The Mackenzie, The Trilogy Box Set

by H. C. Brown

  The shopkeeper narrowed her gaze at her and glanced past her into the street. In an effort to make some excuse for her behavior, she smiled and waved her hand in a distracted manner. “Do forgive me. I completely forgot to wear my cap this morning.” She dragged the obnoxious white linen hat with floppy lace edging over her hair and pulled it down to cover her ears. “I seem to be getting forgetful of late.”

  “Are ye in trouble, lass?” The shopkeeper’s expression changed from suspicion to honest concern as she handed her the package. “Come now, ye can confide in me and I may be able to help ye.” She drew in a deep breath. “Ye will not be the first lass to run from Madame Josephine’s establishment and end up in ma shop. Dinna fash, there are many kind folk in Inverness that will offer ye honest work. I will be happy to make enquiries on your behalf and in the meantime, I have a cot in the back ye can use.”

  “I thank you kindly for your most generous offer of assistance.” She glanced over one shoulder then back to the woman. “Unfortunately, I do find myself in a delicate situation. I need to find a friend staying at the Glen Albyn Inn.” She swallowed hard. “Laird Drew Mackenzie or Lord Rupert. You see there is a gentleman trying to kidnap me and take me to France.” She met the woman’s gaze. “Would you be so kind to give me the direction of the Glen Albyn Inn?”

  The shopkeeper’s gaze widened and her voice dropped to just above a whisper.

  “I think it may be too late, lass, but I will see the laird gets your message. I have kenned him since he was a lad. I will send ma lass with a message the moment she returns from delivering this morning’s orders.” She frowned staring past her to the doorway. “What name do you go by?”

  “Adrianna.”

  The bell above the door tolled like a death knell to announce the arrival of Lord Moreau. Good Lord, he had taken the time to put on a cloak and to her dismay, the ivory handle of a pistol stuck out from the belt of his britches. The sickly smell of him wafted over her and she turned to meet a gaze straight from Hades. Anger radiated off him in almost visible waves and a nerve in his sunken cheek twitched. He strode toward her and his face contorted into a hideous mask of fury made worse by the trickle of blood smeared across one gaunt cheek. He moved closer and his mouth formed a feral grin. He screamed at her in French.

  “You whore! I will make you pay for escaping me.”

  Pain shot though her face and she staggered. The display of bread swum before her eyes and colors flashed across her vision. The brute had struck her! She staggered and grabbed the counter for purchase, but he lashed out again. The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and somewhere in the sea of pain, clarity of thought prevailed. He has broken my nose.

  “You canna treat a lady in such a fashion.” The shopkeeper’s voice seeped through the buzzing in her head.

  “I will treat her as I wish. She is my property. Mind your business, madam.”

  Lord Moreau closed his steel-like grip around Adrianna’s arm and dragged her from the bakery. Nausea roiled her belly and a red sticky mess blurred her vision. She swiped at the annoyance and her fingers came away dripping with blood. The horrid man had tried to kill her! Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she pushed hard at his chest falling to her knees in the effort.

  Agony tore up her injured leg in a ripping sensation and she gasped in pain. The sound of his laughter steeled her resolve. Damn him, she refused to die on the side of a road beaten and bleeding. She sucked in a blast of freezing wind to clear her head and rolled away from him. Lord Moreau was not a large man and she should be able to escape him if only she could get to her feet. She dashed a sleeve across her eyes and struggled to stand staring around for someone—anyone to offer assistance. People had stopped to stare, but not one moved to intervene. She glared at them. “Help me! This man is assaulting me.”

  Lord Moreau, his face twisted in a hideous grin thrust her into the wall expelling her breath in a painful rush then with one hand pressed indecently on her breast, turned to face the crowd.

  “I find my wife lifting her skirt and have every right to beat her, she is an adulterous whore. Now mind your business and leave me to mine.”

  “No! Do not believe him, please, I beg you to help me.” She gasped for air under his crushing force and twisted away but not quick enough, he gripped her hand grinding the small bones together and pressed his erection hard into her belly. She stared into his expression of enjoyment and fear stilled her heart for a second before it raced on at an alarming rate. He gains sexual pleasure from hurting me.

  “Come with me or I will have no choice but to render you unconscious.” He dragged her forward.

  She hung back digging her heels into the pavement. “Let go of me, I say. I am not your wife and will not go with you.” She glanced around frantically, but the people in the street had turned and scuttled away. Dear God, they think I am an errant wife. She aimed a kick at his shin. “I am not your property, you—you scoundrel.”

  “Your life is mine.”

  He wrenched one arm behind her back and with his icy fingers digging into her flesh, dragged her against him. His oily hair brushed her cheek and his voice exuded a deep sexual innuendo.

  “I will make you pay well for the trouble you have caused me, English whore, and I will enjoy every second.”

  Lord Moreau’s foul breath washed over her and she heaved. The next moment, searing pain jarred her teeth and the edges of her sight sparkled in an array of fireworks before darkness fogged her mind.

  Chapter Six

  With every muscle aching, Drew urged his tired horse forward. He rasped a dry tongue over his cracked lips and shook his fist at the first drops of rain. Sleet is all I need. He had proceeded at a fast pace since leaving Nairn an hour or so before daybreak and had not stopped once on the road to Inverness for fear of leaving Adrianna alone, albeit in the care of Madame Josephine. He sighed with relief and rode into the courtyard of the stables at the Glen Albyn Inn. His horse’s hooves clattered over the cobblestones paving the entrance announcing their arrival. The beast let out a piercing whinny so pleased was he to see an end to the grueling journey. He patted the silken neck.

  “Aye, I am pleased to rest for a while too. Nay worry, I will be riding ye brother to Badenoch. Ye have done me proud.” He beckoned to a stable lad watching his clan’s arrival with interest. “It is good to see ye again, Johnny. I hope ye have been taking care of ma stallion. Do ye have enough room for all of us fore by? We can tend to our own mounts.” He dismounted and pushed a coin into the boy’s hand.

  No sooner had his feet touched the ground, than a woman’s voice called from behind him.

  “Would ye be Laird Drew Mackenzie of Badenoch by chance?”

  He sighed too exhausted to deal with local squabbles but as a Highland laird, he had many clansmen living in Inverness. He turned to see a young lass, red-faced, and agitated. Christ, the child was trembling with fear. He inclined his head and smiled at her.

  “Aye, I am Laird Mackenzie.”

  She bobbed a curtsy and her words came out in a rush.

  “Oh, I beg pardon, laird, but I came here to bring a message to ye or indeed, Lord Rupert, but I could not find either of ye at the inn.” The lass gripped great handfuls of her crisp white apron and stared at him with wide brown eyes. “The innkeeper said ye were expected so when I saw the lot of ye coming down the road I waited for ye to arrive.”

  Oh God, Adrianna. He straightened and with concentrated effort, forced his expression to remain calm. He did not want to alarm the lass. “What message do ye have for me, lass?”

  “Oh, laird, it was such a stramash. A French gentleman was cursing and bleeding and then he chased the woman into the street. Ma—”

  Drew swallowed hard. He grasped the girl’s shoulder and her thin frame wilted under his touch. “What woman would that be?”

  “Ma said her name was Adrianna, laird, and ye needed to come quickly.”

  Fear clenched his wame and he stared at the girl with
disbelief. How could Lord Moreau have found Adrianna in such a short time and where in God’s name was Rupert? This child held the truth of it, if he could extract the information from her before she ran away in fear of her life. He released his grip, dropped his voice to a coaxing whisper, and patted her lean shoulder.

  “Ye are doing fine, lass, now tell me exactly what happened and do ye ken which way they went?”

  “Well, after I delivered the bannocks to Madame Josephine’s, I heard the screaming. I could not believe ma eyes for they were outside the bakery, fighting in the gutter, and she was bleeding something awful.” The lass made the sign of the cross. “Then the Frenchman hit her so hard I think he may have killed her.”

  She bit her trembling bottom lip then drew a deep breath.

  “He c–carried her off toward the docks.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Over his shoulder like a sack of maize and she leaving a trail of blood on the pavement with her hair hanging loose.” She produced a soiled mop cap, stained with blood and held it out to him between shaking fingers. “I picked up her cap. Ma came out and sent me to tell ye or Lord Rupert what had happened.”

  He recognized the lace on the cap and anger raged blackening all thought but to take Lord Moreau apart. Oh, Christ could that beast of a man have killed Adrianna? No, Lord Moreau would have no reason to carry a corpse to The Back Turtle. With his heart racing at the implications of the girl’s story, he turned his attention back to the child. “How long ago did this happen, lass?”

  “Not more than a few minutes. I ran straight here to tell ye, laird.”

  He handed the girl a coin. “Thank ye kindly.”

  He leaped back into the saddle and yanking his horse around bellowed at Jamie. “Moreau has Adrianna and he is heading for the docks. Tell the stable lad saddle the stallion and ready a coach and four. I am going to get her and will leave for Badenoch at once.” He glanced at Ian. “Find Rupert and have him wait here. I will send for him the moment I have found Adrianna.”

  “Aye, I will see to the carriage and a fresh horse for Rupert too. He will have to accompany ye as chaperone, ye ken?”

  Drew nodded toward his brother. “Aye, he will and Angus too.”

  “I am coming wi’ ye.” Jamie, his face stricken vaulted into the saddle and grabbed the reins.

  “So am I.” Angus reined up beside him. “What has happened?”

  “There is nay time to explain and I dinna ken the truth of it, aye.” Drew moved his horse toward his brother. “We have a Frenchman to deal wi’ and a maiden to rescue.” He kicked his horse into a gallop and with its hooves slipping on the damp cobblestones, charged down the main street.

  He weaved his mount at speed between carts and carriages plodding along the busy road barely missing the people crossing. Steam rose from his mount’s nostrils and white globules of foam flowed like soapsuds from his open maw. Drew’s hat flew off in a gust of wind and sleet bounced off his forehead sending icy raindrops splattering across his lashes. He bent close to the horse’s neck and urged him faster uncaring of the patches of ice forming on the wet road. His horse responded without more than a grunt of protest. Thank the Lord his father had bred a mount such as this.

  Soaked hair stuck to his face blinding him and he dashed it away to stare through the pounding rain to search the busy dockside for any glimpse of Lord Moreau. He could make out nothing but shadows in the downpour. Panic gripped his wame at the thought of arriving too late to save Adrianna. He had sent her away and broken his oath to protect her. Dear God, keep her safe.

  He glanced behind him to see Jamie thundering down the street behind him. His brother veered off taking a laneway between the warehouses at full gallop. Drew urged his horse down the quay. His faithful steed leaped over crates of tea and bolts of wool, sure-footed in the melee of people yelling abuse and scattering in all directions. He rounded a stack of wooden boxes and spotted Lord Moreau dockside. The filthy pig was waving a wet scarf in a frantic gesture toward a black shadow in the mist. The Black Turtle was sitting at anchor out to sea.

  He shuddered with rage at the sight of Adrianna lying so still over Lord Moreau’s shoulder with her hair a mass of brown sodden curls. He pulled his mount to a stop and slid from the saddle hitting the ground at a run. Lord Moreau turned and had the gall to smile before addressing him in French.

  “Ah, if I am correct in my assumption your name is Mackenzie, is it not, and you are in business with Lord Rupert Bainbridge? I believe you had a hand in stealing Baron du Court’s betrothed from The Black Turtle.” Lord Moreau’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “A clever ploy indeed to use an illegal transaction to cover your involvement. I am sure Le Diable Noir will seek you out for retribution. He will not be at all happy to discover you used his dealings with Captain Jacques to commit a crime against Baron du Court.”

  Drew refused to admit to anything and glared down his nose at the despicable man. “Speak English, man. I dinna ken what ye are prattling about but I can plainly see ye have a member of ma clan over your shoulder and one I am told wants nothing to do wi’ ye.”

  Lord Moreau flicked a dark gaze over him, squinted as if trying to place him then shrugged.

  “I would have sworn—oh, never mind.” He laughed and raised a dark eyebrow. “This is not a member of your clan, fool. This is Baron du Court’s betrothed. Now be on your way, this matter does not concern you.”

  Enraged by the blood dripping from Adrianna’s nose and pooling on the ground, he placed one hand on his dirk and moved closer. “Ye are correct, I dinna ken the woman, but she is wearing ma plaid, so is under ma protection.” He lifted his chin and met the man’s hawk-like eyes. “Put her down and allow her to speak so I may ken the truth of the matter.”

  Lord Moreau rubbed Adrianna’s bottom in a lewd manner and smiled.

  “Unfortunately, the lady is indisposed from a night of lust. You will have to accept my details of the situation.”

  Anger roared in Drew’s head. He strode toward him. “I said, put her down—now.”

  He heard a strangled shout of warning from Jamie then caught sight of the pistol, shielded under Lord Moreau’s cloak. The man had raised the barrel and casually pointed it at him. He ducked to avoid disaster. Lord Moreau laughed and a flash of gunpowder turned his world into shattered chaos. White and red flashes danced over his vision and through tears, he caught sight of Lord Moreau’s yellow grin widened into an expression of glee.

  He staggered a few steps and reached for Adrianna, but his hand closed on emptiness. The ground swirled and his legs would no longer support him. He caught sight of Jamie’s mouth moving in silent protest, his face twisted in anger. He wanted to tell his brother to forget him and save Adrianna, but the words would not come. Blackness surrounded him and he fought to open his eyes against a strange fog enclosing him in a cocoon of nothingness.

  A loud noise shocked Adrianna into consciousness. She opened her eyes and wondered why the world had tipped upside down. Her head throbbed and something sharp dug into her ribs. She blinked at the waves hitting the dock and to her disgust found Lord Moreau’s bony shoulder was causing the pain in her ribs. The stink of him and blood filled her nostrils. Gathering her strength, she tried desperately to slide free. “Put me down, I say.”

  “Put her down, ye wee arse wipe. She is our clanswoman and ye have nay claim on her.”

  Was that Drew’s voice? She squirmed to catch sight of the figure moving in her periphery. Not Drew but his brother, Jamie.

  Lord Moreau tightened his grip on her.

  “I do not care what she is wearing. This woman is English and not a member of any clan. Come one step closer and I will break her neck.” He dropped her to her feet and pulled her hard against his chest. “It would seem I have nothing to lose.”

  A pistol clattered to the ground and spun at her feet. Dizzy, she squinted through heavy, painful eyelids and ice filled her veins at the sight of Drew’s crumpled body sprawled motionless and bloody on the ground. Ice-cold dread grip
ped her heart. “No! Dear God! No!” She turned to glare at Lord Moreau. “Sweet Jesus, what have you done?”

  “I will kill anyone who tries to stop me from returning you to your rightful place.” Lord Moreau’s grip tightened around her neck. “Now you will come with me and complete your obligation to Baron du Court or do you want more blood on your hands?”

  Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she twisted to get away but the grip on her neck tightened. Tears blinded her and she stared down at Drew’s lifeless body in despair. Oh no, please God, no. Blood trickled from his head. His eyes, his beautiful green eyes, dear Lord, stared blindly into nothingness. He lay motionless with one arm outstretched toward her, his large palm turned upward. She glanced at Angus. “Do something, help him I beg you.”

  Angus, his face twisted in rage ripped the shirt from his back and bent to stanch the bleeding.

  “I would suggest you inform these men to whom you belong, my lady. The rowboat is almost here to take us to The Black Turtle. Do this and I will not mention your behavior to Baron du Court.” Lord Moreau growled deep in his chest. “Disobey me and I will have great pleasure in breaking your pretty neck, n’est pas?”

  Pain gripped her heart and her knees trembled. Drew had given his life to protect her and if she went with Lord Moreau, it would have been for nothing. Once on board The Black Turtle she would be a pawn in a game she could never win. At his insistence, she stumbled forward a few paces and noticed a rowboat some distance from the shore. She had time to escape and with Jamie and Angus at hand, Lord Moreau might not be able to take her. She met Jamie’s unflinching gaze. “I would rather die than return to that ship. I beg you. Do not allow him to take me.