by H. C. Brown
“Sassenach’s are verra strange. Why would ye have the need to see an old piece of cloth?” Drew snorted and turned his horse around. “Verra well. Do ye mean to take it wi’ ye?” He urged the horse into the small room and riding close to the wall grabbed the scrap of dust-covered material and handed it to her. “There. Now can we leave?”
“Yes. I thank you.” She touched the delicate fabric and wished she could discover more about the women who had taken part in sewing such a fine tapestry. The castle had once been home to a clan of proud bearing. She could imagine weapons and fine tapestries gracing the thick walls now covered with damp patches and moss. A shiver ran down her back. If the many rooms divided by Romanesque archways could speak, what would they tell of bygone days? Death, murder, and betrayal? She smiled at him. “Do you have a library where I might discover more about this ruin?”
Drew splayed one large hand across her waist.
“Aye, we do but I believe this castle was once owned by the Grants, their land is close to here, aye, but when ye get to Badenoch speak wi’ Father Dougal, he is verra knowledgeable.”
She leaned back into his arms. “It seems such a romantic time. Knights in shining armor defending their queen.”
“I dinna believe it was such a good time. Look at the state of this castle. It must have seen many sieges.” He pulled her closer. “Are ye as comfortable as maybe?” He did not wait for her reply before urging the horse back into the Great Hall and issuing commands to his men in Gaelic. The clan moved out in silence leaving not one trace of occupancy inside the castle. He bent close to her ear. “I will give ye a break when needs be.”
In truth, her leg ached and the ptisan muddled her thoughts. “Thank you. Yes, I am comfortable enough, although I must admit I have not ridden before in such a compromising position.” She ignored his angry sound of derision and clung onto the horse’s mane. “My leg is much better and the draft you concocted has eased the pain considerably.”
“Ye must speak up if ye need a rest, aye?” His thigh muscles contracted under her bottom and the horse moved forward.
She gasped at the intimacy of his hard thighs beneath her bottom then covered his hand and squeezed. “Of course.”
The horse clattered out of the Great Hall and they burst into early morning sunlight. A blast of freezing air cut through her clothes and she tightened the cloak about her. Behind her, Drew mumbled something incoherent and wrapped his thick woolen plaid around her tucking it beneath her legs. The heat from his body surrounded her suffused with his rich masculine scent and she bit back a sigh of pleasure.
Outside they paused in the ruins of the bailey and she turned to take one last glimpse at the once proud building. To be sure, the castle ruins held the violent history of Scotland. How much damage had the English kings brought to bear on the Scots over the centuries? She had studied the history of this land, from the pillaging of Catholic Churches during the Reformation by Henry V111 to the Jacobite rising of the ’15 led by John Erskine, Earl of Mar. Although, her reasoning had brought condemnation from her tutor, she had gained an acute understanding of the Scottish preference for a Stuart king on the throne rather than a Hanover.
Her father had insisted she be fluent in German to accommodate King George, but he annoyed her with his arrogant and unyielding ways. She refused to condone the loss of life in pointless wars and could not fathom the way of things. Perhaps King George’s son would be a king the Scots would accept. She turned to Drew. “Did any of your clan become involved in the rising of ’15?”
“Och aye, Lord Lovet is kin o’ mine on ma mother’s side and many Mackenzies were involved.”
She sighed. “Do you think there will ever be true peace between Scotland and England?”
“Not while the English refuse to accept the true king.” Drew moved the horse to the head of his men and led the group out onto the road. “The Scots are not a verra forgiving people.” He sighed. “The English nay doubt have their reason’s to place a German on the throne rather than King James. I verra much doubt any of the Hannover kings will be happy until all of us are in our graves.” He snorted.
She patted his hand absently. “Yes, I understand, perhaps a little more than you realize.”
Drew growled deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through her back. He guided the horse from the ruins and along a road high above the sea.
“I am glad, lass, verra glad that ye do.”
The journey ahead would be dangerous and the roads filled with thieves and excise men. She glanced over one shoulder at Drew’s determined expression and the tension curling inside relaxed. Whatever happens, I am where I want to be, safe in his arms.
Chapter Two
The way ahead snaked around the shoreline for as far as the eye could see. The aroma of seaweed filled her nostrils and a strong gust of salty wind near blew her cap off. She turned to gaze at him and the strong muscles of his thighs tensed beneath her bottom. “I am educated and although you may not believe it, because of Rupert’s wonderful tales of Selkies and Clooties I made a point of studying the history of Scotland.”
“Och aye.” Drew snorted. “Nay wonder your father wanted ye gone from his house. Ye father does nay think too kindly of the Mackenzies.”
She squinted at him through the sunlight. “What a strange thing to say. He has never mentioned your clan in my company.”
“I have discovered the reason he did not want me calling on ye.” He shrugged in a dismissive way then smiled wickedly. “Angus told me last eve that ma grandsire refused him permission to call on ma mother. When I showed interest in ye, Lord Bracken nay doubt went straight to him being his best friend, aye.” He chuckled in a most disarming way, full of positive glee. “An eye for an eye.”
Shocked, she swallowed hard. “Are you saying he would see me dead rather than married to a Mackenzie?”
“Aye, and I was not going to trouble ye with this information. At first, I thought your refusal to marry any of his friends had his wame in a knot but I have thought on Angus’s story and now believe he might still have romantic feelings for ma mother and could not face seeing her again or meeting the clan after being considered an unsuitable match.” He squeezed her gently. “Dinna fash, at least now ye ken the way of things, aye? Try not to worry, tell me what ye ken about Scottish history.”
Her thoughts wandered to the lessons delivered in an austere manner by her tutor, Mister Horacio Brown, who told of the Roman invasion and Hadrian’s Wall built to separate Scotland from England in the year 122. The Roman army could not defeat the Picts because their spirit was so great Hadrian admitted defeat and returned to Rome. She cleared her throat. “The Picts defeated an army that had conquered the world. You are descended from them, are you not?”
“Aye, many clans do, but the Mackenzies have Viking blood from the Norsemen. The Romans had armor and the Picts with claymores or axes had naught but a targe to protect us.” He grimaced. “I fear there will be another rising against the English. They have cannons and their armies outnumber us by many. I canna risk ma men in a war we canna win. Ma clan is depleted enough as is.”
She swallowed hard at the thought of a bloody battle. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“Och, lass, there is talk but the king is in France, aye and nayone has the funds to pay for another rising. War costs a great deal in gold and lives.” He moved the horse ahead of the others. “I have something to ask ye and I would appreciate an honest answer.”
She swallowed hard. He must know she had already bared her soul to him and nodded meekly. “Of course.”
“What would ye have done if I had not rescued ye?”
Drew could hear the clink of harness and the soft thud of the horses’ hooves over the pounding of waves on the beach, but Adriana had suddenly lost her inquisitive tongue and his question remained unanswered. He cleared his throat and beneath his palm, her stomach muscles tightened. “It is a simple question, aye?”
“I knew you would come f
or me. You gave me your word.”
He lifted her chin, turning her to face him, and swallowed at the sight of tears spilling unrestrained down her cheeks. His heart squeezed with compassion and with a sigh, he forced back the need to kiss away her pain. “I would have moved Heaven and Earth to find ye.”
“I am glad you found me but knowing the truth of my father is distressing.” She blinked and huge tears spilled from her lashes and ran over his fingers. Her eyes opened and she stared at him with an expression of such devotion he could not breathe. “It would seem I have always been a burden to him.”
His heart missed a beat then raced. He dropped his hand from her damp face and memories of his wonderful childhood pushed into his mind. She had needed him to remove her from an impossible situation and perhaps destiny had a hand in his attraction toward her. He squeezed her gently to encourage her to confide in him, for how else would he be able to help her. “Tell me what your father did to ye. I am verra good at keeping secrets.”
“Oh, it is nothing really.” She sighed and brushed the tears from her cheeks in an agitated dash. “I wanted to learn a little about healing, after our discussion on how I should pass the time during your absence.” Her eyes welled again with tears. “The very notion of this disturbed my father and when he discovered my visits to the poor and the brothels, he became irrational. I have reason to believe he made plans for my betrothal to Baron du Court before Rupert informed him of his plans to leave London.”
Drew shook his head in disbelief. Lord Beachwood was indeed a fool to cast this precious and educated beauty from his hearth. “Your father is a verra strange man. He dinna want me calling on ye and yet would give ye to a murderer rather than have ye remain under his roof.” He sighed. “I dinna understand why he treated ye so badly or why he discouraged ye from becoming a healer.”
“Does it make a difference to you that I offered assistance to whores and visited the sick children of paupers?”
Taking time to think on her situation and how best to console her, he did not reply at once. She flashed him an indignant look, but her voice quivered.
“I am sure your opinion of me has diminished. However, if you decide to abandon me in this unforgiving land, would you allow me to throw myself into the sea b–because I hear drowning is a more p–peaceful death than starvation?” She bit her bottom lip and met his gaze. “Although, I would beg an indulgence? If you would p–please extend your protection to Betty, she has been a loyal servant to me and indeed a friend.”
The lass had a death wish. Did she have no other plan than to commit self-murder the moment things went amiss? He snorted. “I dinna give a fig who ye helped, lass. I have never turned away anyone who needs ma skill as a healer and ye should be proud ye helped the less fortunate.” He examined her tortured expression. How many times had Lord Beachwood chastised her? “I gave ye ma word of honor to protect ye. Does ma word mean nothing to ye, lass?”
“I know you are a man of honor.” She turned on his lap to face him and her bottom lip quivered. “And I know Angus would rather see me dead than anywhere near you or your clan. Have you not noticed the way he glowers at me?”
“Aye, he has nay love for Sassenachs but he cares for your well-being.” He pulled her against him. “And so do, I.”
He swallowed hard. God help him, nothing mattered but Adrianna. His attention went to the small white teeth pressing into her bottom lip. He drew a deep breath and met her gaze. “I would have returned and saved ye all this pain if I could have, ye must believe me. There was nay time to write afore Rupert left London. The moment I received his letter explaining your position I moved Heaven and Earth to arrange a meeting wi’ The Black Turtle. Ye have been on ma mind every moment since the masquerade ball and I have not lain with a lass since meeting ye. Your father’s warning did not prevent me coming to ye, because I am a stubborn man and usually get what I want. I would have come for ye had ma father not died.”
“Oh, Drew, I had no idea.”
“Afore, I received Rupert’s letter, I had planned to get ma clan settled afore I returned to London. As laird with considerable land and position, I would have sought your father’s permission to call on ye.” He touched her cheek. “I canna do that now we ken the truth of his objections toward me, but I am an honorable man. Will ye allow me to start afresh and court ye in the manner befitting a lady, ma bonnie Adrianna?”
Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her flushed cheeks.
“I would like that of all things, but your clan? If my father discovers the truth I doubt he will let this matter go.”
He rubbed his chin in an effort to put his mind in some sort of order. She trembled against him and he drew his cloak tighter around her. She had trusted him with her most guarded secrets and had been correct in assuming Lord Beachwood would pose a problem for his clan. He lifted his chin. He had made his decision, no man or Sassenach king would come between him and the woman he loved. As Laird Mackenzie, he would have many clans willing to fight by his side if needs be.
“Then we will follow our hearts, lass, and if all is well between us, I will deal with your father—and King Geordie.” He smiled to reassure her. “Ye need not be afraid. Ma clan will follow my orders and protect ye. If ye will allow me to speak of ma desire to court ye and tell how ye have been mistreated by your father, most will agree ye are in need of ma protection.”
She brightened and smiled at him.
“Perhaps you should mention I am an heiress. I have a small fortune with me and an estate in England with a good income.”
He laughed. “Aye, I will. Ma clan has not been verra lucky of late.”
“Why did you become a smuggler?” She sniffed. “Did your father condone such a dangerous way to make your fortune?”
Pain of losing his father tied knots around his heart. He drew a deep breath and stared along the ragged cliff face far into the distance. He tasted salt on his tongue and lifted his head to catch the breeze in an effort to control his emotions. As laird, he did not have the luxury of being maudlin. With his thoughts ordered, he swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced out the words. “Ma clan was growing faster than we could provide for them. We had a glut of whisky, but when I sold it in Scotland, the taxes took most of our profit.”
He maneuvered the horse around a tree stump and lifted his face into the fresh breeze. “I have connections, in King Louis’s court they ken me as Monsieur Alexander. Ma father thought it prudent for me to remove to France and I took fifty barrels wi’ me and stored them in a warehouse on the docks. I marked the barrels as vinegar to avoid suspicion. I sold a small portion to the privateers along the French coast and soon had a warehouse filled with goods.” He sighed. “I remained in France and sent the goods to Jamie to sell in Inverness. Soon I had the French nobility seeking out Le Diable Noir to procure merchandise for them. With goods I could trade legally in Scotland, ma clan prospered but I missed Scotland, aye. I sent one last cargo of French brandy to Inverness afore I left France.”
“I find it hard to believe you did not enjoy the lavish indulgence of the French court.” She gave him a meaningful stare. “I hear King Louis is extravagance personified.”
He rolled his shoulders. Christ, he would admit less in a confessional, but she deserved to know every detail of his past.
“The French court is indeed an indulgence of food and lust, but I missed the sound of the Gaelic and the smell of mist on the heather. I am a Highlander and the call of the mountains is in ma blood. I saved enough coin to finance shares in an established wine business and have ensured ma clan has a constant income from the next quarter profits.” He smiled. “I said, au revoir to Le Diable Noir and then I met you.”
“What happened to make you to return to smuggling?”
The sight of his father’s death mask came vividly to mind. “Ma father was poisoned along with two-thirds of ma clan. I arrived home to find ma father on his deathbed, ma tenants’ homes ransacked by our neighbors, women and stoc
k gone, and our fields afire.” He grimaced. “I am a smuggler, aye, but I dinna usually risk moving goods off the coast of Scotland. I had nay choice because ma clan will not make it through the winter if I canna buy supplies.”
“I have more than I need and will be most happy to help your clan.” Adrianna’s enthusiastic smile warmed his heart. “You are welcome to all I have with me, and the moment I employ a man of affairs I will have my funds transferred to a Scottish bank.” She gripped his arm. “You are courting me, so there is no shame in taking my offer of assistance.”
She had a small fortune in gold and jewels, but he would not touch a penny. He shook his head. “Nay, and have people say I am wooing ye for your fortune? Nay, lass, that would never do. I am a proud man, aye.”
“Well, pride be damned.” She drew herself up and gave him a rebellious stare. “You have admitted your clan is in desperate need and declining my willingness to help is ridiculous.” She sighed. “If you refuse my assistance because of male pride then we must come to some other arrangement. As I do not intend to return to England, I might as well sell my estate in Surrey. I could build a house in Scotland.” Her lips quivered into a smile of sorts. “It would be a simple matter of selling me a portion of Mackenzie land.”
The idea sounded feasible and she had enough gold in her stays alone to feed his clan for a year or more, but he could not make a decision without consulting the terms with his clan. “Verra well, I will put your most generous offer to a meeting of the clan.”
His clan would be more than happy to take her money, but heaven forbid if she decided not to marry him. As an unwed Sassenach lady with a holding on their land, her connection to King George would place her in constant danger. As his wife, she would be a Mackenzie and his clan would embrace her as the new Mistress of Badenoch.