by H. C. Brown
He examined her with a perfunctory look.
“Are you indisposed? The baron will be most displeased if I deliver you in a damaged condition.”
His thin hand rested on the hilt of a silver snake’s head cane. He carried the stick on his person at all times, but more likely to keep his balance than for protection. Pasting an affable expression on her face, she met Monsieur Moreau’s scrutiny. “I am sure it will take more than this squall to take me to my reward, but I thank you for your concern.” She straightened. Although he disgusted her, she refused to cower to him. “While I have your attention, Monsieur Moreau, may I have a word?”
“Of course, my lady, what is it you require?”
The floor rolled beneath her feet and taking a firm hold of the side of the bunk, she waved a hand toward her pile of belongings. “I have made every effort to cram everything into this small space, but I am afraid this cabin will not do. There is not enough room to turn around without catching my gown on one thing or another and the smell is abhorrent.”
“Captain Jacques had no idea of your attendance on this trip prior to our arrival, my lady. My cabin is no less cluttered. This one is luxurious in comparison and you have a window, do you not? Mayhap you would prefer a hammock in the hold. Non? Well then, you will have to make do.”
She met his dispassionate expression with a frown. “I fear my safety is at risk and as you are well aware, this passageway leads to the galley and is frequented by uncouth sailors.”
He bowed, but his dark rimmed eyes regarded her with contempt.
“None of these ruffians have harmed you. They are all aware of the baron’s wishes concerning your safe arrival in France.” He sighed in a dismissive fashion and glared at her. “Although, I would not want you informing the baron of my lack of protection and will move into the cabin next door then if you are concerned you may bang on the wall.” He stared past her to the small window. “The journey will be over soon. The Captain has one more rendezvous at the dark of the moon and if the weather cooperates, we should sail for France within the week.”
His attention moved to the front of her wet gown and his lips curled in a predatory smile.
“Mayhap you should remain in your cabin during bad weather, unless, of course, you desire me to tie you to the mainsail for your protection.” He made a great show of examining her disheveled appearance from head to toe and chuckled. “If you feel inclined, do knock on the wall, my lady, and it will be my pleasure to escort you topside.”
The bacon-brained lout had the audacity to laugh at her predicament. How dare he? She did not consider her intolerable position the least bit comical. “I am sure Baron du Court will be most displeased at the way you address me. May I remind you I am a lady and not a tavern wench? Now get out of my sight.”
Monsieur Moreau’s jaw clenched and a nerve twitched in one cheek. He raised himself to his full height and glared at her.
“Ah, non, non, non, milady. I am not how you say, a servant for you to dismiss at will. I am a member of the court of King Louis and you may refer to me as Lord Moreau.” His expression turned to stone. “I will send a bonded servant to attend you in my stead. Perhaps you should think long and hard on how to behave in my presence. It will be good practice, non. You see, Baron du Court has no patience with disagreeable ladies.”
She stared at him in disbelief fighting back the instinct to slap his arrogant face. “I am not betrothed to Baron du Court. Marrying him or not will be my decision and one I will make after I have received his offer at the Countess D’ Cologne’s residence.”
“Ah, non. In fact, we will be going straight to the baron’s castle at Muzon and you will be married before a priest the moment we arrive. Do you think Baron du Court requires your acquiescence? Your father has sent your dowry with me along with his written permission for the match. Lord Beachwood is glad to be rid of you and I am quite sure you will never see him again.”
Aghast, she shrank back. “How dare you, sir. My father would never do such a thing and no man on this earth will force me to marry against my will.”
“Lord Beachwood is fully aware of the particulars of the arrangement. Indeed, he suggested all of them.” Lord Moreau’s mouth twitched into a sadistic smile. “You are no longer in England, my lady. In France, you will have no choice in the matter.” He inclined his head, turned, and swayed down the passageway.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and unable to believe her father had betrayed her, tears threatened to spill. She pressed one hand to her roiling stomach and drew a few deep breaths. The image of her handsome Scot filled her mind. Drew. His strong, delicious countenance haunted her dreams and filled her with determination. She sighed. The bump on her head may have made her bacon-brained but, in truth, her secret desire had become an anchor of late, a beautiful dream to cherish. She missed Drew and blinked away tears but then her heart leaped with anticipation at the thought of him sailing to rescue her. He had given her his word, her knight in shining armor. He will come for me.
End of Book One
Betrayed
The Mackenzie, Book Two
H.C. Brown
After her handsome Scot is forced to leave London, Lady Adrianna’s father arranges her betrothal to a French Baron known as The Murderer of Muzon. She reluctantly boards his vessel and finds herself on a pirate ship under the perilous protection of an opium smoking deviate, by the name of Monsieur Moreau.
With the captain, hell-bent on her seduction, the feisty goddaughter of George II’s only chance of escape lays in the hands of her courageous Scottish warrior.
Preface
Drew Mackenzie's double life as the Mackenzie heir and the notorious, smuggler, Le Diable Noir, comes into jeopardy the moment Lady Adrianna Beachwood’s father rejects him as a suitor. He devises an ingenious plan to meet her in secret by using his cousin, the respectable, Lord Rupert as a decoy. Nothing goes to plan and Adrianna’s father forces her into a betrothal with a French Baron known as The Murderer of Muzon. She reluctantly boards his ship, under the protection of the opium smoking deviate, Lord Moreau in the hope her dashing Highlander will find a way to rescue her.
Chapter One
Outside, the wind had dropped and at last, some semblance of normality prevailed. Lady Adrianna’s attention went to the sound of splashing in the passageway. She tensed and reached for a damp cloth to press against the throbbing pain in her brow. What now?
She collapsed in the chair and leaned her head into the soothing coolness of the wet rag. As a shadow approached the doorway, the outline of Betty came into view.
“There you are, milady.” Betty negotiated the dim entrance with a basket in one hand, shoes, and stockings in the other.
Relief flooded over her. “Oh thank heavens. I thought I had lost you.”
“I found myself stuck fast in the galley and had to wait for the bad weather to pass. The cook says the storm has blown itself out for now, so I have brought a bite to eat.” Betty smiled. “I will wait a bit for the men to pump the water from the hallway then I will go back for a pot of tea.” She shut the door and placed the tray on the table. “We are lucky the cabin has that step to keep the water out. The floor in here is practically dry. Now what is amiss? Are you quite well, milady?”
“I will do but I have had a fall and hurt my head and my right leg is quite sore too.” She leaned back in the chair. “Thank God, the ship has stopped pitching back and forth. Perhaps now we may light a lamp or two.”
“Goodness, I should never have left you, milady.” Betty placed the basket on the table and went at once to light the lamp. She turned, lifted the lantern, and stared at her mistress wide-eyed. “You are soaked through and filthy to boot. Did Monsieur Moreau have anything to do with this?”
“No! He did not lay a finger on me but the man is a beast and we are to refer to him as ‘Lord Moreau’ from now on.” She squeezed the rag into a ball in the palm of one hand. “He made my position very clear.” She narrowed her gaze at Be
tty then went on to give her details of her disastrous situation and explaining Drew as Lord Rupert’s trusted friend.
Betty’s dark eyes rounded and her mouth turned down.
“Oh, milady.”
Adrianna pressed the back of one hand to her aching head. “I trusted my father to assure my safety and respect my wishes concerning Baron du Court. I was sorely mistaken.” She stood to allow Betty to unlace her sodden gown. “Unless I have help from Mister Mackenzie, I do believe it will take a miracle for me to escape from Lord Moreau.”
“Do not worry yourself about that now. My Grandfather used to say, ‘where there’s life there’s hope.’ If he is a good friend of Lord Rupert as you say, Mister Mackenzie may well find a way to rescue you. He might be waiting in Inverness with his clansmen to free you. If not, I am sure we can leg it the moment we arrive.” Betty turned to fill a bowl with water. “You sit down and I will wash the dirt from your legs.”
Where there is life, there is hope. The words had merit to be sure. She blinked. I wonder if Betty’s grandfather has actually read Cicero. She dismissed the notion and sat to allow Betty’s ministrations.
Washed with a fresh gown and her wet hair brushed, she ignored the twinge of pain in one hip and struggled to her feet. “Thank you, Betty, now hurry along and fetch me that pot of tea. We will discuss what we have to do. I believe we will need a cunning plan to slip this noose.”
“That may be, milady but mind you lock the door the moment I step outside. From the way the men are lookin’ at me of late, I would not trust the crew as far as I could throw them. Pirates are not to be trusted, milady. You must continue to keep well away from the men on deck.”
Adrianna met her gaze. “Indeed, we are in a dreadful situation. Do you believe Baron du Court hoodwinked my father?”
Betty’s hands balled into fists and her shoulders shook with anger.
“No, milady. Lord Beachwood is no fool and I overheard him speaking with Lord Moreau when I was waiting in the hallway.” She heaved a deep breath, dropped her lashes, and chewed on her bottom lip. “Beg pardon, milady.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, I will not scold you for listening. What did he say?”
“It was before Lord Beachwood spoke to you, milady. His lordship came into the hallway from the library and shook Lord Moreau’s hand. He told him he would have your dowry by the morrow along with his letter of consent.” Betty lifted a concerned gaze. “He said, he had no intention of giving you an excuse to refuse the baron and would not be traveling to France to see you wed.”
Her heart twisted in the pain of betrayal and she stared at Betty in disbelief. “You waited until now to tell me this?”
“I had no idea what you had discussed with Lord Beachwood nor am I in a position to ask you.” Betty wrung her hands. “I am sorry, milady. I assumed Lord Beachwood had explained everything.”
Gathering her senses, she straightened. “Thank you, Betty. Now at least my path ahead is clear. We must form a plan to outwit Lord Moreau. If only we had a friend on board to help us.”
“There is a young lad working in the galley I have had occasion to speak to. He came on board as a deck hand at our last stop. He was set to work in the galley and during the storm he asked me all secret like, if he could have a word with you.”
Adrianna blinked. Why would a kitchen hand want to speak with her? “Who is this lad?”
“His name is Ian, milady. He has been helping me to order your meals from the cook as you know they all speak French, so he has been a great help. He says he came aboard looking for work and ended up as Lord Moreau’s slave.”
“Slave?” Adrianna swallowed hard. “I have heard of this despicable practice. Good Lord, Betty, Lord Moreau is more of a hound than I thought. What are we to do?”
“Calm yourself, milady. There is no good getting upset, now.” Betty handed her a fresh wet cloth. “Hold this to that nasty lump and I will go and fetch you a dish of tea.” She opened the door and glanced nervously both ways before proceeding down the dark passageway.
Adrianna stared after her into the gloom. Desperation hung over her shoulders. I have to find a way to escape.
Chapter Two
Drew tightened the plaid across his chest and turned into the freezing wind. He peered at the horizon searching for a signal from The Black Turtle, but the night was as black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat. His stomach roiled in fear for the safety of Adrianna and Ian in the company of pirates. Had the ship survived the ferocious storm? The fates had dealt him a cruel blow by removing him from her side at the most delicate part of their relationship. Mayhap, Ian would be able to convince her of his devotion and she would agree to leave The Black Turtle and escape with him to the Highlands. Will she be willing to leave her lavish life behind to come to me, an impoverished Scottish Laird without her father’s consent? A crack of lightning streaked across the sky and he bit back a wave of despair. Dear God, keep them safe, my sweet Adrianna, and Ian.
The change in weather came with speed and ferocity. Rain threatened and vicious winds lashed his men since leaving Badenoch, but he had pushed onward in the hope they would beat the storm. It would seem, his plan to meet Captain Jacques’s ship at Burghead on the dark of the moon had changed, although, dealings with pirates were often fraught with problems. He had no choice but to wait. He shook a fist at the sky. “Why canna ye work in ma favor for once in ma life?”
Not only had the delicately balanced plan to save Adrianna from the clutches of Baron du Court come asunder, the exchange of the clan’s prized nectar for goods was essential for their survival this winter. Turning at the sound of boots crushing gravel, he greeted, Jamie.
A flash of white from his smile broke through the gloom.
“I dinna just see ye threatening the gods did I?” Jamie hugged his plaid around his large frame and lifted his wind-tousled head to stare into the sky. “Not a good thing for ye to do standing alone on the edge of a cliff with a storm threatening.”
A shiver crawled up his spine and he returned his brother’s smile with an apologetic grimace. “Aye, maybe I did.”
True enough, ghosts of the long dead walked on nights such as this. He searched the black clouds for bloodsucking ghouls speeding across the evening sky, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He grinned at his stupidity. No beasties sought him out for revenge but in the distance, a storm raged whipping the sea into a firmament of crashing waves and white foam. Where the horizon once sat the ocean blended with the swirling heavens into one dark roaring mass. Lightning streaked the sky, illuminating the black water in a flash of brilliance, followed by endless peals of thunder to shake the ground beneath his feet. He inhaled and the taste of ozone rolled over his tongue laced with brine. He hunched in disappointment and turned his attention back to his brother. “Where is the damn ship, can you see it?”
“Nay, I canna and I dinna believe any ship’s captain who would dare risk dropping anchor in this weather.” Jamie stared into the distance. “I hope Ian and your fine lady are safe, I dinna trust Captain Jacques.”
“Och, Ian will be fine, if all goes asunder, he can jump ship when The Black Turtle arrives at Inverness. Captain Jacques always makes his presence known at Madame Josephine’s establishment.” Drew chewed on his bottom lip. “As to the lady, aye, I dinna believe Baron du Court would be too pleased if she arrived in France damaged in any way. He would have Moreau’s head. Nay matter, I must save the lass, or she will not live long. Rupert mentioned she is to marry Baron du Court”—he sighed—“but what I did not tell ye is, I believe he murdered his last two wives on their wedding night. It would seem he makes a practice of marrying heiresses that die soon after.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Jamie gaped at him. “Ye will be the one murdered if he discovers who is stealing his betrothed.”
He winked at his brother. “She will not be the first lass I have stolen from a lord.” He sobered. Adrianna will be in fear of her life.
“What abou
t Ian? How will ye face our mother if he is drowned?” Jamie brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and turned his back to the howling wind.
Responsibility for Ian’s welfare weighed heavy on his shoulders. “Aye well, Ian is a braw lad and he can swim like a Selkie, so dinna fash.” He shrugged nonchalantly to give his brother the impression all was well. “Ye ken sailing is not a precise practice, we may have to bide here for ten days or more depending on more factors than the weather. The Black Turtle might well be facing similar delays along the coast.”
Wind rushed past him howling through a line of trees standing like sentinels behind him and sounding as if a pack of wolves bore down on him. He covered his head with one end of his plaid to prevent the salty spray lashing his face and waited for the next streak of lightning to break through the darkness. No ship appeared on the horizon or rode the raging sea’s white foam. His wame curdled with worry. Rescuing Adrianna had become his greatest worry, but he had other concerns. He had made a number of business dealings with customers in Inverness relying on him for bolts of silk, cambric, French wine, and spices from the Orient. He would exchange the twelve barrels of the finest aged whisky hidden in the caves along the beach for these goods. Each day they lingered here, they came closer to running afoul of the excise men patrolling the coastline. With him and his men under arrest, Adrianna would be lost forever. The government would confiscate the whisky and the Monroe would seize the Mackenzie land.
He rubbed his chin and stared into the unforgiving sky. With luck, the storm would pass overnight and Captain Jacques would arrive on the morrow or perhaps the following day. They had provisions, the game was plentiful, and he doubted his men would refuse a few days respite before they continued on to Inverness. They could rest easy in the castle ruins disguised as a hunting party taking shelter from the storm. If necessary, he would bide in the ruins for one week to secure Adrianna’s safety and if The Black Turtle failed to arrive, he would make shift and sail to France. Captain Jacques had other ports of call before sailing home, and he would arrive in France before The Black Turtle. During his time in Versailles, he had traveled the roads between Calais and Muzon. He would wait at the coach house and God willing be able to steal Adrianna away under cover of darkness.