The Devilish Lord Will: Mackenzies, Book 10

by Ashley Jennifer

  “Ye don’t need to know why,” Lillias growled.

  Will pinned her with his golden Mackenzie stare, and for the first time since Josette had met her, she saw Lillias falter.

  Will’s stare could wilt the most hardened soldier. Josette had watched him reduce brave men, who supposed a tall Highlander the equivalent of a backward fool, to babbling incoherence when he turned the might of his gaze upon them.

  Likely this was why he’d never raised his eyes to his captors in the camp. They’d have realized they were dealing with a dangerous man, not a sorry specimen they happened to find wandering the fields in the dark.

  Will flicked his gaze from Lillias, and she quickly returned to the spit before their supper burned away.

  “We’ve heard things,” Josette answered into the awkward silence. “Enough to believe the money is real. In one place, not scattered.”

  “All right then.” Will scraped an empty stool from the wall and sat down. Josette knew he’d have kept to his feet had he not been tired and weak, but he’d never admit it. “Where is this one place?”

  “We’re not entirely certain,” Josette said. “I’ve been piecing through the stories, most of which I’m sure are wrong. Somewhere on the west coast.”

  “Ah, a very precise location.”

  “Do not mock. It took quite a lot of time and care to narrow it down that far.”

  Will’s grin nearly undid her. “And I admire ye for it. Now ye want me to help ye narrow it down further? Maybe lead ye right to it?”

  Josette looked at him without flinching. “That was the idea, yes.”

  “Will you help us, Uncle Will?” Glenna had been good at curbing her impatience, but the girl had her limits. “Do say ya will. When we have the money, we can use it to free the ladies’ menfolk and get them to France or Amsterdam, or wherever we can manage. Lillias can have her husband back, and Mysie her brother and sons. Mum and me can go live in a grand house in London and never have to grub for our bread again.”

  “Glenna!” Josette broke through her babbling. She had no idea whether Glenna knew Josette’s true reason for wanting a bit of the gold, but Glenna was canny, and the girl never held anything back from Will.

  “Why not tell him?” Glenna asked in irritation. “We don’t want to overthrow the king or anything, just get back to home and family.”

  Will’s piercing stare softened as he regarded Glenna, who watched him with great hope.

  “I see,” he said, his voice quiet. “In that case, ladies, I will see what I can do.”

  * * *

  Will returned to his small room to strip down and take stock of his injuries. Not so bad. The captain who’d captured him had punched and kicked him, but Will’s thick coat and plaid—since confiscated—had helped cushion the blows. His bruises were still black, his ribs sore, but fortunately not cracked.

  His ankles were raw from the ropes that had bound them, his wrists likewise. He’d nearly dislocated his shoulder leaping up, attached to the stool, to hit Major Haworth, but rolling it now showed it was flexible if sore.

  The clout Lillias McIvor had given him still made his head ring.

  Will usually healed quickly—his body did, that is. His heart and his mind—that was a different thing.

  “If the likes of Lillias had been at Culloden,” he said to the curtain in the doorway, “the Hanoverians would have run like deer.”

  He’d observed Josette peek in and then abruptly drop the cloth when she saw he was stark naked. She’d never objected to his bareness before, but the curtain remained stubbornly in place.

  Will slid the trews that must have been made of the roughest fiber from the threshing floor over his hips and tied them at the waist. His backside was not happy with him.

  “Enter,” he called. “I won’t offend ye now.”

  Josette’s cheeks were red when she slid into the chamber, and she looked everywhere but at his exposed chest. “Are you feeling better?”

  “As you saw.” Will sat on the pallet and patted the blankets beside him. “Come, tell me what this is all about.”

  “I’ll stand, thank you.” Josette folded her arms.

  Will grinned and splayed his hand over his chest. “Ah, ye wound me, lass.”

  “You have beguiling ways, Willie. I’ll keep my distance, if you don’t mind.”

  Will’s heart squeezed as he leaned back on his elbows. “And no one has called me Willie in a long while.”

  “Your family ceased speaking to you, have they?”

  In spite of her light words, Josette’s hands clenched and unclenched, and her stance was rigid. What did she fear? Him?

  “Let me look at ye, lass. I haven’t seen ye for a time.”

  Josette lifted her chin. “That’s your own fault.”

  “I know, but …” Will let the words linger as he ran his gaze over her. “Indulge me.”

  Josette frowned but unfolded her arms and let them drop to her sides.

  She dressed simply, as always, her round gown modestly draped, a cream-colored stomacher embroidered with chocolate-brown flowers covering a butternut bodice and skirts. Lace trimmed the cuffs of her elbow-length sleeves, and a linen fichu wrapped her neck, the ends tucked into the top of her bodice. No wide panniers or plunging neckline, no wig or fussy cap, only Josette’s dark brown hair in a simple knot.

  Will flashed to the last time they’d played the game together—she’d worn a grand gown of blue silk dripping with lace, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in sleek curls. She’d been a luscious coquette, peering around her fan, a roguish twinkle in her eyes. Her bodice had shown a fair amount of shoulders and a bosom glittering with diamonds.

  That had been their last venture together—the one that made Josette tell him she was finished and needed to raise her daughter in safety.

  Hence, the London boarding house, where Will had thought her even now.

  “Where exactly am I?” he asked.

  Josette hesitated, as though debating what to tell him, then she beckoned. “Come with me,” she said and turned and ducked out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Will slid on a shirt that was almost as punishing as the trews, snatched up the plaid, and followed Josette down the spiral stairs. She led him without stopping through stone halls whose walls leaned toward each other, and up another, much longer, staircase.

  He was winded by the time they reached the top, where Josette opened a trapdoor. She scrambled out with a flash of plump leg, and Will followed her more slowly onto a rooftop of crumbling stone.

  Will paused to catch his breath, but Josette wasn’t flagging at all. Of course, she hadn’t been held for three days with no food or water or place to relieve herself.

  Before Will had left the kitchen below, he’d feasted on bread, a hunk of cheese, ale, and a dram of whisky. The whisky had been indifferent, nothing like Mackenzie malt, but he’d drunk it thirstily. He’d left the roasted chickens for the ladies, not wanting to deprive them of their supper.

  “Ye know your way about the castle,” he observed as Josette wandered to the edge of the parapet.

  Wind gusted from below, catching a dark curl that fell to her shoulder. “You taught me to learn the lay of a place, and quickly. I know every route in and out by now.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A month, perhaps a few days more.”

  Will reached her side, her warmth cutting the chill. “Ye’ve stayed in this godforsaken place a month? Why?”

  Josette didn’t answer as she gazed over the wall to the valley below.

  They were in the Highlands all right. A treeless land spread under gray skies, hills rising to misty mountains in the distance. A loch shimmered about half a mile from the base of the walls—at least the ladies had fresh water and fish to go with their meager chickens.

  Will didn’t recognize the immediate area, though it couldn’t be far from familiar territory. Much of the northern Highlands looked like this, rust-colored land t
umbling from stark hills as it reached for the sea. He peered at the sky, but the sun didn’t penetrate the gray, and he could not make out a direction.

  “The nearest town is …?”

  “Ullapool.” Josette pointed over the loch to the gray horizon. “About fifteen miles to the southwest.”

  That would put them near the river Canaird, which ran through empty country of rocky ground, bogs, and isolated farms. This castle, half ruined, could only be one place.

  “Strathy Castle,” he said. Which was in Clan Mackenzie territory, though very near that of the MacDonnells and MacLeods. “Or was. Been abandoned since the battle of Glen Shiel in ’19.”

  Yet another ill-fated plan to put James Stewart, the Old Pretender, on the throne of Scotland, which rasher members of Will’s clan had supported. Good men had been killed in that venture, as they had been in the 1715 uprising, and now the ’45. Will wondered when Highlanders would realize God was trying to tell them something.

  “Well chosen,” he said in admiration. “Far enough off the beaten path for a hiding place. No one has lived here for years, and the nearest village is a day’s walk.”

  “I remembered you mentioning it,” Josette said. “And Lillias knew where it lay.”

  “She would.” Will pulled his gaze from the land to Josette. “Watch her, love. She is a staunchly loyal Highlander—wouldn’t betray a soul to the English—but you’re not a Highlander. She plays by her own rules, has since she was a wee one.”

  Josette gave him a nod. “Lillias and I have reached an understanding. She has lost much, as they all have.”

  Will had no doubt of that, but he’d seen Lillias’s desperation. Highland women were no less scheming, determined, and violent than the men, a fact many outsiders did not understand. Highland wives could inherit lands, be lairds, and lead men into battle. Didn’t matter that she was female, only that she’d been left in charge.

  “How did you manage to get me here?” Will lounged against the wall of the parapet, pretending to be relaxed, but he was alert, aware of every creature that moved in the grass below, every flutter of bird. “A journey over a mountain pass and through a few glens?”

  Josette’s smile sparked heat inside him. “In a cart, pulled by a donkey not very happy with us. We buried you under a load of turnips.”

  “Ah, that’s why I’ve gone off the things.” He remembered none of the journey, but Josette would have made it in silence, she and Lillias hunched in shawls like farm women delivering a load to market.

  “You groaned a bit. We had to stuff a rag into your mouth. I’m sorry about that.”

  She didn’t look very sorry, as the twinkle in her dark eyes betrayed. Josette must have been happy to at last find a way to shut Will up.

  “Ye seem to have an able contingent here. What need for me?”

  “Because if there is something dead secret that needs discovering, you are very good at it.” Josette flushed, as though reluctant to admit this. “You can ferret out whatever you like, whenever you like, out of whomever you like. As soon as I decided to help the ladies, I knew immediately we’d need your skill, and started a search for you. I knew from some stories I’d heard that you must be in Scotland. We scoured the Highlands for a long time—you certainly know how to hide yourself. Then Mysie got rumor of a lone but tall Highlander having been captured by soldiers and dragged to an army camp. We watched that encampment, and then I got myself in and saw it was indeed you. You know the rest. Don’t worry yourself about payment for helping us—we’ll give you your fair share.”

  Will peered into a pocket of mist nestled into the gray land as he listened, impressed. Josette had learned very well how to seize opportunity. “Ye have much confidence in me,” he remarked. “I haven’t been able to discover where the gold is no matter how much I’ve listened at keyholes or tried to trick men into telling me.”

  “You believe it’s still out there, then.” Josette moved closer to him. “Else you’d not be listening at keyholes.”

  Will’s body tightened, but he made himself keep his arms folded. He had no idea what was between them now or if she’d push him off the parapet the instant he tried to touch her.

  “The French never got it back,” Will said, as though her nearness didn’t matter. “Mal or Alec would have told me—they’re chummy with the French king and his new, glorious mistress. The gold never left the Highlands, is my guess. But I don’t see any Highlanders parading about, spending it on luxuries. I see men and women barely surviving the winter. So it’s well hidden.”

  “Maybe it was lost,” Josette said. “Maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the sea, or in a bog.”

  Will shook his head. “Then every fisherman and ghillie would be searching for it. What I believe is that someone is sitting on it, hiding it. Hoarding it. For what purpose, I don’t know.”

  “For what purpose?” Josette flashed him a sudden grin. “Spending it, of course. Buying food and clothing, or maybe purchasing their way into the good graces of the king.”

  “Aye, maybe.”

  With Josette a step away from him, smiling her beautiful smile, Will was rapidly losing interest in the conversation. Her cheeks were pink from the cool air, and her mouth was soft and sensuous, lips parted. A mouth worth kissing. Often.

  God’s blood, he’d missed her. Will hadn’t realized how deeply until this moment, when they stood atop the Highland aerie, miles of nothing around them. Josette was here, exposed to wind and weather, and to his longing.

  He’d tried to push her from his thoughts while they were apart, to go on fighting battles and long-term, secret wars. But always Josette had been in the back of his mind—her dark eyes, the low note of her voice, her softness beneath him in the night, the joy of waking in daylight to find her beside him.

  What she was truly doing here he didn’t know, but he’d find out. Josette was compassionate, yes, but there had to be more to her decision to help these women. He’d need patience to learn all her secrets, and Will could be so very patient.

  She stood too close, the dim light brushing her hair. Will couldn’t stop himself reaching to smooth back a silken lock.

  Josette stepped away before he could touch her, her smile vanishing. “I’m sorry, Willie—I’ll tell you right now, this won’t be like Salisbury.”

  Her words stung like a blow from that mad captain’s fist. Damn, she knew how to kick him.

  Will forced a shrug. “Of course it won’t. There we had solid walls, glass windows, soft beds. Ah, Marsden House—so many memories. And the food. I recall that velvety smooth lemon bisque. Chef was a bloody genius.”

  Josette’s eyes narrowed. “I believe you know what I mean.”

  “We were pretending to be man and wife.” Will made his expression go reflective. “Sir William Jacobs and his bride, Anna. Returning to beloved Britain after a long sojourn on the Continent—ostensibly for Anna’s health, but as she was in such fine fettle, speculation was they’d fled to the Continent to hide from creditors. An influx of income from a deceased distant relation had made certain all was well again. The guests at Marsden House winked and laughed behind our backs, just as I wished them to.” Will twined his fingers and stretched his arms. “One of my finer creations, was Sir William.”

  Josette sent him a look. “’Twas not difficult for you to play a reprobate. Even a mostly reformed one.”

  Will leaned one elbow on the wall, feigning nonchalance. “And you were excellent as my frivolous wife, Anna, who loved to shop. Easy to understand why Sir William went bankrupt.”

  A hint of Josette’s smile returned. “Those aristos were so distracted by feeling superior to us that they never tumbled to what you were really about. Yes, ’twas well done.” She held up a hand as Will started to lean to her. “But not to be repeated here. You know why.”

  Yes, he did. Will had found the information he’d needed at the huge estate called Marsden House near Salisbury, which had caused one man to flee to the West Indies and saved a few Hig
hlanders a pile of cash and stretched necks.

  The mission had grown dangerous, both physically and to Will’s heart. Josette had told him in no uncertain terms that it was the last time she followed him into peril. She had Glenna to take care of, and she could not risk her daughter being hurt.

  Will had complied. He’d set her up as landlady of the boarding house in London, where Will had fondly supposed Josette still resided, with Glenna to help her run the place. Josette had assisted Alec and Celia when they’d eloped, and Celia, who never forgot a kindness, had kept up correspondence with her.

  “If you’re determined to search for the French gold I can’t promise you’ll be in no danger,” Will said. “’Tis a dangerous business.”

  Josette scowled. “I meant, blast you, no liaison between you and me. The danger is comparable, I grant you, but this time, we’ll be in separate bedrooms.”

  Will hadn’t realized she’d been so angry at him. He’d granted her wish after Salisbury and walked away. That should have been that.

  He hadn’t walked away in his heart. Will could pretend all he wanted, but while he’d done everything in his power to make certain Josette was safe, happy, he regretted every moment apart from her.

  He managed a faint smile. “Aye, well. A man can hope.”

  Josette didn’t soften. “You know what happens when we come together. What always happens. I am weary of it. Never again.”

  “Truly, lass? I rather enjoy … coming together.”

  Her cheeks went a dark red. “When it ends, I mean. It’s awful. I can’t go through that again.”

  Ye think I can? Will wanted to shout. “I remember you asking to do the leaving.” Will jabbed a finger at her, going hot when he imagined her seizing the finger and nibbling on it. “It’s never me.”

  “Because of danger to my daughter,” she said, eyes flinty. “And my sanity. You’re a dangerous man, Will Mackenzie. You always will be.”

  That was true. But Will being dangerous had ensured his family stayed safe—that is, until they’d all run mad and joined Will’s brother Duncan when he’d taken up with Prince Teàrlach in the Jacobite Uprising.