For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (27 page)
Read For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 Online
Authors: Jennifer Hudson Taylor
The next day Da took himself off saying he intended to visit Hugh and speak to him man to man. He returned in a somber mood, saying no more about Hugh. Tyra had questioned her mother, but her father had told her nothing and refused to speak about the matter. Tyra knew she would have to confront him sooner or later, but she dreaded it. For years, she had longed for her father and brothers to return home and the war to be over, and now that her prayers were finally answered, this rift between them ripped her heart to shreds.
Christmas morning she woke with a heavy heart and stared outside her window at the rising sun sparkling on the surface of the frostbitten grass and bare tree limbs. A year ago, her family had feasted together—all of them—but this year Scott would not be among them. Now it appeared Hugh would not be with them either. She took a deep breath and dressed in her dark green gown, a new gown her father had a seamstress from town to make for her. Tyra twisted her hair up in a couple of combs upon the crown of her head.
She had made up her mind. Since her father refused to accept Hugh, she would spend this last Christmas with her family and then she intended to elope with Hugh if he would still have her. Hugh was an honorable man. If her father had forbidden him from seeing her, he would stay away in order to do the right thing. It would be up to her to go to him. She had to try.
By the time she arrived downstairs, her mother was already in the kitchen cooking. Tyra went in and pulled an apron off the peg and tied it around her. “What can I do to help?” she asked.
“Ye can stop moping around,” Mama said, punching a fist in a ball of dough. “I do not like seeing ye so unhappy, lass.”
“I am sorry, and since it is Christmas, I will try to make an extra effort to be happy today.”
“Ye make happiness sound like a burden.” Mama glanced at her with a lift of her blond eyebrow. “I realize ye’re disappointed in yer Da, but we are so blessed to have him and yer brothers home—especially at Christmas.”
As they worked on the Christmas feast over the next hour, Alec and Callum joined them, while Kirk and Da went on an errand. Tyra wasn’t fooled. The two of them were looking for opportunities to sneak a bite here and there and it made her love them all the more.
Alec’s brown eyes were still the same, but other things had changed about him. Like Kirk, he had grown taller and broader. He looked more like Callum than before. Their dark hair was now the same brown shade and they wore it at a similar length. Scott was the only one who had favored their mother with blond hair and blue eyes. It felt like a hole would forever be in her heart each time he crossed her mind. She gulped and tried to turn her thoughts in a different direction.
The front door swung open and Kirk called to them. “Alec and Callum, come help us!”
“What is going on?” Tyra looked over at her mother who looked up with the same surprise Tyra felt. Mama shrugged as she wiped her hands on her apron and followed her sons out the kitchen and down the hall. Tyra sighed and followed her, the last to step out onto the porch.
Her father and brothers were helping Hugh unload a carved dining table. She gasped in joyous surprise. “Hugh, what are you doing here?”
“What? Do you not want me here?” He glanced up at her with a grin as he jumped down from the wagon beside Callum and they both lifted a corner of the table.
“Of course I do, but I have not heard from you in over a week.” She crossed her arms and walked to the edge of the porch, refraining from the urge to demand an explanation in front of her family.
“I invited him here,” Da said, carrying his corner of the table to the end of the wagon bed. “The two of us have talked, and we have come to an understanding when I visited him last week.”
“Where did this beautiful oak table come from?” Mama asked.
“’Tis a Christmas gift from me,” Hugh said. “I thought your family could use it for your Christmas feast since the other one was destroyed.” He glanced over at Tyra and winked. “I had to go all the way to Campbellton to get it. ’Tis why you have not heard from me.”
“What understanding? Da, did you know about this table?” she asked, unable to stop the grin lurking at the corners of her mouth.
“Not about the table.” Da shook his head and grunted as they hoisted the table up and climbed the porch steps. They paused on the porch landing. “I merely grew tired of watching ye mope around the house as if yer life was at an end, so Kirk and I left this morn to collect Captain Morgan.”
“Tyra, would you stop distracting him so we can get this inside?” Alec gave her an irritated look as he rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head.
The men lifted the table and angled it sideways to carry it across the threshold. Once they were through, Mama raced inside to check on the food. With a little more maneuvering, they managed to set it down in the same place where the other one used to be.
“Now we need to bring in the chairs.” Kirk waved his brothers outside. They all filed out the door again.
Her father stayed inside, no doubt, to chaperone her and Hugh. The two men stood in silence until Tyra grew uncomfortable. She moved closer to Hugh and grabbed his arm. “Da when you went to visit Hugh and speak to him, you gave the impression you intended to forbid him to marry me.”
“I did.” He nodded and crossed his arms as he set his chin at a stubborn angle.
“Did Hugh say or do something to displease you?” she asked.
“He did not.” He shook his head.
“Did he explain to you why he enlisted in the British Army and why he changed his mind and joined the Patriot cause?” she asked, trying to understand what was happening with her father.
“He did.”
“Well, could you not understand why he enlisted in the British Army hoping to improve his station and circumstances in life? Surely, as a poor lad in Scotland, you could identify with his reasons. And as a man of principle, you can also understand why he came to the colonies, saw a different way of life, one of opportunity and freedom.”
“I know, Tyra.” He scratched his gray temple and looked down at the floor as if to escape her scrutinizing gaze. As her brothers carried in the chairs, he turned toward them. “Kirk, would you tell your mother I would like her presence in the dining room?”
Her brothers set all the chairs at the table and stood back as if waiting to see what would happen next. Her mother arrived and joined her father’s side. He looked at Tyra and then at Hugh. “I have thought about my conduct upon hearing of yer engagement. I have considered everyone’s point of view, especially yer mother’s.” Da stopped to glance at Mama and gave her a charming grin. “I have prayed long and hard ’bout this. I realized after being away at war for six years, I feel as if I missed seeing ye grow up, lass. Ye were twelve when I left and now yer ten and eight.” Tears filled his eyes, and he paused to collect his emotions as his nose turned red. “Tyra, ye grew up without me, and my visits were so few and short during that time. I was not expecting to come home and lose ye just when I had gotten ye back.”
“Da, you will not be losing me. I promise.” Tears sprang to Tyra’s eyes. It was rare to see her father cry, and this was not what she expected. His temper was something she had anticipated, not an emotional explanation to touch her heart like this.
“My Christmas gift to ye both is my blessing,” Da said. “Once he faced me like a man and asked for yer hand in marriage, I knew what the right answer should be.”
Her brothers cheered and roared with excitement. Her mother gasped and leaned over to kiss her father’s cheek. Tyra squealed with delight and turned to Hugh. He engulfed her in a warm embrace. “I love you, Tyra MacGregor,” he whispered in her ear.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
“All right, you two, that is good enough.” Her father pulled on her arm. “There will always be a chaperone with you until the day of the wedding.”
Tyra exchanged a happy grin with her husband to be. Perhaps the wedding date should be very soon!
Discussion Questions
1. Tyra MacGregor mentions that people in her church were friends she had grown up with and known all her life, but the moment the Revolutionary War broke out and the MacGregors became Continentals, they were not welcome at church. How realistic is this to modern-day church splits, human nature, and other divisions?
2. Captain Donahue Morgan thought he knew what he wanted out of life until he met Tyra and she helped him see things differently. What events or books have made you open your mind to ideas you were once closed-minded about?
3. There were several real-life events and people used in
For Love or Country
regarding the Revolutionary War. What events surprised you most? What historical myths were dispelled?
4. Tyra was put into a self-defense position of killing someone to save herself. Even though she feels like she did what she had to do, she still wrestles with guilt and fears it happening again. There were some Scriptures that comforted her, but what other biblical Scriptures could have worked as well? What would you have done in her shoes?
5. Captain Donahue Morgan came to a deciding factor when he had to choose between serving the British Army or choosing Tyra and the Continentals. Other than his love for Tyra, what other significant things impacted his decision?
6. At times Hugh didn’t agree with Major James Craig and how he abused his power, but Hugh was limited being under his command. Have you ever been under someone who consistently abused their power and authority? How did you handle it? What were some other choices that Hugh might have had?
7. The story begins at Christmas and ends a year later at Christmas, but so much has changed. How did this make you feel in the passage of time? Have you ever had your life change so drastically in only a year?
8. The MacGregors live so differently from the Tuscarora Indians, yet they were able to trust them and maintain a friendship with them through the worst. By all appearances, one would think the MacGregors had more in common with their Tory friends who betrayed them. What does this say about true friendship and trust?
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Bonus Chapter from From Love or Liberty
We hope you
enjoyed Jennifer Hudson Taylor’s
For Love or Country
, the second book in her MacGregor Legacy series. We hope you will be inspired to check out the next book of the series,
For Love or Liberty
. Here’s chapter one, which sets the stage for a romance set against the dramatic events of the War of 1812.
***
1
C
harlotte stood in the sand as waves washed over her bare feet, burying her heels and toes like an anchor holding her captive in time. The cool sea water receded from her skin leaving a mist of white foam layered with broken shells along the shore—much like the residue of the broken pieces of her life.
Her grieving heart threatened to succumb to the pain engulfing her, but the glistening colors of the scattered shells across the wet sand painted a brilliant scene of hope. If she could still see something beautiful through the dark clouds residing in her heart, it was a tiny reminder that the Lord had not forsaken her. Even though Emily was gone, her twin sister had left behind two precious children for her to love and help raise. She clung to that thought with resolve, especially since it was Emily’s last request of her.
Charlotte covered her heavy chest with a trembling hand and released the aching sob she had held throughout the funeral. Here . . . alone . . . with the wide ocean as comfort, she could finally let out the pain. She wept until her empty stomach rolled and tears choked her. Charlotte’s eyes and nose swelled and breathing grew difficult as the inside of her head swirled like a monsoon attacking her brain.
Charlotte lost track of time and dropped to her knees. Oncoming waves swept her black gown into a floating parasol around her legs. The sound of the rolling ocean managed to console her as she lifted her face to the warm sun. From her earliest memories, the sea had always comforted her in times of distress.
An aggressive wave tumbled over Charlotte, knocking her off balance and onto her side. Her head plunged under and her eyes burned from the saltwater. Once the wave passed, Charlotte sputtered and gasped for air, rubbing at her eyes.
“Charlotte! What are you doing?” A man’s voice carried through the breeze and over the splashing waves.
She groaned at the idea of Conrad Deaton finding her in such a predicament. Why did he always have the habit of catching her at her worst? Ignoring the broken shells beneath her feet, Charlotte scrambled to regain her balance before he reached her. She winced as a sharp edge sliced through the bottom of her heel. She grabbed her foot as another wave slammed her under a second time. Charlotte splashed her arms and legs, determined to land on her feet before the next wave hit.
Strong hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the water. Charlotte gasped as cold air hit her wet skin and she could breathe again. Propelled against the warmth of a solid chest with a fast beating heart, she clutched at his shirt.
“What are you trying to do? Drown yourself?” Conrad asked, his voice like a commanding officer.
Well, she wasn’t one of his sailors to be commanded. Charlotte pushed against him and kicked in an attempt to be free. A lock of sandy brown hair fell across his forehead as he gripped her tight and grinned. His mustache moved with his mouth, revealing a row of healthy teeth in spite of his time commanding
The Victorious
at sea. His hazel eyes lit in challenge, and a hint of his boyish freckles peeked across his nose in the bright sun. Something in her chest skipped with light-hearted joy at seeing him in a different light, but she swallowed back the temptation to let down her guard. This was Conrad, the man who had tried to sabotage his brother’s courtship with her sister and would have succeeded had it not been for her wise intervention in distracting him.
Everyone saw him as a sea loving adventurer who lived for the thrill of exciting heroism, but she knew him for what he was. Captain Conrad Deaton was a man bent on destroying true love because he could never give up his beloved freedom and adventures at sea. Marriage imprisoned men with responsibilities and trials. He had begged his brother to avoid it. Charlotte feared that while the rest of them grieved, he secretly viewed her sister’s death as a way out for his younger brother, David.
He had shed his Navy coat and wore a white buttoned shirt with blooming sleeves, navy pants, and black boots that sloshed in the water and crunched seashells beneath his heels. Conrad smelled of leather and musk from a fresh shave and bath, having made a special attempt to look his best for her sister’s funeral that morning. Charlotte closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. It had an unexpected calming effect on her. She rested her aching head against him, knowing her struggles would be futile against his strength.
“I realize you are grieving for your sister, but I am NOT about to sit back and watch you drown yourself over it.” Conrad clenched his jaw as he tightened his hold on her and concentrated on a targeted spot in the sand. “Do you not think the family has been through enough these last few days?”
“It is true that I am deeply grieved over the loss of my sister, but contrary to your belief, I was not about to drown myself.” Charlotte sighed in exasperation and shook her head. “I only needed a moment alone, to grieve freely without anyone watching and waiting for me to fall apart. Besides, I would never think of relieving you of my presence so easily. Whether you like it or not, I made a promise to help raise our niece and nephew, and I aim to do it.”
Conrad blew out a deep breath as he set her down on a mound of dry sand near his discarded coat. The rank of captain displayed in bold yellow threads on the shoulders. He settled beside her, propping his knees up and linking his hands between them. Conrad gave her a sideways glance, a look of determination crossing his expression. “Likewise, my dear, I am afraid you will have to put up with me as well. I have no intention of neglecting my brother in his time of need. I, too, intend to be part of my niece and nephew’s life.”
“We shall see about that.” She shrugged and looked away, wiping wet strands of hair from her eyes. “I doubt you could stay in one place long enough to be much of an influence on anyone.” Charlotte lifted her hand and gestured to the ocean. “The sea will call you back before little Davie turns six and Ashlynn is a year old.”
“Actually, the Navy has already tried to lure me away. I received word yesterday that I am being transferred to the war on the Great Lakes. They need a captain to command one of their new ships on Lake Erie. I shall be stationed in Cleaveland.” He leaned closer, brushing her hair down the side of her face and behind her ear. “I suppose you shall get your wish. You shall be rid of me within the fortnight.”
“What happened to not abandoning your brother in his time of need?” Charlotte jerked away from his touch, glaring at him with contempt.
“Which is why I requested David to be transferred under my command, so I can look out for him. Do not be so quick to judge me.” He reached for her again, but she slapped his hand away and scooted out of reach. Charlotte dug her palms into the thick sand for leverage and pushed her wet body to her feet.
“You would have him abandon his children after only a few days of losing their mother?” Her voice rose as the waves crashed behind her. She shoved her fists on her hips and stared down at him in disbelief. “You are insufferable!”
“There you go again, assuming the worst about me.” He pointed at her as he stood. Conrad frowned and turned to wipe the sand from his backside. “We are taking the children with us. Your father has agreed to help us find a nursemaid for Ashlynn. I am not as insensitive and uncaring you like to think.”
“Indeed you are.” She stepped closer, ignoring the ache in her neck from staring up at him. “My sister knew what she was doing in asking me to help raise her children. She knew David would be too weak to deal with the likes of you and your meddling.” She poked his chest. “You will not take those children across the country in this war.”
“No, their father is and there is naught you can do about it.” He crossed his arms.
“We shall see about that.” She turned on her heel and stomped through the sand.
***
Conrad groaned as Charlotte rushed from him. He bent to retrieve his coat and realized a trail of red stains followed her footprints in the sand. Was it blood? Concerned, he ran after her.
“Charlotte, wait!” He caught up to her, grabbing her arm. “Your foot is bleeding.”
“Let go of me!” She jerked away and stumbled. Wincing, she reached for her heel. “I shall be fine.”
“Not if you get sand in the wound and end up with an infection.” Conrad reached for her again, but she averted him. Tired of arguing with her, he strode after Charlotte and gathered her around the waist. He ignored her surprised gasp and lifted her up, tossing her over his shoulder. “I will not have the family blaming me for allowing you to be so foolish.”
“Oh, so I am another one of your heroic deeds, am I?” She beat upon his back. “Put me down. You have no right.”
Conrad pivoted around and carried her back to the sea. Charlotte continued to hurl insults at him, but he paid her no heed. He waded into the water at a foot deep and bent to one knee. Maneuvering Charlotte from his shoulder and settling her on his bent knee, Conrad dipped her injured foot into the water to wash off the gritty wound.
She stopped her complaints long enough to bite her bottom lip in obvious discomfort. It was all the confirmation he needed to know he had done the right thing. The blood washed away, and he could see a half circle cut, but it wasn’t too deep. If she would stay off it a couple of days, stitches wouldn’t be necessary nor would she risk an infection.
“At least this nasty gash is on your heel and not the tender part of your foot.” Unable to resist, Conrad lightly trailed a fingertip along the inside of her foot, tickling her. She kicked in reaction and jerked back with enough force to send him on his backside. With a chuckle, Conrad managed to keep her in his grasp and took the full brunt of the fall. His breeches were thick enough to protect his flesh from the shells, but not enough to keep from bruising his hide.
“That is completely inappropriate,” she said, her green eyes blazing like fire. Charlotte’s pink lips twisted into a frown, and her wet blond hair tangled around her face and shoulders. Even now she looked beautiful in spite of her disheveled state. The fact that she glared at him as if she wished she had a pitchfork in her hand did not even discourage him in the least.
Another wave rushed at them. Conrad gathered her tight in his arms and stood to his feet in time to avoid it. Breathing a sigh of relief, he glanced down at her. “We had better get you back, but I must say, I have quite enjoyed the fun.” A grin tugged at his mouth. He could never resist teasing her. She made the temptation too enjoyable.
“Fun . . . indeed.” She turned and motioned to an object lying in the sand. “Do not forget my slippers.”
“Would never think of it.” Conrad carried her over to them. “Step down on your good foot and I shall retrieve them for you.”
For once she obeyed, leaning on his arm for support as he bent to grab her brown slippers. He dumped out sand that had blown into them. She couldn’t put them back on and risk getting sand in the wound. He held them out and met her gaze. She grinned. “You could rinse the sand out of them and then I could wear them again.”
“And I could just carry you.”
“All the way back to the house?” She lifted a golden eyebrow, her expression suggested he had gone daft.
“No, back to my horse.” He bent and swept her up before she could protest. “Your mother asked me to find you. She was worried since you disappeared right after we arrived home from your sister’s funeral. The longer it takes me to get you back, the longer she will continue to worry.”
At the mention of the funeral, Charlotte’s expression fell into a pensive frown. “I have been thinking, it would have been harder if Emma had not already married your brother and moved from home.” Charlotte surprised him by lying her head against his shoulder. “Now I am used to having my own chamber and being alone. Still, the aching pain lingers and deepens.”
“I know we have had our differences, but I am sorry you are going through this.” Conrad wanted to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure if she would allow it. Instead, he kept silent as he carried her to where he had left his horse tethered to a nearby tree. Once he settled her in the saddle, he took the reins and mounted up behind her. Now that they were away from the water, the humid heat made his lungs feel like they were suffocating, and the discomfort of his wet clothes and soggy boots scratched at his skin.
Conrad smelled the salty sea in her wet hair brushing against his chin. His arms pressed against hers as he guided the reins. Rather than increasing his discomfort, having her near brought a measure of satisfaction he had not anticipated. He wondered if she felt the same. Was it a bond between them or attraction? Charlotte had a way of confusing him like no other, but she also infuriated him quicker than anyone. He used to think his brother had that distinctive honor, and then he had met Charlotte.
They arrived at the two-story brick home half an hour later. As he rode up to the front porch, Charlotte sighed. “Now we will have to explain why we look so disheveled.”
“Do not worry, I am sure they are used to it by now. Since the day my brother and I met you and your sister six years ago, you have been headstrong and in constant trouble.” He didn’t say it, but he had always thought that Emma was her voice of reason, keeping Charlotte from straying too far. With the passing of her twin, he feared Charlotte’s behavior would stretch beyond the limits of what was considered proper. Her grief alone could launch her in any direction. The way the family watched her, and the comments they made, told him he wasn’t alone in his concern.
The front door opened and her mother rushed out wringing her hands and worry in her wrinkled brow. She was tall for a woman. He guessed nearly six feet, but she remained thin and healthy for one nearing fifty. Her hair was swept up on her head in a mixture of red and gray locks. She wore a black gown, but had removed the black hat she had worn to the funeral.
Conrad helped Charlotte dismount as her father and brothers followed her mother out onto the porch with marked concern on their stern faces. A moment later her brothers’ wives and children appeared, flanking around them and shielding their eyes from the sun.
“Charlotte, you have been worrying your mother—today of all days.” Her father crossed his arms and shook his gray head in disappointment. He stroked his full beard in thought as if pondering how best to handle the situation. He wore a black suit and his gray eyes flickered as he assessed their rumpled attire and wayward hair. Unsure of how Captain Donahue Morgan would react, Conrad remained silent. Charlotte leaned into him, as if seeking his support to face them all. He swept her into his arms and carried her to toward the house.
