For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (14 page)

Malcolm savored the feel of Lauren in his arms as he carried her back toward an inn with a tavern he had seen earlier. This one didn’t reek as much as the others near the docks. It appeared to be kept in better condition, and the people were less offensive.

“Where did ye get the horse?” Lauren asked.

“I ran into Logan and Deidra after I met the woman who purchased yer red cloak. He had already bought a horse and was more than willing to let me borrow it when they learned what happened to ye.”

“They are such loyal friends. Will they be staying where we are going?” Lauren asked over her shoulder.

“Aye, ye shall be sharing a chamber with Deidra this night. Logan and I will find a comfortable spot under the stars.”

“Why can ye not stay in a room as well?” Concern laced her voice. “The two of ye can share it and the expense.”

“We are already doing that with yer chamber, lass.” He squeezed her in a tight hug. “Do not worry. I am told the April weather is rather mild ’round here.”

“So it is.” Lauren covered his hand with hers. He closed his eyes feeling blessed to be the object of her favor, even if only for the moment. “Thank ye for coming after me.”

“He did not hurt ye, did he?” Malcolm asked.

“Nay, but I did not want to go with him. I belong here, wherever ye are,” she said.

“Do ye mean that, lass?” He leaned close to her ear. The scent of the sea mixed with straw drifted to his nose. She fascinated him, and he loved everything about her. He would have done much more to get her back. Was she right? Did she really belong here with him? Or would she be better off at home in Kilchurn Manor where she had every luxury and comfort—food in abundance, beautiful gowns, servants who catered to her. What could he offer her? Very little.

When he dreamed of Lauren Campbell at his side, he dreamed of the impossible. She deserved better, and he wouldn’t be that selfish—he couldn’t—not if he truly loved her. To his dismay, he did love her. He knew it now, as sure as he knew that dusk would soon come and the moon would shine with the stars.

“Aye, I mean it, Malcolm. I have never felt more safe than when ye’re by my side.” Lauren’s tone grew pensive as she dropped her head and looked down. “Not even my own da ever made me feel so secure. He protected me, but he did it in a way to make me feel like property—a possession to claim and keep. Ye take pains to make sure I am comfortable and oft ask me what I prefer as if I matter.”

“I care, lass. Make no mistake ’bout that.” Malcolm wrapped his arms tightly around her. He dropped his chin upon the soft strands of her hair, wishing he could run his fingers through it. A deep ache rooted in his chest. In her mind, the recent comforts she had given up were temporary. Soon she would write her father, and Malcolm would have to let her go.

They came upon a two-story building with faint candlelight in the windows. Malcolm pulled the horse to a stop and tied him to a nearby post. The sun now lowered below the trees, and dusk had finally come upon them. He intended to see Lauren settled before tending to the horse.

Lauren yawned as she leaned down and laid her hands upon his shoulders for balance. Malcolm lifted her and settled Lauren on her feet. She wavered as if gaining her boundaries and then smiled with satisfaction. “I am still getting used to my legs on solid ground.”

“Me too.” He took her arm and led her toward the door. “Are ye hungry, lass?”

“Aye.” She nodded, rubbing at her wrists. “And verra thirsty. The water on the ship had become stale.”

After almost losing her, he loathed the idea of letting her out of his sight. At least she and Deidra would be safe for the night, and tomorrow he would inquire about renting a more permanent room.

Malcolm swung the right side of the double doors open. Conversation and laughter erupted. The smell of liquor and baking bread drifted toward them. They stood in a small foyer with a brass candle chandelier hanging above them. An archway to the left led into the dining area. A wood counter faced the archway, beside a set of stairs along the corridor wall. His stomach rumbled as he led her toward the dining hall.

Dim lanterns hung on each side of the wall, casting the room in moving shadows. It had twelve tables of varying sizes occupied by patrons—mostly men enjoying a hearty meal and a few mugs of whiskey. He tightened his grip on Lauren’s elbow, determined to protect her if need be. A bonny lass as beautiful as Lauren could prove too much of a temptation for a man deep in his cups.

Rather than be irritated by his possessive manner, Lauren drew close as if sensing the danger. She scanned the room, her expression drawing into a disappointed frown. “There is not an empty table to be found.”

“Malcolm!” Logan’s voice boomed behind them.

He whirled to see Logan and Deidra waving at them from a corner table.

“Thank God ye found her, Malcolm.” Deidra bounced from her chair and hurried to them, holding out her hands to Lauren. She released Malcolm’s arm to greet her friend. Deidra turned Lauren’s hands over and gasped. “What did they do to yer wrists?”

“He bound me with a rope. Malcolm found me just in time.” Lauren sat beside her. “No telling where I might have ended up.”

“What will ye do now, Malcolm? How will ye get yer mither an’ sister back?” Logan asked, tipping his mug and taking a long swallow.

“I do not know, but I shan’t be askin’ Lauren to pay the way by replacing my mither or Carleen.” He covered her hand with his and offered an encouraging smile. “But first, I will have to find them. On the morrow, I plan to visit the courthouse to ask about indentured servants auctioned in the past couple of months.”

“Seems like a good plan.” Logan nodded, pushing his empty mug aside. “A wee bit ago, a mon told me ’bout a nearby mill lookin’ for loggers an’ saw cutters. When I go see them for a job, ye want me to ask if they have an open position for ye as well?”

“Aye,” Malcolm said. “The sooner I have a steady income, I shall be able to purchase proper boarding rooms for Lauren and me. Eventually, I hope to rent a house large enough for all of us after I find Mither an’ Carleen.”

“Och, mon!” Logan leaned forward. “I know ye wanna do right by Lauren an’ all but think on the cost of two rooms. Ye’ll never be able to save up enough to buy both indentures for yer mither an’ sister.” He lowered his voice. “Ye could share a room if ye wed ’er.”

Malcolm blinked and stared at his friend as if he had lost his mind. If truth be told, he rather liked the idea, but he didn’t deserve her nor would she have him. She gasped, and judging by the shocked expression on her face, he had his proof.

“Do not look at me like that. Anyone can see plain as day ye’re taken with ’er.” Logan gestured to Lauren. “An’ the way she looks at ye is just as tellin’.”

“Logan, stop it,” Deidra said. “Ye’re embarrassing them.” Deidra slapped at her brother’s arm, but the grin on her face and the rosy blush to her cheeks showed she shared his opinion. Malcolm wondered if they had even discussed the matter among themselves.

“That will not be necessary.” Lauren’s firm voice carried above the conversations around them as well as the clinks of forks against plates and spoons upon soup bowls. “I intend to find a suitable job and will support myself. Malcolm is not responsible for me.” She shook her head, her face darkening in color as she pressed her palms flat against the wooden table. “Besides, I would never dream of trapping Malcolm or myself in a marriage of convenience. We are in the colonies now, where I am told things are quite different.”

Chapter 9

9

L
a
uren woke at dawn. Deidra washed in the basin and donned her day clothes. A small candle burned on the dresser, affording a bit of light. Deidra stood before the looking glass in the corner by the fireplace, twisting her body to the side. She wore a simple emerald green gown she had been saving for such an occasion.

“Ye look lovely,” Lauren said, her voice cracking with sleep. She rubbed her eyes and brushed her wayward hair from her face.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to wake ye.” Deidra whirled. “How do ye feel?”

“Much better. Thank ye for letting me stay here.” She glanced between their two narrow beds and noticed that Deidra had already made hers.

“ ’Tis naught.” She waved a hand in the air and placed a white cap upon her head, adjusting it over the bun in which she had swept her red hair. “Besides, Malcolm paid Logan for yer share and ’tis as much yers as mine.” She sighed, patting her head. “This will have to do. I hope I look presentable enough to secure a position.”

“No doubt about it.” Lauren flipped the covers to the side and swung her legs over the edge until her bare feet hit the cool wooden floor. “I, on the other hand, am another matter. I have no references nor have I ever been in the employ of another.” Lauren stood and glanced at her discarded gown draped over a chair. “Not to mention I own one gown in dire need of a washing. Oh, what I would give for a few things from my wardrobe at home.”

“Ye plan to write yer father today?” Deidra raised an eyebrow as she walked to the door.

“Mayhap later.” She shrugged. “Right now, I intend to help Malcolm find his mither and sister. Even if I mail a letter today, ’twill take several weeks for him to receive it, and several more to act on my behalf. In the meantime, I must find myself a job so I do not become a further burden to Malcolm.” Lauren didn’t share her worries over what her father might do to Malcolm. He would consider Malcolm’s actions a grave insult and would never admit his own behavior had led Malcolm to react the way he had.

She had no idea how extensive her father’s connections were. Could he know people as far away as here in the colonies? If so, Malcolm could still be in danger. She longed to protect him and delay her correspondence, but she couldn’t delay long. She needed to let her father know how she fared, if only for Blair’s sake.

“I shall see ye this evening.” Deidra closed the door behind her, and Lauren launched into action. She wanted to be ready when Malcolm arrived.

An hour later, Malcolm escorted Lauren down Meeting Street where a two-story building stood on the corner. A balcony overlooked three archways at the entrance. The lobby echoed every footstep, voice, and clink of a cane. An elegant staircase led to the balcony on the next level. Lauren stared in amazement. People back home would not believe how robust Charles Towne proved to be.

“All parties attending the court case of the Willie Blade trial, come this way to room C8.” A man waved people toward him. He wore a dark blue vest over a white shirt with gray trousers and hose. His white wig was neat and fashionable with a ribbon tied at his neck.

“May I help you?” Lauren and Malcolm turned to see another man with a white wig peering at them over a pair of spectacles. He sat at a large wooden desk with a quill in hand. A thick book lay open where he wrote.

“I want to know where I can find a list of auction records.” Malcolm strode toward him, tugging Lauren along. “ ’Twould be for indentured servants who arrived a few weeks ago.”

“Do you know the name of the ship?” The man rubbed his shaved chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Aye,
The Loyal Adventure
.” Hope lingered in Malcolm’s tone. Lauren glanced up at his profile and marveled at the strong contours of his face. No one else would know his eager hope unless they had the pleasure of knowing him as well as she did. He loved his family, and it showed. She admired him for it.

“Knowing the name of the ship is helpful. Give me a moment to see what I can find.” The man stood and disappeared behind a closed door.

Malcolm took a deep breath, pressed his fingers over his eyebrows, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shifted his stance in worried agitation.

Lauren’s heart filled with compassion as she laid a hand on his arm. She reached up and cupped his cheek. “We will find them.” The words sounded more certain than she felt, but it was what he needed—encouragement.

“Aye, we will, lass.” His haunted eyes met hers. The dark skin around his eyes showed his lack of sleep. “I will not rest ’til we do.” He turned and kissed her palm. His lips were warm and tender. Lauren’s hand tingled all the way up her arm, paralyzing her like a captured scene on a painting.

“Here you go.” The man returned carrying another book similar to the one he had been writing in earlier. He flipped past the middle and shoved it toward Malcolm, turning the volume around so they could see it. “These are the entries for
The
Loyal Adventure
.”

Malcolm stared at the page and squinted. She leaned up on her tiptoes and read the names over his arm. After she read the list and saw no entry for MacGregor, she waited for Malcolm to turn the page. He didn’t move.

“May we read this on the bench over there?” Lauren asked, pointing to a wooden bench by the far wall.

“Aye, ’twill be fine.” The gentleman nodded.

Malcolm marked his place and carried the volume across the lobby. He sat with a heavy sigh. “Thank ye for helping me avoid further embarrassment that I canna read.” He lowered his voice as he leaned toward her ear.

“Ye’re welcome.” Malcolm was a proud man, and he wouldn’t appreciate any pity. She looked down at the book.

He turned the page and gave her time to read more names. When Lauren didn’t see them, she shook her head and Malcolm moved on. By the time they reached the seventh page, Lauren found them. Iona MacGregor sold to the overseer of Mallard Plantation north of Charles Towne, while a man by the name of Benjamin Shore purchased Carleen.

“What is it?” Malcolm asked, gripping her wrist. “Tell me. All of it.”

“ ’Tisn’t much to tell. They have been separated, but at least now we know where they were taken.”

It took a couple of hours to reach Mallard Plantation by horseback. While Logan worked on his new job, he let Malcolm borrow his horse for the afternoon. Lauren rode behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist.

He had no idea what kind of condition he would find his mother, but at least he now knew that both she and Carleen had survived the voyage. That alone gave him hope she might prove to be healthy and well.

The horse clip-clopped along the dirt road between two plowed fields. Birds chirped and flapped above them. The sun shone bright, and Malcolm wished he had a decent hat to shield his face and eyes.

They came to a brick archway and a white sign with Mallard Plantation written across it. Malcolm rode down a dirt road that circled in front of a porch with white pillars to a three-story brick house. A carriage house was on the left, and a stable stood behind it.

“I hope they will talk to me,” Malcolm said, breaking the solemn silence around them.

“They will. Just appeal yer case to the butler, and let him determine how best to proceed.” Lauren lifted her head from his back where she had been resting against him. “Ye’ve naught to lose and everything to gain.”

Her words were encouraging. He was glad he brought her along. Lauren had a way of making him feel as if he could accomplish anything. With her around, everything seemed better. He hated to think about how lonely and lost he would feel once she returned home to her father.

Planters sowed crops into the earth in a distant field. Malcolm wondered if his mother was one of the hardworking souls. More than anything, he wanted to free her from such backbreaking labor, but he would have to keep his temper in check and negotiate as if he had something to bargain with beyond a few coins he had managed to save.

They rode to a stop. Malcolm dismounted and reached up to assist Lauren. She leaned down, trusting him with her care. He swung Lauren to her feet. To his increasing dismay, she felt natural in his arms—as if she belonged there. With reluctance, Malcolm let her go and held out his arm. She accepted his escort with a willing smile she wouldn’t have offered six weeks ago.

He followed Lauren up the steps past the four giant pillars. Reaching around Lauren, Malcolm pulled the pine leaf knocker that vibrated throughout the house. They waited. A few moments later, a well-dressed Negro opened the heavy door. He bent his gray head in a bow. “May I help you?”

Malcolm stared. Since arriving in Charles Towne, he had seen persons of such color, but this was the first opportunity to speak to one. He blinked and opened his mouth to answer, but no words came forth.

“We have come to inquire about a particular indentured servant who may have been sold to this plantation by mistake.” Lauren spoke up in Malcolm’s obvious silence. “Who should we speak with?”

“Why, that would be our overseer, Mr. Stanley Fairbanks. Wait here while I fetch him.”

He started to close the door, but Malcolm slipped his booted foot in the way. “Are we not welcome inside?”

“No, I do not allow any strangers inside the big house without permission from a member of the family or Mr. Fairbanks.” He met Malcolm’s gaze, an expression of pleading in his eyes. “Please, sir, I am only doing what I have been told. I do not dare make the master or Mr. Fairbanks mad at me.”

The plea stirred Malcolm’s compassion. He stepped back, a piercing discomfort centered in his gut. There could be only one reason this man feared his master’s ire. Abuse—physical or mental torture. Once again fear for his mother coiled in his stomach and traveled to his throat, almost choking him. The butler closed the door and disappeared, leaving them standing on the front porch.

Malcolm’s gaze slid to Lauren’s. Her azure blue eyes looked haunted with the same fear paralyzing his own thoughts. She swallowed and patted his arm.

“Do not worry, Malcolm. I have seen my father deal with such men as Mr. Fairbanks. He will come out of curiosity and the possibility he might be passing up on a good deal that would please the master of the house. If he can strike a bargain with ye to make him look good, he will do it.”

“Aye, that is the trouble, lass. I have naught else to offer ’im.” Disappointment reverberated through Malcolm like an avalanche.

“Ye have more than ye realize,” Lauren said. “I know the MacGregors, and the whole lot of ye can survive anything. Even when the king did away with yer name in 1603 and tried to abolish the clan, his efforts were in vain and did not succeed. Ye’re dealing with much less here in the colonies. We shall find a way to free yer mither. Have faith. God has not forsaken us.”

The butler reopened the door. “This way, please.” He led them through a dim foyer and down a hallway with even less light. They passed a staircase along the wall and continued walking on the pine floor until they paused by a closed door. The butler knocked twice, paused, and then twice. Malcolm lifted an eyebrow. Why would a secret coded knock be necessary?

“Come in,” a male voice called from the other side.

The butler turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Mr. Fairbanks is waiting,” he said, motioning them inside.

Dark panels covered each wall, but two windows on the other side of a large carved pine desk angled the morning light, brightening half the room. Thick burgundy drapes pulled back by a cord hung to the floor where no speck of dust could be traced. An unlit fireplace encased on the left wall had a white marble mantel. A small oval clock stood in the middle, ticking away, while matching vases of dark blue flowers aired the room. Malcolm had no idea what kind of flowers, but it spoke volumes to a woman’s touch. No man would worry with flowers in his study.

“Welcome to Mallard Plantation. I am Mr. Fairbanks, the overseer.” A middle-aged man stood up from the chair behind the desk and motioned to two chairs in front. His gray hair was pulled back at the nape by a string. His clothes were simple but tidy in a white shirt with ruffled sleeves and a gray vest. He wore black breeches, and he had a tight smile upon his unshaven face. His expression befit one who wasn’t pleased with being disturbed but who was determined to make the most of it. “I hear one of our indentures was not meant to be hired. What an unfortunate incident.”