The Devilish Lord Will: Mackenzies, Book 10

by Ashley Jennifer

  “Daft beastie,” he managed as he climbed to his feet. “Ruining my plans and all. And you—” Will hauled Josette up to him, his eyes flashing golden anger. “Running in here alone. The man had a gun, knives. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking of saving you,” Josette returned. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

  “Aye, she gave him a right tap,” came the admiring tones of Bhreac. He stood just inside the cave behind Errol and Captain Ellis, who strode to bend over Macdonald’s unmoving form. “About time too. I was tired of listening to him yap.”

  “Please tell me you heard everything he said.” Will addressed Captain Ellis. “I doubt he’d confess to you, even under torture.”

  “I did,” Ellis answered quietly. “That he purloined a treasure sent by the King of France and kept it for himself, and sells secrets to Cumberland when it suits him. That he sells British secrets to the French when that suits him instead. I will make certain my testimony is heard and noted.”

  “If any listen to it,” Bhreac said skeptically.

  “They’ll listen to a hero of the Jacobite war,” Will assured him. “And to Lord Wilfort. As long as Wilfort diverted those ships here, I’m happy. Or else, I’ll just shoot Macdonald right now.”

  Shouts sounded without, and Josette heard boots on rock, then the clink of swords. The men from the boats—they’d come.

  Errol and Bhreac shoved Macdonald through to the outer cave, which was fast filling with water. Perhaps that was why the ships had remained out of sight, Josette thought dimly as she slid out after them. They were waiting for the tide to rise, easier for them to land.

  Macdonald began to wake when his boots hit the cold water. Beitris galloped past to play in the waves, as Macdonald opened his eyes.

  Josette enjoyed the look on Macdonald’s face as he beheld the cool, tight countenance of the Earl of Wilfort and the stern one of Captain Ellis of the British cavalry.

  “Clennan Macdonald,” Lord Wilfort said in his quiet voice. “I arrest you in the king’s name for treason, for spying, and for other crimes against the crown. You’ll be taken to London, where you can expect a trial. I will tell you now that a confession will bring an easier death than denial.”

  Macdonald threw his head back, but he stumbled, still dizzy from Josette’s blows and Will’s chokehold. “I a traitor? The traitor is there.” He gestured at Will as well as he could with Bhreac and Errol holding him, and swayed again. “I give you Lord William Mackenzie, who took up arms against the king and never contradicted the lists that showed him as dead. But maybe you don’t care about that, Wilfort, because you let your own daughter marry his brother. Maybe you are the traitor, my lord.”

  Wilfort regarded him with cool blue eyes. “You admitted treasonous activities and deliberate interference with British army campaigns before witnesses, who are of good character and willing to testify.”

  “Tricks and lies,” Macdonald ground out. “Will Mackenzie’s a damned trickster—everyone knows it.”

  “You’ll be able to put your case in court,” Wilfort said. Josette didn’t know what was more chilling, the red-coated marines flanking Mr. Macdonald, murder in their eyes, or Wilfort’s calm assurance that justice would be done. She reminded herself never to make an enemy of Lord Wilfort.

  Wilfort nodded at the soldiers to take Macdonald.

  “One moment.” Will calmly faced Macdonald, then balled his great fist and slammed it into the man’s face. “That is for my mum.” Another slam. “And this for my lady.” He stepped close to Macdonald, an inch of space between them, Macdonald bleeding profusely from nose, lips, and temple. “I’d rather kill you, you bastard,” Will said, voice low and vicious. “But I’ll sacrifice that joy for my lady’s sake. And for my family, and my home.”

  Josette saw the flicker of fear in Macdonald’s eyes as he realized he’d underestimated Will and what he was capable of.

  Then Errol and Bhreac relinquished Macdonald to the marines. The men half dragged, half shoved him toward a boat, which pushed off as soon as they were over the gunwale. Captain Ellis helped push then climbed quickly aboard, as though not wanting Macdonald out of his sight.

  Will had turned to Lord Wilfort and was speaking to him quietly. Josette caught the last of Will’s words as she approached.

  “Just so you keep your part of the promise.”

  Wilfort looked offended. “I gave you my word, remember? All will be done.”

  Will nodded. “Good.” He offered his hand. “I’m pleased to call you friend, Wilfort, even if you’re an English aristocrat toady to the king.”

  “And you,” Wilfort answered. “Though you are a barbarian Scot.”

  Will thumped the man on the shoulder. “Come to the house with us—whisky all around.” Will shouted the last. “There’s much to celebrate.”

  “Aye, and soon.” Bhreac shook out a booted foot. “Me feet are getting wet.”

  Wilfort cleared his throat, a dry sound. “A moment, Mackenzie. What about the French gold? Where have you stashed it?”

  Will burst out laughing. He lifted his face to the rain, mirth and joy erasing fatigue and sorrow. “It’s not here. I didn’t lie to Macdonald. It’s gone. Long gone, I wager.”

  Josette regarded him in confusion. “You knew it was gone? Then what were you going to show Mr. Macdonald?

  “Not a thing, love.” Will smiled down at her, eyes golden and warm like Mackenzie malt. “That money is truly gone—who knows where? These are smugglers’ caves, and they’re still used, if the supplies left are anything to go by. Do ye think those men wouldn’t go over every inch of the place when they came to ground?” Will brushed hair from his eyes as the wind picked up. “I imagine they couldn’t believe their luck when they found an entire treasure of Louis d’or waiting for them. They’d have snatched it up and run off with it to the Continent to live the good life in a trice. Poor Macdonald. His home is nowhere near the coast, and he has no idea what desperate men will do to survive. He’s never been desperate enough himself. Until now, that is.”

  Will gazed after the boat that was hauling Macdonald away, but when he looked at Josette, his smile was light. He’d finished with Macdonald, and it wasn’t his way to continually savor his revenge. He’d put it behind him, and face the next thing.

  “Shall we, love?” Will asked, and gestured her toward the path.

  Josette rose on wet tiptoes to answer without words. Then she took his hand, and led him home.

  * * *

  When they reached the distillery, a figure broke from a group of women in the courtyard and raced for Josette, slamming into her and nearly knocking her over with a wild embrace.

  Will kept mother and daughter on their feet as they hugged, then joined in the greetings with exuberance.

  Glenna, it seemed, had traveled to Kilmorgan with the other ladies, who’d all disobeyed the order to remain at Strathy Castle. They’d been looked after on the journey by the tall Naughton. The ladies talked all at once, asking about the gold, about Macdonald, Sir Harmon, Bhreac, Henri, Josette.

  Josette, taking over, got them all sorted, inside, warm, dry, and sitting with coffee or whisky—she firmly took a glass of Mackenzie malt from Glenna’s hands and passed it to Will.

  Questions were shouted, explanations demanded. Will told them all how he’d positioned Captain Ellis, Bhreac, and Errol, in the second of the small caves, where Macdonald’s words had echoed to them.

  The ships had arrived courtesy of the navy and Lord Wilfort, some of the same ships Bhreac had seen floating around Loch Broom weeks ago. The fleet captain had agreed to stay out of sight while Will lured Macdonald to the cave and got him to talk. Not difficult, Will said, as the man loved to boast about his cleverness. Josette and Henri had waved their signal flags once Will had Macdonald in the caves, and boats had slid from the ships and put in for shore.

  Will spoke glibly, as though nothing had been difficult. However, he didn’t like to think about how close he’d co
me to have his plans thwarted. How Captain Ellis had arrived very soon after Ewan’s announcement that Macdonald was on his way, narrowly missing being seen by Macdonald himself. How Ellis told them Lord Wilfort should be coming by ship, but he wasn’t certain that Wilfort had convinced his naval contacts in time that they were needed.

  Will could only be relieved that it was done, and that the men, including Naughton and Henri, happily imbibed whisky, and the ladies rested, eyes shining with excitement. That Beitris, doctored by Josette and Glenna, would be right as rain.

  As the celebration continued, Naughton beckoned Will into the still room and handed him a tightly rolled tube of oilcloth. “Thought you’d be wanting this. Or Mrs. Oswald would.”

  Will unrolled the cloth until he beheld a young Josette on a painted canvas, her head turned, dark hair flowing down her back. He quickly rolled it up again.

  “Thank you, Naughton,” he said in true gratitude. “She’ll be delighted to have it back.”

  “I brought the other paintings Macdonald stole from Kilmorgan too,” Naughton went on. “Thought I should retrieve them before the king’s men take apart his house.”

  Will laughed. “You’re a good man, Naughton. Thank you for conveying the ladies here safely.”

  Naughton rubbed his red hair with a long-fingered hand. “When I stopped at Strathy to check on them, as you asked, they insisted they come, most adamantly. ’Twas I who needed safe passage.”

  Will laughed again and handed the man another glass of whisky.

  The revelry wound higher, laughter filling the house.

  Back in the main hall, where dancing had commenced, Lillias approached Will in some trepidation to apologize for sending Bhreac to see what Will was up to, but she made it clear she’d done so for the best reasons—in her opinion. “I feared ye’d take what ye found and leave us. I know you too well.”

  Will gave her a stern look. “Not well enough, if you thought I’d desert lassies who were counting on me. Josette wouldn’t have let me, even if I’d think of it.”

  “I know.” Lillias flushed, ashamed. “I’ve been grieved, and afeared, for a long while. I’m not one to hide while others go out to fight.”

  Will laid a hand on her shoulder. “I am so very sorry for your husband, Lillias. Sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  “Not your fault, I know.” Lillias shook her head. “It was the bastard English who killed him. I’m finished with the Highlands, Will. Bhreac is taking me to Amsterdam. Not with the gold you gave us—I’m leaving that for the others. But I’ll prepare the way for them to come. They’ll be helped?”

  Will nodded. “I have the word of a very powerful and honest man that they’ll be reunited with their men and in safety as soon as they can be.”

  Lillias took Will’s hand, squeezing it hard as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Will Mackenzie.”

  “There now.” Will pulled her into a quick embrace. “You lift a glass to your husband, who’d be glad to know you are well.”

  Lillias pushed away, wiped her eyes, and left him with a sad smile. Bhreac fell into step with her, the two walking close together.

  She would grieve, Will knew, but Bhreac would take care of her. The two might be journeying to the Continent as traveling companions for now, but Will guessed that within a year or so, they’d be much more to each other than that.

  In the great hall, fiddlers and drummers began to play, and dancers joined hands. They’d celebrate far into the night—men and women who’d lost everything finding joy wherever they could.

  Henri fell easily in with the circle, dancing Scottish dances with skill. Will, watching him, looked forward to reuniting him with his Scottish family. Wilfort would make it possible, Will knew, and Will would have the pleasure of seeing Henri’s grief and anger flee.

  The merrymaking continued, but as the others ate, drank, laughed, and danced, Will steered Josette upstairs. Glenna had already gone to bed in a chamber she’d share with Mysie, though she insisted she wasn’t tired—Josette had taken her up when she’d found the girl slumped on a bench, fast asleep.

  Josette’s bedchamber was cool, empty, and relatively silent. Will shut the door against the noise downstairs, and put himself in front of Josette.

  “I never thanked ye properly for helping me bring down Macdonald,” he said. “Let me do that now, lass.”

  Chapter 29

  Will made love to Josette like a man desperate. He needed to be inside her, to soothe his hurts and anger, quench his fears. When he’d seen her struggling with Macdonald, something had broken open inside him, a berserker that had been simmering below the surface for too long.

  But hadn’t Josette been beautiful when she’d yelled some of the filthiest French words he’d ever heard and smacked Macdonald right between the eyes.

  He drove into her, harder, faster. She met him thrust for thrust, her cries as fervent as his.

  Her body was liquid heat, her hands finding his most sensitive places, lips and tongue performing magic. Josette opened to him, welcomed him. Loved him.

  And he loved her. Will loved her so much he splintered with it.

  The release was like nothing he’d experienced before. Will shouted her name while she cried his. The room spun around them, insubstantial and misty. Only Josette was solid, and real.

  They wound down together, falling into slumber while Will covered them with a plaid.

  Love you lass, he whispered, or thought he did. Then everything flowed away, and Will slept.

  * * *

  Josette woke to daylight, wrapped snugly with Will, safe in Mackenzie tartan.

  She blinked a little, stirred, and moaned. She ached all over, stiff from climbing about the cliffs, waving the huge flag, and fighting with Macdonald. Then the dancing, and to end it all, the wild lovemaking with Will.

  “I am too old for all this,” she murmured.

  “You are barely past thirty and the most beautiful woman in the world.” The deep, rich voice of Will Mackenzie caressed her, followed by a brush of his fingers on her cheek.

  “And you are the most beautiful man.” Josette ran her gaze over the hard shoulders and sculpted plane of chest the plaid bared. “Though I shouldn’t make your head swell.”

  Will put his hand on the head in question, further mussing his hair. “It seems the right size for now.” His lips twitched into a smile, the warm one that melted Josette to her toes.

  “Did smugglers really steal the gold?” she asked him. “You didn’t ferret it away for yourself, did you?”

  “Ah, she still doesn’t trust me,” Will said to the room. “Not that I blame her.” He pressed his hand to his heart, fingers splaying on his sun-touched chest. “Yes, it’s gone. I never laid eyes on it. I did find, in its place, a scrap of paper, with one letter on it.”

  Josette blinked in surprise. “Did you? What was the letter?”

  “G. I believe a man named Gair, a slippery devil, and his second, Padruig, found the stash unguarded and helped themselves.” Will shrugged. “They knew the Mackenzies were long gone from here—they were the ones who sailed us to France after Culloden. They might have witnessed Macdonald poking about and wondered what he was getting up to. Gair would know I knew what the paper meant, if I ever found it. And if I didn’t …” He opened his hands. “No matter. He and Padruig are probably enjoying themselves in France or the Low Countries by now.”

  Josette listened in wonder. “I do not recall you telling this to Lord Wilfort or Captain Ellis.”

  “Why should I? Let Gair have it. He and Padruig helped us quite a lot over the years, at great risk to themselves. They deserve it.”

  “So the King of France loses his gold,” Josette said slowly, “and your friends are the richer for it.”

  “Louis of France can afford the loss. Probably doesn’t even remember it, now that he has the lovely Pompadour to distract him.” Will nuzzled her. “Speaking of distractions.”

  “No,” Josette groaned, but it was difficult not
to melt back into him. “I should get up. Glenna will be rising, if she’s not rushing about already.”

  “Not yet, love.” Will’s smiled vanished, something more somber entering his eyes. “We have one more thing to speak of.”

  “Mmm?” Josette murmured sleepily. She ran her hand along his chest, absorbing his warmth, no longer interested in speaking, or rising, or doing anything but snuggling down with Will again.

  “We need to see to Colonel Chadwick. I’ll not have him be a continuing blight on your life.”

  Josette sat up, covers sliding from her and letting in the cold, but the air wasn’t more chilling than her fears. “We forget about Chadwick. You said Lord Wilfort is working to restore Malcolm to Kilmorgan, which is what you came here for. We take Glenna and go to France or perhaps Switzerland like Sir William and Anna. Disappear. Be safe from him.”

  “No, love.”

  Will’s voice was quiet, and Josette stared at him with sinking dismay.

  “I’m not leaving Scotland again,” he said. “France is well enough for Alec and Dad, but Kilmorgan is my home. Mal can have the dukedom and his manor house, but I’m staying here with him.”

  “Then Cumberland’s soldiers will round you up and cart you off. Chadwick suspects you’re alive—he’ll tell the right men his suspicions. Clennan Macdonald has already shouted it to a naval fleet.”

  “Macdonald will be regarded as a raving madman, which Lord Wilfort and Captain Ellis will confirm. As for Chadwick, I don’t intend to let him do a damn thing. But we can’t spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, wondering when he’ll strike.”

  Josette balled her fists. “I will never let him take you. I can’t, Willie. I’ve just found you again.”

  His smile, wicked and handsome, should have made her feel better, but it did not. “I’m not leaving you, my Josie. I want all of it, remember? You, my home, Glenna, my family. Even that bloody dog. She fits right in.”