For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (10 page)

“Nay, I did not.” She shook her head. “There was no love in our home. I needed love, and yer mither knew how to love me.”

Over the next few days, Lauren helped stitch and bind the wounded while those in the worst shape finally succumbed to their illnesses and mortal wounds. They held a massive ceremony for as many as thirty souls. Several supplies were ruined, but they still had enough to carry them through the rest of the journey.

Malcolm was on the mend and joined Logan in the effort of replacing some of the lost and wounded sailors. Ever since their discussion, he treated her differently. He watched her more and inquired about her health and comfort.

“He is in love with ye.” Deidra sidled up to the rail beside her. “A person would have to be daft or blind not to see it.”

“What? Who?” Lauren turned to her friend, gripping the rail until her knuckles turned white.

“Malcolm MacGregor.” Deidra lifted a red eyebrow. “Do ye really
need to ask?”

“Then I must be daft and blind.” Lauren burst into laughter. “Ye’re mistaken. Believe me, Malcolm is only feeling a wee bit of guilt for what he intends to do to me once we land in Carolina.”

“Nay, I think ’tis more ’n that.” Deidra shook her head. Long red curls flew in the breeze. “At times, the way he looks at ye reminds me how my da used to look at my mither.” Sadness crept into her tone. “Makes me miss them, it does.”

“I am sorry. I know ye must miss them a great deal.” Lauren wrapped a plaid shawl around her. A husband who lost his wife gave it to her after the storm. “I barely remember what my mither looked like. My da is not one for showing emotion. I doubt she felt loved by him.”

“We did not have much growin’ up, but love was something we had plenty of,” Deidra said. “An’ that ye canna buy.”

“Aye.” Lauren shivered as she turned to look out over the ocean. How could it be so calm and blue one minute and a raging life taker the next? The sea was as fickle as a man’s love. She had to tiptoe around her father’s moods, pleasing him as best as she could. Only then could she ever earn his approval. Love wasn’t part of the deal. She was his daughter, a piece of property he hoped to use in negotiating a marriage that would best benefit his goals.

“Believe me, I shall be shocked if Malcolm does not change his mind afore we make landfall.” Deidra gripped her arm. “Have faith. Ye’ve so much for everyone else. Why not save some for yerself once in a while?”

“If he does, ’twill be out of guilt and naught else,” Lauren said. “I refuse to believe it could be from anything more.” They stood in silence as Lauren wondered about the colonies, things she had heard, and the way indentured servants were treated. “What do ye suppose it is like in Carolina?”

“When our cousins could not afford rent, they sold themselves as indentured servants to Carolina. Once they work off their indenture, they will receive fifty acres of their own land an’ tools. That would never ’appen in Scotland—least not for a peasant.”

“But how are they treated? And what kind of work do they do?” Lauren knew she shouldn’t fear the unknown, but being at the mercy of someone else for her livelihood filled her with trepidation. If Malcolm succeeded in exchanging her for his mother, would her master be kind or harsh?

For we walk by faith, not by sight.

The verse rose from memory, encouraging her to let go of her fear and trust the Lord. She could do this—go to Carolina and take Iona’s place. Still, her insides quaked at the thought.

“One of the sailors grew up in the colonies,” Deidra said. “I would be willing to bet he has some interestin’ tales. He told my brother ’bout it during one of their card games.”

“Who is he?” Lauren asked, scanning the deck for a sign of which sailor it might be.

“Mr. Todd Kerr.” Deidra pointed toward the watchtower at the mainmast where a man looked through a long telescope. “Quite handsome with the sailor’s look about ’im. Sun-browned skin, blond hair, and bright blue eyes.”

“Och! I doubt he will want to have much to do with me.” Lauren frowned, remembering her first day on board when Mr. MacKinnon questioned him about seeing Malcolm bring her aboard.

“Why not ask ’im what ye wanna know?” Deidra grabbed her arm. “Life is full of uncertainties. Ye must grasp the moment. For all we know, a band of pirates could come upon us next.”

An image of a ship firing guns upon them in the midst of the high seas made her breath hitch in her throat. Lauren touched her hand to her chest. “That is not a verra comforting thought. Are ye trying to give me nightmares?”

Music floated through the hallways luring passengers to the main deck. Although she was extremely weary from hours in the infirmary, the sound of lively music drew Lauren like a caged animal full of curiosity.

“Come on. It has begun!” Kathleen scrambled from her bed to the door, motioning for them to follow.

“What?” Lauren asked, swinging her feet over the side of her hammock.

Deidra and Kathleen exchanged a secret glance, both grinning with excitement as their eyes glowed. “I suppose she has not heard since she spends so much time in the sickroom,” Kathleen said.

“Heard what?” Lauren slipped from the hammock and stood with her hands on her hips.

“The cap’n has given ’is permission to celebrate tonight.” Deidra walked to Lauren and took her hands in a firm grip. “Those with instruments may play them while the rest o’ us dance.”

“But why?” Lauren scratched her temple, wondering what could have brought this about.

“Somethin’ about reaching Carolina within a fortnight.” Deidra tilted her head. “Honestly, Lauren, must there be a reason? Ye’ve worked so hard. Ye deserve a night o’ fun.”

“The indentured servants will not be allowed up from the hold, will they?” Lauren couldn’t mask her feelings at the unjust way they were treated. Her words and tone reflected her disappointment.

“Nay, but that does not mean ye shan’t take advantage of yer good fortune,” Deidra said.

“Aye,” Kathleen nodded, leaning around Deidra. “Ye would not stop eating just because others are starving. ’Twouldn’t fill their bellies any more than ye denying yerself a wee bit of fun would get them out of the hold tonight.”

Lauren sighed in frustration and crossed her arms. Kathleen was right. With her being a teacher, she had a way of stating facts that always made one think.

“Come on, Lauren.” Deidra tugged on her arm. “We will not allow ye to waste the night. Ye’re comin’ with us.”

Kathleen grabbed her other arm, and the two of them led her out of the dark cabin and up the steps to the main deck. A couple of fiddlers were already playing with a woman hitting notes on her tin whistle. One man pounded a stack of metal spoons in rhythm, while another beat the bottom of a barrel like a drum. Couples were already swinging around and dancing to the lively tune of “Speed the Plow, Mrs. MacLeod.”

Even the sailors had taken a break to celebrate. The captain smiled as he walked around, watching the dancing. He nodded to the beat of the music with a cup in his hand. Lauren assumed it was whiskey since the smell drifted in the salty air.

Lit lanterns hung in each corner, and a bright moon gave them plenty of light as the reflection on the water bounced to cast more beams. Malcolm stood talking to Logan and his other cabinmates. They seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the evening.

Logan was the first to spot them. He said something to Malcolm, who turned and met Lauren’s gaze. Of all the balls she had attended and the gowns her father had ordered for her, this was the first time she wanted to look her best—and she looked her worst.

She longed for a bath and clean clothes and wished her hair was washed and combed. To her utter amazement she wanted to impress no one save Malcolm MacGregor—the very one who was responsible for stranding her here. She blinked, allowing the realization to take root. If she had been drinking, she could at least blame her wayward feelings on that, but she had naught to blame except her own madness.

If he could have his way, Malcolm would no doubt dispose of all the Campbells, including her. He held a deep grudge against her father, and she would do well to remember it. She couldn’t risk giving her heart to him regardless of how tempting. He risked his life to save her in the storm but in doing so ensured a replacement for his mother.

The men approached, grins broadening their faces. Malcolm had his sights upon her. Lauren’s stomach twisted at the thought of having to reject him if he asked her to dance. She had already worked through all the reasons why she should avoid him and save her heart in the process. Stepping back, Lauren wrapped her arms around herself in consolation. She should have listened to her instincts and not come.

A hand reached out and grabbed her. Deidra sensed her retreat and looked at her brother. “Logan, it took some convincing, but we managed to drag Lauren up here to enjoy herself.”

“Did ye now?” His blue eyes peered at her in curiosity. “Mayhap ye will like my bagpipe.” He pointed to a set of pipes lying on a nearby barrel.

“I did not know ye played the pipes,” Lauren said, her interest piqued. “I always enjoyed hearing them at home. ’Tis one of the things I have worried I might miss in the colonies.”

“Never. We have many cousins already settled in Carolina, an’ they assure us in their letters that they still play the Highland pipes. We are a people who carry our traditions with us.”

“Afore ye start in on yer pipes, why not dance a wee bit yerself?” Deidra asked. “Even if she will not admit it, Lauren is well deserving of it after all the hours she has put into the sickroom.”

A gleam lit Logan’s eyes, but he hesitated with a glance over at Malcolm. Quick anger burned through Lauren. Neither of them needed Malcolm’s permission. The man didn’t own her—at least not yet. He could produce no papers on her.

Malcolm didn’t respond right away, and it gave Lauren the chance she needed to take matters into her own hands. Deidra lifted Lauren’s hand toward Logan. Lauren smiled up at him. “I promised yer sister I would do my best to enjoy myself tonight.”

“In that case,” Logan gripped her hand, “the others will have to wait their turn. If Malcolm’s expression sours any more, we may be inclined to think the mon’s in pain an’ will not be able to take his turn with ye.” Logan winked at her and turned to Malcolm with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Patience, my friend.”

Malcolm grinned, his gaze landing upon Lauren’s with a promising glint and a brief nod in her direction. “Indeed, I have more than enough to last me ’til later.”

Chapter 7

7

A
s promised, Malcolm waited patiently while Lauren and Logan danced. After the second song, Logan grabbed his bagpipes and joined the others in a lively tune. Lauren stood on the side, tapping her toes to the beat and clapping. It was refreshing to see her smiling and enjoying herself.

Archie swung by with a young lass on his arm. The two laughed as their feet pounded the wooden deck in unison. As people ambled onto the main deck, more couples joined in the dancing.

Lauren made her way to the water barrel and waited her turn to dip the ladle. Malcolm approached her, but before he could reach her, Lauren glanced up with a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Kerr, so good to see ye. How are ye enjoying the celebration?” she asked.

“Well enough. Each time we make it this far, the cap’n throws a party. It started out with only the crew, but last time he let the passengers take part.” Mr. Kerr paused beside her.

Malcolm stepped aside and watched. He didn’t deserve to dance with her. Deep down he had known it, but the ambience of the ship and the distance from their homeland made anything seem possible. At home, Lauren would be forbidden—forever out of his reach. The colonies were different, or so he heard. As a free man, he could make of himself whatever he chose. The ban on the MacGregor name would no longer matter, so why should all the reasons that would have kept them separated in Scotland apply here?

The answer seared his heart as if someone opened his skin and branded him with a hot iron like a slave. At home, all the things that separated them were due to rules of society and the animosity between their clans. When he made the conscious decision to hold her captive on this ship and exchange her for his mother, it became personal. He didn’t succeed in taking revenge against her father or striking against the Campbell Clan. All he’d done was betray Lauren. He wronged her and in doing so cut off any opportunity to win her heart. How could he have known he would be severing his own heart?

Malcolm slipped into the shadows, bracing his back against the wall. All of a sudden he didn’t feel like dancing. The music now sounded as if someone kept scratching at his ears. The smell of whiskey made his stomach churn. His heart beat fast as Lauren nodded and placed her hand on Mr. Kerr’s arm. They joined the line of dancers.

There were plenty of bonny lasses, but none captured his heart the way Lauren did. He had no desire to ask any of the others. Malcolm folded his arms and crossed his ankles.

“Ye’re a well-fitted mon. Ye ought to join in the fray.” Pastor Brad stood beside him tapping his toes. “If my wife were here, we would be enjoying the night on the sea.”

“Aye, few things compare to the beauty of the sea.” Malcolm turned to revel in the bright reflection of the moon against the water’s surface. It looked like shiny white diamonds in the midst of a black curtain.

“Many lasses are glowing with merriment tonight.” Pastor Brad waved a hand, gesturing to all the dancers.

“Ah, but the verra one I would have will not have me.” Malcolm lifted a finger, trying to match the pastor’s good mood with a grin. “An’ therein lies the problem.”

“That is not a problem unless ye let it be, laddie.” The pastor gripped his shoulder much like a father doling out advice to his son. “When I first met Mrs. Patterson, she would have nary a thing to do with me.” He chuckled at the memory. “Almost made me mad, it did.”

“This is different.” Malcolm shook his head. “We have a lifetime of disagreements, and my latest sins against her are full of bitter betrayal.”

“Lad, I know. ’Tis no secret how ye an’ Lauren Campbell came to be on this ship. Besides, she needed someone to confide in.” He scratched his graying temple. “Mind ye, someone who would not mislead her or judge ye, someone who could help her see things from a godly perspective.”

“Aye. Her faith is verra important to her.” Lauren swung by on Mr. Kerr’s arm. Jealousy twisted his gut. “Even if she finds the strength to forgive me, I canna expect her to trust me.”

“That comes with time, I assure ye.” Pastor Brad rubbed his brown mustache. “One of the reasons people run from God is because they do not trust Him to do what the gospel says. They spend too much time lookin’ for God to prove Himself—to earn their trust. They forget that it should be the other way ’round.”

Pastor Brad’s words penetrated Malcolm’s heart like an arrow hitting its target. Malcolm had no idea what to do with the pastor’s imparted wisdom. In many ways, he was guilty of doing exactly what Pastor Brad said, expecting God to give him a reason to trust Him. Where was his own attempt to give something back? Aye, he worked hard to provide for their family but not for the Lord. He always expected to receive, never to give.

Could it be his family wasn’t cursed, after all? What blessings had they received that he could be thankful for? None came to mind. All he could think of was the painful loss of his father from the Jacobite war, the shameful poverty, the hunger, the taunts, and the betrayals of the Campbell Clan, the wrongful beating Graham took, and the unfair treatment of his mother and sister being sold as indentured servants against their will. Nay, he couldn’t think of one blessing for which to be thankful. How could he trust a God who had turned His back on his family so many times? Malcolm hardened his heart, determined not to hope in something that would only hurt worse if he was once again disappointed.

“If ye do not heed any other advice, heed this. Lauren is not like any other lass. She is trying her best to forgive ye without any bitterness between ye. Take advantage of her goodness. ’Tis rare in a world full of sin.” Pastor Brad sipped from his cup. “We do not have the strength to forgive and love as we ought, but through Christ, we can do all things. Ye can undo the damage ye’ve done by doing right by her now.”

“If only it was that easy,” Malcolm said with sarcasm.

“What was yer quest when ye boarded this ship?” Pastor Brad asked.

“To free my mither and sister no matter the cost and get revenge against Duncan Campbell.”

“Ah, a noble cause in the eyes of most men. A cause filled with rage, pain, and revenge—all the forbidden fruits leading nowhere but further pain.” Pastor Brad lifted his palm as if to stop an advance.
“Has your quest changed now that ye’ve come to know Lauren better?”

“The quest in freeing my mither an’ sister has not changed and will not.” Malcolm crossed his arms, his chest tightening in concern at where this conversation was headed. “But I will admit I now have reservations of using Lauren as I had originally planned.”

“Good.” Pastor Brad nodded in approval. “That is because yer cause is a noble one, but the execution is flawed. The desire to get back at Duncan Campbell is not as strong as it once was, is it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nay, not if it has to be at Lauren’s expense.” Malcolm looked down at his feet, hating the shame that rolled through him.

“Then change yer course now before ye’ve more regrets. Mark my words, ye’ll not only give her freedom back but begin to rebuild her trust again.”

The dance ended, and Lauren settled her hand on Mr. Kerr’s arm. They took a stroll toward the quarterdeck. Mr. MacKinnon had been leaning against the mizzenmast and turned to follow them. “Pastor Brad, thank ye for the advice. I think I shall go see what Lauren is up to.”

Malcolm maneuvered around the dancers with a nod toward Logan, who played the bagpipes with excellent skill. He stepped around someone hanging another lantern. An older sailor manned the wheel and tipped his hat to Malcolm. “I may be too auld for a wee bit o’ dancin’, but I can still handle the wheel.”

“Aye, that ye can.” Malcolm grinned.

“Mr. Kerr, leave us a moment. I have a matter I would like to discuss with Miss Campbell.”

Malcolm raced toward the poop deck.

Lauren gripped Mr. Kerr’s arm as they stared at Mr. MacKinnon. “Whatever ye wish to say can be said in front of Mr. Kerr.”

Malcolm’s warning echoed in her mind. She looked around the dark shadows on the poop deck, wishing he were here. What if Mr. Kerr had led her up here on purpose at Mr. MacKinnon’s demand? Mr. Kerr was under his authority. Did he not have to obey his superior?

“Todd, you know very well that on this ship either I or the captain give the orders.” He motioned toward the steps. “Now do as I said and move along.”

“Why must he go?” Lauren kept a firm grip on Mr. Kerr. “If I do not mind him hearing what ye have to say, then ye should not.”

“Go . . . now!” Mr. MacKinnon raised his voice but not loud enough for anyone to hear over the music and dancing.

“Nay!” Lauren panicked as Mr. Kerr tried to wrench her fingers from around his arm. “Ye canna leave me here alone with him.”

“I am sorry, Miss Campbell, but he is right. I must follow orders.” Mr. Kerr stepped away from her. “You have naught to fear, Miss.”

She stared at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. “I see. Ye led me back here, pretending we were on an innocent stroll, and all the while this was planned.” She jabbed a thumb toward Mr. MacKinnon.

“Naw, that ain’t the way it happened.” Mr. Kerr shook his head as he moved to stand beside his boss. “All I planned to do was talk like we did before.” His thin frame shook as he looked from Lauren to Mr. MacKinnon.

“Get on with yourself, lad.” Mr. MacKinnon shoved him toward the steps. Before he disappeared in the shadows, he took a lingering glance at Lauren. Guilt etched into the strained lines of his young face.

“I shall scream,” Lauren said, backing away until her back hit the rail and she had nowhere else to go.

“They cannot hear you over the music,” Mr. MacKinnon said as he lunged forward, an arrogant grin widening his face. He looked as if he was about to open a new package.

“Help!” Lauren brought her knee up into his groin as someone grabbed him by the neck.

“Ye’re wrong.” Malcolm bellowed in fury as his breath gushed. “I heard her.” Malcolm gripped Mr. MacKinnon’s collar and jerked him away from Lauren. The man stumbled back and spiked his elbow in Malcolm’s ribs. A deep grunt escaped his throat, but Malcolm gritted his teeth in determination and used the momentum of his body to ram Mr. MacKinnon against the rail.

Malcolm reared back and planted his fist against the sailor’s jaw. Mr. MacKinnon’s head snapped back, knocking him off balance. With his back against the rail, Mr. MacKinnon lifted his foot to kick Malcolm, but he sidestepped and Mr. MacKinnon’s foot landed in Malcolm’s thigh. The brute force shoved Malcolm backward, his boot heels scraping against the wooden deck.

Lauren rushed to aid him, but Malcolm motioned for her to stay safe in the corner. He took a deep breath, keeping his opponent in sight and assessing the man’s next move. The music on the main deck switched to a new tune as Malcolm stalked toward Mr. MacKinnon, who wore an arrogant grin.

Mr. MacKinnon’s mustache twitched as he lunged for his boot to grab something. Suspecting it to be a weapon, Lauren screamed, “Malcolm, watch out!”

Malcolm paused to glance at her. It was just enough time for Mr. MacKinnon to slip out his knife from his boot. They circled each other like prowling tigers. Mr. MacKinnon charged him. Malcolm braced himself and grabbed his wrist, squeezing. The man swung his other fist at Malcolm’s face, but Malcolm ducked, pulling the man’s wrist and twisting his arm. Mr. MacKinnon groaned at the pain.

Lifting his knee at Malcolm, Mr. MacKinnon prepared to kick him again, but Malcolm slammed his left fist into the man’s knee. The blow made him cringe and loosen his grip on the blade.

“I should have known ye would not fight fair.” Malcolm took advantage of Mr. MacKinnon’s agony and shoved him back against the rail where he beat his hand against the iron bar until he relinquished the blade. Malcolm kicked it toward Lauren, who picked up the knife and threw it overboard. He slammed his fist into Mr. MacKinnon’s nose. Bone cracked and blood gushed. “Now ’tis a fair fight.”

Malcolm stepped back, waiting to see if Mr. MacKinnon
would rush at him again. Instead, he dropped his head back on his shoulders and looked up toward the starlit sky to slow the bleeding. He brought his good hand up to cover his nose and winced in pain.