by Tarah Scott
A Scoundrel’s Promise
The Marriage Maker
Book Twenty-Six
The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey
Tarah Scott & Erin Rye
Scarsdale Voices
This is a Scarsdale Voices romance and is part of The Marriage Maker series written by Tarah Scott and Sue-Ellen Welfonder.
A Scoundrel’s Promise The Marriage Maker Book Twenty-Six: The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey
Copyright © 2018 by Tarah Scott & Jennifer McCollum
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: dreams2media
Cover Art: Period Images
Editor: Kimberly Comeau
SP
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Other Marriage Maker Collections
Chapter One
Mackenzie glanced at the sky. The dark clouds had scudded in faster than she’d anticipated. At any moment, Cora could demand to return home. Mackenzie tugged her mare’s left rein and started across an open field.
“Mackenzie,” Cora called.
Mackenzie ignored her friend and urged the horse into a canter. As anticipated, horse’s hooves pounded the ground behind her and, an instant later, Cora rode up beside her.
“Mackenzie Caine, your father will shut you in your bedchambers and my mama will not allow me to visit you again if they discover we have left Newborne.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Then we shan’t tell them.”
“You know full well that secrets do not stay secret for long on Newborne.”
“Then it is a good thing we shall commit our infraction off Newborne land.”
Cora’s brows shot up. “Need I remind you what happened the last time we disobeyed our parents?”
Mackenzie slowed her mare to a trot. “That was different. First, there were witnesses. A mistake I will not make again, I assure you. Second, it was Jamie who tattled.” She still hadn’t forgiven her brother. “Since we are alone this time, we need not fear discovery.” She cast a sideways glance at her friend. Cora’s lips had thinned, a sure sign she was about to rebel.
Wind whipped the tendrils of fair hair that had broken free of Mackenzie’s chignon. “I have heard that he is one of the most beautiful men to grace the Highlands. Surely, the chance to lay eyes upon such a fine male specimen is worth a small risk.”
Cora began to nibble on her lower lip, an indication she was torn.
“I hear the men of Blackstone Abbey wear their belted plaid every day,” Mackenzie said.
Cora’s head snapped in her direction, her mouth a small ‘oh.’ Her eyes abruptly narrowed. “You are making that up.”
She shook her head. “I heard Sir Stirling tell Papa.”
Cora released a sigh. “Sir Stirling is so handsome.”
“And married—with a baby,” Mackenzie reminded her.
Cora cast her a narrow-eyed glance. “You are making this up, so I will agree to accompany you.”
“Aye, I want you to accompany me. But you know I never lie.” Almost never.
“They are called The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey,” Cora said slowly. “That cannot be good.”
“How much of a beast could Lord Fraser be if he married Kyla Brodrick?”
Cora shrugged. “Mister Pettigrew swears that they are responsible for the cattle stolen from my father, as well as the theft of Mister Barnes’ chickens. According to Mister Pettigrew, Lady Arabelle swears they are missing chickens, as well.”
“Mister Pettigrew has nothing better to do than to find problems that do not exist. Soldiers do not steal cattle. Sir Stirling told me so when I asked if the men were truly guilty of stealing the cattle. I heard the same rumors you did. Sir Stirling says the rumor mongers are doing the gentlemen a great disservice by calling them cattle rustlers.”
“They were falsely accused?” Cora asked with a gasp.
“That is what Sir Stirling said. You must agree, he is a far more reliable source than Lady Arabelle or even Mister Pettigrew.”
“What are the chances we will catch sight of any of the men from the road? There is a wall around the abbey,” Cora said.
“Only the south wall is high,” Mackenzie said. “The other sides are but waist high. Not to mention, Lord Liam may very well be riding one of his horses. They say he is a magician with horses, you know. Even Papa commented on his unusual skill.”
“I do so admire a man in the saddle,” Cora murmured.
So did Mackenzie.
She pressed her advantage. “Everyone said that Lord Fraser was married in his belted plaid.”
Cora sighed. “How I wish that we had been here to see that.”
Mackenzie nodded. “Can you imagine? I also heard that both brothers mounted the claymores they used in battle over the hearth in the abbey’s great hall.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, Mackenzie, we dare not enter the great hall.”
Mackenzie sniffed. “I’m not a ninny. That we could never keep secret. We’ll only ride past the abbey.” Though she would consider returning by herself and sneaking into the hall. The abbey had been abandoned the last ten years. She and Cora had explored it many times.
“We will not stop or even dally.” Cora’s lips thinned into a firm line. “Promise?
Cora had her there. While she might stretch the truth a tad bit now and again, she never broke a promise. “I give you my word,” Mackenzie swore solemnly.
Relief washed over Cora’s face, then excitement sparkled in her dark eyes. “Janet would never have the courage to sneak away for a peek at handsome gentlemen.”
Mackenzie didn’t like the mention of Lady Janet. “You cannot tell her what we’re doing,” Mackenzie urged. “She’d never have the courage to defy her parents. She’d seize this opportunity to expose us.”
Her friend lifted her chin. “I can keep a secret.”
Cora kept secrets like Mackenzie told the truth: most of the time.
They rode across the field and up a small hill. At the top, the abbey came into view in the shallow valley below.
“Instead of going north the extra mile to stay on Papa’s estate, we’ll cut across Mister Akins’ land,” Mackenzie suggested.
They cantered down the hill and, minutes later, reached the road.
“Have you a new dress for Lady Mairi’s upcoming party?” Mackenzie asked as they slowed the horses to a walk.
Cora frowned. “I do. But why are you asking about my party dress?”
Mackenzie grinned. “Because when we pass the abbey, we must appear nonchalant, as if we are not at all interested in the goings-on there.”
Cora shook her head. “Sometimes you frighten me.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Sometimes I frighten myself.”
The chapel situated in the northeast corner of the abbey came into full vie
w.
“I wonder what they use the chapel for,” Mackenzie said.
“What use could that have but for prayer and worship?” Cora said.
“I wonder if men of war pray,” Mackenzie said.
“They must. If I had to fight for my life, I would be praying every second.”
Mackenzie nodded. “As would I. But I suspect these men are far braver than you and I. Papa once said that for many soldiers, the sword is their god.”
“That cannot be. No good Christian would commit such blasphemy.”
Two men emerge from behind the rectory, leading horses. They wore rough woolen breeches. Mackenzie’s heart fell. Only footmen. Perhaps she and Cora wouldn’t be lucky enough to see any of the owners of Blackstone Abbey. They drew closer and a rider emerged from the stables. Mackenzie’s pulse skipped a beat. The tall, lean man in the saddle wore a belted plaid.
“Oh my,” Cora breathed.
Mackenzie quite agreed with her friend’s awe.
Which of The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey was this man? Might he be Liam Fraser? His bearing was that of a man born to the saddle. Of course, all these men had fought in the war. All would be excellent riders.
“Which one do you think he is?” Cora asked.
Mackenzie knew which one she hoped he was, but said, “I do not know.”
“Oh dear,” Cora said. “He’s headed out of the abbey.” She looked at Mackenzie. “He will meet us on the road.”
This was more than Mackenzie could’ve hoped for. “There is no harm in greeting a fellow traveler,” she said.
“Oh, I knew this was a bad idea. What will happen if he tells someone that he saw us?”
“Why would he? A gentleman doesn’t say, ‘Oh, by the way, I happened to say hello to two ladies on the road.’”
“I suppose not. I believe he has seen us,” Cora whispered, as if fearing he would hear her.
Even at a hundred feet away, Mackenzie discerned his eyes on her. Had he noticed her and not Cora? Cora was dark, and she was fair. Did he favor women of fair hair? Nae. She was being ridiculous. How could she possibly know which of them he regarded? They rode side-by-side. For all she knew, he had eyes only for Cora. Though, in truth, she had not found that to be the case very often. Cora was quite beautiful, her body lush, but Mackenzie’s fair hair draw men like honey.
Cora was right. They would intercept one another at the gate. Almost. They needed to slow. But if they slowed, it would be obvious they wanted to meet him. They drew nearer to the gate and the gentleman came into better focus. His thick, dark hair was a bit longer than was fashionable. Mackenzie couldn’t yet discern his eyes, but she wagered they were dark, like his hair. He was definitely different than other gentlemen of her acquaintance. But she wouldn’t be meeting him today if she didn’t do something.
They neared the gate. Mackenzie forced her eyes to stay on the road. She had long ago learned that the way to capture a gentleman’s attention was to ignore him. How was she going to meet him without him knowing she had intended an introduction? She caught sight of a rock on the left edge of the road, opposite the gate, and urged her mare left.
“What are you doing, Mackenzie?” Cora asked.
As they reached the arched gate, they also reached the rock. Mackenzie yanked the left rein. As hoped, her mare faltered a step. Mackenzie cried out and fell from the saddle. She landed on her hip harder than expected and her teeth jarred with the impact.
“Mackenzie!” Cora cried.
From the corner of her eye, Mackenzie watched the gentleman burst through the arched gateway. He reached them as Cora jumped from the saddle. For her small stature of only five feet two inches, she was very agile on a horse, and wasn’t afraid to jump from the saddle—as Mackenzie had just done.
The gentleman reached them, leapt from the saddle and dropped to a squat beside Mackenzie.
His brow furrowed. “Are ye unharmed?”
His soft burr washed over her like velvet. Mackenzie stared.
Cora stared.
He cocked a brow.
Mackenzie stared up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. His mouth quirked, and she realized she was staring.
“I—” Her gaze caught on his mouth and her mind went blank.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He scooped Mackenzie into his arms. She cried out and threw her arms around his neck. Her heart raced. She had been kissed a time or two, but she had never been pressed so tightly against a man’s chest.
Mackenzie wanted to squirm but became oddly aware of the warmth of his chest pressed against the side of her breast.
“Mackenzie.”
The recrimination in Cora’s voice snapped her from the spell.
“I can stand, sir,” the words came out a whisper.
“Are you certain?” he spoke in such a grave voice that she believed he feared for her safety. Then she saw the gleam in his eye. The cad toyed with her.
“Quite certain.” She wriggled in an attempt to get him to put her down.
Her breast pressed against his hard chest. She froze.
Both his brows shot up this time.
“You may put me down, sir.”
“If ye are certain,” he said. “You took quite a fall.”
Again, she noted the exaggerated concern in his voice.
Did he know she’d jumped from the horse? Impossible.
Mackenzie met his gaze squarely. “Thank you for your concern, but I am made of tougher stuff than most ladies. It is not the first time I have fallen from a horse.”
“Indeed? How many other gentlemen have come to your rescue?”
“Only you—not counting my brother.”
Ninny, she mentally berated. Why mention Jamie?
“Then I am honored.” He set her feet on the ground, albeit slowly, then stepped back. “Shall I escort you ladies home?”
“Oh, no,” Cora blurted. “It is not far.” She grabbed Mackenzie’s arm and pulled her toward the horses.
Mackenzie grabbed the pommel and lifted her foot to the stirrup.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance.” He took two steps to her and, before she realized his intent, he grasped her waist and hoisted her up. Her pulse quickened at the tightening of his fingers around her waist. Heavens, he had lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather.
She snapped her gaze onto him. “Thank you.” She grimaced inwardly. Her voice was far too breathless.
He bowed with a flourish, then stepped back as they urged their horses forward. Mackenzie caught sight of a sketch pad sticking out from his horse’s saddlebag. It is him! She’d heard how Liam Fraser, the second son to the Viscount of Kilbreck, never went anywhere without his sketchpad.
They’d gone only a few feet when a thought struck. They were headed back the way they’d come—instead of continuing in the direct they had been when they passed the abbey gate. Mackenzie twisted and looked over her shoulder. Lord Liam stared, arms crossed over his broad chest, his mouth curved in amusement.
She caught sight of another rider headed down the road toward the gate. Mackenzie faced forward again. He knew she had fallen on purpose, and he also now knew they had purposely ridden past the abbey.
They reached the field. Mackenzie forced herself to keep her gaze straight ahead. She would not look back. It would be a mistake for him to know that she was curious about whether or not he still watched them. But she would wager he was. A gentleman always watched a lady’s retreat.
“I must admit, he is very handsome,” Cora said. “Do you think he’s Lord Kilbreck?”
“Of course not. Did you not notice how openly he flirted with me? A newly married man would never act so shamefully.”
Cora nodded. “True.”
“We were very fortunate,” Mackenzie said. “That was none other than Lord Liam himself.”
“I thought you said you had never seen him before.”
Mackenzie relaxed her hold on the reins. “True. But did you see the sketchpad in hi
s saddlebag?”
Cora frowned. “What sketchpad?”
“The one in his saddlebag. I heard that Lord Liam often carries a sketchpad. It had to be him.”
“I don’t know,” Cora said slowly. “It is possible he left the sketchpad in the saddlebag and another gentleman simply used the saddle bag.”
“Do not be ridiculous. An artist never forgets his sketchpad. Nae. That was Lord Liam. He is as handsome as I heard. Did you see his green eyes? I could stare into those eyes all day.” And night.
“Indeed, I did notice his eyes.” Cora sniffed. “He, however, did not notice me. Completely ignored me, in fact.”
“Oh, do not be angry, Cora. It isn’t so much that he ignored you, as it is that he and I…made an instant deep connection.” A raindrop landed on Mackenzie’s hand. She glanced at the sky. The dark clouds were almost directly overhead. If they arrived home drenched, her mother would be angry.
“You often make instant connections with gentlemen,” Cora said.
“I am polite to gentlemen. There is a vast difference.”
Cora snorted.
“He is unlike any other gentleman my mama has introduced me to.”
“Mister Higgins is quite handsome,” Cora mused. “He would marry you tomorrow if you would consent.”
Mackenzie grimaced. “Can you imagine Mister Higgins wielding a sword?”
“Wielding a sword is not everything.” Cora’s eyes widened, and then she gave a sly laugh. “Unless you mean that other sword.”
Cora hadn’t meant the jest, but the thought sent a strange, delicious shiver down Mackenzie’s back. She could still feel Lord Liam’s warmth and strength surrounding her. He’d clearly deduced she’d ridden past the abbey and deliberately fallen from her horse. He’d obviously taken advantage of the situation—just enough to tease her. She hid a smile.
“I am going to marry him,” she murmured.
“What?” Cora blurted.
Mackenzie looked at her friend and gave a slow nod. “I am going to marry him.”
Cora snorted. “He is the second son of an impoverished viscount. I do not care how handsome he is or how many battles he has fought, your father will never allow such a match—not that I believe for an instant you truly want to marry him.”
