by Jarecki, Amy
He wouldn’t ruin her and he couldn’t marry her.
Can I?
No bloody way. I cannot ignore clan loyalty. I need my uncle’s fealty, and creating a rift at this juncture could be a setback for the cause.
Nor could he forget his duty. There was the succession of the kingdom to plan. His meeting with Prince James had been a complete and utter failure. Worse, Reid had no more time to dally in Coxhoe and hunt for suitors. Especially when Wagner Tupps was at large. That man could surface at any time.
Forcing away all amorous thoughts, he released his hands and cleared his throat. “Forgive me.”
“Wha—?” She stopped herself from asking as bewilderment filled her tempest-blue eyes. Then the color in Audrey’s cheeks deepened as she tapped her lips with her fingers, shuttering those eyes with a downcast glance. “I believe I have some fans to paint, my lord,” she said, the tension in her jaw reflecting her humiliation.
Ah, hell, what should he say? Christ, why couldn’t he control himself whenever they were alone together? It was supposed to be a dancing lesson, not a mauling.
Audrey dashed for the door.
Reid caught her arm. “Wait.”
She didn’t turn to face him. “We mustn’t be alone together again. I cannot trust myself.”
Jesus Christ, that was an understatement.
“Nay,” he growled. “’Tis me you cannot trust.” He loosened his grip slightly as he stepped nearer. “I’ve been waiting for MacRae to return with word from the northern clans, but I now realize ’tis time to head for the safety of Brahan Castle.”
She inclined her ear his way. “You’re leaving?”
“As are you, lass. You cannot remain at Coxhoe House whilst Mr. Tupps is at large.” When he released her arm, she faced him.
“You mean to say you’re taking me to the wilds of Scotland?”
He chuckled at the surprise forming on her swollen lips. “Wilds?”
“I-I…” Bewilderment filled her eyes. “Me? Travel all the way to the Highlands?”
“Aye. We’ll leave on the morrow.”
“So soon? But…” Audrey’s once rapturous expression now pulled taut with fear. “I’ve heard they do not care for English girls in Scotland.”
“Not true,” he replied, though he knew what she meant. Highlanders were suspicious of Sassenachs—outsiders. “You’re under my care, and nary a man will question it. I should have spirited you away home as soon as I’d heard that Tupps eluded my men. From Brahan Castle, I can raise an army of three thousand with the snap of my fingers. No one will harm you there.”
“But on the morrow?”
He flicked his fingers toward the door. “Go. Find Mrs. Hobbs and set to packing.”
As soon as he arrived home he’d take up his quill and write to the potential suitors from the Barnard Ball. He was finished with England and Watford’s ridiculous missives. Christ, Reid could fight the abeyance from Scotland. He’d take Miss Kennet’s papers to his solicitor in Dingwall and settle her affairs from there. Bloody hell, he should have made this decision a month ago.
* * *
Standing on the stoop of her beloved home, Audrey crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I cannot possibly leave my harpsichord behind.”
“Where do you suggest we stow it?” Reid asked, thrusting his hand toward the trunks already stacked two high on the wagon hitched to a pair of enormous oxen. “How on earth can a woman pack an entire household in a day? I travel with a bedroll and a satchel with a change of clothes, and if you haven’t noticed, we cannot fit a mere pocket watch on the wagon, let alone a harpsichord.”
She wanted to cry. How dare he first pretend their kissing had meant absolutely nothing, and then pull her away from everything she held dear. Squaring her shoulders, she stamped her foot. Her request might be a tad excessive, but that didn’t mean it should be cast aside with an overbearing remark—at least five pocket watches could squeeze into the nooks and crannies she could see. “Pardon me, my lord, but a lady doesn’t set out for the far north without any idea as to when she will return without taking along her possessions.”
“Aye, we have a chest full of fans and paints and five filled with garments for every occasion imaginable, and that only left us a wee bit of room for food, canvas for tents, and cookware for our journey.”
“Tents?”
“Aye, there are no inns when crossing over the peaks, lass.”
“We’re crossing mountains?”
“That’s why they call them the Highlands.” He gave her shoulder a clap like he would another man, not a woman he’d held in his arms and showered with kisses one day prior. “Not to worry, we’ll be following drovers’ trails through the glens. They’re well traveled.”
“Aye,” said Graham as he tied a rope to secure the load. “If ye ken where you’re going.”
All the men chuckled.
Audrey gulped. She’d heard about elusive Highland tactics. The English dragoons hated chasing their quarry in the Scottish mountains. Rumors were Highlanders disappeared into the mist like ghosts, never to be found again. The mountains were wild and rugged and…
Scary.
Audrey folded her arms tightly across her rib cage. “Is there, perchance, a place near Brahan Castle where I might be able to practice a harpsichord?”
Reid scratched his chin and looked skyward. “Hmm—”
“There’s an organ at the Dingwall Kirk,” said Graham.
The big Highlander gave her a grin. And why did her pitiful heart have to flutter? She was angry with him. Seaforth was taking her away from the home she loved. When would she return?
“Aye,” he agreed. “I’m sure the vicar will be amenable to allowing you to play when there’s no one else about.”
“I didn’t realize I’d appraised so poorly, my lord.” Heavens, had everything he’d said been a ruse to soften her up so she would be amenable to his kisses?
Blast him.
“Nay. I meant what I said. You are quite practiced.” His eyes darkened. “How many female church organists have you encountered, Miss Kennet?” Now he was being impudent. She’d referred to him as “my lord” twice, and he was making a point, showing he’d noticed.
To her dismay, she knew all too well what he meant. The only women in the church were nuns. Indeed, women like Audrey were supposed to marry.
Full stop.
Marriage was an heiress’s goal in life. Other pursuits like earning a living from painting fans were frivolous endeavors. Moreover, playing an organ in a church when there were people present was taboo. She knew it. She was a graduate of Talcott Ladies’ Finishing School. She knew Papa was planning to find her a husband this season. And now Reid MacKenzie planned to finish the task from Brahan Castle—an archaic fortress, no doubt. He wanted to be rid of her because she suspected she had the same effect on him that he had on her. Every time they were in close proximity and alone, her heart raced and her insides jumped with all sorts of inexplicable emotions.
Was she in love with him?
How could she even ask herself such a question?
They scarcely knew each other.
They were from two different worlds.
And he continually repeated that he was a busy man, too busy and too young to think about marriage, though he was four years her senior.
“Redcoats!”
With that one shouted word, Audrey’s life spiraled into mayhem.
Chapter Twenty-One
Reid’s gaze darted to the horses and back to the army of mounted dragoons approaching from the drive. If it weren’t for Audrey, he might try to run, but playing the odds bore too much risk someone might end up shot in the back—especially the lass riding the old gelding.
Graham pulled the ramrod from his musket and charged the barrel with powder.
Slicing his hand through the air, Reid stopped him. “We’re outnumbered.”
The Highlander lowered his weapon and rolled his gaze to the sky. “Christ.”
Audrey stepped nearer, so close her aura of fear was palpable. He placed a reassuring palm on her elbow. “You needn’t worry. There’s no law against traveling north, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“I disagree,” the lass whispered with a shift of her eyes. “Mr. Tupps is riding alongside the captain.”
Reid narrowed his gaze, looking closer at the approaching regiment. “Ballocks.”
“What do you think they’re planning?” she asked.
“With an army of fifty or so men?” He glanced her way. “Nothing good.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I reckon anything they fancy. No use making a run for it with fifty muskets trained on my heart—even if they’re lousy shots, one will likely hit its target.” He urged her behind him and looked to Graham. “If I’m taken, stick to the plan. Miss Audrey is no longer safe in Coxhoe, not with slithering Tupps lurking in the grass.”
The Highlander nodded as horse hooves clopped into the cobbled courtyard. The retinue stayed in formation, riding directly to the porch.
“That’s him, Captain Fry.” Wagner pointed a spindly finger at Reid. “The double-crossing Earl of Seaforth.”
Feet planted wide, Reid ignored the weasel and jammed his fists onto his hips while staring at the red-coated captain. “Come to call with an entire regiment, sir? Seems a bit excessive.”
Captain Fry sat his mount with an air of disdain. He had pinched features and a pockmarked face—most likely a third son, or a titled man with no coin. Regardless, by his expression alone, he carried a chip on his shoulder the size of the Stone of Scone.
After reining his horse to a stop, he motioned and a dozen dragoons dismounted while the rest drew their muskets, cocking them and raising the wooden butts to their shoulders. Once they had Reid surrounded, Fry cleared his throat. “Reid MacKenzie, Earl of Seaforth, you are hereby charged with treason.”
The six dragoons marched toward the steps, swords drawn, but for one. Graham and the MacKenzie men blocked their path.
Reid folded his arms, not yet ready to tell his men to stand down. “What evidence do you have for such alleged treachery? The word of a guttersnipe over that of an earl?”
“I’ve seen proof. Correspondence to you from the late Mr. Kennet was intercepted by this esteemed gentleman and is in safekeeping.”
“Aye? What deviousness is this with signatures and stamps verified? I say your man is a gold digger of the worst sort and he aims to take you to the gutter with him.”
Fry moved his mount closer. “I do not want to turn this into a bloodbath, my lord, but if you do not tell your men to step aside, I will have no recourse but to order mine to cut you down without mercy.”
Reid regarded the mounted musketeers. Every one of them had his gun pointed at his heart. No use dying this day. “Stand down, men. When the queen hears of this I will ensure she strips you of your rank, Captain.” Reid caught Graham’s eye. “Send word to Dunn.”
“You, sir, are the felon,” bleated Tupps. “Not only did this man commit treason, he broke into my home and wrongfully assaulted a citizen in good standing.”
Reid could have fired black powder through his eyeballs while the wretched louts slapped a pair of iron manacles around his wrists. “Good standing? I very much doubt you ken what that means.”
Audrey rushed down the steps. “Where are you taking him?”
Captain Fry smirked down at her, stroking his fingers through the tines of a whip tucked in his belt. “He’ll be my guest at Durham Gaol until and if we receive word from Her Majesty.” He rubbed a bit of the braided leather between his fingertips. “I aim to make him feel quite at home.”
“No!” She drew her hands together and pressed praying fingers to her lips. “That place is hideous. It should be condemned. My father petitioned for it to be torn down years ago.”
Wagner dismounted and sauntered to the lass. “Your father was a traitor.”
A flash of ire darted through her gaze, but she didn’t back down. “My father built an empire.”
Good lass.
Tupps threw back his head and cackled. “An empire I’m poised to inherit—along with your hand.”
Christ, Reid should have run a blade across the bastard’s throat when he’d had the chance. He bared his teeth and yanked his wrists against the manacle chains. “There’s no way in hell you’ll inherit a farthing, and if you lay one finger on the lass, I’ll hunt you down and ensure you suffer a long and painful death.”
“See, Captain? This murderous traitor is full of threats.” Wagner shifted his eel-eyed glare to Reid. “While I’m bedding this fine morsel, you will be sent to the Tower. You’ll stand trial and hang in London for all your highborn friends to see.”
“I beg to differ,” Reid growled, then he looked to Audrey and lowered his voice. “Remember what I said.”
“My, my, he even talks like he thinks he’s a king, though his lands will soon be forfeit.” Wagner draped his arm around Audrey’s shoulders. Shoulders too pristine, too pure, too perfect for Reid to touch, and now he seethed while a wallowing pig touched her and smiled like a lecherous cur. “Ready your wedding dress, Miss Kennet. As soon as Watford procures the papers to transfer the deeds to my name, I’ll be dragging you straight to the church.”
Audrey tugged away from Tupps and moved between Graham and Davy. The MacKenzie guardsmen surrounded the lass.
“Enough talk.” Captain Fry beckoned with his fingers. “The evidence against Seaforth is incriminating. The man is guilty and I aim to see him pay.”
As the dragoons led Reid to his horse, he watched the varlet out the corner of his eye. Tupps turned, his sneer gloating. In one move, Seaforth looped his arms over the maggot’s head, wrapped the chain around his neck, and clamped him in a stranglehold. “If you place one finger on my ward, I’ll sever your cods.” Tupps’s face turned scarlet. Reid clenched his arms, tightening his grip. “That’s a promise.”
“Release him!” the captain commanded, pulling a flintlock pistol from his holster while a dragoon struck Reid in the back with a club.
He arched his spine with the sharp pain, but that only made him squeeze the manacle chain tighter.
Reid watched Tupps gasp and struggle for air. Just before the man lost consciousness, he eased his grip slightly and pressed his lips to Tupps’s ear, whispering so only his quarry could hear, “The next time we meet I’ll not be so lenient. And mark me. We will meet. Soon. Without a contingent of dragoons in your wake. Aye, think of me when your head hits the pillow each night ’cause I aim to be your worst nightmare.”
With a grunt, the dragoon recoiled for another strike, but before he followed through, Reid shoved the varlet to the ground, ducking away from the swinging club.
* * *
Watching the man who claimed to be her cousin retreat with the dragoons and the earl, Audrey still couldn’t believe what had just transpired.
“We cannot possibly leave for the Highlands now.” She whipped around and faced Graham. “What will become of His Lordship?”
A MacKenzie guard shoved his sword in its scabbard. “I don’t feel right about leaving, either.”
Graham glanced away, his lips disappearing into a thin line. “You heard him. He ordered us to continue. Miss Kennet isn’t safe.”
“I’ll be damned,” said Jeffrey, pointing beyond the stable. “Isn’t that the MacRae chieftain?”
All heads turned toward the copse of trees lining the northern property line. Sure enough. Dunn MacRae led a regiment of twenty rugged-looking, kilt-wearing Highlanders cantering straight for the manse.
“His timing is a wee bit off,” Graham said, shifting his fists to his hips, looking like a smaller version of the earl.
Audrey clasped her hands, saying a quick prayer. “Thank heavens.”
When Dunn reined his horse to a stop, everyone spoke at once. They shouted about the dragoons dragging the earl away and accusing him of treason. If they’d only left on
e day prior, they would have avoided the whole confrontation, but Reid had been hell-bent on waiting for Dunn, and what the hell had taken him so long.
“One at a bloody time!” The Highlander looked over the men and glared at Audrey as if this was her fault. “Where are they taking him?”
“Durham Gaol,” said Graham.
“Jesus Saint Christopher Christ, do not tell me he’s fallen into the hands of Captain Bainbridge Fry? That man has a reputation as gruesome as the poor souls who rot in Durham’s bowels.”
“Lord, no!” Audrey pushed through the men and grabbed Dunn’s horse’s bridle. White foam leached from the garron’s neck as his nostrils flared with labored snorts. “Mr. MacRae, you must go after His Lordship immediately.”
“Not without a plan, and a damned good one.” Dunn looked at her like she’d grown two heads, then he dismounted and shoved Graham in the shoulder. “Why did you not stop the backbiters, damn it all?”
Graham puffed out his chest and stood his ground. “Too many muskets locked, loaded, and trained on Seaforth’s heart, else I would have taken half a dozen myself.”
“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Audrey said. “What matters is what we’re to do next.”
This time as Dunn eyed her, she straightened her spine and mirrored Graham’s stance, thrusting her fists into her hips for added effect. Behaving the wallflower would do nothing to save the earl. The situation was grave, and Audrey had naught to do but bear down and assert herself. Mr. MacRae might be a chieftain, but he paid fealty to the MacKenzie clan and something needed to be done. Now, not after he held a clan meeting.
“Seaforth told us to take the lassie to Brahan,” Graham said, going on to explain the whole mess with Wagner Tupps.
“Jesus Christ.” Dunn removed his bonnet and scratched his mop of dark tresses. “I told him not to grow too involved with the lassie’s affairs.”
Audrey stamped her foot. “For pity’s sake, you men are standing around like you’re discussing politics in the parlor. We must take action.”
“Aye, and that’s what I aim to do, lassie.” Dunn flicked his hand toward the door. “Go back inside and tend to whatever it is English heiresses tend to.”