“I ken that, and I ken Laurel would understand too. But she won’t agree. She’s right that people would talk. You wouldn’t be able to protect her from that, and if she doesn’t have your bairns, it will only make things worse for her. You’ll be pitied, but she’ll be scorned.”
“And if we said it was my fault?” Donnan pressed.
“Do you love her?” Monty asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
“Of course I do. But only the way that you love her. She’s as much a sister to me as she is to you. And I fear for her. I fear she will marry a mon she despises, and he’ll beat her for her loose tongue. You ken I would never harm Laurel.”
“I do. I shalln’t say never, but there must be another option before it comes to that.”
The men turned as the door swung open, and a contingent of Campbells walked into the inn. The Campbells were one of the most powerful clans in Scotland. The Rosses, Sutherlands, Sinclairs, and Mackays dominated the northern Highlands, but the Campbells claimed much of the southern Highlands as their own. They’d fought alongside the Bruce from early on, and they’d been generously rewarded for their loyalty. In the king’s highest favor, the Campbells expanded their territory, bumping the MacGregors off their land and claiming it for themselves. Members of the laird’s extended family served among the king’s closest advisors, and they held the finest suites at Stirling Castle.
Monty and Donnan exchanged a glance as they waited to see who led the Campbells that night. They both breathed easier when they recognized Laird Brodie Campbell of Glenorchy, leader of the largest cadet branch of the clan. He was a more even-tempered man than his father had been, and while he was as ambitious as the previous laird, he was more diplomatic. He’d come to his position later than many other lairds, already well into his thirties, but he was as active and agile as he’d been when he was a young man. His swordsmanship was renowned, and few who underestimated him on the battlefield lived to tell the tale. He was a few years older than Monty and Donnan, but the three men were well acquainted. Monty raised his mug in salute when Brodie caught sight of the Rosses.
“Campbell,” Monty greeted Brodie.
“Ross, what’re you doing in this neck of the woods?” Brodie grasped Monty’s forearm in a warrior handshake before doing the same with Donnan.
“We’re having another spat with the Mackenzies over land the bluidy bastards keep trying to claim,” Monty explained. Seeing Laurel hadn’t been his original reason for the journey, but he was glad that he was present, lest the king choose a husband for her.
“Have you been here long?” Brodie wondered as he looked around, accepting a mug of ale from a wench who winked at him. Monty and Donnan watched as he took no notice of the woman, looking weary from his own journey.
“Not even two days,” Monty answered.
“Just enough time to get into trouble?” Brodie grinned.
“Not this time,” Monty chuckled. The men moved to a table, and another woman brought a bowl of pottage to Brodie. He handed her coins but didn’t look at her. Monty observed, curious why a man as attractive and virile as Brodie took no interest in the serving women. He could have gone to court and had food sent to his chamber; instead, the Campbells came to an inn. It struck Monty as odd. He’d known Brodie long enough to have seen the man had a healthy and genuine appetite for the opposite sex. “What have you been up to of late?”
Brodie sat back and looked around. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, but he was alert to those around them. He leaned forward once more. “There was an incident recently that I need to make the king aware of.” Without saying more, Brodie returned to his pottage. When he finished the bowl and the heel of bread that was served with it, he shook his head and sighed. “People will hear of it soon enough. I married Eliza MacMillan a fortnight ago.”
“A newlywed!” Monty crowed. “No wonder you look exhausted, mon.”
“She’s dead.”
“What?” Monty stared at Brodie before glancing at Donnan.
“The marriage to Lady Eliza meant my clan would increase our lands along Loch Sween. Since the MacMillans have supported the Bruce since the beginning and the MacMillans’ land sits between two parts of Clan Campbell’s territory, the marriage made sense.” Brodie sighed and ran his hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment. “We had the wedding, but the lass was very young.”
Brodie gave Monty and Donnan a pointed look, and the men knew Brodie meant she was little more than a child compared to Brodie. He hadn’t bedded her, so it was little more than a betrothal, but the couple exchanged vows within a kirk.
“We were on our way to Kilchurn when David Lamont attacked. Eliza panicked and tried to ride out of the fray rather than remaining in the circle. She spurred her horse through my men as they fought, and David Lamont took her head from her shoulders before my eyes.” Brodie looked down at his empty trencher, reliving the attack for the umpteenth time since it had happened. He could see Eliza’s terrified expression, could hear himself yelling to her not to move. He could smell her blood in the air as David held up her head and threw it at Brodie. It had horrified him that David would attack Eliza, who was clearly more of a girl than a woman. But guilt plagued him that he didn’t feel guiltier about her death. He regretted it since she’d been a sweet lass, but he didn’t feel any significant loss. And he was certain he should have.
“Why did Lamont target you? Are they still bitter that the stand they made with the MacDougalls of Lorne did naught to stop the Bruce becoming king?”
“Aye, there’s that. But they also don’t want us to increase our holdings, especially since it will diminish their influence along the Cowal peninsula and the Firth of Clyde. They sought to end the alliance, and they succeeded,” Brodie scowled. “I have the MacMillans up my arse, and rightly so. The Lamonts aren’t satisfied with killing an innocent girl, and the Bruce expects me to provide more men to fight against the MacDougalls. Bluidy bleeding hell.”
“Sounds like you’re deep in the shite,” Donnan mused.
“Aye. You’d think my eyes were brown for how deep I’m in,” Brodie huffed. “Before I go before the Bruce in the morning, I decided a hot meal without prying eyes would put me in a better mood.”
“A willing woman helps, too,” Monty said before taking a long draw from his ale. He watched Brodie’s reaction, but there was none.
“It’ll ease your mood,” Donnan suggested.
“I’d been prepared to set those days aside when I married. I find I’m not in such a rush to return to them,” Brodie frowned.
“How old was Lady Eliza?” Monty wondered.
“Four-and-ten,” Brodie answered.
