The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  He inhaled the feminine scent of her mingled with the herbal essence of the comfrey and his groin heated. No other woman attracted him to the point of madness. I want her. Fate had thrown them together and beyond doubt, either God or the Ancient Ones had chosen her for him. She had two attributes he greatly admired; she glowed with inner strength and championed the less fortunate. To be sure, as the new Laird of Badenoch, the future offered him no surety. It would take time to rebuild his clan to its former glory and he would face a constant battle to keep his land in Mackenzie hands. Saint’s willing, with her as a shining talisman by his side, he might shed the shroud of death and destruction in his path.

  Lulled to sleep by the rocking motion of the horse, Adrianna woke enclosed in Drew’s strong arms. Darkness surrounded her and a freezing wind buffeted her causing the horse’s mane to fly in all directions. She blinked convinced the herbal concoction had caused her delirium. Had his request to pursue her and gentle kisses been a wonderful dream? She gazed at him and her heart raced with desire. His mouth had set in a determined line, but then he noticed her and his full lips turned up in a smile. He bent and brushed a kiss as soft as butterflies wings across her cheek then with exquisite tenderness, kissed the corners of her mouth, and traced the tip of his hot tongue over her lips. Tingles of awareness from his touch exploded into desire and she smiled. “Hello.”

  “Ye are awake.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed.

  She glanced around suddenly embarrassed. “Will the clan make comment of your attention toward me?”

  “Nay lass, I am wooing ye and as Laird I may chose ma own bride.” He frowned at her moan of discomfiture. “We will stop in a few minutes to rest and have a bite to eat.” He cupped her chin. “Are ye in verra much pain, lass?”

  She wet her lips, tasting him and shook her head. “No, although I am a little stiff from sitting in the saddle so long.” She gazed into his intent green eyes and smiled. She would be bold and tell him the truth of the matter. “Although, I will regret leaving your arms for more than a moment.”

  “That, ma sweet Adrianna, is music to ma ears.” Drew bent to claim her mouth in a possessive kiss.

  She melted into him and fell into bliss. His kiss curled her toes and she grasped great handfuls of his plaid to pull him closer wanting more of him. Innocent in the skill of such delightful pursuits, she opened her mouth to the demanding tongue pressing against her lips. As he explored every inch of her mouth, branding her with the taste of him, explosions of delight burst in white spots behind her eyes. Coming to her senses, she dragged her mouth away from him and her attention went to his full wet lips. She cleared her throat. To be sure, she had not expected such a reaction to her boldness but she craved more of him. “Your kisses, stir me to madness. I am quite undone.”

  “That is good and as it should be.” He held up one hand pulling the line of carts and men behind him to a halt. He turned his horse around and addressed his men. “We will rest here, grab a bite to eat, and a couple of hours sleep. We will need to leave again afore dawn.”

  She smiled up at his weary expression. “I really have no need of sleep but I am willing to keep watch if needs be.”

  “I have men to keep watch.” He rode toward the perimeter of the woods. “I will have a tent set up for ye. It will only be a blanket over a bush, but it will give ye some privacy. I will find Betty to change your dressings. It would not be seemly for me to attend ye, when your maid is at hand.” He dismounted then held up his arms for her. “Take more of the ptisan if ye are in pain.”

  She slid down the length of him, her mind in turmoil. Such feelings of wantonness had never assailed her before and her boldness toward him astounded her. When he held her against him, safe in his strong arms, her legs weakened. She clung to him and fought to find reason in the madness swirling her emotions into erotic chaos. She blinked up at him and forced her mind back to his question. “Betty? Yes, I do need her. It would seem I have become a little unsteady on my feet.”

  “Aye, riding for six or more hours will do that to a grown man too.” He helped her toward a tree stump. “Bide here and I will fetch your maid then I must speak to ma men.”

  Heart racing, her attention fixed on the solid strength of him. Moonlight filtered through the trees and bathed him in heavenly light. His hair fell about his shoulders and framed a handsome face with an expression of compassion. Her attraction to toward him had increased tenfold and from his ardent kisses, he truly wanted her. “Thank you.” She met his gaze restless for more of him. “May I have one more kiss before you tend to your duties?”

  Drew’s smile glistened in the moonlight. In two strides, he had lifted her into his arms. “It would be ma pleasure to kiss ye and never stop.”

  She slid her fingers into his thick glossy hair and dragged him down to her. He groaned like a trapped animal and took her mouth in a deep, savage kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of her willing mouth. She moaned and thrust her hips against his muscular thighs in a primal demand. He lifted his head for one second, regarded her closely then cursed in a long string of Gaelic. His arousal pressed hard and firm against her hip and without thought of the consequences, she rubbed cat-like against him.

  “Christ, Adrianna, ye will be the death of me.”

  He grasped her bottom in his large hands and massaged, sending streaks of erotic delight deep inside her. Then he slid his damp mouth over her lips, down her neck, and lavished kisses over the top of each breast. The next moment, he stiffened, his eyes shot open and he pressed a finger to her lips.

  His voice dropped to a whisper and he thrust her into a bush.

  “Hide—now. If anyone speaks to you, say nothing.” In a swirl of tartan, he strode to his horse then leaped into the saddle. He swung the mount around and headed back to his men.

  The sound of horses galloping toward them vibrated the ground. From beneath a prickly bush, she peered into the darkness to find shadows moving swiftly. All about her, horses snorted and stamped their feet. As the men unsheathed their swords, the sing of metal cut through the air chilling her to the bone. Drew’s voice rang out above the din issuing orders. Men surrounded the wagons, weapons drawn, ready to defend their possessions. She held her breath, ducked low into the shadows and waited.

  A group of men rode out of the darkness, moonlight glistening on swords and dirks. The leader reigned up his mount and held up a hand. Adrianna caught Drew’s name in the fast Gaelic speech and her heart pounded. When Drew rode to greet the strangers, she caught a gleam of white teeth and a shout of greeting. Thank God!

  She stood and pushed a few errant stands of hair under her cap. In the process of straightening her skirts, she heard a twig crack and whirled around to face a tall young man. He grasped her arm and pulled her roughly against him expelling the breath from her lungs. She gasped out a cry of protest but made a soundless squeak. His gripped tightened and he thrust his hips toward her in a lewd fashion. Caught in his grasp, she raked at his eyes and gagged at the smell of whisky and stale sweat. What could she say? Drew had given her strict instructions not to speak to a stranger less she divulge her nationality. But I can scream.

  Gasping in a painful breath of air, she screamed.

  The stranger laughed, grabbed her bottom, and let out a stream of Gaelic then bent his foul mouth and attempted to kiss her.

  The next moment the man flew from her and landed a few paces away but rather than fall, he rolled to his feet and went for his dirk. Disorientated, she stared at him swaying and staggered a few steps before regaining her balance. Drew’s voice came from behind her. He stepped between her and the man then addressed her in French.

  “Apologies for this oaf’s disrespect, Angelique.” He stood rigid before her. “This is Con, the Macgregor’s son. He understands French fine so before I speak with his father, he had better have a good excuse for attacking you or I will kill him.”

  The Macgregor, the one known as Rob Roy? She curtsied then dragging her skewed t
houghts into some order, replied in her best Parisian accent. “The brutish lout is a barbarian. Is this what I am to expect in this vast wasteland?”

  “No, in fact, the Macgregor is famous around these parts for protecting those less fortunate. The locals call him ‘Rob Roy.’ Have you by chance heard of him?”

  “I have not. If he is a gentleman as you say, will you introduce me to him?”

  “All in good time. Are you injured?” Drew examined her face with slow deliberation. “Madame Josephine will have my balls if you are damaged.”

  “Ah, so she is a whore.” Con touched the scratches on his face and grinned. “Then why must I make an apology to her, no doubt she is with you for your men’s amusement?” His French had a strange accent.

  “No, she is Madame Josephine’s sister and on her way to meet her betrothed. She paid me well to accompany her to Scotland.” Drew tipped his head toward her. “Do not worry. I will see you safely delivered to your sister.”

  “I thank you kindly, Laird Mackenzie.”

  “Well then, I am sorry to put you in such a compromising position.” Con bowed and gave her an impish grin. “If you find your suitor not to your liking inform your sister to contact me, Con Macgregor.” He turned and said something to Drew is Gaelic then strolled toward the group of men sitting around the campfire.

  She stared up at Drew and noticed a nerve twitching in his cheek. Anger tensed his stance and she laid a hand on his arm. “What did he say?”

  “Ye dinna want to hear.” He glared after Con, his fingers restless on his dirk.

  “I rather think I must.”

  His head moved slowly toward her and he set a gaze as black as night on her face.

  “Verra well. He said ye have the finest arse he has ever had the pleasure of holding.”

  His expression had become hard lines in the moonlight, unreadable, and under her palm, his muscles hardened.

  “I told ye to hide and I find ye in the arms of another wi’ his hands all over ye. Why did ye disobey ma orders and allow him to see ye? Now I have to lie to the Macgregor and we have been friends for many a year.”

  “When I saw you greet the men as friends I thought it was safe to come out of hiding.” She smiled trying to reassure him. “He no doubt thought me a camp follower and in any case, Con will look a fool with the scratches on his face once his father knows of his mistake. Although you may have to lie to him again, when you inform him, I decided on a match with you in preference.”

  “A match wi’ me?” Drew grinned and his shoulders relaxed. “Are ye making me an offer, ma lady?”

  She giggled and leaned into him. “That is a gentleman’s prerogative but perhaps a lady’s suggestion.”

  “Aye, lass, it is to be sure and one I will give ma attention too at the earliest convenience.” He led her toward the group of men weaving around the bushes and fallen logs. “Well, I had better introduce ye to Rob Roy, aye? He would be the one wi’ the red hair. We will say ye are a lady–in-waiting from the Palace of Versailles if he should ask but keep ye head down and dinna get involved wi’ the conversation. Mind ye keep Betty well away from the men, I dinna want her saying one word.”

  She did not have to worry. The Macgregor cast a disinterested eye over her then turned his back to listen to a story Jamie was describing with great arm movements. She sat beside Betty and gave her an encouraging smile. Wrapped in Jamie’s plaid, the girl’s pale, drawn expression said volumes. Without doubt, Jamie had issued a warning to her about uttering one word in the company of Rob Roy.

  In the short time since their arrival, the men had a pot of something simmering on a fire and the conversation in the camp was lively. She inhaled the aroma of pork stew and her stomach rumbled. One thing for sure, she would not starve with the Mackenzie clan. She cast her eye over the Macgregor’s band of unwashed, unshaven men, all appeared to have not seen a bath for some weeks and the reek coming from them would ruin her supper.

  She touched her thigh gingerly and winced. The excitement of Rob Roy’s arrival had masked the pain of her injury but after walking a short distance, the throbbing had increased. She reached for the flask in her pocket and sipped the concoction. At once Drew’s gaze fell upon her assessing her condition. She lifted the flask in a toast and sipped again. He inclined his dark head and turned back to the conversation.

  She glanced at the sky, in an effort to determine the time. The moon sat low above, so many hours would pass before dawn. The shortness of the winter days surprised her. She understood the gloaming, the endless twilight that accompanied the summer months but in November night had dropped like a black curtain midafternoon and the freezing nights appeared endless.

  Before long, Dermot arrived carrying two trenchers of stew and a wineskin tucked under one arm. She took her spoon from her reticule and set to work devouring the excellent fare. The noise around the campfire grew boisterous and Drew cast a glance her way then issued orders to Ian. The young man collected blankets from one of the wagons and with a jut of his chin indicated, they should follow him. He led the way to the foot of a small tree surrounded by undergrowth. The bare limbs offered not one bit of shelter, but the thick layer of autumn leaves at least made the ground soft. She waited for Ian to fashion a tent of sorts using one of the blankets and then Betty made a bed using the rest. Ian stepped closer, and the darkness did not hide the concern on his young face.

  “Drew has set guards to watch over ye while ye rest. I will bide close by too. I dinna ken how the Macgregor’s men will act in their cups. We will be leaving in nay more than a few hours. We plan to make the coach house well afore dawn and God willing, Rupert will be there to take ye to Inverness.”

  She gazed at him astonished. “Lord Rupert?”

  “Aye, himself sent a messenger to him afore and asked him to take ye to Inverness, to avoid Lord Moreau, ye ken? The Macgregor brought word that Lord Moreau has offered a fortune in gold to anyone giving him information about your whereabouts.” Ian hunched and dropped his gaze. “I ken Drew dinna want him to ken about ye, but the Macgregor is nay fool and Drew told him the truth of the matter. In confidence, aye. Rob Roy has pledged to fight beside us if the needs be to keep ye safe from King Geordie’s men. I ken Drew has not had the time to inform ye.”

  “Not to worry.” She put away the small niggling concern about leaving Drew and smiled. “Thank you, Ian.” She took another sip of the ptisan, turned away, and crawled into the bed beside Betty.

  No sooner had she closed her eyes than Betty shook her awake.

  “It is time to go, milady.”

  She blinked into the darkness. “What? Have the plans changed?”

  “No, but we have to leave now. The Macgregor left some time ago.” Drew’s voice pierced her befuddled brain. “Get ready. I have a dish of tea waiting for you by the fire.”

  She sighed with delight. “You have tea?”

  “Aye, we have ten chests on the wagons. I will take five of them to Badenoch. My ma is partial to tea.”

  After eating a few stale bannocks and drinking the welcome dish of tea, she allowed Drew to place her on his horse. She winced in pain, her hip, worse now from sleeping on the hard ground. He gave her a concerned gaze and took a silver flask from his sporran.

  “Drink some of this, it tastes like cow dung but it will help ye to sleep most of the way.” He handed her the bottle then climbed up behind her. “Dinna fash, I will take care of ye.”

  She drunk a good portion of the foul liquid then relaxed into his strong arms and rested her head on his shoulder. The delicious scent of him enclosed her and yawning, she snuggled against the solid strength of him. “You are the kindest man I know.”

  Chapter Three

  Lord Rupert Bainbridge lounged in the taproom of the Glen Albyn Inn after an overindulgence of black pudding and pumpkin followed by a most excellent treacle tart. As he sipped a class of porter, he caught mention of his name and his attention went to a man conversing with the landlord. His knowledge of the
Gaelic being somewhat rusty, he gathered the man had urgent business with him. He pushed to his feet and strode toward the bar to greet the dusty stranger. “Are you by chance looking for me?”

  “Aye, if ye are Lord Rupert, kin of Laird Drew Mackenzie.”

  Rupert inclined his head. “Yes, I am he, and you are?”

  “Duncan MacBride, your servant sir.” He bowed and on straightening frowned at the landlord, who had moved uncomfortably close. “May we speak in private, ma lord?”

  “Yes, I have rooms upstairs. Is something amiss with Laird Mackenzie?” Rupert led the way from the taproom then took the creaky wooden steps to a narrow corridor.

  “I have a letter for ye. I am sure the laird will have explained matters.”

  “This is my room.” Rupert turned the white porcelain handle to open the door and stood back for Duncan to enter.

  Once inside he turned to his valet, who lifted his attention from cleaning boots to gaze at the filthy Scotsman with unbridled disgust. Rupert cleared his throat. “I wish to speak with Mister MacBride in private, if you please, Mister Bent.”

  “Very well, milord, but I will be right outside if you need me.” Bent gave him a meaningful gaze and left the room.

  With the door firmly shut behind Bent, he waved the exhausted man into a seat but Duncan remained standing head bowed.

  “Whisky?” Rupert poured a generous amount into a glass and pushed both glass and decanter toward Duncan. “Do help yourself.”

  “Och aye, I thank ye kindly, ma lord.” Duncan removed his hat and struck it across his knees sending great clouds of dust into the air. “I have not stopped since leaving the laird. I have an urgent message for ye.” He reached inside his sporran and retrieved a letter. “I will answer any questions ye might have then if ye dinna mind I will be off to find a bite to eat.”

  Rupert strolled to the bedside table and opened a drawer. He took out a plate of bannocks still fresh from breakfast and handed them to Duncan. “Here this will help. Do sit down man before you drop.” He pointed to a seat at the table. “Give me a moment to read what Laird Mackenzie has to say then I will go downstairs and speak to the landlord about supplying a room for you. I am sure you would appreciate a hot bath and a good meal?”