True to his word, Raudrich worked in the kitchen finishing their meal while the rest of the men rested. He had more energy than he’d had in months.

His ribs were still sore—a garish bruise spread all the way down his left side—but blessedly, they were no longer broken. His nose was as straight as it ever had been, and his vision was completely healed.

The only thing putting a damper on his mood was the anticipation of the hard time the men would give him over the quality of their meal. He’d not had cooking duty in over two years, and it showed.

The bread was edible, but chewy. The stew was too salty and the meat within it too tough. His hope was that they would all be too tired to care about what a poor job he’d done finishing Quinn’s stew.

“I willna be surprised if Harry sleeps through dinner. I could hear his snores from the other side of the castle.”

Raudrich looked up to see Maddock enter the kitchen. The man looked dead on his feet, wobbly and unsteady as he walked toward him.

“Take a seat, man. Ye should be in bed yerself. I told ye all I would come to fetch ye when ’twas ready.”

“Ach.” Maddock waved a dismissive hand but took a seat on the wooden stool that sat beside the large wooden preparation table. “I’m still too angry to sleep.”

So relieved at his recovery, Raudrich had been able to put thoughts of Calder aside for a short while. Maddock’s words immediately brought the questions he’d had before the healing session back to him.

“Ye never did tell me. What did he do? What did ye hear him say?”

Maddock leaned into the table for support as he spoke.

“I’ll not tell the other men. ’Twould embarrass Laurel if she heard of it, and I doona wish to betray her trust. But seeing as ye’ve known her so long, I thought it best ye hear what was done to her.”

Raudrich didn’t bother correcting Maddock. It was fine with him if all save Harry believed he and Laurel had a history. It would allow him to spend more time with her without questions arising from the other men. He barely knew the lass, none of them did, but he very much wanted to know more about her.

Whatever he’d expected, it had never crossed his mind that what had happened with Calder had anything to do with Laurel. The sense of protectiveness he felt come over him at knowing Calder had wronged her surprised him immensely.

“Laurel? What does she have to do with this?”

“It has everything to do with Laurel. He all but attacked her, and when I stepped in to chide him for it, he said things about her that I wouldna say to a dog. I wanted to kill him. Truly, I did.”

“What did he say?”

Maddock shook his head and exhaled sadly.

“Ach, Raudrich, ye should’ve seen her face. She looked like a child her expression was so wounded. I doona think I shall ever be able to forget it. Not that I blame her for being hurt. His tone was so cruel and his words unjust in every way.”

Raudrich quickly grew impatient.

“For the love o’God, man, what did he say to her?”

“He dinna say it to her, which, if ye ask me, made it even more unkind. He spoke to me, though he knew good and well she could hear every word. She was standing right next to us.”

Raudrich dropped the knife in his hand dramatically and crossed his arms as he stared at Maddock, silently urging him to continue.

“He said that ’twas bad luck that she was here, that only bad things would come from it, and that the only reason we permitted her being here was because we were filled with lust and enjoyed having a lassie about. Then he said she was too full-figured to be pretty and that we were damned fools. He said that half our pigs were less pudgy. ’Twas unnecessary and cruel. Most men would’ve simply decked him, but ye know as well as I how such words would wound a woman. She did nothing to deserve his cruelty.”

Raudrich knew he should’ve felt angry, but confusion was pushing any other emotion away.

“What the hell is he talking about? I doona believe I’ve ever seen a woman whose appearance I fancied more than Laurel’s.”

The confession slipped out of him, and he immediately regretted his honesty as he saw Maddock smile.

“Well, I’m certain she will be glad to hear it. Her brother claims she’s in love with ye. But I…”

Stunned, he interrupted Maddock.

“In love with me?”

Maddock, wide-eyed and smiling, nodded.

“Aye. She hasna yet told ye, then? Well, pretend ye are surprised when she does. I wouldna want her thinking I spoiled her admission.”

Maddock was clearly under a false assumption, but he could see no reason to correct him.

“I dinna mean to interrupt ye, ye just surprised me, is all. What were ye about to say?”

He sat quietly for a moment as if he were trying to remember. Then he shook his head as it came back to him.

“Oh, I was just going to agree with ye. While I suppose such a scrawny, unfortunate looking bastard like Calder would prefer a lass small enough to make him feel like more of a man, I doona mind a lassie with more meat on her bones. I find Laurel verra bonny, as well. I believe ye would be hard pressed to find a man who shares Calder’s opinion of her.”

Even Maddock’s suggestion surprised him. While he knew his vision had still been impaired when he visited with Laurel, her size had never crossed his mind. More than that, he could still remember what it felt like to hold her in his arms. He’d never found the feel of someone against him more pleasing.

“Calder is an imbecile and I am glad we are rid of him.” Raudrich paused and brushed his hands on his pants. “Now, let us put all of this nastiness behind us, for I doona like such talk of Laurel even between us. She deserves more respect than to be whispered about amongst men.”

Maddock stood and nodded in agreement.

“Aye, ’tis precisely why I will say nothing of this to the other men. ’Tis only that I willna be surprised if she still seems rattled by the whole ordeal over dinner. I dinna want ye asking her what was wrong in front of everyone else, so I thought I should tell ye.”

If Laurel’s belief in her own beauty was in any way damaged by Calder’s idiocy, he would make certain that her confidence was restored.

“I’m glad ye did. Do ye have the strength to go and gather the others for dinner, or should I?”

Maddock sank bank down onto the stool.

“If I walk back up those stairs again, I willna have the strength to come back down them for dinner. Best ye go.”

Raudrich smiled. He expected his friend was milking the situation just a little.

“Aye, fine. Go and rest yerself at the table. I’ll gather everyone now.”