The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  “I never thought I would hear myself saying this about a Sassenach but in truth, ye need to go easy on the lass. Braw she may be but ye dinna have the experience with womenfolk as a married man might.” Angus held up one grease-streaked hand to prevent his retort. “I am aware ye have tupped all the available widows in Scotland and maybe France as well, but there is more to a woman than carnal desire. Canna ye see she is in pain and it is not with the discomfort of leaving home. Mark ma words there is something verra wrong wi’ her. She is burning with fever and I will wager she will not live long enough to reach Badenoch.”

  Drew narrowed his gaze at his godfather. “Do ye think I dinna ken she is suffering? She kens I am a healer but has not asked me to tend her.”

  His gaze flicked to Adrianna huddled by the fire. To be sure, the moment she had set eyes on him, her astonished expression had unhinged him. She had not expected a Highland smuggler to be sure. He dropped his gaze to prevent Angus noticing the glow of desire crawling up his neck to heat his cheeks at the sweet memory of her kiss.

  He rubbed his nose, Christ, her scent lingered, and his lips still tingled from their kiss. The simple touch of her flesh had heated his groin. He had taken advantage of her in the darkness and snorted, disgusted with his outrageous behavior. Yet, she had returned his attention freely. He smiled at the remembrance of their first meeting then quickly moved his attention to his meal to consider the immediate situation.

  Adrianna’s presence in his clan would undoubtedly cause trouble, but she would require his protection. Would she be prepared to travel with him in dreadful conditions to the safety of Foiseil Castle? Would she survive? To be sure, she had courage aplenty but inner strength was no cure for the fever.

  Damn it, I will have to insist I treat her. He rubbed the back of his neck and pushed the last morsel of meat into his mouth. He glanced around for Angus’s lad. “Dermot, will ye fetch me a lantern, lad?” He reached for the bottle of whisky in his saddlebags then searched around for the small bottle of feverfew juice and his bag of herbs. He had a few clean rags and a jar of comfrey ointment. If the silly lass had a mind to die on him, well, he would not allow it pride be damned. He left the small pile of items on the ground, pushed to his feet, and strode toward Adrianna.

  Squatting in front of her, his attention moved from the plate of untouched meat to her face. Dark circles cut deep beneath both eyes, her pallid complexion, and the spots of pink high on her cheeks informed him her condition had deteriorated rapidly in the last hour. Pushing down anger at his own stupidity, he touched her cheek to get her attention. “Ye are in pain. Will ye allow me to treat your wounds? If not, at least take something for the fever, aye?”

  He took the lantern from Dermot placed it on the floor and spoke to the boy in Gaelic. “Thank ye, now go fetch the whisky and other things I left by the fire, and follow me.”

  She lifted her fever blotched face to him.

  “If I may have a little water and perhaps a rag, I can do for myself. I have Betty.”

  He gripped her elbow. “Come wi’ me, bring your maid. I will take ye to a place where she can tend ye in private.”

  “I thank you”—Adrianna pressed a small trembling hand to her neck—“but I am not sure I can stand at the moment. Perhaps after I have had a little time to rest?” She straightened and winced. “In fact, I am quite sure I cannot move. If you would be so kind as to—”

  He scooped her into his arms. “Hush your blathering.”

  Ignoring her protests, he headed to the back of the Great Hall. The wildflower scent of her muddled his senses, and as if to test his resolve, a lock of her soft brown hair caressed his chin. His thoughts filled with taking her to his bed. Oh, Jesus. He ground his teeth and forced the wanton image of her writhing under his touch to the darkest recesses of his mind. She weighed a might more than he remembered and with each step, the hem of her dress struck his shins with considerable force. Aye well, the lass would be canny enough to carry gold hidden in her petticoats. He grimaced. The weight would be placing an extra burden on her injured leg. He glanced over one shoulder to her maid. “Bring the lantern.” To his relief, the girl offered no protest, grabbed a large canvas bag in one hand, picked up the lantern with the other, and followed.

  Exhausted, confused, and in agony Adrianna sought comfort from Drew. Relaxing against his strong, hard chest, she inhaled the intoxicating masculine scent of him laced with the smell of wine. She sighed, indeed being so close to the male perfection she had desired for so long sent quivers of desire thrumming through her. Daring had her in its hold. All rational thought fled and she slid one hand inside the neck of his shirt.

  She brushed his bare chest brazenly and allowed the tips of her fingers to linger in the soft curls. To be sure, the glowing ember of deep longing, she had experienced for so long burst into flames. As if reading her thoughts, Drew pressed her against his hard chest. His intimate touch heated the junction between her thighs and without considering the consequences, she melted into his embrace and traced small circles over his smooth skin. Catching his sharp intake of breath, she removed her hand at once. “Oh, I do beg your pardon.”

  “I crave your touch, but this is not the place nor the time. We both want more than decency allows, aye? Dinna ye ken I want to kiss ye again and have ye quiver under ma touch?” His mouth turned down at the corners. “I understand your need for comforting so we will have to go canny.” He rubbed his face against her cheek and his unshaved chin cut a rough yet exhilarating path across her flesh. “It does not mean I do not burn for ye.”

  Her face grew hot at the implication and she gazed at his handsome profile. “I may well enjoy your touch, but I have no intention of allowing any impropriety.”

  “Christ, Adrianna, what sort of a man do ye take me for? Have I not considered your pleasure above ma own at all times?” He let out a long weary sigh. His grip tightened around her and his breath brushed her ear in a whisper. “Ye are verra bold for an innocent. Your eyes and body tell me what your lips deny. I burn to have ye under me, calling out ma name in passion.”

  Abashed, she aimed a feeble punch at his chest. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”

  “Did your mother explain to ye the consequences of taunting a man and how a lady should not offer what she is not willing to give?” He tightened his grip. “Now stop fighting me, aye. Ye will only hurt yourself.”

  In truth, his gaze had penetrated her defenses, sunk down into her baser instincts, and filled her with desire. Fatigued and desperately thirsty, she rested her head on his shoulder. She appreciated his willpower, indeed without it her virginity would not survive long under his intimate attention. How could she forget the forbidden touch of his hands, his delicious kisses upon her most intimate parts? Glancing at his long straight nose and square chin, she sighed. Oh, yes indeed, she would gladly risk fire and brimstone to have Laird Drew Mackenzie.

  “Here, this is more private, aye?” Drew set her down gently before an alcove. “I will have one o’ the carts filled wi’ hay and brought inside. The oilskins will make it more comfortable for the pair of ye. I have a spare plaid ye can use to keep ye warm and I will ask ma brother, Jamie for his as well.” He cast a critical gaze over her. “Bide here. Dermot will be along with warm water and soap.” He turned to speak to Dermot in Gaelic.

  Her legs trembled in a most disconcerting fashion and she leaned heavily against the wall for purchase. Drew took her elbow with one warm hand and slipped the other around her waist. She gripped the front of his shirt and stared at him. “I do beg your pardon. It would seem I am a little unsteady on my feet.”

  “When did ye last eat?” Drew examined her face intently. “Ye are as white as chalk.”

  “She has not eaten a bite since before the storm, milord.” Betty gave a little bob. “She banged her head and I have yet to see the damage she has suffered to her leg.”

  Adrianna bristled and glared at her. “I am quite capable of answering Laird Mackenzie’s questions myself,
Betty. Go and assist Dermot with the water.”

  “Nay bide.” Drew straightened and smiled at Betty. “I do appreciate ye telling me of your mistress’s injuries and I ken ye are doing this out of concern for her well-being. Ye must not repeat what ye have heard to anyone about ma previous acquaintance of your mistress. Do ye understand?”

  “I would never betray milady’s confidence, not ever.” Betty’s cheeks flamed.

  “Good, now mind ye give her the feverfew and whisky for the pain. I will send Dermot wi’ some herbs to help wi’ the healing but dinna leave your mistress, I want ye to bide close by to ensure propriety.” He bent to address her his eyes filled with concern. “Ye must have Betty wi’ ye at all times and we must avoid being too close. The thought of kissing ye teases me unmercifully and I have nay experience wi’ maidens.”

  What does he mean by ‘teasing’ him? She stiffened. Surely, their brief kiss had not awakened his carnal nature. “You have proved to be honorable in the past. What has changed? Am I to be afraid of you now?”

  “Afraid, nay never, but ye ken verra well I desire ye.” Drew dashed a hand through his long black hair and his tortured expression bore into her. “Dinna look at me as if ye canna understand what I am saying, ye ken full well. What do ye expect from me, Adrianna?” He snorted. “Ye ken I am nay Saint and the way ye regard me would strain the endurance of the Pope.”

  She blinked up at him speechless. Heavens above, had she stoked an uncontainable fire in him. Drawing a deep breath, she forced her mind to consider the implications of his words. She would answer him honestly and hope he would respect her truthfulness. “I am sorry to have acted inappropriately. You see, I do not understand the ways of men. I do admit our time together has awakened a longing I cannot explain.”

  He touched her cheek and she forced back the desire to press her face into his palm.

  “Adrianna—”

  “Please, I beg you to allow me to continue.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and examined his handsome face seeing only compassion. “You see, I am two and twenty, well past my prime, and my options to date have been bland puddings of men. Then I met you and for the first time in my life, I felt attractive.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “However, I will not be your mistress. All I have left is my pride.” She blinked forcing the tears away. “I would rather throw myself off a cliff than live in trepidation of being tossed aside for another more youthful mistress.”

  Drew let out a long sigh and lifted her chin with one long finger.

  “Ye are innocent, lass, and dinna ken how desirable ye are.” He sighed. “I dinna need a mistress, and Christ, I would rather cut ma own throat than cause ye to commit self-murder.” His brow furrowed. “Ye must understand, I am a man, aye and it has been some months since I took a woman to ma bed.” His gaze traveled over her in a frank inspection. “I dinna think ye are ‘past your prime’ nay, not at all.” His green eyes softened. “There is a connection between us. I sensed it the first moment I laid eyes on ye.” He let his hand drop and one side of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. “More so after we spent time together but ye are correct, ye are verra innocent and dinna understand the ways of men.”

  She swayed, caught in his gaze like some unfortunate fly in a spider’s web and fought to preserve some modicum of dignity. “I have never been exposed to such a man as you before.”

  “As I expected, and we can use this time to ken each other better, seeing me as a Highlander ye might well form a different opinion of me.” He grinned and his eyes danced with amusement. “Keeping Betty close by will ensure your reputation remains unsullied.” He pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Ye are verra beautiful.” His green gaze swept over her. “I have missed ye, Adrianna, more than I can say.”

  “I have missed you too. “She lowered her gaze to rest on his chest. “I am worried being here will put you all in danger.”

  “Aye, Lord Moreau is like a dog wi’ a bone. We have to make sure he does not find ye in ma company.”

  Heavens above, not only Lord Moreau would cause a problem. To be sure, if her father got wind of her direction, he would make a request to King George to send a battalion of troops from the barracks at Glenelg to kill them all. She met his gaze. “Had I known about my father’s threat, I can assure you I would not have asked for your assistance.”

  He chuckled and the sound came like a roll of thunder from deep in his chest.

  “Dinna fash, because I am verra glad you did.” He bowed then straightened and amusement glittered in his eyes. “Get well, mho creagh,”

  She swallowed hard, his soft words sounded like an endearment, to be sure. She stared into his fathomless gaze. “I am sorry I do not understand. Would you repeat that in the King’s tongue for me please?”

  “The English king’s tongue? Aye well, mho creagh, means ‘my love.’” He turned and strode into the darkness.

  Adrianna gaped after him speechless. At last, the term of endearment she had craved to hear but now with an assurance of his feelings toward her, keeping him at a respectable distance in front of his men would be difficult. He had such strong arms and the scent of him had comforted her like a warm hug. She bolstered her resolve and turned her attention to the matters at hand. If she neglected the pain in her leg, she may not survive to witness the outcome of her journey.

  Using the wall for support, she waited for Dermot to deliver the bucket of water and soap to Betty. The lad kept his attention fixed on the floor as if looking at her would turn him to stone. “Thank you, Dermot.”

  The boy’s ears pinked at the sound of his name and he turned and scurried away. She glanced at Betty. “Remind me to ask Laird Mackenzie the Gaelic word for ‘thank you.’ It seems Dermot is more than a little afraid of me. Perhaps addressing him in his own language might help.”

  “As it happens I asked Ian, it is ‘tapadh leat,’ milady.”

  Betty moved deeper into the alcove and secured the lantern to a hook in the wall.

  “There is plenty of room in here for me to tend you and it is a might warmer than the Great Hall.” She turned and smiled at Adrianna. “Allow me to remove your dress and see what is amiss.”

  Adrianna surveyed her surroundings with interest. Would hiding in castle ruins with a group of smelly men be her lot in life from now on? She examined the alcove. The small chamber, although ruined by centuries of neglect, held a glimpse of its former glory. Intricate iron sconces remained attached to the walls each depicting an acorn surrounded by oak leaves and stains from their dripping wax candles still marred the floor below.

  Her attention moved over the damp, moss-covered stone walls to a small threadbare remnant of a once rich tapestry. Moving toward the back of the room, she stepped with care over a covering of thick dust and debris. She grimaced and batted away a miasma of dusty spiders’ webs as thick as lace curtains.

  “This will have to do, Betty. This room gives us far more privacy than in the Great Hall with the men.” She dragged the oilskin over her head and spread it on the floor. “Once I have washed the grime off my feet and rested, I will be fine.”

  As Betty removed the wax paper surrounding the small bar of soap, the rich smell of bergamot with a hint of lavender filled the alcove. Adrianna drew a deep breath to fill her head with the delightful fragrance. It would seem Drew had given her his own supply of the expensive French extravagance. To use it and surround herself with the scent of him would be a temptation impossible to resist. She stepped out of her gown and waited for Betty to remove her stays.

  “I can manage now, thank you, Betty. Take the soap back to Laird Mackenzie and offer my thanks. I would prefer to use my own.”

  “Yes, milady.” Betty searched a canvas bag and retrieved a bar of floral soap. She handed it to her. “Do you want me to return it now because Laird Mackenzie insisted I remain with you at all times?”

  “Yes, Betty, go now. I will be quite safe.”

  A dark shadow loomed in the entrance and Betty cried out i
n alarm.

  “Nay ye will not.” Drew bent to pick up the discarded petticoat and stays. “I will return these after I have removed the unnecessary weight.” He handed the garments to Dermot. The boy chanced a terrified glance at her and scurried away with the strings of her stays dragging in his wake.

  She gaped at Drew in disbelief. How could he possibly have known she had secured a fortune in her clothes? “I bid you to return my garments at once.”

  “Nay, lass, I am trying ma best to take care of ye and I refuse to allow ye to carry this extra weight with an injury.” Drew held out one hand toward Betty for the soap then dropped it into his sporran. “Dinna fash, I will not steal from ye.” He met Adrianna’s gaze and lifted his chin. “Ye have ma word.”

  She blinked unable to form a reply then made a slow inventory of the powerful man standing before her. A warm glow curled around her heart for he was her knight in shining armor and she would trust him with her soul. He was, after all a laird and had treated her with an abundance of kindness. She smiled and attempted to explain her concern. “I do trust you, but the jewels are—”

  “There is nay need to give me a reason. I ken ye have them in case of trouble and I will make sure ye have a few back just in case, but I am wi’ ye now. Ye are safe wi’ me, Adrianna.” His gaze moved down the front of her shift to her aching nipples and back. His mouth twitched at the corners. “Ye trusted me in London and ye can rely on me now.” He inclined his head and regarded her for a long moment. “I desire ye, sweet Adrianna, and have made the fact clear, and I believe ye want me too.”

  Standing in her shift with her legs exposed for the world to see, she wanted to hide. How could she deny her deep craving for his touch, his delicious kisses? Heat blistered her cheeks and she met a gaze filled with longing. She swallowed hard. “I do want you.”

  Catching Betty’s scandalized expression she stepped away from him, and a burning flame cut deep into her hip. Unable to disguise a gasp of agony she turned away and reached for her.