For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (32 page)

Malcolm listened as Carleen told funny tales about Mr. Benjamin Shore and her frightening experience in being at his mercy. He had purchased her and seven other indentures straight from the ship. His intention was to take them to North Carolina where laborers were scarce and in more demand. This way he could set a higher price and make more profit off his investment.

“For all his scruffy and unkempt appearance, he is quite smart.” Carleen linked her hands in her lap, a pensive expression on her smooth face. Light freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. When she was a child, the slight imperfection made her adorable, but it gave her distinction as an adult. Watching her now, Malcolm missed her as a wee lass, but he was also proud of her.

“A true man of wit keeps himself bathed and clean, my dear.” Mrs. Bates had joined them in the parlor, as had her three grown sons. Her skin looked pale and dark circles framed her brown eyes, but a spirit of light still shone through her.

“Aye, but his situation is so sad,” Carleen said. “He is a lonely man who needs to feel loved by someone. I canna help thinking that if he had someone around to keep him accountable, he would take better care of himself.”

“That has been my experience with people as well,” Lauren said. “No one is a lost cause, even if it seems like it. God still provides miracles.”

“I wish He would give us one for Mother,” Randall Bates said. “I am not ready to say good-bye.” An angry frown marred his young face as he turned and stared at the wall. Silence followed the awkward moment. The youngest Bates son stood and walked out.

The middle son rose to go after him.

“Nathan,” his mother’s voice halted him. “Let your brother go. He needs time alone. He will be all right, as you all will be.”

Once settled again, Carleen glanced from Malcolm to Lauren. “Now that I have shared my wee boring story, tell us how Lauren came to be here with us.”

They launched into the details of what Malcolm discovered when he returned to the village and discovered she and their mother had been taken by Duncan Campbell. Lauren interjected her reaction to the news, and together they told the story of their adventures on
The Sea Lady
, their arrival in Charles Towne, Lauren’s decision to take Iona’s place at Mallard Plantation, her abduction to the Pink House, and her rescue.

“How horrid!” Carleen covered her mouth, blinking back compassionate tears. “I am overwhelmed by it all, but now that it is all behind ye, can ye not see how God’s hand was in the situation all along?”

“What do ye mean?” Lauren gave her a skeptical glance as she gripped her knees like she needed something to hold onto.

“Well . . . ’tis as Malcolm said, what looked like the worst situation has turned out to be an opportunity of a lifetime.” Carleen gestured at Lauren. “An’ ye’ve always wanted to serve those who are less fortunate. ’Tis yer callin’ an’ gift. That is why ye always came to the village to bring us food an’ taught us things. Now, God has opened yer eyes to an even greater need, to save young lasses from being sold into prostitution against their will. It was not by accident that they were savin’ ye for the auction. ’Twas a way of protectin’ yer virtue while exposing ye to something He needs yer help to solve.”

“I see what ye mean, Carleen.” Iona reached over and covered Lauren’s hand with her own. “When ye were rescued, two other lasses were saved as well. An’ now that Pastor Brad is rallying the town with a petition, more lasses will be saved.” Iona squeezed her hand. “My dear, yer experience was not in vain. Somethin’ good came of it in spite of yer pain.”

Lauren’s blue eyes filled with a pool of tears. “I . . . I know . . . but it has been so hard to forgive Him.” She covered her face and took a deep breath. “Please, excuse me.” The rushed words were a whisper as she turned and fled the room.

Malcolm’s heart raced, each pulse digging a deeper ache into his soul than the one before. He knew Lauren had struggled with her faith since her rescue, but he wasn’t sure how rooted the problem had grown inside her. If she couldn’t forgive God, what chance did he have? If he had not tried to use her as revenge against her father, she wouldn’t have endured all the horrible things that had happened to her. Worse, how could he forgive himself?

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t allow her to face this struggle alone. Malcolm pushed to his feet and went in pursuit of her, not caring what the others thought.

Lauren stepped out onto the front porch. She leaned against a white pillar and took a deep breath to steady her vibrating heart. Why had she been so stubborn? Deep down she knew God would never forsake her and her life was not her own. The moment she dedicated her life to the Lord, it was His to use as He pleased. He had broken no vow or promise, but He had saved lives, including hers.

The front door creaked open and out stepped Malcolm. Lauren pressed her back against the pillar, wishing she could disappear. She needed a few moments alone—to reconnect with God—to reconnect with herself.

To her relief, Malcolm remained silent. He moved to stand beside her, his arm brushing against hers. His warmth sent a trail of shivers that tingled up her spine to the base of her neck. She closed her eyes. “I am not good company right now.”

“Good. I am not here to talk, only listen. Whatever is needed.”

She tried to smile, but her guilty tears burst through her fragile
façade
. Her shoulders shook and trembled against the hard surface.

Malcolm turned toward Lauren without touching her. Lauren turned toward him and burst into tears. “I blamed God, but it is not His fault.”

Malcolm closed the distance between them, holding out his arms. She stepped into his embrace and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

As the crickets sang around them, the evening sun lowered inch by inch while Lauren wept. Malcolm consoled her but not with false words of comfort. He said naught, and she preferred it that way.

After a while her tears subsided, and Lauren lifted her chin to seek Malcolm’s expression. Did he think she had no backbone? Was he now sorry he brought her along?

The sun’s orange rays slanted over the land, casting shadows in various places but managed to highlight Malcolm’s hair like a golden halo. His hazel eyes roamed over her face until she felt as warm as a bright summer day. He lowered his head toward her. Lauren braced herself. Malcolm’s mouth touched hers, his firm lips molding to become one with hers. She breathed in the fresh scent of earth and pine clinging to him. Lauren’s hands inched up around his neck and encircled him. In return, Malcolm’s hands gripped her around the waist.

Her head danced with a light-hearted sensation she didn’t want to end. Malcolm leaned back, breaking his lips from hers. Indecision wrestled in his gaze, but his hands came to rest on each side of her face. “Lauren, ye make my heart beat as if I have run a race.” He grinned, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Aye, I know the feeling well,” she said.

“Good, then I am not alone.” He gave her a grin that warmed her heart all way way down to her toes.

Once Lauren recovered, they returned to the others and
departed a couple of hours later. Iona wept silent tears as they drove down the path back to Wilmington. No one spoke as each of them tumbled through private thoughts.

Over the next week, Malcolm took a job as a laborer at the shipyard. That Sunday they attended the local church. It was much smaller and less formal than they were used to, but being able to attend gave them a chance to meet more Wilmington residents.

One afternoon, Malcolm came home early, beaming with a broad smile. Lauren and Iona were sitting out on the front porch of the boardinghouse, rocking in the shade. Both of them were sewing.

“Get ready for a wee drive. I have somethin’ I want to show ye.” Malcolm rubbed his hands together. “I shall fetch the wagon from the livery, an’ when I return, both of ye need to be ready.”

“Malcolm, why are ye home so early?” Lauren asked. She stopped rocking and stood. “Have ye lost yer job?”

“Nay.” He shook his head as he bounced down the porch steps. “They gave me the rest o’ the day off. ’Tis a special day. Ye will see.”

Lauren gasped as she stared at his retreating back and then turned to Iona. “Ye suppose there is some strange holiday the colonists celebrate?”

“I do not know, but the lad is actin’ a wee bit mysterious.” Iona gathered her sewing materials. “I suppose we should do as he asked an’ get ready. I am quite curious to know what this is all ’bout.”

“Aye.” Lauren followed her inside.

By the time, they freshened up, donned their bonnets, and made it outside again, Malcolm pulled up alongside them. He set the brake and swung down to assist them. First, he helped his mother and then reached for Lauren’s hand. He leaned forward, his breath tickling her ear. “This is for ye.” The whispered words sank through to her heart, planting a seed of hope for their future—together.

Instead of heading north as she expected, Malcolm turned them south toward the sea. They passed Green’s Sawmill and the swamp and came to a tract of land on Cape Fear River with tall grass. A large stake stood in the middle with a red ribbon tied to it.

Malcolm walked out to the stake, threw his arms wide, and turned in a circle. “This is ours. I signed the deed this morn . . . with my own signature, I might add.” He pointed at Lauren. “Thanks to ye, I will never sign my name with an X again.”

“Lad, ye mean ye bought this land?” Iona laid a hand on her chest as she looked around them, taking in the sight. “The view of the river will be splendid, to be sure.”

“Aye.” He nodded, walking toward the road where he parked the wagon. “Imagine a drive from the road, coming up to the house like this and going into a circle in front of the house.” He swung his arm around. “ ’Twill be a large two-story facing at an angle. That way, the front will have a slight view of both the road and the river.”

“ ’Tis magnificent,” Lauren said. “Will ye need to worry about floods?”

“I suppose that could always be a concern, but I consulted Mr. Bates an’ Mr. Saunders. They both said they have only witnessed minor flooding in the few years they have been here. Fire seems to be Wilmington’s worst problem. They suffered a fire back in fifty-six that almost destroyed everything. That is why most of their new structures are being made of brick.”

“The spot where ye plan to build the house is on a natural incline.” Lauren gestured to the area.

“True.” Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck as he walked toward them. “To answer yer other question, I did not buy this land. I petitioned for a free land grant from His Majesty’s court. Since no one had snatched up this tract, an’ I wanted us to be on the river near the sea, I requested this land.”

“I can hardly believe this is all ours,” Iona said. “How many acres?”

“Fifty. For all its advantages, it does have its disadvantages.” He pointed north. “Few people want to be next to a swamp, but that means we will not have any close neighbors in that direction, only the family on the south side.” He took a deep breath. “An’ there is one other thing. No one wanted this area because they say it is a den of alligators.”

“Alligators!” Lauren gasped. “Ye put us in the middle of a den of alligators? Are we safe as long as we stay away from the water?” Lauren scratched her arm in sudden discomfort.

“In truth, the whole area is full of alligators. I have already seen them hovering in the water in Wilmington and in the swamps on the way to the shipyard. Enjoy the water from a distance, an’ we shall dig a well near the house.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Lauren nodded. “I am so happy for ye, Malcolm. I know this is something ye’ve always wanted.”

He waved to her and held out his hands. In confusion, Lauren placed her hands in his. “Remember what I whispered in yer ear back at the boardinghouse?”

“Aye?” Excitement raced through her as she waited.

The sound of horses racing up the dirt road distracted them from the tender moment. “Malcolm MacGregor!” bellowed an angry but familiar voice. A mixture of dread and fear flooded Lauren as she turned and saw her father with a raised fist riding toward them. Seven other men kept pace with him. Shock reverberated through her veins, paralyzing her until Malcolm shoved her and Iona behind him. Several times, she had envisioned him coming for her but never like this, in a cloud of vengeance and hate. Somehow, she had been naïve in hoping time and distance would dissolve his cold heart and open his eyes to his own guilt. She was wrong.

“Get yerself an’ Mither to a safe distance.” Malcolm pushed her behind him. “Lauren, whatever happens, please know that I love ye, lass.” He pushed her away. “Now go!”

Could he not have picked a better time to tell her? Torn between staying by his side and getting Iona to a safe place, Lauren grabbed the elder woman’s arm. “Come, Iona. My father is in no mood to talk.”

“Malcolm canna fight all those men by himself. ’Tis Inverawe all over again.” She covered her mouth on a sob, hesitating to leave her eldest son.

“Go to the wagon!” Lauren nudged her. “I will stay to help Malcolm. My father might listen to me.”