For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (13 page)

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I am not for sale, Mr. MacKinnon, as ye verra well know. Malcolm MacGregor paid for my passage.”

“I beg to differ,” Mr. MacKinnon said. “He owes me quite a bit after our last encounter.” The buyer feasted his eyes on her. “Name your price and be generous. I will not allow this one to go for just anything.”

“I am not for sale!” Lauren turned to run, hoping to reach the captain or Malcolm for help.

Malcolm left the captain’s office pleased with the few coins he now had in his possession. The captain had tried to pay him less than they agreed upon, but Malcolm refused to give up and argued his case. The man finally gave in, no doubt just to be rid of him.

Malcolm searched the main deck for Lauren, but she was nowhere to be found. His gut clenched as he gritted his teeth. He should have known he couldn’t trust her. Disappointment crushed his spirit as he whirled in a circle.

“Lauren? Where are ye, lass?” Malcolm strode across the deck and went below to her cabin. It was empty. Fear coiled in his stomach as he stood in place and contemplated the situation. As much as Lauren wanted to be free of him, something wasn’t right.

He charged from her cabin back up to the main deck. The last of the indentured servants were purchased and final contracts written. He walked over to the table where Mr. Kerr wrote out the contracts and leaned his palms on the table.

“Where is Lauren? I canna find her.” Malcolm tried to keep his voice calm, but blood pumped through his veins faster than a raging river. Mr. Kerr cleared his throat and glanced in Mr. MacKinnon’s direction, who stood talking to a buyer with his back to them.

“Tell me now.” Malcolm clenched his teeth in a rumbling growl.

“I . . . I . . . wrote a contract for a Mr. Lee Davidson.” Mr. Kerr’s gaze slid over to Mr. MacKinnon, still occupied in conversation. “She tried to fight it, but they would not listen an’ MacKinnon was determined.”

“Why did ye not fight for her?” Malcolm swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say. He needed Kerr’s cooperation to find out where they had taken Lauren, and insulting him might not be the best way. “Give me the contract.” Malcolm held out his hand.

“I canna do that,” he whispered. “MacKinnon will have my head.”

“If ye do not give it to me, that will be the least of yer concerns.” Malcolm’s hands curled into fists. He had to keep those papers from being filed in the courthouse. If there were no official record, the man wouldn’t be able to hold Lauren. “There is naught to stop me from huntin’ down the Kerr family to see they enjoy the same fate.”

“Ye would not!” He started to rise from his chair, but Malcolm leaned closer, and he lowered himself. “I suppose I could let the wind carry it overboard. As long as he sees the paper tumble like a leaf, he will never know the difference.”

“ ’Tis the least ye could do. Her passage was paid. What MacKinnon did was wrong,” Malcolm said.

Kerr flipped through the sheets with dried ink and pulled one out. With smooth swiftness, he folded it in half and then again and twice more until it was small enough to hold in one’s hand. He looked around him, ensuring no one watched them and slipped it in his shirt sleeve. He held out his hand. “A pleasure getting to know you, MacGregor.”

Malcolm shook his hand as Mr. Kerr twisted his wrist and flicked the folded paper into Malcolm’s palm. He grasped it tightly into his fist and folded his arms over his chest, slipping it into the folded pocket of his plaid.

“Kerr, what is taking so long?” Mr. MacKinnon demanded. “We
have a buyer eager to go.” He narrowed his eyes at Malcolm. “MacGregor, why are you still on board? I would have thought you would be long gone by now. Are you wanting to join our crew on a permanent basis?”

“I would not give ye the satisfaction.” Malcolm backed away from the table with a brief nod at Kerr. “Just sayin’ farewell to a good friend is all.” Malcolm shrugged, ready to unleash the anger stirring inside. “Not that ye would know what a friend is.”

Malcolm left the ship, thankful to be back on solid ground. The muscles in his legs felt strange as he walked. Hired carriages waited on the docks to carry new passengers wherever they wanted to go. Malcolm didn’t dare waste his money and ignored the drivers who called out to him. A merchant woman in a corner booth held up a red cloak in admiration. It looked very similar to Lauren’s. Malcolm pushed his wobbly legs in determination as he strode toward her.

She looked up with a broad grin, revealing yellow teeth. Wrinkles lined her eyes, giving away her advanced years. “An elegant cloak for the missus?”

“Please, where did ye get it?” Malcolm slowed to a halt in front of her table.

“That is not important, lad. Look at this fine detail. A nice lining to boot.” She opened the cloak to show the inside.

Malcolm touched the sleeve and fingered a dark brown stain near the wrist.

“ ’Tis only a small stain an’ I am sure ’twill wash out.”

“ ’Tis coffee. I remember the morn Lauren spilled it on herself.” He crushed the garment in his fist and tried to ignore the aching hole in his chest as he peered into the woman’s eyes. “Please, tell me where he took her. I intend to get her back.”

“Oh, I see.” She pointed up the street. “I bet you are after the pretty one with the blonde hair an’ striking blue eyes. He had about ten o’ them chained on a wagon, but she is the only one who stood out from the rest.”

“What did the man look like?” Malcolm wiped his face and took a deep breath.

“He is middle-aged with brownish-gray hair to his shoulders.” She motioned to one of her own thick shoulders. “He has got a mustache an’ beard. You better hurry if you wanna catch ’im.”

“Thank ye.” Malcolm stepped back. “An’ do not worry. I will catch ’im, an’ when I do, he shall be sorry.”

Lauren tugged on her bound hands, but the rope was so tight it rubbed her skin raw. She and nine other indentured servants from
The Sea Lady
sat on a bed of straw as a horse pulled the wagon through the busy streets of Charles Towne, alternating between dirt roads and those laid in brick and stone. The horse clip-clopped along, his shoes pressing against the hard stones.

The man who purchased them sat up front, guiding the wagon through the busy traffic. Mr. MacKinnon had called him Mr. Davidson. He wasn’t a well-versed gentleman, but one with bad manners and an ill temper. When Lauren tried to explain that she wasn’t for sale and that they were making a mistake, he shoved her toward the other indentured servants and ordered all of them bound. Her protests and struggles against them were in vain.

She glanced behind them, seeking a sign of Malcolm. Surely, he would come after her, wouldn’t he? Even if he did, how would he catch them without a horse? Doubt pressed her like a heavy burden, throwing her mind into survival mode. She would have to depend on her own faculties and pray for God’s wisdom and favor to guide her.

Lauren glanced at the dirty and thin faces around her, wearing pale expressions of no hope. How many of them were here against their will? Of those who had chosen this path, were they already sorry?

The wagon rolled along, wobbling from side to side between uneven stones. Conversations buzzed in all directions from the town’s citizens. The smell of liquor drifted from taverns, mingling with the stench of horse droppings still in the street. The sun warmed the day and brightened the world, making her wish she could use her hands to shield her eyes. Instead, she closed them. They burned as she allowed herself to be still and rest while she could.

It was no use to make plans at this point. Lauren had no idea where they were going and what would happen. The ten of them might be going to different places, or all of them could land at the same location. Their destination might be around the corner or take days.

One thing was certain. She needed to eat and rest to maintain her strength so she could make her escape at the first opportunity. They turned off the cobbled street and onto a smooth dirt road. The wagon wobbled less, allowing Lauren to relax more. The background noises faded. Lauren imagined herself at home in bonny Scotland, riding in her father’s wagon to market as a child.

The sound of a lone rider approached from behind. Horse hooves pounded the compact dirt road and grew louder. People around her shifted to stare. Someone’s foot touched hers.

“Halt that wagon!” a man called. He sounded like Malcolm.

Lauren’s eyes flew open. Her heart pounded with hope. Where would he have gotten a horse? He had planned to save what money he had earned on
The Sea Lady
to purchase his mother. Her heart thumped against her ribs as hope rose in her chest.

“I said halt that wagon. Now!” Malcolm passed them in a blur as Lauren scrambled to her knees and tried to peer over the side.

Lauren had never been so glad to see Malcolm MacGregor. In the last six weeks, her feelings for him had changed more than she ever thought possible. She was determined to forgive him, but more than that, she had come to depend on him and trust in his judgment.

“Who in the blazes are ye?” Mr. Davidson yelled over the rattling wheels and the heavy breathing of the horse. “If a thief, ye should try a rich man.”

“Pull over!” Malcolm raised his voice and pointed to the side.

“Nay.” Mr. Davidson shook his head.

Malcolm manuvered his horse closer, pulled his left foot out of the stirrup, and swung his leg over. He lunged from his horse and jumped onto the wagon seat. Before Mr. Davidson had a chance to react, Malcolm steadied himself and swung a fist into his jaw. The man slumped over to the side while Malcolm grabbed the reins and pulled them back. The horse slowed as he steered the wagon to the side.

People paused in their yards and on the front steps of buildings to watch. A woman beside Lauren gasped. “Is the mon crazy?”

The wagon slowed to a stop. Malcolm jumped down and strode to the back. Lauren hobbled on her knees, but her long skirts kept getting in her way and others blocked her path. He unlatched the back and pulled the gate down.

“Lauren? Where are ye, lass?” Malcolm asked, ignoring the questions and pleas from the other servants.

“Right here.” She had fallen in her struggle and lay on her side.

“Move aside.” The others scrambled back. Malcolm leaned in and lifted her into his arms, pulling her close.

“She is mine!” Mr. Davidson said. “I just bought ’er.”

“Mr. MacKinnon cheated ye. She is not an indentured servant. Her passage was paid. I paid it myself.” Malcolm carried her to his horse where he untied her.

“I paid good money for ’er, I did,” said Mr. Davidson. “I signed a contract an’ all. I can prove it once filed in the court records.”

Malcolm kept a reassuring hand upon her arm as he pulled out a piece of paper with his other hand. “Ye mean this?”

Mr. Davidson reached for it, but Malcolm jerked it away. “Not so fast,” Malcolm said, shaking his head. “I canna trust ye, and I am not about to let this document get into the wrong hands. So place them behind yer head.” Mr. Davidson stared at him in confused defiance. “Now!”

The man jumped and threw his hands behind his head. Malcolm stepped forward and held up the paper for him to see. “Does this look familiar?”

“Aye, ’tis the agreement I signed when I bought ’er.” Mr. Davidson glanced over at Lauren. “That is why ye do not have the right to take ’er.”

Malcolm ripped up the agreement into tiny pieces. “Since it will never be recorded in the courthouse, ye would have a hard time proving it.”

“How did ye get it?” Mr. Davidson demanded.

“It matters not,” Malcolm said. “Go on about yer business. Now that I have Lauren back, I shall go about mine.”

Malcolm mounted up behind Lauren. His arms wrapped around her to take the reins. She had never felt so safe and secure. Leaning back against his muscular chest, Lauren closed her eyes. “
Lord, thank Ye for answering my prayers,” she whispered, content to go wherever Malcolm took her.