The guard handed her the folded Campbell plaid, which she opened and shook out. She wrapped it around herself, covering her gown. Understanding her intention, Brodie engulfed her in his embrace, her arms pinned beneath the yards of wool.
“Kiss,” Laurel mumbled. Brodie’s mouth crushed hers as he pressed his tongue against her lips. She opened to him as though she was starving, and his kiss was her only succor. Brodie felt light-headed as all the blood drained from everywhere but his groin. It pooled there, making his cock stand at attention.
“Do ye wish me to change?”
“Nae one bit,” Laurel answered with a broad smile. “Can we just get married?”
“Ye heard the lass,” Brodie said as he turned toward the bemused priest who stood silently watching the couple.
“We hear the shrew giving you orders, Campbell. And we see you are quick to follow!” Nelson called out.
“I wonder which one has the bigger bollocks,” Liam snickered.
“Enough prattle,” King Robert commanded. “Campbell, you have kept us waiting for hours. Let’s have the wedding. My stomach grows tired of wondering if my neck’s been cut off. We have a feast to attend.”
Brodie guided Laurel up the steps of the kirk to stand before its doors, where she unwrapped herself from the plaid but kept it draped over shoulders and back. Laurel thrust out her hand, and Brodie grasped it. He couldn’t overlook the contrast between his grimy hand and her clean, well-manicured one. But Laurel didn’t seem to notice, or at least it didn’t seem to bother her. She wove her fingers around his as the priest bound their wrists with the end of the plaid Laurel wore.
“Wait,” Laurel said. “I ken this is a Campbell plaid, but it isn’t yours. I want it to be your plaid that binds us.”
“Even I ken it’s too filthy for that, Laurie.”
“I dinna care if it’s dripping with shite if it’s yers.”
Brodie nodded before he slipped the brooch from his shoulder. The priest warily took the edge of the wool Brodie offered and wrapped it around the couple’s joined hands. After waiting for what felt like years, the brevity of the ceremony disconcerted Laurel. She blinked several times before shuffling to wrap the yards of material around her again. Brodie helped her cover her gown, then once more kissed her until she feared her knees could no longer bear her weight. The crowd called out randy comments and wagers on how long it would be before Brodie came to his senses. There were suggestions that he send her to a convent. Others argued he had to at least wait until she bore him a son.
Brodie’s temper was pushed to the limits as he heard the hideous comments, knowing Laurel heard them, too. He couldn’t force any of them to stop other than by running his sword through all of them. He wrapped his arm around Laurel and guided her down the kirk’s steps.
“Bathe and change, then meet your wife on the dais.” King Robert stood at the bottom of the steps, blocking the couple’s way. Brodie looked down at Laurel, seeing the fine skin pulled taut over her cheeks and the pinched look around her eyes. She appeared exhausted, and he couldn’t blame her. He knew she’d been standing for hours, waiting for him, not knowing whether he would arrive. He could imagine what she’d thought as she faced the crowd without him at her side.
“Ma wife and I are retiring,” Brodie spoke quietly, but there was steel in his voice. “Ye wanted the ceremony, so ye had it. But I didna agree to a feast. Ma wife doesnae need to be on display to these people, and I have important clan matters to discuss with Lady Campbell.”
“If you were so worried aboot people staring at Lady Campbell, you shouldn’t have sent word you would arrive within an hour, then take nearly three.”
Brodie gritted his teeth and seethed. “I stopped to bury two of ma men. Ma apologies to ye and ma wife that I couldnae rush ensuring their eternal souls went to heaven.”
“Brodie,” Laurel gasped. She looked at the weary Campbell warriors who stood silently while she and Brodie exchanged their vows. The men looked like they could barely remain on their feet, some leaning against one another. She glanced around for her maid. She left Brodie’s side and hurried to the woman. “Ina, fetch the healer and send a tub and hot water for each of the Campbells. If they dinna wish to join the feast, have trays brought to them. Have a Ross mon sent to our chamber if any of the wounds are serious. Please hurry.”
“Aye, ma lady.” Ina spun on her heels and pushed through the crowd, lifting her skirts once she broke free and ran into the keep. Laurel had never seen the woman move so fast. She walked over to the men who’d ridden with her husband.
“I dinna ken what happened, but I can easily guess,” Laurel said softly. “I dinna doubt ye each played a part in ensuring yer laird returned here—returned to me. Thank ye. I—” Laurel caught herself. “I thank ye.”
Brodie came to stand behind her. His men looked to him, wide-eyed. They’d gotten to know Laurel while they accompanied the couple on their daily rides, but none had expected her to thank them personally or to call for the healer and baths.
“Ye’re welcome, Lady Campbell,” Graham spoke up. “We welcome ye to Clan Campbell.” Laurel’s smile shone in the early night’s darkness.
* * *
“Laurie, I canna tell ye how sorry I am to have kept ye waiting. I can imagine what ye must have thought, and it pains me to ken I caused ye any anguish,” Brodie said as he stripped off his soiled clothes and stepped into the tub Ina had waiting. He dunked his head beneath the water, shaking the dirt loose. When he emerged, he found Laurel standing with a sudsy linen in hand. Working on his back while Brodie scrubbed his front, the couple remained quiet. Laurel was too grateful to see and touch Brodie, knowing he’d survived whatever danger he’d found. Once Brodie’s hair was clean and he had a drying linen wrapped around his waist, he guided her to sit on his lap before the fire. Laurel finally felt the gorge in her throat drop, and she could speak.
“I feared ye were dead, that Michael hadna told me aboot some grievous injury,” Laurel whispered.
“But ye also feared that the crowd was right, that I left ye at the altar.”
“Aye. I’m sorry I doubted ye.”
“I dinna blame ye, thistle. It must have been agonizing, wondering if they spoke the truth. I need ye to ken that I will always come for ye. Till ma vera last breath. It may nae be as soon as I wish or in a manner,” Brodie nudged his chin toward the pile of discarded clothes, “I wish. But I willna forsake ye, Laurie.”
Laurel thought Brodie might say more. She prayed for a declaration of his feelings. She’d nearly admitted hers when she stood before his men. But neither broached the topic, and Laurel already felt vulnerable to having Brodie turn a blank face to her if he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.
“Will ye tell me what happened?”
“I will. All of it. But I wish to hold ye for a little while,mo ghràidh.” My darling.
Laurel supposed it was a start, and she clung to the endearment as she clung to him, resting her head against his broad chest. She supposed he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, so she wouldn’t push him to speak before he was ready. She trusted he would share when he felt it was right. One hand ran over his hair while the other caressed his chest. It wasn’t long before need overtook affection. Brodie carried his bride to their bed, where they spent the night reassuring one another that there was no place they would rather be.
