“Monty?”
“Aye, Laurel. It’s me. Do you want a drink?” When Laurel struggled to break free, Monty cooed at her. “It’s fresh water, I swear. I didn’t ken what was in it before. I need you to wake up, Laurel. I need to ken what happened.”
Laurel offered a weak nod as she opened her lips to the waterskin. The fresh, cool water slithered down her throat. When she drank her fill, she sagged back against Monty. Her thoughts were coherent once more, but her body still felt heavy.
“How did ye find me?”
“We came across Nelson and the others on the road,” Monty explained. “He claimed he found you near Loch Earn. You looked worse for wear. Your gown is filthy, but we washed away the dirt from your face, hands, and neck. You still have the scratches. I’m guessing they came from branches while you ran.”
“I never ran.” Laurel shook her head and regretted it. She put her fingertips to her forehead, shocked to find the skin roughened. “I would have, had I the opportunity. I didna leave Brodie. Edgar and Stephen pushed me onto the ferry in Locherhead. Once we reached St. Fillans, they started drugging me to make me sleep.”
“And they must have prayed we would believe their story and continue drugging you. They said they’d found a healer in a village, and the woman gave you medicinals to rouse you and give you back your strength. We’d just ridden through a village an hour earlier, so it seemed plausible to me.”
“How’d you get separated from Brodie long enough to end up in their company?” Donnan cut in.
“I was following one of Brodie’s guards. He led me into the most crowded part of the market, then left me. The other guard disappeared, too. Before I could do aught, the crowd was pushing me toward the docks. I tried to tell the ferry mon that I had nay coin, but that’s when Nelson spoke up and said he would pay. I found maself on the packed boat with Stephen MacBain, Andrew MacFarlane, Nelson and Matthew MacDougall, Liam Oliphant, and Edgar Gunn. I never left Brodie.”
“But the scratches and dirt?” Monty asked.
“One of them did that. Probably when they spotted ye to make their story sound real. I was on horseback with Nelson or sitting on the ground the entire time. There were nay bushes or branches.”
“Laurel, we’re riding west now. We’re taking you to Kilchurn.” Monty adjusted Laurel’s plaid again. “You’re freezing.”
“I was too hot before. I thought I would sweat off ma own skin.” Laurel couldn’t muster the effort to sound like a courtly lady. She no longer cared either. “Brodie must be beside himself. He wouldnae have let me go. After what happened to Eliza MacMillan, he must be worried Nelson and Matthew intend to do the same to me. Where are we?”
“We’re close to Morenish, along Loch Tay. We found you near Kinnell, at the base of the loch.” Monty pointed to the shimmering water a few yards away.
“Do ye think the men scattered now that I’m with ye? Stephen and Edgar might still travel our route, but Andrew never should have traveled so far north.”
“Nay. They’re following us.”
“Monty, what?” Laurel exclaimed.
“Aye. Donnan’s been keeping an eye on them. They think they’re following far enough behind. Daft bastards. They’re downwind of us. We’ve caught whiffs of their horses. They’re just out of sight but not out of sniff.”
“Then how do we double back?”
“We’re approaching the next fishing village, Milton Morenish. We’ll see if we can hire birlinns to take us across. We ride back toward Kinnell and then onto Kilchurn.”
“And if they cross too?” Laurel worried her bottom lip.
“It still puts us ahead of them and back in the right direction,” her brother reassured. “And in the right direction to find Brodie. He’ll be tracking you.”
Laurel nodded. She believed they would follow the route Monty described; she even prayed that they would find Brodie. But she was unconvinced that they would outwit Nelson MacDougall. He wanted her dead too much to have given up. She’d puzzled out the reason for her captivity during her brief moments of lucidity. The MacDougalls, nor any other rival clan for that matter, could afford the Campbells doubling their strength by allying with the Rosses. The Campbells were already more powerful than any singular clan in the Highlands. While Laurel and Monty weren’t close to their cousins, it didn’t negate that their father and the Earl of Sutherland were brothers-by-marriage, and the Earl of Sutherland was brothers-by-marriage to the Earl of Sinclair. Rarely did she think of the three men by their official titles because they were family. But no one else would underestimate the forces each man commanded. Should they call upon the tangled web of familial connections, the Campbells and Rosses would be unstoppable.
“I’m sending Martin back to Balnagown,” Monty said, naming their best rider. “Father needs to ken what’s happened. All of what’s happened.” Monty’s pointed look made Laurel purse her lips.
“Vera well. He’ll ken one way or another. Hopefully, he realizes patience is a virtue. His least favorite child has made the best match in the bunch.”
“Laurel,” Monty glanced over her head at Donnan as they continued to ride. “We don’t think it was Father’s doing so much as Mother’s insistence. She’s always been the first to insist on her title as the Countess of Ross. It’s always been obvious that’s the only reason she married Father. You going to court but not marrying aggravated Mother. We think she’s the one who refused to let you come home. She would have considered it her own failure. Father gave in to keep the peace.”
“He feared having two carping women was more than he could tolerate,” Laurel surmised. She’d long suspected the same, but it hadn’t mattered where the lack of parental support stemmed. Her father could have, and should have, done more for her.
“Aye. But he’d still our father. He won’t stand for what’s happened. Affection or not, his pride won’t allow such an affront.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Laurel muttered.
The fishing boats bobbing high in the water came into view, and the Rosses spurred their horses forward. When they arrived at the docks, Laurel remained with Donnan and the men while Monty negotiated their passage. She no longer felt comfortable around any of the men. The men who rotated through her detail were always civil to her because it was their duty. But she knew none of them liked her. As a direct link to the life she lost, her bitterness kept her from being kind to them for years. It was only the men who’d been assigned to her over the past five years who had seen a softer side to her, who had received thoughtful gifts rather than perfunctory ones at Hogmanay and Epiphany. As she sat upon Monty’s horse, she knew none—not even the men who had served her at Stirling—were happy about the delay she caused. They wished to be at Balnagown, not chasing across the Highlands to return a wayward bride to her addlepated husband. She’d heard their grumbles while they waited.
“I paid extra to ensure they don’t give passage to the others once they discover we’ve crossed over.” Monty said as he reached for his horse’s bridle and led them to the birlinns. “We’ll be across in less than a half hour.”
It was Laurel’s second boat ride, but at least this time she didn’t fear winding up in the water and dying. Besides the handful of fishermen on the two birlinns, there was no one else in sight. She preferred it that way.
