to this eve?” Laurel asked softly. She prayed her brother didn’t name The Merry Widow, the most notorious alehouse in Stirling, so named for all the women from court who conducted their dalliances there. It was also the one where Monty and Donnan would draw the most attention. Both men were charming and exceedingly handsome, making women flock to them. They avoided committing to any liaisons, often pretending to pass out drunk in the main room rather than retire to a chamber with a woman.
“The Crosspool Tavern,” Monty responded. Laurel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Monty named the most respectable inn within the town limits. It was a lively establishment, and while wenches were available to entertain men, they weren’t as aggressive as at The Merry Widow, The Picked Over Plum, and The Wolf and Sheep. Monty, Donnan, and the other Ross men could drink in peace. Those who sought company would find it, but when Monty and Donnan didn’t, no one would consider it odd.
“Would you care to join us?” Donnan asked with a grin. Just before Laurel left Balnagown for Stirling, the men discovered her in the stables consoling herself with a jug of whisky. They thought to teach her a lesson about the dangers of the potentuisge beatha, or water of life, but it had been Laurel who taught her brother and his lover a lesson. She’d been fall-down drunk by that night, but she’d also woken with a clear head and calm stomach, while Monty and Donnan could barely face the day well after the noon meal. The men also discovered she had a ribald sense of humor when intoxicated.
“I shall have to pass,” Laurel said with a pretend scowl.
“Then we shall have to have a round or ten on your behalf,” Monty chuckled.
“You do that, and I’ll look for you in the lists in the morn,” Laurel taunted. “Neither sword will be up for much.” Snickers from down the table told the trio that the other Ross warriors understood Laurel’s innuendo, even if they didn’t understand what it meant between Monty and Donnan.
“My wee sister has a devilish tongue,” Monty grinned.
“Only a fool makes the same mistake ten times over, and I believe you’re at nine,” Laurel said archly. “Then again, you can’t teach an auld dog new tricks.”
