The Devilish Lord Will: Mackenzies, Book 10 Page 6

  “Not far now.” He sounded undaunted, animated, as though he’d done nothing so entertaining in a long time.

  Josette eyed the crumbling, rather slimy staircase in distaste. Will was clambering up in a merry way, and Josette did not want him to think her too fastidious to follow.

  Holding her skirts high, Josette ascended after him, hearing the dog panting and scrabbling behind her.

  “He could be taking us to our deaths,” Lillias said, out of breath.

  “Ye didn’t have to come,” Glenna said. “Go back and wait for Mr. Douglas to return with English soldiers.”

  Josette called down to her. “A grand idea, Glenna. You take Lillias back. ’Tis too rough here for the pair of you.”

  “Bugger that.” Glenna grinned up at Josette around the bulk of an eager Beitris. “I’m coming with you. I’m sixteen now, Mum. Ye can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

  “Ha. I will argue with you about that later. If you fall and hurt yourself, I won’t be kind. And watch your language.”

  Glenna didn’t answer as she picked her nimble way up the staircase. From the sound of it, none of the ladies had made the sensible choice of returning to the warmth of the keep.

  The staircase rose a long way, the walls changing from stone to shored-up earth. Josette tried not to compare it to a tomb, but the similarities gnawed at her. They’d be climbing out through a hole as though emerging from a grave, if there even was a way out. The entrance might be buried, walled off, or closed with a locked gate, to which no one had a key.

  No matter, Josette reasoned. They’d simply go back. But still, the walls pressed at her, the air becoming thick.

  Only Will’s strong legs in the awful breeches, large feet in shapeless shoes, kept Josette going. She let her gaze linger on his backside, which was as firm and interesting as she remembered.

  The darkness lightened, and with light came a breath of air. Josette heaved a sigh of relief and hurried behind Will up the final steps. At the top was a small square room with a grate set into a stone wall, the opening just large enough for a person to climb through. Gray light and a breeze wafted through it.

  “The grate will be locked, I suppose,” Josette said as she caught her breath.

  “It is. ’Tis also well rusted.”

  Will banged the grate with his shoulder. The iron bars creaked mightily before the entire grating popped free and landed in rocks and weeds outside the hole. The opening, about four foot square, looked out over a long stretch of tumbled land, not a house or farm in sight.

  Josette had grown up in southern France, which had been rife with farmer’s fields, vineyards lining the hills. All had been lush, green, growing. She’d lived in cities as an adult, but even Paris and London had parks and trees.

  She had difficulty growing used to the forbidding land of Scotland, which could some moments be bleak and others spread forth the most beautiful glory she’d ever seen. It was wild, untamed, rugged, like the Highland man leading the way out of the hole, his long legs wriggling as he crawled free.

  Will turned and reached for Josette, gripping her arms with hard hands as he tugged her with great gentleness out of the earth. She wanted to hang on to him as he lifted her, to kiss his warm mouth again, to wrap herself in him and shut out the world. She’d told him she’d keep herself distant from him, but his presence was already crumbling her resolve.

  The opening led to the side of a hill that slanted sharply down to a swollen creek that rushed through a narrow valley. Will released Josette as soon as she was free, and she slithered around him to sit on soft grass.

  Beitris, with a grunt of effort, scrambled out, helped by Will with his hands on the scruff of her neck. Beitris shook herself as soon as she was free and waited for Glenna to crawl out with Will’s assistance.

  Glenna stood up, surefooted on the slope. “Ain’t it pretty?” she asked the world in general.

  The Highlands spread before them, the tip of Strathy Castle, their erstwhile home, small in the distance to the south.

  “A good place from which to watch one’s enemy.” Will stretched out on the grass beside Josette, propped back on his elbows. “You’d know when your attackers gave up on the siege and retreated, or you could round up loyal clans and come upon them from behind.”

  Lillias peered out of the hole, Mysie behind her. “At least we know we can escape. I’m going back. Work to be done.”

  She gave Josette and Will a disapproving look before disappearing into the dark. The other ladies must have decided to go with her, because none tried to emerge.

  Josette had no desire to immediately return to the drudgery of cooking and cleaning. She’d done that enough in her life to enjoy a reprieve when she had one.

  When she’d been a celebrated artist’s model in Paris, she’d dressed in finery and done no drudging at all. In her boarding house in London, she’d hired servants, though she’d assisted with plenty of the work. But that had been different—she’d labored but she’d had tenants and income, the results of running a good business.

  Now she was back to drudging, eking out survival in this place while they sought the impossible. She might never have come but for that knock on the door in the middle of the night, a message that had chilled her to the bone.

  Glenna, who thought of this only as a fine adventure, wandered the hillside. “If the men of the castle were so clever to have this escape route,” she asked Will. “Why’s it a ruin? Why didn’t they round up an army and return to save it?”

  Will laced his hands behind his head and studied the cloud-strewn sky. “Now that’s an interesting tale. Strathy was abandoned only recently, about thirty years ago. The laird of this land threw in with the wrong side of the uprising in 1719 that destroyed Eilean Donan Castle—the English blew up a huge pile of gunpowder stashed there—and ended at the battle of Glen Shiel. The laird of Strathy got himself killed, his men outlawed, his castle left derelict. I suppose this ruin is left as a lesson—though probably it’s empty because the land around here is hard for farming, and even for running cattle.”

  Glenna sat down, arms around her slim knees, leaving the dog to wander on her own.

  “Are Highlanders always so rebellious?” she asked Will. “How long before you have another uprising?”

  “There won’t be any more, I’m thinking,” Will said. “World’s changing. More Scots are finding out there are places beyond our glens and fields, more money in banking or trading or scientific discoveries than in trying to raise crops in the rocky hills. But I don’t think Highlanders will be kept down forever. ’Tis in our nature to fight. We don’t like others telling us what to do with our lands, our people. One day we’ll throw the English out and go back to fighting amongst ourselves, which is what we do best.”

  A breeze fluttered Will’s plaids against the brown green heather, making him look like an ancient clansman taking his ease before running off to another battle.

  “How do you know so much?” Glenna asked. “All about the uprisings and the battles at castles? Were you there?”

  Will gave her a startled glance then relaxed into a laugh. “I know I’m ancient to ye, lass, but I’m not that ancient. What happened at Eilean Donan Castle and Glen Shiel took place when I was a wee lad. But I listen to the tales, talk to people. And …” He let his eyes go wide. “I read things. Sometimes a whole book.”

  Glenna wrinkled her nose at his teasing. She sprang to her feet, restless, and wandered off again, Beitris at her side.

  Josette rested her cheek on her arm as she regarded Will, his dark red hair stirred by the wind. “Books, eh? You really have read Sir Isaac Newton and all?”

  “His Principea?” Will nodded. “Every word. He goes on a bit, but it’s interesting. And Galileo. Same thing.” He sat up, pushing his hair from his eyes. “Makes me glad I live in these times, even with the brutal soldiers chasing us. Did ye know, in Galileo’s day, you could be tortured and burned alive just for saying the earth goes around the sun?”
He huffed a laugh. “The Inquisition forced Galileo to state that his ideas were simple mathematical pleasantries, not meant to be taken seriously. At least now we’re only persecuted if we don’t kiss the right king’s boots, instead of for movements in the heavens we can’t do anything about. If God wants the earth to race around the sun, I figure that’s His business.”

  Josette lost herself in his voice. It had been a long time since she’d heard his baritone rumble, words washing over her as he whispered to her in the night.

  Will could talk—about anything and everything. He’d ramble here and there, dredging up stories about old Scotland, then tell her bits of gossip about the King of France, or go on about the history of Chinese porcelain.

  He carried so much in his head, Josette marveled. Will had told her once he couldn’t help himself—he learned a thing and he remembered it forever. Crowded up there, he’d say, tapping his forehead, which was why he had to let it out in long streams of speech.

  Josette didn’t mind. She lay back, letting his words wash over her. No matter the dire circumstances that had brought the two of them together again, she blessed the Lord she could be with him again, and listen to his chatter while touched by his warmth.

  * * *

  Will and Josette, with Glenna and Beitris, returned to the castle to find the ladies cooking and Bhreac not yet returned. Will left Josette in the kitchen and returned to studying the maps, ideas niggling at him.

  The problem with Josette being here was that Will had difficulty concentrating when she was near. Even now as he examined the map, the memory of kissing her on the battlement, her hands seeking, kept intruding. That and lying with her on the grass in the sunshine, as though they had all the time in the world to talk, to laugh, to become reacquainted in all ways.

  If Lillias hadn’t interrupted them on the wall, Josette might have let her hands wander more, finding Will hard and hot for her. They’d shared passionate moments in awkward spaces before, touch working wonders.

  Damn. Will forced himself to focus on the map again. Something had caught his eye—a place, a name. He leaned down, shutting out the stone walls, the chill, the voices and laughter of the women below.

  It would come to him. Will’s memory lost little, but sometimes it took a moment for him to pull a thought from the depths. Focusing on one object, letting the rest of the world go dark, helped.

  Ah … perhaps …

  Josette rushed into the room. “He’s back. Will, Mr. Douglas has come back. And he says he has news.”

  Her scent, her voice, her presence, swept over Will and broke his concentration once more.

  He sighed, marked the place on the map with a stone, and straightened. “We’d best go see what it is, then.”

  Chapter 7

  Bhreac had gone straight to the kitchen and was seated at the table by the time Will and Josette reached it, spooning hot soup into his mouth. He seemed not at all surprised to be watched by more than half a dozen women, from which Will concluded he’d seen them or discerned them no matter how they’d hidden when he’d first arrived.

  While he’d been gone, they’d decided they couldn’t very well keep the presence of the ladies from him, but they could be careful what they told him.

  “Wind’s turned bitter,” he said by way of greeting. His face was red and chapped, and his hands, now free of gloves, were a bit blue.

  A large canvas sack lay open on the work table, Mysie unpacking it. She brought out two small casks and more sacks, which she peered into with satisfaction.

  “Broach the whisky, love,” Bhreac said. “Just the thing.”

  Mysie handed one cask to another woman and put the second under her arm. “Nay. When men begin the drinking, nothing useful gets done. You’ll have them when the day is over.”

  Bhreac looked aggrieved. “Bloody hell, Will. Are ye going to let them get away with that?”

  Will hid his amusement. “I’m here on their sufferance, so yes. Josette said you had news?”

  Bhreac nodded. The women, including Josette, pretended to carry on with tasks, but they watched and listened.

  “There’s a few ships in Loch Broom, and they have plenty of guns. Not sure why the Royal Navy feels it necessary to patrol near Ullapool, but they’re there. Villagers ’round about are not happy, but so far, the ships are hovering off the coast, not doing much of anything.”

  “Looking for someone?”

  Bhreac shrugged. “Mayhap. But it can’t be you—you’re dead.”

  Probably couldn’t be Will, but he kept this to himself. “I’m not the only Highlander that’s a thorn in their side.”

  Josette sent him a worried look. How could they search for the gold with naval ships prowling? Will wanted to reassure her that he had another destination in mind, but he didn’t want to reveal too much in front of Bhreac.

  “’Tis good knowledge to have,” Will said. “I thank ye.”

  “Are ye going to tell me now why you’ve gathered so many women about you?” Bhreac grinned, but curiosity flickered in his eyes.

  “Can ye picture me in any other circumstance but surrounded by beautiful women?” Will asked with a serious expression.

  Lillias scoffed, and a few others rolled their eyes.

  Bhreac, finished with his soup, pushed his bowl away. “I’d say they barely put up with you. But it’s all right. Ye don’t have to tell me. That way I can’t reveal any secrets.”

  Will leaned against the table and folded his arms in an unworried stance. He knew Bhreac felt the tension in the room, and Bhreac knew that Will knew he did. They’d danced around each other a long time.

  The money the French had sent to help the Jacobite cause hadn’t been a few caskets of coins. It had been enough to fund an army through a winter. The fact that such a huge sum had simply vanished was deeply suspicious.

  And now Bhreac had turned up out of nowhere, worming his way into the castle in his good-natured way. Even more suspicious.

  “I’m teaching them how to eke out a living,” Will said. “Soldiers forced them out of their homes, and they had nowhere to go. What I’d like is to convince them to take what they can and go to the Continent, but you know what Highlanders are like about Scotland.”

  “Aye, Borderlanders are much the same.” Bhreac scraped back his stool and stood up. “Well, I won’t press ye. But know this, Will. If ye need me, I’m here to help. I promise you.”

  The look he gave Will held nothing but guileless interest. Will returned the look with one as ingenuous, and Bhreac grinned.

  He left the room, saying he’d find himself a chamber out of the way and sleep. The merry tune he whistled drifted after him.

  Beitris raised her head and watched him go, then lay back down with a grunt. She’d found a warm place by the fire, and had already learned that her mournful brown gaze would quickly send a scrap her way.

  Will surveyed the eight Highland women who gazed back at him without fear. They’d come from all corners and clans—besides Lillias and Mysie, there were two Campbells, a lady who’d married into a branch of the Mackenzies, a Sinclair, and two MacLeods. Their men had fought and had been captured for a lost dream.

  If any deserved that French gold, it was these lasses.

  Will gave them a bow, an acknowledgment of their courage and determination. He’d retrieve that gold for them, and they’d all live to tell the tale. He swore it on his blood.

  * * *

  “You’ve decided to help.” Josette found Will in the map room not long later, as she thought she might.

  He glanced over his shoulder as she entered. “I’ve said so.”

  “I know you said. But now you’ve decided. Before, you’d planned to play your own game.”

  “Ah, she knows me so well,” Will said to the wall above the table. “Frightening, that.”

  Josette let out a breath. “Well, I’m glad you’ve come to see it our way.”

  “What do you want the gold for, Josette?” He turned to face her in
one of his quick moves, his golden gaze searching.

  “To take Glenna back to France,” she said quickly. “To live in a cottage with a garden and be done with drudgery.”

  Not a lie. Josette did plan to do so when it was all over. She’d seek a place no one could find them or threaten them ever again.

  Will studied her, looking for truth. Well, he’d find it soon enough. Will Mackenzie was the best man she knew. And yet, she’d leave him behind to save Glenna. He understood that, and didn’t hold it against her.

  He turned away as though they hadn’t had a mute argument and resolution.

  “I have an idea where to start looking for the gold,” he said. “You won’t like it, but it’s worth a try.”

  Josette came to the table and leaned to look where he pointed, trying not to enjoy the warmth of him so close.

  She’d feared he’d be determined to go to Kilmorgan, no matter what, but he indicated a patch of land on the western coast. It lay across a loch from the Isle of Skye, very near the castle of Eilean Donan he’d told her about earlier today. Josette wondered if this was why he’d related the tale.

  “What is there?” she asked.

  “The estate of an Englishman who hates Scotland. Sir Harmon Bentley. He made a pile of money in the Caribbean and settled here to enjoy his gains. Was an MP and then in the Cabinet, and English to the bone. He surrounds himself with gentlemen he entices to fish on his wild Scottish estate, and ships in every bit of luxury he can.”

  Josette gazed at the innocuous spot. “Why would such a man need the French gold? Or know where it is?”

  “He’s a fraud,” Will said. “He spends lavishly, but he’s chosen this remote area because creditors in London stay home and go after easier prey. If he thought a shipload of gold was somewhere in the Highlands, he’d make it his business to know where it was and try to get his hands on it. Even if he doesn’t have it, he might know where it’s likely to be.”