Twenty-Four
Laurel drew the Campbell plaid she wore as an arisaid over her hair. She looked over the side of the ferry into the depths of the deep blue water. It was clear the loch was a deep body of water. While she’d learned to swim in the North Sea, she’d done so in a chemise that she would tuck into the neckline. She would sink with the layers of velvet and wool she wore now. She wouldn’t free herself. She would drown herself. She would go from little likelihood of seeing Brodie again to no likelihood.
“He must have noticed,” Nelson laughed. “Probably thinks she ran off.”
“You don’t think Michael will cave?” Stephen asked. He’d been the only one to handle her kindly. He’d ensured the waves didn’t knock Laurel off her feet until she found a spot where she could huddle against the wind and fear.
“He’ll die before he tells,” Matthew grinned. “He’s been tupping our cousin for years. She’s borne him two bastards. The poor sod’s in love with her.”
“Don’t you think Campbell loves her?” Stephen pressed. “You saw him at their wedding. He was eager to be there. He didn’t look like a mon trapped.”
“Hurried to get it over with,” Edgar chuckled. “Mayhap we’ll discover if she’s as good as the Campbell makes it seem. Spread your legs for us, will you, lass?”
Laurel didn’t look in his direction as her stomach tightened into a knot yet again. She watched Stephen shift his weight, so he hid her from Edgar’s sight. He made it look like the roll and pitch of the ferry caused him to move to remain on his feet. Laurel couldn’t understand why Stephen was shielding her from anything if he was part of her kidnapping.
“The more I think on it, the more I think we’ve underestimated the mon’s feelings. And even if he doesn’t love her, he’ll still search for her. He’ll demand justice,” Stephen insisted.
“Like he did for the MacMillan chit? He gave that up as soon as the wind changed, and he got a whiff of her.” Liam jutted his chin in Laurel’s direction. “He’ll be glad to have her off his hands. He’ll move on.”
We’re married, not handfasted. The only way Brodie could move on without being a bigamist is if they kill me.
“What’re we going to do with her?” Andrew finally broke his silence after two hours of watching and listening. Laurel hadn’t perceived a moment of remorse or doubt from Andrew. He’d simply remained quiet and alert. “Whatever it is, my name can’t be linked. The MacFarlanes are allied with the Campbells.”
“Then mayhap you should have considered that before you wagered against your friend,” Nelson snapped.
“I thought you intended to return her to court or to her clan. I didn’t think you intended to kill her,” Andrew insisted.
“Did I ever say that?” Nelson narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t have to. But none of us are fools. There can be no annulment, so the only way for Campbell to marry again is if he’s a widower. That mean she’s,” Andrew pointed at Laurel, “got to die.”
“Cheaper than losing the wagers. I wagered it wouldn’t last a sennight. They married four days ago.” Liam patted his sporran.
“But they handfasted nearly a fortnight ago,” Stephen pointed out.
“Nay one is counting that.” Nelson waved away Stephen’s comment.
“But if he’d intended to set her aside, that would have been when he would do it,” Stephen insisted. “He wouldn’t have shown up at his wedding looking like he’d just walked off the battlefield if he hadn’t been in a hurry to reach her, to get to their wedding.”
“You sound like you’re having second thoughts,” Liam accused. “You don’t have to be involved.”
Stephen looked at the men standing before him. He didn’t dare look back at Laurel. If he wasn’t careful, they’d both wind up dead. “Just not looking a for clan war. I told you that already.”
“What’s done is done. She’s with us now, and we each wagered less than a moon. Those who wagered he wouldn’t show up have already lost, and those who wagered longer than a moon lost as well. We keep the kitty and split it among us, Matthew and I being closest to the date get the bigger shares.” Nelson looked at the barge tethered to the stern of the ferry. It carried the livestock, including the men’s horses. “We’ll be on shore in an hour. They won’t catch us even if they figure out how we traveled. Don’t buy trouble, MacBain. You’ll earn your portion if you just go along to get along.”
The men fell silent, and Laurel let herself doze. She felt fairly safe among the passengers, so she capitalized on the chance to sleep. She wouldn’t let herself sleep when she was alone with the men, so she needed what rest she could catch. But the ferry’s sudden lurch jolted Laurel awake. She looked around and realized they’d reached their destination, and people were disembarking. She struggled to her feet before falling into step behind Nelson and Matthew. She’d had time to consider why Nelson watched her so often while Brody was away. He’d been plotting all along. She even wondered if he had something to do with the MacDougall and Lamont attacks on the Campbells that drew Brodie away.
The more Laurel thought about it, the more she wondered if Nelson had hoped to get her separated and alone while Brodie was gone. He’d trailed her more than once, so she’d been more cautious. She’d stayed with the ladies or asked her guards to accompany her, even when she moved about the keep. She hadn’t shared her fears with the Ross warriors, but she’d sensed they perceived a lurking threat too. She knew she’d chosen wisely to remain in her chamber as much as she could. Now she was on her own with no one to protect her but herself. However, she knew her usual tactics to keep people at a distance wouldn’t work now. Using her viperous tongue was more likely to get her assaulted, then killed. She would watch and bide her time.
“Up you go, my lady,” Nelson said as he grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of him. He didn’t wait for her to respond before he lifted her into a saddle and mounted behind her. She wanted to retch at the feel of his arms around her. He lowered his voice. “I shall enjoy this.”
Laurel kept her back ramrod straight as she attempted to maintain some distance between her body and Nelson’s, but he pulled her back hard. She was grateful his sporran rested between them because she suspected what she would have felt otherwise. They rode through the evening until darkness forced them to make camp. Matthew bound her wrists after she ate, but he didn’t bind her ankles or tie her to a tree. She could have gotten up, even tried to run. But she knew she wouldn’t outrun any of the men, especially if they were on horseback. She didn’t want to die. She wanted her husband. She would wait until she could find a safer alternative.
When the sun rose, Matthew tossed a waterskin at her. She pulled the stopper and sniffed.
“Just drink it.” The barked command resulted in her casting a scathing glare at Matthew, but she put the waterskin to her lips. She was thirsty, and she doubted they would give her another chance to drink for several hours. She hesitated when the water had a bitter taste to it. She sniffed it, but there was no scent. “Drink it or go without. But don’t ask for aught if you don’t drink this first.”
Laurel closed one eye and looked down the neck of the waterskin, spying some sediment at the bottom. She assumed it was from the river they’d camped near. She prayed it wouldn’t make her ill. Using her teeth to strain the water, she kept whatever had settled at the bottom from entering her mouth, but the water still tasted off. When she finished, she handed the container back to Matthew. He watched her as she slipped behind a bush for a moment of privacy. With no more reason to dawdle, she joined the men and found herself in front of Nelson once more.
