The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  She sighed. “I see. To be perfectly honest, I was of the impression men and women had the same necessities but would seem I am mistaken. Are most men driven by lustful desires like tomcats?”

  “I would think most men have the same urges, but we all have a choice, aye. Ye may well believe I am nay better than a beast driven by ma needs, but I had the utmost respect for ma lovers. When I wed, I will seek nay other for ma bed.” He snorted. “I will not disgrace ma wife by taking a mistress.”

  She giggled and wet her lips. “At last, we are in agreement.”

  Drew swallowed hard and forced his mind to concentrate on the silken mass of hair slipping through his fingers. Talk of lust had heated his groin and the evidence of his desire pressed hard against his sporran. Christ. After leaving London, Adrianna had dominated his thoughts. He had drifted in sexual oblivion but now after watching her fight the fever and touching her soft white flesh again, he wanted her more than ever. Not for his mistress but cherished as his wife.

  Before receiving Rupert’s letter detailing her plight, he had made plans to return to London the moment he had settled his clan’s business. He had wanted to seek an audience with Lord Beachwood to request permission to call on Adrianna in a respectable fashion. He had hoped his new position as a laird with considerable land holdings might sway the obstinate man in his favor.

  He needed to convince his clan to accept a Sassenach noblewoman as their mistress. The clan’s agreement had a codicil, his men would have lay down their lives for her because if Lord Moreau had caught the slightest notion Adrianna had joined his clan, the wee gomeral would notify Lord Beachwood. He would arrive home with an English battalion waiting on his doorstep.

  He cleared his throat. “Lord Moreau may well be waiting for us to arrive at Inverness, nay doubt accompanied by a party of Captain Jacques’ men wi’ the intent of taking ye back on board The Black Turtle?”

  “Yes, you did mention he would cause trouble as would my father. I am sorry.” She turned to look at him. “I wish I could do something to help but other than give myself willingly into Lord Moreau’s hands I am at a loss to know what to do.”

  “Do ye believe your father kenned about Baron du Court’s plans?”

  “That he planned to kill me?” She shrugged. “No, I do not believe he would send me to my death.”

  He rubbed his chin in an effort to evaluate the situation. “Then ye must write a letter to your father informing him of everything ye ken. Tell him why ye escaped but dinna inform him about being with me. I will send one of ma man ahead to Inverness and wi’ luck ye father will receive the letter afore Moreau contacts him.”

  “I will, but I doubt any such information coming from me will make a difference. My father is a hard man to convince.” Adrianna pursed her lips. “He believes I am stubborn and willful.” She narrowed her gaze. “I think he may be correct.”

  Glad to see her fight return, he smiled. “Ye are a warrior and I happen to admire your spirit.”

  Christ, the sight of her mussed and wrapped in his plaid sent heat straight to his groin. He ran a final brushstroke through the mass of curls but wanted to linger. God help him the desire to drag her into his arms and ravage her soft sweet mouth near overpowered him. He ground his teeth. Angus had been correct, the lass was trouble and he would have to explain the danger she posed to his men afore they left at first light.

  He handed her the hairbrush and moved to her side. “Get your head down for a bit. It will be daylight soon and I will send Betty to tend ye.” He curled a silken curl around one finger and waited for her to complain, but she made no demure. With reluctance, he allowed the soft hair to slip from his grasp. “I have quill and ink in ma saddlebags so I will ask ye to write a letter afore we leave in the morning. Remember, I will not be able to show affection toward ye in front of ma men, not yet awhile but soon, aye?”

  Adrianna wrapped her small hand around his arm.

  “I understand, but before you go, I must thank you for saving my life.” She wet her lips.

  “I would walk through fire for ye, lass.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “Then I do hope my letter resolves the problem with Lord Moreau but I have grave doubts my father will take direction from me.” Dark lashes dropped over her devastated blue gaze. “I beg you to believe when I asked you to help me escape Lord Moreau I had no idea doing so would cause you or your clan trouble.”

  “I ken ye had nay notion of your father’s threats toward me.”

  A tremble went through her and he forced back the need to offer comfort by stepping away to break her sensual allure. Perhaps God had decided to test his ability to be laird. As if losing his father and inheriting a starving clan was not enough, he had to fight the French and British aristocracy for the woman he loved. He straightened. “Adrianna, I want ye by ma side and nay matter what happens, I promise I will keep ye safe. Now, I must insist ye get some rest.”

  Exhausted, he strode away to wake his men and explain what was to come. He sighed. Many could die due to his decision to take her from the Baron du Court’s clutches.

  The End of Book Two

  Seduced

  The Mackenzie, Book Three

  H.C. Brown

  After escaping a pirate ship and an unwanted betrothal to a French baron, Lady Adrianna Beechwood may well be safe on land but is alone with a band of smugglers running from the law in the wilds of Scotland.

  Finally reunited with the love of her life, she is distressed to find a rugged Highland warrior has replaced the refined, stylish Drew Mackenzie she fell in love with in London.

  With her betrothed’s men hot on her heels, she must flee with her Highlander, but will their love survive the troubles to come?

  Preface

  Highlander, Drew Mackenzie's double life as the Mackenzie heir and the notorious, smuggler, Le Diable Noir, comes into jeopardy the moment he meets Lady Adrianna Beachwood. Disobeying her father’s warning to stay away, he devises an ingenious plan to meet her in secret by using his cousin, the respectable, Lord Rupert as a decoy. The romance is in full swing before fate intervenes, and hearing of his clan’s sudden illness, he returns to Scotland to find his clan at war.

  Drew’s father is on his deathbed and his godfather is trying to turn the clan against him. Clan Munroe is waging war and his clan is losing the battle. Sick and near starving Clan Mackenzie looked to Drew to save them. His plan to leave his smuggling days behind and marry Adrianna quickly becomes an impossible dream and he must return to his life as Le Diable Noir, to finance his clan.

  In London, alone and without the support of Lord Rupert, Lady Adrianna’s heartless father forces her into a betrothal with a French Baron known as The Murderer of Muzon. Unable to inform her father about her secret love affair with Drew Mackenzie, she has no option but to accept. In fear of her life, she writes to Lord Rupert to inform him of her situation and begs him to notify Drew of her impossible position and to ask him to help her escape.

  Time is running out and without word from Drew, Lady Adrianna reluctantly boards a pirate ship, The Black Turtle, and finds herself under the protection of the baron’s man of affairs in the form of the opium smoking deviate, Lord Moreau. In fear of her life or losing her honor from the threats of the unscrupulous Captain Jacques, she has little option but to wait in the hope Drew will find a way to rescue her.

  After receiving Lord Rupert’s letter, Drew plans a risky escape. He sends his brother Ian to join the crew then boards The Black Turtle as the masked Le Diable Noir and by using, Ian and the cover of darkness rescues Lady Adrianna.

  Safe on land and alone with a band of Highlanders in the middle of nowhere, Adrianna is distressed to find a rugged Highlander has replaced the refined, stylish Drew Mackenzie she fell in love with in London.

  Chapter One

  Adrianna hobbled from the small room in the castle ruins with one arm draped across Betty’s shoulder for support and gaped at Drew in astonishment. Dressed in a clea
n shirt with his plaid attached to one shoulder by an exquisite brooch and a glistening claymore on his back, and a short sword strapped to his waist, there could be no doubt of his position in the clan. Drew straightened to his full impressive height at her entrance and rested one hand on the gold handled dirk on his belt. He held an aura of respect and was defiantly not the vagabond barbarian he led her to believe.

  Her Highlander was indeed a chameleon, for before her stood a confident Highland warrior as did the tall, handsome man standing beside him. Drew’s gaze drifted over her and a glimpse of the man she met in London surfaced for a brief moment before his expression hardened to one of disinterest. An act for his clan no doubt.

  She glanced over the restless group of clansmen and all to a man glared back at her grim-faced. A shiver of apprehension slid down her spine. By the wave of Anglophobic hatred directed toward her, Drew had informed them of the trouble her presence would cause. The grunts and Gaelic mutterings combined with unusual hand gestures from the men clearly indicated their attitude toward her. To be sure, they would have preferred if the fever had taken her.

  Limping the short distance to stand before him and ignoring the less than welcoming manner of his men, she offered him the letter. She had detailed the reasons for escaping Lord Moreau and informed her father of her reasons to remain in Scotland without mention of Drew or her whereabouts. She had folded the paper neatly and placed her father’s direction in bold print on the front then sealed the missive with a crude blob of soot-streaked candle wax. “I do hope this will set matters straight.”

  “As do I.” Drew took the letter and broke the seal eyeing her with a steady confident gaze.

  She gaped at him in disbelief and grabbed at the paper in his hand but to no avail. At the twitch of a smile on his lips, indignation rose and she glared at him. “Laird Mackenzie, I find it hard to believe you have the effrontery to examine a private note to my father.”

  “Effrontery is it to keep ma clan safe or maybe I am too canny for ye, aye?” Drew gave her such a look of disdain that she took a step backward. He grabbed her arm drawing her around to face him. “Do ye really think I would be stupid enough to allow anyone with enough information to see us hanged, free reign to inform Lord Beachwood of our whereabouts, and destination?” His gaze moved over her face assessing her. “If ye are so against me reading the contents of your correspondence, ye must have something to hide.”

  The group of men mumbled in agreement and indescribable dread fell over her. Swallowing her pride, she inclined her head in an attempt to exhibit calm and a regal manner. “Then read on Laird Mackenzie, for there is nothing in that missive that you do not already know about me, I’m sure.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I do not intend to cause you or your clan trouble with the authorities. You have my word. Nevertheless, I do understand your clan’s hesitancy to believe an English woman.”

  Such an attempt at bravado had not quelled the fear bubbling to the surface. Why had she written to her father and given her explanation for leaving The Black Turtle as one to search for true love and with the intention of finding a husband of her own choosing? If Drew read her note to the clan, they would without doubt believe she had designed her escape in an attempt to force him into a compromising position and would regard her with contempt. An English lady would not be a suitable match for their laird, especially one with King George as a godfather. She gazed at him from below her lashes and her heart pounded with the implications. She prayed he would not read the missive aloud. Her ears peeled in the fashion of St. Paul’s Cathedral at Easter, and she swallowed hard. Fisting her hands until the fingernails cut deep into her flesh, she stared into Drew’s eyes daring him to reveal their secret.

  “Aye, if ye want ma protection and expect ma clan to lay down their lives for ye, then ye have to earn their trust.” Drew unfolded the letter. He moved to a shaft of light to read the contents and raised both dark eyebrows. He folded the paper then turned to Dermot and thrust the document into his hands. “Light a candle and seal this again.” He strolled back to her and gave her a long considering stare. “Verra well, lass. I thank ye, the letter will do nicely.”

  The tightness in her chest relaxed and could breathe once more. Indeed, Drew’s disposition toward her had not changed to one of smug satisfaction or distaste. He gave no hint to his thoughts and had the ability to mask his feelings toward her, yet beneath his warrior persona lay the kind, gentle man who had cared for her overnight.

  Oh, you are very good at deception, Drew Mackenzie. I hope you have not deceived me as well. She lifted her chin and met his emerald gaze searching for the man who had stolen her heart. His attention had not moved from her and when his expression softened, the need to throw herself into his arms heated her cheeks. Empowered, she pressed her trembling legs together, and in an effort to appear nonchalant arranged her dark brown woolen skirt. He had insisted she must earn his clan’s trust and she would if it took the rest of her life. She inclined her head and offered him a hint of a smile. “I thank you, Laird.”

  Drew took the resealed letter from Dermot and handed it to one of his men. “Ride like the wind and get this on the first mail coach to London. I will meet ye at the Glen Albyn Inn in two days. God’s speed.” He slapped the man on the back then turned to her and indicated to the man at his side. “May I present, ma brother James Mackenzie, kenned by most as Dubh Jamie.”

  The man beside him stepped forward and bowed over her hand.

  “Your servant, ma lady.” Jamie met her gaze. “I do hope the morning finds ye well rested and in better health?”

  She smiled at this charismatic young man. “Yes, I thank you for your concern, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  The brush of his lips and scent of fresh air and heather sent images racing through her mind in a state of primordial chaos. Words fell from her mouth heedless of the consequences. “I must say, you appear to be very strong. Do you have the occasion to spar often, Mister Mackenzie? The majority of the fellows here appear to be likewise.”

  The vivid conception of men bare to the waist in kilts, fighting with great swords filled her mind. Such bold fancies sent a most uncomfortable wave of heat rushing up her neck to burn her cheeks.

  Jamie’s brows raised and he flicked an enquiring glance at Drew before offering her a quizzical gaze.

  “Aye, I practiced with Drew this morning. Mayhap the noise we made entered your dreams, aye?”

  Adrianna caught Drew’s annoyance and brushing it aside smiled at his brother. “Oh, most certainly but due to the constant conflict in Scotland, I am sure Highlanders have a pressing need to hone their skills?” She glanced around the Great Hall at the gathering of hostile Scotsmen and the anger vibrating from them stifled her. Swallowing her apprehension, she inclined her head. “Being so close to the coast must be quite a change. Do you enjoy the invigorating sea air?”

  “It is all verra well, being close to the sea but we are eager to return to the Highlands.” Jamie smiled warmly. “A man goes mad, aye, being cooped up in this old castle for so long a time.” He dropped her hand and grinned. “Ye will have noticed how cranky the men are, aye?”

  “Well, I shall not hold you up a moment longer.” She caught the glint of amusement in his eyes and inclined her head. “But before we leave, may I ask your indulgence for one question? Why do your friends refer to you as Dubh Jamie? ”

  “They call me Black Jamie because we have another Jamie in the clan, a cousin wi’ red hair.” Jamie grinned. “And ye are Lady Beachwood, aye?”

  “Have ye forgotten ma orders? Her name is Adrianna and best ye remember and not be acting as if she were the bloody Queen of England.” Anger flashed in Drew’s eyes. He turned toward her with a determined and yet somewhat exasperated expression. “Have I not informed ye to refer to us by our Christian names or risk undue attention.” He waved Ian forward. “Ian has filled a flask with the ptisan. Drink some now and more if the pain returns.” He turned his attention to Betty. “Ye will ride w
i’ Ian on one of the carts. Go wi’ him now and collect your things.”

  Adrianna took the silver flask and smiled at Ian. “Thank you.” She opened the top then sipped the thick spicy liquid. The ptisan warmed her from the inside and heat spread throughout her limbs easing the pain. She replaced the cap and pushed the flask inside the pocket of her skirt. Drew stepped closer and his fresh musky scent engulfed her making her heart race. He tucked a strand of hair inside her cap with the tips of his freezing fingers then offered his arm.

  “Ye will ride with me. I dare say my lap will be more comfortable than sitting on the seat of one of the carts.” He led the way to the horses walking at a slow pace. “We will go slowly until ye are better.” He bent his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ye did fine and nayone kens we have feelings toward each other. I will allow them to witness a growing fondness between us on the trip.”

  Seated in a most precarious position across Drew’s muscular thighs, with one of his strong arms wrapped around her waist, Adrianna turned her attention to her surroundings. Trickles of daylight with dancing dust motes fell through the arrow slits to the floor, to illuminate an arrangement of stone slabs laid out in the shape of an oak leaf. With a pang of regret, she recalled the dilapidated tapestry hanging in the solar and the wall sconces bearing the same design. “One moment if you please.”

  “What is it?” Drew examined her face. “We have not gone more than a few steps, are you indisposed?”

  “No, I am sure I will manage but I ask your indulgence.” The chance to discover more about the history of the castle lay in the oak leaf motto. “There is a fragment of a wall hanging in the solar. Would you allow me one moment to examine it?” She smiled. “I could not see it clearly in the candlelight and it appears to be quite ancient.”