The Devilish Lord Will: Mackenzies, Book 10

by Ashley Jennifer

  “I don’t give a damn about a box of coins. Take it, spend it, dump it into the North Sea if you want to.”

  Josette nodded, her eyes wise but so very sad. “You say that because you know you can get the rest from Mr. Macdonald or make him show you where it is.”

  “Will ye cease telling me my own plans? Particularly when you don’t know them?” Will balled his fists and tried to rein in his temper. “Anyway, my idea thwarts Colonel Chadwick. He can’t threaten you into giving me to him if I’ve already been surrendered to the British.”

  “I have half a mind to run to his house right now and shove you at him.” Josette slammed the nightgown Henri had bought at the secondhand shop into the sack that served as her valise. “And how can I help speculating on your plans? I can only guess what you mean to do. Will trusts no one, not even the woman who loves him.”

  Will stilled. Josette turned crimson and quickly bowed her head over her packing.

  Love? Will had never heard the word cross her lips. Josette loved her daughter. She tolerated Will and enjoyed being his lover—that was all.

  He was across the room to her in the space of a moment. “What did you say?”

  Josette wouldn’t look at him, a lock of sable hair falling over her cheek. “Never you mind.”

  “I do mind.” Will laid a hand on her arm, making himself keep his touch soft. “You can’t love me, lass. There’s nothing lovable about me.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Will turned her to face him. Her cheeks were blotchy, her eyes wet, and she still refused to look up.

  He rubbed a thumb across her cheekbone, and Josette’s chest rose with a swift breath.

  “I don’t want to love you,” she said rapidly. “It makes my life horrible—I’m always wondering whether you’re dead or alive, if you’re fine and haven’t bothered to tell me. I try not to love you. I’d stop if I could.”

  Will’s throat went tight. He stroked her cheek. “Lass.”

  “I’d never trap you,” Josette said. “I don’t want you to tie yourself to my side and live in my pocket like Sir William does with Anna—you’re not that sort. But you care for no one, and that’s cruel to your friends. We tear ourselves apart trying not to worry about you, but it’s impossible.”

  Will gave her an incredulous look. “I care for no one? Why the devil do you think I’ve come here—to Scotland, Edinburgh, where it’s death for me to walk? I came to beg for my brother, so he can live the life he deserves. I took myself to Sir Harmon’s godawful house to help the women who turned to you. To help your daughter. To help you. If I don’t care, then what the devil am I doing here?”

  Josette remained stiff. “You’re playing the gallant knight who charges in to save the world. You chose that silly costume for the masked ball for a reason. You rush about trying to put everyone’s life to rights, never mind what they want. You’ve disappeared so many times—I am never certain whether I’m happy to see you again or dismayed.”

  Will caught her hand. “I always want to see you again, Josie. Always.”

  “How the devil do you think I felt when I saw the broadsheets proclaiming all those dead at Culloden? Listing your name? It was horrible. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days—Glenna was terrified I would die.”

  Will kissed her fingers, pain a hard ball in his chest. “You know I sent word as soon as I could.”

  “And I was so angry.” Josette at last looked directly at him, wells of fury and anguish in her eyes. “I received your cheerful note that told me you were well and on your way to France with your brothers. You could not bother to tell me in person—you were right not to. I wanted you to turn up so I could kill you myself.”

  “Lass.” The word was a whisper.

  Will hadn’t known she’d react so to news of his death. Josette had always been brisk, matter-of-fact, understanding that Will had no choice but to depart when he’d prefer to linger, to breathe her in. She’d been the one to ask him to leave, several times.

  He’d always been right to go, which kept his enemies from finding her or using her to trap him. Until recently, that is. Not that Colonel Chadwick was his enemy—the man was playing some kind of game, and Will would stop it.

  When Josette turned from him, Will stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Don’t go, love. Not this time.”

  She didn’t lean into him but also didn’t pull away. “I can’t stay if you plan to let your brother hand you to the king’s men. I can’t be here to watch that.”

  “A temporary measure—”

  “I know you believe you’ll easily escape them, but what if you can’t? Even if you manage it, you’ll never be able to set foot in Scotland again. You keep saying you’re fighting for your brother to return to the Highlands, that you need to be here, in your home, but you’re ensuring that you’ll have to flee. Far, far away—farther than your dad’s house in Paris. So far I might never see you again.”

  “No.” Will nuzzled her cheek, loving the silk of her hair. “You and I would come together, no matter what. We always do. The world hasn’t been able to separate us so far, love. It never will.”

  “You also always believe you can do what you please,” Josette said, her voice softer but no less sad. “With no consequences.”

  “Oh, there are consequences.” He heard the helpless rage in his words. “I lost my brothers, my home, and my own name, because I didn’t do enough. I can never do enough …”

  He didn’t mean to break down. Will was always the tough one, the Mackenzie who had every situation under his control. He let men capture him so he could learn their secrets, vanishing from under their noses when he was done. He discovered their plans and fed them to the right ears so people wouldn’t die.

  But sometimes …

  It was never enough. Wars happened, and people died anyway. Will tried to make his words, his actions, save others, but he couldn’t be everywhere, save everyone. He hadn’t been able to save his young brother Magnus, who’d died from a weak heart, or Angus, trying to keep Duncan alive, or the arrogant Duncan himself.

  “I took care of the family, because Duncan never would,” he heard himself say. “Duncan was about glory and dreams. I had to be the practical one.”

  He felt Josette’s touch, but the room had darkened for him. “I know,” she whispered.

  “I left home to make life better for them. Malcolm stayed home for the same reason. He looked Kilmorgan while I roamed the world, searching for the answer.”

  “There isn’t one.” Josette’s words were as soft as her touch.

  “I am learning that, my love. It’s why everything’s such a mess.”

  And there was no one in the world he could tell. Nobody who would understand like Josette Oswald, a woman who had stood against the world, alone, to protect her daughter.

  No, not alone. Will would never let Josette be alone.

  Josette turned in his arms to face him. “You’re trying to put it right. But I can’t watch you put it right by sacrificing yourself. I can’t bear that. We must try a different way.”

  “We.” Will tilted her face to him. “Does that mean you’ll stay? Walk beside me every wretched step?”

  Suspicion cut her softness. “Only if you give up this mad idea of having Mal hand you over. Promise me you won’t do that, and I’ll stay. For now.”

  “Only for now?” Will’s heart felt suddenly lighter. “You said you loved me. Fickle woman.”

  “I was a fool to say so. You’ll hold it against me, use it to your advantage—”

  “You don’t think much of me, do you, lass?” Will cupped her face. “What I’ll do with your words is treasure them. Press them to my heart and keep them always.”

  “Charming me once more.”

  “I’m not the Mackenzie with the charm,” Will said. “The charming ones are Malcolm and Alec. But what I have that they don’t, is you.”

  Josette stared at him, her dark eyes wet. “Damn you,” she whispered, an
d then she rose on tiptoes and kissed him.

  * * *

  The kiss left Josette’s control very quickly. Will cupped her head in his hands, fingers loosening her hair as he opened her mouth with his.

  He was impossibly strong, pulling Josette against him, one foot sliding between hers. He kissed her as though this was their last kiss for some time to come, and her heart squeezed, fearing it might be so.

  Will eased back, but instead of finishing and walking away, he drew her closer, kissing her again, harder this time. His fingers bit down, lips commanding, the kiss growing fierce.

  Josette fumbled at his coat, finding the buttons that held it closed, jerking them open. That barrier gone, she slid her hands inside, across the satin waistcoat that cupped Will’s hard muscles. He was warm beneath the slippery fabric, fine to touch.

  Will licked across her mouth and drew her lower lip between his. Josette made a wordless sound and let her hands move from his waistcoat down the breeches that hugged his backside. Will jumped, bumping her mouth, but he didn’t break the kiss.

  Only when she drew her hand to the front of his breeches, unbuttoning the flap did Will lift his head with a gasp.

  “Lass,” he growled, his eyes burning. “I warn ye—no.”

  Josette slanted him a smile, her lips raw from his kisses, and dropped the front of his breeches. Will dragged in a ragged breath as his cock tumbled free.

  Chapter 22

  Josette’s smile undid him even more than her declarations.

  The woman who loves him, she’d said. Admonishing him, but revealing her innermost thoughts without meaning to.

  Now that woman closed both hands around his cock, and Will couldn’t hold back a groan.

  “Damn you, lass. How can I let you leave me, when ye do that?”

  Josette didn’t answer, only gave him her wicked smile. Long, long ago, when they’d become lovers for the first time, she’d smiled at him like that, though then her eyes had held trepidation.

  Will had gone gently with her, marveling that this beauty of a woman had consented to share his bed. They’d come together tentatively at first, then as they grew to know and understand each other, with fervor and need.

  Josette had grown more beautiful over the years, more daring. She made him want her, crave her.

  As he craved her now.

  Will knew he’d never have the patience for unlacing and unbuttoning. He seized Josette around the waist and turned her to the chair at the dressing table. She lost hold of him as he sat down and lifted her on top of him, but it didn’t matter.

  Her voluminous skirts were an obstacle, but she wore only an overdress and an underskirt, not the layers of garments many ladies of fashion put on. He lifted and shoved fabric until he found her, bare beneath them all, her thighs softer than any of the silks she wore.

  Josette met his gaze as Will positioned her to straddle him, her dark eyes full of longing. She wasn’t afraid of him, or what he’d do—she wanted the passion of loving as much as he did.

  Will slowly slid her on top of him, his cock pushing up inside her. A small amount at first, then deeper, farther. Josette’s eyes closed as she took him. Will sucked in a breath when she squeezed around him, more tightly than her fists ever could.

  Was there anything better than being inside this woman? Josette surrounded him with her body, her scent, her heat. Will rocked back in the chair, desperate for more of her.

  She opened her eyes, languor taking over. Harsh words and fluctuating emotions were behind them—the two came together in fluid harmony, erasing pain and sorrow—as always.

  Will forgot everything but her, thrusting up into her with hot sensation, hearing her cries, watching her face as she fulfilled desire. Her hair, which he’d loosened, tumbled down, enclosing him in its silk.

  Josie, love, I’d do anything in the world for you.

  Including staying with her until the world ended. Which it might soon.

  Josette opened her eyes. She looked down into Will’s, the darkness of her velvet gaze erasing all that was terrible. She leaned to kiss him, then groaned as he thrust, Will holding her fast.

  The fire sputtered, and candles burned low, and still Josette took her pleasure on Will, and gave him back that pleasure more than a hundredfold.

  * * *

  Will entered Wilfort’s study the next morning, thoroughly rested and feeling more alive than he had in a long time. He’d have preferred to lie in bed with Josette the rest of the day, feeding her breakfast, then dinner, making hot love with her in between. Not yet, but one day. Soon …

  While Will and Josette had dressed each other, a footman had brought Will a message that the earl wanted to see him in the study, alone. He added that the captain and Bhreac—the footman stiffly called him Mr. Douglas—were in the dining room and would await Josette there.

  Will parted from Josette on the staircase where they exchanged a gentle kiss. Josette’s fingers closed tightly on Will’s hand a brief moment, then she turned away, composed, and descended to the dining room.

  The earl stood at the window in his study, the man gazing over mist-enshrouded Edinburgh. He’d been in the same window yesterday when they’d arrived—he must like to keep watch from here.

  “A beautiful old city,” Wilfort said, keeping his gaze on the view as Will entered. “And now I can live here without fear.”

  “I wouldn’t say without fear,” Will said easily. “’Tis plenty dangerous in places.”

  “I know, but that spoils the sentiment.” Wilfort turned to him. “I suppose there are many Scotsmen who’d throw me out of their city or cut my throat in a heartbeat.”

  “There are, but ye can’t blame them for resentment. Culloden exacted a terrible price.”

  “I know. I regret that. Cumberland’s orders weren’t clear, but he interpreted them as pure slaughter, no accepting surrender. He longs for glory—his career in the French wars has not been the best. So far, Culloden is the only battle he’s ever won.”

  “That tells me we ought to have had more Frenchmen in the Jacobite army,” Will said. “But it’s time for Scotland to join the world instead of hunkering behind our Roman-built wall and throwing everyone else out. Edinburgh is the place to do this joining with the world. We’ll have our revenge, but in a different way than most people believe, I imagine.”

  “I agree.” Wilfort’s tone was dry. “There are formidable thinkers in Scotland who aren’t hidebound by the English tradition of clinging to old philosophies. I will watch with interest.”

  “Why did you send for me?” Will asked. “To talk about Scotland’s future?”

  “No, to talk about its present.” Wilfort became brisk. “The list of names Captain Ellis gave me is unnerving. These gentlemen have connections to peers in the House of Lords, men on the King’s Bench, and the Lord High Chancellor. The fact that I am on this list is even more troubling—I am one of the few men who can walked unchallenged into St. James’s and chat with anyone I wish. Sir Harmon Bentley and Clennan Macdonald want to pry out our secrets, do they?”

  “It appears so.”

  “And they sent the coxcomb you pretended to be off to gather them? A risk, I’d say.”

  Will shook his head. “They believe Sir William Jacobs too stupid to understand the intelligence he is to gather. That he’s so desperate for money he’ll do what they say without question. And that he is not high enough in society himself to realize who these gentlemen are.” He tapped his lower lip. “Sir Harmon isn’t too bright—wise enough to keep himself from his creditors, but he’s more interested in growing rich from the work of others than coming up with plots against the crown. He just wants the money he can make. I’m certain Macdonald is playing him, promising him riches for his assistance.”

  “I’ve heard of Clennan Macdonald. We had an eye on him when Charles Stuart made his way to Scotland—we were certain he’d take up the Jacobite banner and be a formidable opponent. He turned the other way instead, to our surprise.”


  “He waits to see where the wind blows,” Will said. “He guessed—rightly—that Teàrlach mhic Seamas wouldn’t prevail, no matter how many determined Scots were behind him. Macdonald never liked Lord Murray, for instance. He probably nursed resentment that Murray had been chosen to head the army—Macdonald nurses many resentments.”

  “Including against Mackenzies, you said.”

  “Never forgave my mum for throwing over his little brother,” Will said cheerfully. “Took it personally. Never mind that Horace married and lived happily in Edinburgh until his death. Clennan held the grudge. Still does.”

  “Macdonald has no idea you are involved in this?” Wilfort asked in a mild tone.

  “I never showed my face to him, and we scrambled from Sir Harmon’s abode before he could reach it. With luck, Sir Harmon concluded I was anxious to be off to earn my reward and invest the money, taking Captain Ellis with us for protection. If he and Macdonald gave chase, they did not do it with much determination.”

  “Or did not see the need to bother,” Wilfort said. “They believe Sir William is under their thumb. But I believe Captain Ellis should remain here for a while. I’d like to keep his part in this quiet, plus away from any vengeance Macdonald might think to take once he realizes you betrayed him.”

  “He’s a good man, is Ellis. He doesn’t deserve to get caught up in Mackenzie schemes.”

  “And yet, he continues to,” Wilfort said dryly. “I know he had a tenderness for my daughter, and I once would have been happy to call him son-in-law.”

  Will chuckled. “But Malcolm spoiled that by rising from the dead. Mary is deliriously happy with the Runt, I assure you.”

  “I agree. Which is why I bend over backward to help you and your trouble of a family. I risk my own neck doing so, by the way.”