For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (2 page)

“Where?” Blair sidled up to the counter beside Lauren, excitement building in her tone.

“I’m going to the ancient castle of Kilchurn.” Lauren’s heart swelled as her sister’s eyes widened in admiration.

“All alone? Ye know Da would not approve if he was home.” Blair lowered her voice to a whisper. “He will be angry if ye do not take cousin Keith.”

“Keith is studying to take orders next week and will give his first sermon,” Lauren whispered, touching the tip of her sister’s nose and grabbing a block of cheese. “I canna interfere with the Lord’s work. Besides, Kilchurn Castle is part of our estate. ’Tisn’t as if I’m leaving the grounds.”

“But ye’re leaving Kilchurn Manor,” Blair said.

“ ’Tis only a short ride.” Lauren covered the basket with a cloth and tucked in the edges. She paused, considering her sister’s hopeful expression.

“I want to go, please.” Blair linked her fingers as if she was about to pray. She wore the Campbell plaid over a dark blue dress and frowned with a sulky pout as she crossed her thin arms. “Lauren?”

“Run along and get ready. Meet me at the stables,” Lauren said. “I shall see that your horse is saddled and ready.”

Blair disappeared. Her footsteps pattered down the hall. Lauren chuckled and shook her head, knowing the child ran in haste. She hoped Blair would not tumble into one of the servants. With her basket of goods in tow, Lauren let herself out the side door and made her way to the stables.

It was a crisp morning, bright with sunshine and promise. Lauren loved the ancient relic of Kilchurn Castle now crumbling on the far side of Loch Awe. The short journey would take them less than an hour on horseback. On the days she walked the grounds, Lauren loved imagining what it must have been like centuries ago when the castle passed from the MagGregors to the Campbells through marriage.

Lauren entered the shaded stables. “Aidan?” Lauren called to the stable lad. “Are ye there? Blair and I are going for a ride.” No one answered. Strange. Lauren shrugged and stepped back, trampling on a pair of booted feet. A man’s hand clamped over her mouth, shoving a piece of cloth inside to silence her scream. Another hand pulled her by the hair and jerked her back against his hard body. Her basket of goods flew over a nearby stall. The horse inside stomped and snorted.

“I took care o’ the lad,” said a gruff voice at her ear. “Just needed to get ’im out o’ the way. ’Tis Duncan Campbell’s daughter I want.”

Lauren’s heart pounded in her ears as she kicked behind her, but he slammed a fist against her temple. Pain sliced through her head. He wrapped an arm around her neck, cutting off her air, and dragged her into a dark corner.

“Lauren?” Blair called. Her footsteps came closer. “Are ye here?”

Closing her eyes, Lauren stopped struggling, praying God would spare her sister. The man breathed heavily at her ear, his grip intense. To Lauren’s relief, he appeared to be alone, and he did not go after Blair.

“Aidan?” Her sister sighed with frustration. “Where did everyone go?” She stomped out of the stables and back toward the manor.

As soon as Blair disappeared, the man slipped a knife to Lauren’s throat. “Go.” The blade nicked her skin as he pushed her forward, leading her out of the stables on the other side. The gag tied in her mouth made her jaw ache and dried her tongue. He dragged her into the woods where a horse waited.

Lauren tripped over a fallen branch, but he caught her and shoved her against a tree. Her bruised hip stung as he pulled her arms behind her and bound her hands. The man slung her over his horse and mounted behind her. Between a dizzy spell and a wave of nausea, she caught a glimpse of his MacGregor plaid.

They rode toward Inverawe where Lauren often visited the poor and brought them food. Iona and Carleen MacGregor always welcomed her and shared their faith. Iona’s sons were not quite as friendly, but Graham was open-minded and kind. Lauren supposed because he was the youngest he wasn’t as set in his ways as the other two. He was closer to Lauren’s age at twenty.

When they arrived at the village, Lauren wasn’t prepared for the devastation she witnessed. Ashes simmered in gray piles. Grief-stricken faces glared at her with hatred. Several people spit at her, and one threw a rotten onion in her face. The putrid smell made her stomach roll.

They came to a pile of rubble that should have been Iona and Carleen’s hut. Hot smoke still pumped from the smoldering remains. Lauren’s chest tightened as tears sprang to her eyes. Her father and brother were supposed to arrive here and collect the rents. Surely, they were not responsible? Her heart ached, fearing it was the truth she wanted to deny.

Her abductor stopped at one of the huts where smoke pumped through the chimney. He grabbed Lauren by the arm and yanked her down. She stumbled to her feet, finding it hard to regain her balance. He pushed her toward the door as others surrounded them.

“Why did ye bring a Campbell ’ere?” a woman asked. “Do ye not think they have caused enough trouble?”

“Aye,” a man said. “The whole lot o’ them will come looking for ’er.”

“Malcolm! Thomas!” Lauren’s captor ignored them and banged on the worn wooden door. “Open up. I have Lauren Campbell.”

The door swung open and Malcolm’s tall form emerged. He crossed his arms with a menacing scowl. “Colin, ye were supposed to find my mither an’ sister, not bring back a hostage.”

“Iona an’ Carleen were not at Kilchurn.” Colin’s words came out in a rush as he tightened his grip on her. “But she was.”

“What are we supposed to do with her?” Malcolm pointed at Lauren, venom coating his tone. “This was not the plan.”

“We have no plan since they were not at Kilchurn,” Thomas said, coming to stand behind Malcolm. “Mayhap, she can be the plan. Who else is goin’ to be as important to Duncan?”

“She canna stay here,” another man said. “Her father will destroy the whole village lookin’ for her.”

“Aye, but she’s here now,” Mary MacGregor said. “The damage is done. Ye should make the best o’ her situation. Could we exchange her for Iona or Carleen?”

Shock vibrated through Lauren. What had her father done? Although the MacGregors had never been cruel to her, most, except Iona and Carleen, were wary and reluctant to befriend her. Now that the villagers had good reason to be seething in anger and resentment, she had no idea how far they would go in using her. She wondered if anyone at home had discovered her disappearance.

“What if he comes back an’ burns the rest o’ our homes?” a woman asked.

“He owns all these huts. If he burns them all, he canna rent them out.” Malcolm scratched his temple and glanced at Lauren. “Remove her gag. She may know something.”

“How ye plan to get ’er to talk?” Colin asked, jerking at her bindings. The cloth fell from around her head, and Lauren spit out the other piece.

“Speak up, lass.” Malcolm stepped toward her, his height more like a tower than a mere man. “Where did yer da take my mither an’ sister? The sooner we find out, the sooner negotiations can begin an’ ye can go home.”

“All I know is that he intended to collect the rents and go to the harbor.”

“The harbor?” Thomas joined his brother, his palm up against the side of his head, pondering the possibilities. “Why would he do that?”

“Only one explanation,” an older man said, lifting a finger. All eyes turned to him. “To sell them. What else?”

The women gasped, some wept, while the men groaned and complained in outrage. Colin jerked Lauren by the arm and shoved her to the center. “We have one of their own!” She stumbled and fell to her knees. He pulled her hair. Fire burned her scalp. She prayed her neck wouldn’t break from the pressure. Tears stung her eyes.
Lord, I thank You for sparing Blair.

“What would Duncan do to save this bonny face?” An elderly woman bent to squeeze Lauren’s cheeks. The others came at her all at once with raised hands. Lauren closed her eyes, expecting a beating.

“Stop!” Malcolm’s firm voice sliced through the mob like a king. With the MacGregors scattered throughout Campbell lands that used to belong to the MacGregors, none of them had a clan chief. The exception was Glenstrae farther north in the heart of the Scottish Highlands. Yet no one laid a hand on her. They obeyed Malcolm out of respect.

“Let us think about our actions an’ how the Campbells might retaliate.” Malcolm lifted his hands and pointed in the direction of Kilchurn Manor. “As long as the lass lives an’ remains unharmed, we have something to bargain. None o’ us wanna worry ’bout being murdered in our beds at night or forced to flee to the hills again.”

Eyes widened, mouths dropped open, and heads shook back and forth in slow motion. Some of the villagers’ skin turned paler. They backed away from her.

“Duncan an’ Scott Campbell have a good head start. At this point, we would be guessing which harbor they went to an’ taking the lass at her word,” Malcolm said.

“Taynuilt Harbor is the closest,” Roy said. Lauren had heard one of the others call him by name. He was a middle-aged man who looked at her with so much malice her skin itched and burned. “ ’Tis on Loch Etive an’ leads out to sea.”

“Aye.” Malcolm nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “First, I want to ensure Graham’s safety ’til he heals, as well as the villagers’. I shall find her wretched father.” His boiling gaze landed on Lauren, and their eyes met. If the good Lord hadn’t been holding her together, she might have crumbled in fear, but Lauren not only found the courage she needed but also managed to lift her chin and keep her peace. Later in solitude she would bear her burdensome fear to the Lord.

“Let us bring her inside while we tend to Graham an’ make our plans,” Malcolm said, turning to the others.

Colin shoved her. Lauren stumbled into Malcolm. He reached out a steady hand and gripped her arm. She assumed the action was only out of instinct, not for her welfare.

“What happened to Graham?” The words tumbled through her lips. Of all the MacGregor men, he had always been kind to her.

Malcolm paused, his lips twisting in anger. “Yer da ordered him beaten. They tied him to a tree, pulled an’ tortured him ’til his shoulders snapped out o’ the sockets. They murdered his best friend, William.”

Lauren cringed as her mouth drained dry and her stomach twirled. The temptation to deny his words frayed at the edge of her mind as she followed him inside.

Malcolm directed her over to a large figure lying motionless on a small bed. A candle burned on a makeshift table beside him. She took small steps, her heart pounding into her throat.

“Graham?” Lauren leaned over him, taking in the sight of his bruised and disfigured face. The memory of his handsome features was like a vision. Graham didn’t respond. Deep sorrow filled her soul as she imagined what agony he must be enduring. “My . . . da . . . did this?”

“Aye,” Malcolm’s tone dripped with bitterness. “I was not here, but they tell me he tried to protect my mither an’ sister—yer friends.” He emphasized the last words as if she had betrayed them herself.

“They are my friends,” she whispered, unable to wipe at her tears with her hands bound behind her. Bile rose to the back of Lauren’s throat, threatening to overcome her. Graham’s wounds would be branded in her brain forever. What would become of Iona and Carleen? She slid to her knees as grief wracked her body. Lauren had never been able to deny the emotional tug of compassion. While she wondered what was to become of her, Graham’s grave condition weighed on her heart along with the spiritual state of the souls within her father and brother.

Lauren turned and tried to wipe her cheek on her shoulder. Malcolm strode toward her, his mouth set in a grim expression. She resisted the desire to cower and forced her muscles to remain still.

Chapter 2

2

M
alcolm paused in midstride, realizing what he was about to do. Lauren trembled and looked so pathetic weeping in the corner, but he refused to comfort her. He needed to keep his distance. The woman stirred too much confusion inside him. She leaned her head against the stone wall and closed her eyes as if shutting them out. When the villagers threatened to come against her, Lauren stood firm, unafraid to meet her fate, but at the sight of his battered brother, she wept as if he were her own kin. What kind of lass did such a thing?

Most likely, the tears were an act, a ploy to keep him from taking vengeance. Lauren Campbell knew the MacGregors took care of their own. The law was corrupt, siding with the Campbells at every turn. Ever since King James abolished the MacGregor name in 1603, the clan had to either renounce their name or suffer beatings, imprisonment, or worse, death. Many took other clan names. At times, his family used the surname Gregory. MacGregor lands were confiscated and handed over to the Campbells, but this problem with Duncan Campbell was personal. Malcolm would get his revenge.

“If ye do not need aught else, I shall go back to my own family to see what I can do to help,” Colin said, looking from Malcolm to Thomas. His nose and cheeks turned a shade darker, and he gulped with difficulty. “I’m sorry I did not find Iona or Carleen. I really thought they would be at Kilchurn.”

“Ye did what ye could.” Malcolm slapped him on the back as he walked him to the door. “I’m grateful ye went.”

“Aye, an’ for patching up Graham,” Thomas said. “Now he will have a chance at living.”

“ ’Twasn’t much, but ye’re welcome.” Colin opened the door and stepped outside.

Graham stirred. His mouth twisted in agony as he groaned. Malcolm’s gut coiled as he and Thomas rushed to his side. Graham’s eyelids fluttered, but he struggled to open them due to the swelling.

“M . . . Mith . . .” Graham’s voice faded.

“Do not worry.” Malcolm gripped his hand and bowed his head, hoping the Almighty would grant him the ability to keep the solemn promise he was about to make. “I shall get Mither back an’ Carleen too. Ye have my word.”

Malcolm tilted Graham’s neck so he could sip a bit of whiskey. He hoped it was enough to dull the lad’s pain. It dribbled down his chin. Thomas wiped his mouth with a rag. Graham didn’t speak again as he dozed.

“Now that we have the lass, the Campbells will be back.” Rising to his feet, Malcolm glanced over at Mary, Roy, and Thomas. He took three long strides to the table and kneaded the back of his neck. Malcolm rubbed his tired eyes. “Graham will live through this, but we have to get ’im safely out o’ here.”

“Where to?” Thomas lifted a dark eyebrow. “He canna travel. Not after what they did to ’im.” Thomas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and linking his fingers. “We have no idea what injuries he has inside.”

“He will be fine. I saw the determination in his eyes a moment ago,” Malcolm said, refusing to believe otherwise.

“That was pain,” Roy said.

Mary nodded in agreement where she sat at the wooden table on the other side of Thomas. “By the time Alan returns from the nearest debtors’ prison, Graham may be doing better.”

“We do not have that much time. The Campbells will soon know Lauren is gone an’ they will come for her.” Malcolm paced in thought. “Thomas, I want ye to take him to Mither’s people. Uncle Athol Ferguson will take ye in after what they have done to Mither. Ye’ll both be safe in Glenstrae under the protection of the chief.”

“Roy, could I borrow yer wagon bed? ” Thomas asked. “Or did the wretched Campbells burn it?”

“My cousin borrowed it,” Roy said, nodding. “Otherwise, they would have taken it.”

“Good. A flat bed for Graham to lie on will be the only way he can travel right now.” Malcolm paused to rub his tense neck. “I do not want the two of ye here longer than necessary.” Malcolm walked over and thumped the table with his fingers like a drum roll. “I am taking the lass with me to Taynuilt. I canna afford to let her out o’ my sight. She is the only way I can be sure to get back at Duncan. He cares for naught else.”

“Ye suppose the man has a heart.” Thomas spoke in a gruff voice before looking down at the table and blinking.

“Everyone cares ’bout something or someone,” Malcolm said. “We know he is greedy, but few have gotten to his family.”

“No one has the courage to challenge ’im,” Thomas said. “They say he was not good to his wife.”

“Aye.” Lauren’s voice echoed across the room. “They say that and worse.” She kept her eyes closed as she leaned against the wall. “I have heard all the rumors about my father. I do not remember much about their marriage, but I do know ye may not get the reaction ye hope. He hardly knows Blair and I exist. Ye should have taken Scott, his heir.”

“Duncan is a prideful man an’ ye belong to ’im.” Malcolm straightened. “Believe me, taking ye matters.”

“We shall see.” Lauren shrugged, unconvinced.

Malcolm propped his fists on his hips and studied her. Was she attempting to make him think her father didn’t care for her so he would let her go? Did she want sympathy, hoping he wouldn’t hurt her? Lauren was a strange lass, to be sure.

“I have an idea.” Malcolm snapped his fingers and whirled. The others stared at him with curious expressions. “When ye dig a grave for William, dig another one beside it. Put Graham’s name on it. If the Campbells believe Graham is dead, there will be no reason to come finish the deed. Thomas an’ Graham should leave tonight. Let them believe Thomas came with me to fetch Mither and Carleen. Mayhap, they will leave the villagers alone to focus on me.”

“They will never leave us alone.” Roy slammed a fist on the table.

“Ye’re right ’bout that,” Malcolm said, resuming his pacing. Being on the move helped him think. “As long as Duncan owns the lands, things will not change. The villagers need to leave.” With a heavy heart, Malcolm turned to his brother. “Thomas, I shall find a way to write. I will slip yer letters inside the ones I send to our uncle.”

“Aye.” Thomas nodded as he stood. “To keep them from tracing me to Glenstrae. Good idea. I wish ye’d take Roy with ye,” Thomas said. “Some of the other MacGregors too.”

“Nay, no need to risk others.” Malcolm glanced back at Lauren and winked. “Mayhap, people will think we are a couple.”

“I doubt it,” Lauren scoffed. “Not with my hands tied and a gag in my mouth.”

“Looks like ye’ll have yer hands full with the lass.” Roy grinned. “Mary, give ’em a few extra plaids.” He held out a hand, and Malcolm shook it. Unsure if he would ever see him again, Malcolm pulled Roy into a hug as emotion choked him. Ever since his father’s death in the Jacobite rebellion in 1745, Roy had been like a father to him and his brothers. “Ye take care.”

“I will,” Malcolm said, nodding.

“Here ye go.” Mary brought him a rolled bundle of plaids. “These will help ye stay warm an’ give ye a change o’ clothes.” She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tears welled in her eyes. She brushed them away in haste.

Malcolm swallowed with difficulty and cleared his throat. He embraced Thomas. Malcolm leaned back and blinked several times. “I want ye to know, if I do not reach them afore they board the ship, I will not be coming back. I shall board the next ship to the colonies.”

“I figured as much. Mither an’ Carleen need ye.” Thomas took a deep breath and slapped Malcolm’s shoulder. “An’ do not worry. I shall take good care o’ Graham.”

“I know ye will. Tell him bye for me when next he wakes.” Malcolm took one longing glance at his brother lying on the small bed.

“Come on, Lauren. No need to gag ye now. No one ’round here would help ye escape.” Without a word, she struggled to her feet with her hands still bound.

“They say the colonies are full of opportunities for men like us.” Malcolm squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “If it is as they say, I shall make a home over there an’ I will send for ye both. Mark my words, brother.” Malcolm gave Thomas one final grip before opening the wooden door. “This is not good-bye.” He hauled Lauren out.

Lauren glanced down at her blue riding skirt, thankful she wore something warm and flexible. She had planned to enjoy a day of picnicking and exploring the ruins of Kilchurn Castle with her sister. Instead, she rode a brown mare, fenced in by Malcolm MacGregor’s arms as he held the reins. As much as she hated to admit it, Lauren feared the gag and wondered when he would put it back on her. She loathed the idea of losing her freedom to speak.

“Even if we could not afford to pay our rents, the most yer father should have done was made us quit the premises. He had no right to sell Mither an’ Carleen as if he owned them like slaves.” Malcolm’s bitter voice filled her ears. “They treated William an’ Graham as if their lives meant naught.”

Lauren didn’t respond. She swallowed back the ache in her throat. Would they ride through the night? Would he stop and camp? Malcolm was one man she failed to understand. Even in the midst of so much chaos and tragedy, he kept his wits and temper. The feat earned her respect and was something she had never seen from her father and brother.

If he wanted to talk, mayhap she could learn more about the man himself. She would start by complimenting him. Didn’t men like him need people to pump up their pride? “My da and brother would not have had such self-control under the same circumstances ye’ve endured,” she said.

“I’d rather not talk about them,” he snapped, his arms tensing around her. “Otherwise, I might be tempted to gag ye again.”

Lauren clenched her teeth, chastising herself for antagonizing him. Of course, he didn’t want to talk about the Campbells. He had been talking about his own family earlier. Why did she have to be so dim-witted? What made her think she could talk to Malcolm MacGregor? The man abducted her. He blamed her family and planned to use her as a pawn. It was as simple as that.

Her heart pounded with the steady steps of the horse. The late evening sun angled over the church steeple in the distance. They had almost arrived in Taynuilt. Fear pierced her heart and sent shivers through her body like tiny waves as she wondered about her destiny in this place.

Malcolm paused, shoved the gag in her mouth, and tied it behind her head. Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach. He unrolled one of the packs Mary had given him. “Put this on an’ cover yer head and face with the hood. If ye try aught, I have a knife at yer back. While I do not like the idea of hurting a woman, I refuse to die because of ye.” He leaned around, making sure the results satisfied him before riding on.

Smoke from chimneys filled the air along with the aroma of mixed spices as they passed various cottages of all shapes and sizes. The sounds of a few rolling carts and carriages passed both directions. Most people had gone inside, but some lingered in the streets. It wasn’t a large town, and before long the pleasant aromas and sights gave way to less pleasant odors and lurking shadows.

The stench of a livery stable caused Lauren to wrinkle her nose. The closer they drew to the docks, the more prominent the smell of whiskey, and the number of taverns increased. Some she assumed were brothel houses as loose women hung out the windows, calling to men on the streets. Masts on the taller ships reached above the lower rooftops.

At the end of the street, Malcolm rode toward a ship where a crowd had gathered around two men sitting at a rickety wooden table. One wrote down names on long parchment with ink and quill while the other spoke to individuals in a long line. Malcolm slowed and leaned forward, resting his blade against her side. Lauren wondered if he would really go through with hurting her. Was he as bad a man as he wanted her to think, or was this all bitter revenge?

“Pardon me, sir, but do ye know where this ship is headin’?” Malcolm called out to them.

“Pennsylvania. If ye plan to board, ye’d better get in back of the line.” A middle-aged seaman shielded his eyes as he glanced up at them. “Looks like we will soon be full.”

“I am lookin’ for two women. Can ye check yer roster?” Malcolm asked.

“No time. I need to get to these people.” He shook his head, his lips twisting in a frown as he gestured to those standing before him. The man looked as if he had not bathed in a while. Lauren was glad the hood hid her disgust.