The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  He shivered and stared into the gloom. On nights like this, he could almost believe in the tales of the Fin Folk or imagine a herd of ghostly Nucklelavees, the mythical demonic horses, charging along the cliff edge, manes flying, and red eyes blazing. He grinned into the darkness at his stupidity and pushed away such thoughts. Large raindrops splashed his face and trickled down his neck in an icy stream. Beside him, Jamie made an exaggerated shudder.

  “I dinna care for the look of that storm.” Jamie pulled his plaid over his head. “Come away. I have nay intention of being struck by lightning or sleeping in wet clothes.”

  Drew slapped him on the back. “Well then, we had better get out of the rain.” He sighed and turned away from the cliff and headed up the rocky trail. The wind buffeted him, clawed at his hair, and tangled his plaid around his legs with each step.

  His boots crunched on an overgrown pathway leading to the deserted castle ruins. He made his way through the blackberry and honeysuckle bushes growing in abundance. The matted branches entwined and spilled over the once neat garden. He stared at the door to the keep and a shiver of awareness quickened his heart. The darkness of a stormy night often played tricks on a man’s mind, or perhaps knowing the blood spilled in the battle for this small piece of ground had enhanced his imagination. Ahead a blackened tree stood like a gargoyle guarding the once majestic gatehouse.

  He blinked drawing a deep breath to clear the wandering fancies from his head. Glad of his brother’s company on such a night, he moved through the shadows and hooted like an owl to announce their arrival. He lifted the covering from the opening, and stepped inside. A horse snorted and the sound of a voice soothing the disturbed mount came from the darkness.

  He led the way through the darkened courtyard and into the Great Hall. This part of the castle was untouched by time and war. He pushed open the massive studded door and inhaled the musty odor mingled with the sweat of men and beasts. A familiar voice greeted him.

  “Is that ye Drew Mac?”

  He snorted. “If it was not us, ye would be slaughtered in your beds by now.”

  A flint scraped and a small fire burst into flames. He glanced around the room at the faces peering at him through the gloom. From deep inside the hall, horses whinnied a greeting. He shook the rain from his plaid and straightened to his full height to address his men. “There’s a fearsome storm brewing and I canna see The Black Turtle. We will bide and wait for the weather to clear.”

  “I dinna think it wise to stay.” Angus Mac Bride loomed out of the gloom with his red hair ablaze in the firelight. “Ye ken full well the government men pass by here. They have been shadowing our every move of late. Each day we dally we are in danger of being caught with twelve barrels of illegal whisky.”

  Drew spread out his damp plaid, then sat down and rested his back against the wall. “Dinna fash yourself, godfather, I doubt verra much the customs men will be out in this weather. We are in a good position here and can keep watch for the vessel and any unwelcome visitors traveling along the road. The new moon and the cloud cover will hide us well enough for a good few days yet.” He warmed his hands over the fire and lifted his gaze to his men “Captain Jacques is nay fool and will wait out the storm then anchor off shore as planned. He has orders for the whisky. Mark ma words, he will not return to France empty-handed and disappoint King Louis. We will bide until he arrives. The forest yonder is plentiful with game. We will not starve.”

  “I dinna agree. It is too risky.” Angus crouched beside the small fire. “Your father would not have made such a bargain. Who do ye think will protect the clan if we are all in prison marked with the lash or worse, hanged?”

  Drew sucked in a breath. The pain of his father’s death and half his clansmen weighed on his conscience without his men having doubt in his leadership. He made a sound of derision and glared at Angus. “Was I dreaming or did ye kneel afore me and swear fealty? You gave me your life to command, aye. Yet ye question ma decisions when I have led ye on raids many a time afore ma Da died. Do ye doubt me, for if ye do, take yourself back to the safety of Badenoch and maybe help the women tan the hides?”

  The room fell deathly silent. He flicked a glance around the ashen faces of his clansmen. With their bodies obscured by deep shadows, they resembled decapitated sculls with the firelight reflecting in their eyes. Turning his head in a deliberately slow gesture back to his godfather, he tempered his anger and waited for a reply. To some extent, he understood Angus’s frustration. As second-in-command, he had tasted leadership during his father’s illness. His return had snuffed out his godfather’s power over a severely depleted clan. Ah well, he will do, so long as he does not plan to kill me in ma sleep.

  “Och, ye have been spoiled, lad. Ye have spent nay time at Badenoch, but ye spent three years with Lord Lovett preaching rebellion in your ear. Ye might explain away the need to attend King Louis and bed French mistresses as youthful excesses but becoming a smuggler is not the required preparation to becoming laird.” Angus glared at him. “Ye should have been home, lad, when your father needed ye.”

  “Och, Angus, hold your tongue, ye ken verra well, I returned the moment I received the letter telling of my father’s illness.” Drew snorted. “And I dinna see ye refusing the food I purchased from the coin made by ma smuggling?”

  “Aye well, explain to your men why ye dinna return from France straight away and spent your time attending fancy balls in London.” Angus cast a slow glance around the hall. “And why ye plan to risk our lives wi’ a harebrained scheme to kidnap a Sassenach lady from the verra pirate ye are doing business wi.’ Have ye lost your wits?”

  Adrianna. He sighed at the recollection of the heady time in London and the brown haired beauty who had stolen his heart. Her bonny vision filled his thoughts and since spending time with her, his desire for any other had waned. He wanted her and yes, he would risk his life to save her from Baron du Court’s clutches. Not that he could divulge his intention to take a Sassenach wife to Angus. He had yet to convince Adrianna to have him, and a penniless laird with a near starving clan was hardly a good match for such a fine lady.

  Turning his gaze back to Angus, he shrugged. “It is a matter of honor, aye? I gave the lady ma word I would rescue her from The Black Turtle. Would ye have me forsworn, Angus?”

  “Verra well, but ye have yet to explain why ye thought it necessary to attend the balls, when your clansmen were dying by the dozen?”

  “Jamie’s letter went first to France and I came as soon as the news reached me. By the time, I arrived in Inverness I received word ma father was weakened but in nay danger and the bloody flux had done its worse. It was under your watch the Monroe poisoned our wells and ma father, not mine.” He glared at Angus and rested one hand on his dirk ready for confrontation. “I would like to ken how that happened? Ye were ma father’s second-in-command. If Jamie had not boarded up the wells, I would have returned to a castle filled with corpses.”

  “If ye had been here, your father may still be alive.” Angus glowered at him.

  “Do ye really believe I would have tarried if I had known ma father was dying? Have some sense, man.” He glared at him in disgust. “I went to London to meet Rupert to make payment for the mares, he purchased on my behalf to breed with my stallion. Warhorses are needed if we are to protect our clan in the future and all others we can sell for a fine profit.”

  “Aye well, I still believe being away from Foiseil Castle has removed ye from the concerns of your clansmen. Ye should have been here to prevent Clan Munroe causing a blood feud. Men and women died during your absence.” Angus searched through the saddlebags. “Ye spent two years fornicating in King Louis’ court rather than attending to your clan’s needs?”

  Apart from Angus, he had no doubts about his clan’s loyalty but the man did have a way with words. He lifted his chin and stared at his accuser. As laird, he did not intend to allow any clansman to speak against him. He lowered his voice and enunciated each word to make his intent c
lear. “I was not laird during ma time away. Ma father, God rest his soul, prepared me for every aspect of leadership including establishing business relationships in both England and France.” He glanced at his men watching stone-faced then moved his attention back to Angus. “Ye are not a Mackenzie and the way ye speak of ma Uncle George with such an evil tongue concerns me. Must I remind ye he is Chieftain of Clan Mackenzie? It was he who provided the finances for ma education and trained me well in combat as ye well ken.” He leveled his gaze on his godfather. “I am not an addlebrained lad and have nay intention of being drawn into another rising, so ye can dismiss that notion from your thoughts.” He shrugged. “We will have enough to do to ensure the clan survives the winter with so few men to tend the fields, let alone be dragged into another of Lord Lovett’s fancies.”

  Anger tightened his gut. He had not caused the feud with his neighbors and doubted he alone could have prevented Clan Monroe from poisoning the wells, or destroying the houses and crops. He stared at Angus and noticed with some pride, Jamie and three other clansmen had moved to sit beside him. “I ken ye had aspirations of becoming laird but ye should put that notion from your mind. I am laird now and wi’ Jamie and Ian to follow should I not sire an heir, your only claim to Mackenzie blood is by your marriage to ma auntie.” He removed the dirk from his waist and rested it on one knee. “Nay, Angus, ye did nothing to protect the clan. I was home not two days afore I took revenge against the Monroe and cut his men down where they stood. I did not see any blood on your hands. Now unless ye wish to challenge me here and now, I will hear nay more of your babbling, do ye hear?”

  “Aye well, but tarrying here is a fool’s errand. We are targets for the excise men and ye well ken it.” Angus’s mouth drew down in a frown.

  Drew pushed both hands through his hair. “I am nay fool, why do ye think I insisted we hide the whisky in the caves? Enough of your blathering, man.” His stomach growled notifying him it had been twelve hours or more since he had last eaten. “Is there anything to eat?”

  “Nay fool is it? Ye have placed Ian’s safety in the hands of a pirate. What do we do if all goes asunder or the wee man has changed his mind?” Angus passed him a few bannocks and a wedge of cheese.

  “Dinna fash yourself. If Captain Jacques does not arrive in a day or so, Ian will jump ship at Inverness. If he does, I will meet she ship to ensure he is safe.”

  “And the woman? Ye will risk your life for her too—a damn Sassenach?”

  “Nayone is risking their lives, but I will ask ye to accompany me. I will need to distract Captain Jacques so ye can get the lass and Ian ashore. If ye fail, well, I will go to France to meet the ship. I have many acquaintances in France to assist me. If the needs be, Jamie can sell the whisky to a brothel in Inverness. I ken of at least another two establishments who will be more than happy to buy from us and they will have coin aplenty. Not the amount I gain from Captain Jacques but enough.” He sighed, bored with his godfather’s constant complaining. “I doubt verra much I will gain passage to France straight away and will have time to speak with a few other people I ken who will trade with us as well.”

  “I dinna come wi’ ye to sit here twiddling ma fingers for weeks on end.” Angus gazed around the room as if trying to gain support but none came.

  Drew smiled inwardly. His men avoided Angus’s gaze.

  “It is not so bad, we can use the time to bag a few deer, and fresh meat will bring a good price in Inverness. We will hunt on the way home and have meat aplenty to spread between the tenants.” He speared the cheese with his dirk and took a bite of the stale bannock. The taste of mold rolled over his tongue. He grimaced and stuffed the cheese into his mouth.

  “We will not have time to hunt, have ye got maggots in your head?” Angus glared at him, his eyes flashing with anger. “More likely we will be set upon by the Grants or the McGregors afore we reach Mackenzie land.”

  Drew swallowed the dry mouthful and coughed then narrowed his gaze on him. His godfather had overstepped his place more than once this eve and his actions had caught the notice of his clansmen. He needed to put a stop to his insolence and lifted his chin. “Aye, we will hunt on our way home and it is by my choice as laird not yours.” He glared at Angus. “Rupert is waiting in Inverness wi’ ma mares and I will not be rushing them home and chance they slip their foals. I take it ye dinna think these fine men are capable of fending off a raiding party? Well, I do.” He surveyed the faces around the fire glad to see the heads nodding in agreement. He scratched his chin and raised his voice for all to hear. “I have purchased a herd of cows and some sheep from the Frasiers to replace those stolen. We are to meet Douglas on the boarder of Frasier’s land at Badenoch Pass. I will send a messenger ahead to make the final arrangements. We will be moving slowly and have more than enough time to hunt. Jamie, lad, mind ye buy enough salt for the curing.” He turned his attention back to Angus. “Or would ye rather we do nothing now and try to hunt in the snow later? Ye do ken the first snow will be on us afore we reach Badenoch?”

  Angus drank from the wineskin and his Adam’s apple bobbed with each long gulp. He wiped a blood-red trickle from his chin. “Are ye sure the brothel will take the whisky?”

  Drew rubbed his chin and winked. “Och aye, Madame Josephine has been verra accommodating of late and if Captain Jacques lets us down, she will see us right.”

  Laughter filled the room and the tension vanished. His shoulders relaxed and he grinned at his clansmen. “Get on wi’ it, ye bunch of lecherous fools. Ye will not be using one dram of ma whisky to pay for slaking your desire.”

  “Had dealings with those lasses afore have ye?” Jaime dropped down beside him and handed him a jug of beer. “And ye the laird too.” He grinned like a donkey.

  He winked at his brother. “Maybe I have and maybe I have not. Madame Josephine is ma go-between for a number of smugglers trading along our coastline. She trades in more than petticoats. Likewise, I have had the occasion to do business with Mrs. Dalrymple’s house on Piton Street.”

  Relieved the tension had dissipated he took a long drink from the stone bottle of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The passage of moving from close friend to laird in a blink of an eye had not been an easy task and he had yet to prove his worth. He had stepped into the shoes of a mighty warrior and one who had fought against the English. His father’s word had been law. To be laird and gain his clan’s confidence, he needed respect, and of late, Angus had become a burr under his tunic. Aye, he walked a fine line indeed. He must gain their trust but not with his title alone.

  One day, his men would follow him with pride and have confidence in his ability to keep them safe. He took out his pocket watch and angled it toward the fire to read the time. “Get some sleep. We will change the lookout every two hours. I will take the first, Angus, ye will take the next, and then Jamie followed by Dougal.”

  “I will take first watch.” Angus tossed a pile of blankets at Drew’s feet. “Get your head down for a few hours, laird. I will make sure to wake ye if I see a ship’s signal.”

  “Wake me in two hours.” Jamie grinned. “The laird will need his beauty sleep if he plans to deal with Madame Josephine afore he sails for France to rescue his Sassenach wench.”

  The camaraderie offered by Jamie warmed his heart. He tossed the remains of his bannock at his brother. “Then ye had better get your rest too, because ye will be coming along to the brothel wi’ me.”

  Chapter Three

  Adrianna leaned against the wooden paneling in her cabin and stared through the window at the expanse of ocean. Hate for Papa, welled up overflowing in a rush of anger. Why had she complied with his wishes and boarded The Black Turtle like a lamb to the slaughter? Damn it all to hell, if he had he given her the choice, she would have gladly slipped away to rusticate on her country estate and waited for Drew’s return.

  She gazed into the cloudy sky and considered her situation. The protection of the baron had rapidly deteriorated. Indeed, he would not
care how she arrived if her fortune was his only consideration. She must make an excuse to leave the ship at the next port of call and make her escape. Shaking her head, she limped back and forth in the confined space. The idea had merit, but Lord Moreau would be an obstacle. She pressed both hands on the nightstand and closed her eyes. Grave doubts of her ability to slip his clutches assailed her for he had the attention of a hawk and would follow her every move.

  Picturing the map in Papa’s study brought the coastline of Scotland to the front of her mind. She counted the numerous ports along the shoreline and sighed. Inverness would be the last port of call before the ship returned to France and if Drew had not rescued her by then she must act alone.

  Her only chance of escape would be to convince Lord Moreau she needed to go ashore to purchase a gift for her betrothed. Escaping the despicable man would prove difficult, but once on Scottish soil she would send a missive to Drew and inform him of her whereabouts.

  She fell to her knees hissing with pain and flung open the lid of her chest. The smell of roses surrounded her reminding her of home and a sob caught in her throat. Home. Never again would Beachwood Manor be her sanctuary. She swallowed the pang of regret and with renewed resolve delved inside the rich mahogany box. She clicked open a secret compartment and retrieved a container holding a small fortune in gold and silver coins. The sight of the modest hoard bolstered her courage. She had more than enough to see her well away from any port by coach and settled in a tavern in a Scottish village to wait for Drew. Any town far away from Baron du Court’s clutches would be suitable.