The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  “I would, sir.” Duncan offered the crumpled document to Rupert.

  He took the letter with his direction across the front in Drew’s familiar handwriting. Breaking the seal, he moved to the fireplace to avail himself of the light from the candle on the mantelpiece.

  To Lord Rupert Bainbridge,

  Glen Albyn Inn

  Inverness

  Dear Rupert,

  I find myself in a quandary regarding your dear friend, Lady A. As you advised, I organized a rescue and I am pleased to inform you the lady in question is now under my protection.

  You mentioned Lord M and I gather you will have recollection of this person. You may recall meeting him during the discussions regarding my mares. The gentleman, and I say this through gritted teeth for to utter such a falsehood for a man who would kill his own mother to gain the coin to support his addiction to the opium, will give you some idea of the state of mind the lady suffered on her arrival. She suffered injuries to the point and I had doubts for her survival.

  Well, cousin, I have no doubt Lord M believes a certain smuggler had a hand in her escape and will be waiting anxiously for her arrival in Inverness. If my identity is exposed, we will face arrest, leaving him free to remove her to France.

  Would you indulge me by bringing a carriage to meet me with all haste and accompany her and her maid to the safety of the establishment where you celebrated your eighteenth birthday? I believe this is the last place Lord M will search for her. I bid you explain the circumstances and inform the proprietor I will make significant recompense for the inconvenience upon my arrival.

  To err on the side of caution, my clansman will give you my direction and any other information you require.

  Your most affectionate cousin,

  D.

  ! Rupert read the missive twice then balled the paper and strolled across the room to toss it into the fire. Mind reeling, he watched the letter burst into orange flames then disintegrate into silver gray ashes. He bent and taking the poker, stirred the embers until no trace remained. He straightened slowly and clasping both hands beneath the tails of his jacket turned to Duncan. “Where exactly is Laird Mackenzie?”

  Duncan blinked and his Adam’s apple bobbed in an attempt to swallow a mouthful of bannock. He scratched a mass of dark brown hair.

  “He is traveling along the coast from Burghead. It is verra slow going with the loaded wagons so I would say by the time ye reach him he will be closer to the coach house at Nairn but not as far as Culloden Moore.” He lifted his chin and sighed. “I would wait for him at Nairn, he will bide at the coach house there to rest the horses. I will be more than happy to take ye to him.”

  “What were your orders?”

  “To give ye the letter and wait for the laird here.” Duncan lifted his glass of whisky sniffed the contents then sipped. He sighed. “But if ye dinna ken the way, I am sure the laird would want me to take ye to him.”

  Rupert stared through the grimy windowpane, over the rooftops of Inverness, and into the distance. Drew would expect him to slip out of Inverness without notice and Duncan would with all probability, be well known as one of his men. He turned his attention back to him and smiled. “That will not be necessary, but I thank you, Mister MacBride. I am familiar with this part of Scotland.”

  He lifted the gold watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and peered at the enameled Roman numerals. Nine hours before dawn and it would take at least one hour to arrange a carriage and supplies for the round trip. Nairn lay approximately fifteen miles north of Inverness; a fine pair of horses would make the distance in three hours at a trot, but the old nags he had seen in the Inn’s stable would be more likely drop dead on the journey back if he pushed them too hard. Unless, the coaching inn at Nairn was prepared to swap the team. He searched his mind for the current phase of the moon and could not, for the life of him remember. He cleared his throat. “Is there a moon tonight do you know?”

  “Aye, a quarter moon is enough to see the way and the storm clouds have moved off to sea so they will not be bothering ye. Stick to the coast road because it is well marked. The stable has ten o’ more horses here used for the mail coach swap. They may be slow, but they will not be afraid of traveling the roads at night.” Duncan placed his empty glass on the table and his gaze wandered to the decanter of whisky. “They have a carriage for hire, but I gather ye will be needing a coachman?”

  “No, I am sure I can manage.” He strolled to the door and removed his cloak and hat from a peg on the wall. He donned his hat and turned to Duncan. “I will make the necessary arrangements. If you would accompany me downstairs, I will speak to the innkeeper and ensure he supplies you with everything you need.” He opened the door and paused to speak to Bent. “Be a good chap and order me a coach and four. I must leave at the earliest convenience.” He rubbed his chin. “Oh, and unpack my pistols on your return. I will be back within the hour. I have some business to attend to before I leave.”

  “Right away, milord.” Bent bowed. He straightened and a frown crossed his young face. “Do you want me to accompany you?” He shrugged. “I mean, perhaps you will need me to protect you, seeing that a bunch of Highland brigands might well hold up the coach and kidnap you for ransom. You being a lord and all.”

  Across the room, Duncan’s eyes narrowed, his broad shoulders stiffened, and one hand flew to the silver handled dirk at his waist. Stepping toward him, Rupert laid one hand on the shoulder of the indignant Highlander. Although in all honesty, he could do little to prevent the massive man slaughtering his servant for the breach of etiquette. He squeezed the rigid muscle under his palm and glared at his valet. “Mister Bent, must I constantly insist that you mind your tongue?” He dropped his hand. “I spent many of my tender years in the Highlands with my clan. I may have the appearance of an English lord but my mother, God rest her soul, was a Mackenzie.” He raised both eyebrows. “Which I believe makes me a ‘Highland brigand’ as well.” He cleared his throat. “I am sure you did not intend to insult Mister MacBride with your careless attack on his character?”

  “Oh no, sir. I beg pardon I do.” Bent pale as a ghost and visibly shaken bowed to Duncan. “I was, you see, trying to protect my master from any unsavory occurrence.”

  “Och aye, well ye will find yourself split from neck to arse, if ye continue to spread unfounded gossip wi’ that loose tongue of yours.” Duncan glared with malice at Bent. “Highlanders do not take so kindly to Sassenachs making groundless accusations about their character. It is a matter of honor, aye?”

  “Yes, I thank you, sir, for your patience.” Bent’s face had gone a peculiar shade of green.

  “That will be all, Mister Bent.” Rupert waved Bent away and the young lad scampered off toward the servants stairs at the back of the building. He raised both brows at Duncan. “He may speak his mind at the most inopportune moments, but he would give his life to protect me and he is a damn good valet.”

  “He is young and lacking the skill to keep ye from harm, ma lord. Most likely he will cause ye more trouble.” Duncan gazed after Bent. “Ye will do well to allow the laird to train him so he may offer ye better protection.”

  “Yes, I will give that idea some consideration.” Rupert smiled and waved a hand toward the hallway. “I had better arrange a room for you.”

  Leading the way along the corridor, he took the steps to the taproom. After speaking with the landlord, he bid Duncan farewell then stepped out of the warm, noisy taproom and into a blustery night. He turned and gazed toward the ocean. The storm had brought the chill of winter in its wake and he shivered at the freezing wind cutting through his clothes. The journey to Nairn would be most uncomfortable and he would require a basket of food for Lady Adrianna and a good quantity of blankets. He made a mental note to ask Mister Bent to arrange the necessities. Throwing his cloak about his shoulders, he moved into the quiet street and headed in the direction of Madame Josephine’s brothel.

  He pulled the flapping black woolen cloak tighter a
round him and bent his head into the wind. Turning the corner into Hog’s Lane, he inhaled the scent of cheap wine and perfume from the molls overflowing from the bawdy houses into the street. The smell ignited a glowing memory of his first encounter with the famous Madame Josephine. Christ, had it been eight years? Unceremoniously dragged by his cousins to the brothel, as an untried lad of eighteen, Madame Josephine had literally taken him to her bosom. Of course, being foolishly ignorant in the ways of the world and deeply armored with her, he had visited her boudoir daily for more than a week depleting his entire month’s allowance.

  His cheeks grew uncomfortably hot recalling the foolish act of kneeling before her and declaring his undying yet penniless love. She, having experience in such matters of the heart had taken pity on him and had insisted he take pleasure in the other delights her house had to offer. Penniless and as randy as a bull he had little choice but to acquiesce.

  He laughed, gaining the immediate attention of a group of red-lipped harlots and waved them away too engrossed in his memories. Indeed, he often recalled the romp with Angelique, a petite blonde temptress and the client, a delectably muscular young man who went, if he recalled by the name of Roman—a gladiator of love to be sure. After such an encounter, his outlook on life and indeed all things pleasurable had changed dramatically.

  He paused in front of the brown door with the brass lion’s head knocker and rapped twice. The door swung open to reveal a footman dressed in fine livery and wearing a white wig. Stepping over the doorstep, he removed his cloak and handed it off to a servant girl. He turned to the footman. “Tell Madame, Lord Rupert requests a word in private.”

  “At once, milord.” The footman bowed, straightened then marched toward Madame Josephine’s private receiving room.

  Moments later the great woman herself breezed into the hallway hands extended in welcome. “Lord Rupert, how wonderful to see you again. You have stayed away too long, you naughty boy.”

  He bowed over her hand then met a gaze dancing with mischief. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I have come on a private matter.”

  “Oh, I see. Well then, cher, come this way.” Madame Josephine turned her billowing skirts and strolled down the corridor. Pausing beside a door, she turned to him. “We will have privacy in here.” The door opened revealing a study and he followed her inside. “Shut the door and tell me what is troubling you.”

  “I recently requested Laird Mackenzie’s assistance in helping me save a friend from certain death.” He cast a glance at the door and lowered his voice. “She was traveling on The Black Turtle.”

  “Then I think you are too late, Drew would have concluded his arrangement with Captain Jacques by now, non?” She met his gaze and a small frown creased her extravagantly powdered brow. “Or has he fallen foul of the beast Lord Moreau?” She turned and spat into the fire.

  Astounded by her venomous reaction toward the man, he stepped forward and patted her arm to calm her. “I do not believe Laird Mackenzie is capable of being hoodwinked by the likes of him, but unfortunately that reprobate is the reason I am here, Madame.”

  He explained Lady Adrianna’s delicate position avoiding Drew’s romantic involvement with her and reached for his pocketbook. Madame Josephine’s expression softened at the overly large amount of pound notes, he pressed into her hand. He smiled. “Lady Adrianna is a particular friend of mine and I would see only the very best for her.” He glanced toward the door. “She will require complete privacy, her safety is essential.”

  “For how long?”

  Rupert waved a hand dismissively. “A few days, four at the most before I am able to leave Inverness with her.” He met her gaze with a tight smile. “It is imperative there is no hint of Laird Mackenzie’s involvement or Lord Moreau will discover he is Le Diable Noir. Many lives depend upon your absolute discretion.”

  “Very well, his secret is safe with me as always.” Madame Josephine went to the desk, took out a small box, and dropped the banknotes inside. “But you do understand, Lord Moreau and Jacques are frequent visitors here, and I cannot guarantee her safety if she wanders from her room. Both these men will recognize her, non?” She tapped her chin with the tip of one finger. “Come with me to the parlor and choose which of my girls is similar in size as Lady Adrianna.”

  He rubbed his chin. “She comes with a maid.”

  “Then you must select two girls, cher.”

  Intrigued, Rupert inclined his head and studied the carefully painted face for a few seconds. For a woman in her forties, she appeared as voluptuously appealing as she had to him as a youth. He dismissed the thought and raised a brow picturing Adrianna in his mind. “Yes, I do believe I could estimate her size and her maid is but a slip of a girl. Why, may I ask?”

  “Oh, you silly man.” She laughed and the sound sent shivers of awareness to places he wished would remain dormant. “How do you hide a straw of hay in a haystack? We must dress your fine lady and her maid like whores then they will slip in unnoticed. So, my friend, you will let them down from your carriage in the main street and have your valet escort them along Hog’s Lane, down the alley to my back door. I will take them through the kitchen up the servants’ stairs to the loft. Should they be seen, I will say they are ‘special’ girls for the more unusual clients, n’ est-ce pas?” She smiled beatifically. “Then if you wish to visit them, you may do so through the front door as usual.” Laughter filled the small room. “Am I not resourceful, cher?”

  He returned her smile. “Indeed you are, Madame. If we may conclude our arrangement as soon as possible, I have to travel some way to collect Lady Adrianna but I will return before daybreak.”

  “I will be waiting.” She wet her lips and stepped closer, her skirts wrapped around his legs and the heat of her burned through his breeches. “I hope you will spend a little time with me on your return, cher.” In a bold gesture, she cupped him and ran the tip of her pink tongue over his bottom lip. “You will have the choice of three very handsome young men who will be more than happy to join us if you have the inclination.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Or I will give you one of them free of charge if you prefer?”

  Christ! On the brink of agreeing, for the notion of a night of unbridled passion with her and a young virile man was almost too much to bear, he dragged his mind away from such diversions, and forced his attention back to Lady Adrianna’s plight. He took a step backward away from her allure. To his dismay, his knees encountered the edge of a chair and he sat down in a most ungainly fashion. His face heated and he found the need to push to his feet to relieve the pressure his tight breeches had inflicted to his groin. Embarrassed by his behavior, he bowed. “I thank you kindly and will take you up on your most generous offer on my next visit.”

  “Very well, cher.” She moved toward the door, her hips swinging provocatively. “Come now and chose a girl and I will find you some clothes.”

  Heaving a sigh, he straightened his waistcoat and followed her into the hallway. Entering the salon the aroma of aroused female and rose perfume accosted his nostrils. He strolled into the welcoming warmth and stopped at the disturbing sight of Lord Moreau leaning casually against the wall. Dear God, he had stepped into a quagmire of deceit and the need to play a convincing role was paramount. He returned Madame Josephine’s encouraging smile, but his passion had faded like an autumn rose in the winter’s first frost.

  Damnation! Why did she not inform me he had arrived? The pernicious cadaver of a man raised a brow and observed him through sunken eyes. Gathering his wits, he turned his back refusing to acknowledge the gentleman’s presence. With luck, Lord Moreau would not remember their brief encounter at Lord Bradshaw’s stables in London. What in Christ’s name was he doing here anyway? Surely, The Black Turtle had not yet docked in Inverness. He had not spied the vessel on his walk earlier, and could not have missed a ship, painted black with matching rigging although, being a privateer the captain would anchor off shore. His expression must have displayed his disquiet
because Madame Josephine gave him a meaningful look and moved to the center of the room, her long red skirts brushing the exquisite Chinese rug. She narrowed her gaze and clapped her hands.

  “Attention, ma petites. I have a very particular gentleman here to view you.”

  Silently giving thanks to his father’s insistence of tutoring his sons in the discipline of remaining calm when all about them had gone to hell. He ignored his palpitating heart and the sweat trickling an itchy path down his back and took a nonchalant pose. He dropped his lashes and allowed his gaze to drift in casual abandon around the large room. It would seem nothing had changed to any degree since his last visit. Although, the elaborate blue velvet curtains held back with gold fittings appeared new as did the glossy white marble statues of entwined couples.

  His attention moved to the chaise lounges dominating the remainder of the room draped in scantily clad bodies. At his appearance they, both men and women, made an attempt to lock eyes with him and all moved in a provocative fashion to display their attributes to the best advantage. He swallowed hard and openly admired white globes tipped with rose pink or flat brown nipples offered for his devotion. He hardened at the brazen invitation from thighs spread to give him glimpses of curls in a variety of tempting colors made unashamedly visible beneath sheer chemises or pantaloons. He swallowed hard and forced his mind to concentrate for indeed the whores in this room left nothing to his imagination.

  The smell of opium gave advance notice of Lord Moreau moving to his side. He ignored him and set his attention on the women before him. He selected a girl approximately the size of Adrianna and chose a skinny girl of about fourteen.