For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (25 page)

Her gaze fell on swords and pistols hanging on the hips of men who were more than capable of murder. Fear gripped her insides and coiled in a tight ball, almost cutting off her air. Mayhap, it would be best if Malcolm didn’t see her. She didn’t want anything to happen to him.

Hazel eyes met Lauren’s. Recognition lit Malcolm’s face as he twisted his lips in angry disgust and strode toward her. Lauren’s heart lifted in a mixture of hope and anxiety. She didn’t see a weapon on Malcolm, but she knew he was too cunning to come here unprepared. He lifted a finger to his lips, indicating for her to keep quiet and not give him away.

Rob and Logan came in, separating around the room. More men came in whom Lauren had not seen in the last few weeks. She noticed them exchanging glances with Malcolm, Rob, and Logan.

“Cinnamon, play some more.” A man with a thick brown beard thumped the table in a rhythm she didn’t recognize.

Lauren turned and placed her fingers on the keys, releasing a light-hearted melody. A commotion took place behind her, but she kept playing, knowing that fights were quite common at the Pink House. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices grew louder, and punches hitting flesh caused a flood of emotion to swirl through her already tight nerves. Lauren fumbled the keys. Anxiety crawled from her hands, up her arms, and around her throat, gripping her in a mind-numbing state.

“Lauren, let us go.” Malcolm’s blessed voice appeared at her ear. Relief rushed through her, and she abandoned the pianoforte.

“Leave her alone!” Adelle yelled across the room. Logan held a pistol at her head as Rob fought one of the bodyguards. Some of the servants from Mallard Plantation were fighting others in the room. Girls screamed, crawled under tables, and cowered in the corner. A mug went flying over Lauren’s head and smashed against the wall, landing on the pianoforte. Its contents dripped from the wall to the floor.

One of the guards finished a fight and stomped toward them.

“Malcolm!” She pointed behind him.

He swung in time, grabbed a sword from a fallen man, and slashed the bodyguard in the arm. Blood soaked his sleeve, but he didn’t stop. The bodyguard swung his good arm in an arch. Malcolm lunged to the side, missing the blow.

Lauren stood and pressed her back against the wall. Several of Adelle’s bodyguards had fallen. Two appeared dead. Logan tied Adelle to a chair as he shouted and pointed a finger in her face. One of Rob’s servants lay lifeless as the rest continued to battle pirates and raucous sailors. Some whom she had never met fought alongside Malcolm and Logan. How had Malcolm convinced these men to risk their lives to rescue her? Another servant from Mallard Plantation fell. Pain sliced through Lauren’s chest and side. Her breath came in short gasps, swelling against her broken ribs. Her vision faltered, and she blinked to stay conscious.

Malcolm slammed his fist into the guard’s face and kicked him away. The guard staggered, tripping over a fallen bench and striking his head on the table, knocking him out. Malcolm turned back to Lauren and grabbed her arm to lead her out, but a man stepped back and bumped into her.

“Ohhh!” Pain ripped through her, and she slid to her knees, gasping for breath. She wrapped her free arm around herself. Tears pooled in her eyes as she blinked, staring at the dirty floor.

“Lauren, come on.” Malcolm tried to help her rise.

“My ribs are broken.” She struggled to her feet, wincing. Each breath was too painful to endure. “I canna ride.”

“Pastor Brad is outside with a wagon. We came prepared with loggers an’ some of my fighting friends. Pastor Brad figures if ye’re here against yer will, there may be others, an’ he wants to free them.”

When they reached the front door, Lauren faltered. Malcolm swept her in his arms. She shut her eyes and went limp. He suspected she lost consciousness. Fear spiked in his gut as he rushed to the door, eager to assess her injuries. Malcolm carried her to the waiting wagon, where Pastor Brad paced. He unhooked his hands from behind his back and rushed to Malcolm.

“Ye found her.” Pastor Brad paused in midstride. Malcolm laid Lauren on a bed of straw in the wagon. “What is wrong with her?

“I do not know.” Malcolm shook his head, ignoring the increasing pressure rising inside him. “I believe she is suffering from a beating. She said her ribs are broken.” Malcolm touched her chin, trailing a finger along her face. “Her jaw is swollen an’ bruised. They tried to cover it with powder, but ’tis coming through.”

“Poor lass.” Pastor Brad clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I canna think of anyone who deserves better than Lauren Campbell. Do not worry, lad. She has a strong faith an’ the Lord is with her. He led ye to her, did He not?”

“Aye.” Malcolm nodded. “We need to get her home an’ send someone for a doctor.”

Logan and Rob returned with two women. One looked to be Lauren’s age, while the other couldn’t be more than ten and four. Malcolm’s stomach tightened, almost making him ill. He swallowed the bile in the back of his throat and forced his mind on the task at hand.

“These two were forced to be here like Lauren. Given the opportunity, they wanted out.” Logan assisted them into the back of the wagon as if they were both princesses. “We ought to burn that place down.” His tone held the same bitterness that Malcolm felt.

“We shall fight them through the church,” Pastor Brad said. “There are more people who are against these bordellos than for them. For now, let us get these lasses out of here to safety.”

“Agreed.” Malcolm strode to the front of the wagon and climbed up to take the reins. He waited for Logan and Rob to settle in the wagon bed beside the women. Pastor Brad and Malcolm’s logging and fighter friends loaded in another wagon. They watched for signs of followers from the Pink House, but none came.

Malcolm flicked the reins, and the horses launched forward. He urged them to keep a brisk pace as he led them down Chalmers Street. He couldn’t get away from this place fast enough. They passed other bordellos where prostitutes called out to men on the street. The smell of whiskey overcame the fresh scent of the nearby sea. It was shameful how rotten some people could make a place with such potential. At least, the rest of Charles Towne wasn’t like this.

Soon they rolled down Meeting Street, and the change in scenery allowed Malcolm to breathe a sigh of relief. Now that he had Lauren, he would never let her out of his sight again. He could only imagine what she had endured and seen in that place. Now wasn’t the time to think on it. Right now, he needed to stay focused on her recovery.

The sound of the rolling wagons must have alerted his mother to their return. She stepped out onto the porch and hurried down the steps to greet them.

“Where is Lauren? Did ye find her?” She leaned over the side as they rolled to a stop. “Oh my, what is wrong with the lass?”

“They beat her because she tried to escape.” The younger girl said, glancing down at Lauren and touching her arm in concern. “But I have never seen her pass out before. You think she will be all right?”

“We hope so,” Pastor Brad said. “Rob, would ye fetch the doctor?”

“Of course.” Rob nodded, swinging his legs over the side and landing on his feet. “I shall get my horse. He should be well rested by now.”

Malcolm set the brake and jumped down. He strode to the back and unlatched the gate. “Mither, before she fainted, Lauren told me her ribs are broken. Ready my bed so I can take her in directly. She can have my chamber.”

“Aye, she will need a soft bed to rest an’ recover.” She rushed into the house while the other two girls scooted to the edge.

“Is there aught we can do?” the younger one asked. “I am Violet.”

“Hold the front door open for me,” Malcolm said. He glanced at the other girl. “If ye do not mind, make some tea for us.”

They both nodded and left to take care of their tasks. He turned and met Pastor Brad’s gaze. With a brief nod, both men maneuvered Lauren to the edge where Malcolm lifted her into his arms.

She groaned, and her eyes fluttered. “Malcolm.” He coveted the way she whispered his name. If she intended to say anything else, it died upon her lips with another wince. Her face contorted in pain, and Malcolm’s gut twisted in reaction.

Lauren had lost too much weight. He swallowed the rising emotion as he cradled her thin body against him. Did they starve her as well? Swift anger engulfed him. She moaned as he placed her on the bed.

Her eyes opened, registering on him. A slight smile lifted the corner of her pale lips. “Thank ye.”

“I declare, lass, we shall have to fatten ye up, we will.” His mother spread a quilt over her and patted the top of her hand.

“Iona.” Lauren’s eyes filled with tears. “I am so glad ye look well.” She swallowed as a deep breath gushed out. Her shoulders shook. “ ’Twas awful. I thought the Lord had forsaken me.” Lauren sobbed, clutching at her side. A wrenching cry filled the chamber.

His mother leaned over to hug her as if she were her own daughter. “There, there, lass. Tell me all ’bout it.” She motioned for everyone to leave.

Malcolm turned and strode from the room, shutting the door behind them. Lauren deserved this moment of privacy, and he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing the intimate details—not yet, at least. He wouldn’t be able to keep from retaliating against the hateful woman running the bordello. If he ended up in jail, how could he protect and care for Lauren? How would the townspeople react toward her once they heard of her disgrace? Would Lauren blame him for not rescuing her sooner? Malcolm closed his eyes and swallowed a new rising fear. Would she want to go home to her father in Scotland? Would he lose her?

Chapter 14

14

G
rateful to be alone with Iona, Lauren sobbed until she was so stuffy she couldn’t breathe. Lauren confessed all that Adelle had done to her and intended to do if Malcolm hadn’t rescued her. Iona sat on the edge of the bed and listened in silence. To Lauren’s relief, her expression wasn’t condemning but consoling. Her soft brown eyes filled with compassion and wisdom as she refrained from speaking, no doubt waiting for the right moment.

A knock sounded at the door, and Violet walked in with a tray of steaming hot tea.

“Violet, what are ye doing here?” Lauren asked.

“Your friends asked if anyone else wanted to come along.” She shrugged. “I figured it might be my only chance to escape. Madame Adelle could not do aught with a gun pointed at her head.”

“My son didn’t have a gun, did he?” Iona laid a hand across her chest and turned a shade darker. Her wide eyes blinked in disapproval.

“I believe his name is Rob.” Violet poured tea in both cups. “Sugar?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Two lumps.” Iona nodded, her shoulders releasing tension.

“The same,” Lauren said.

“Pastor Brad was upset when I told him I am ten and four. He said he is going to help me find my parents.” She handed Iona her tea and held out Lauren’s. “Do you think he can really help me?” A wide smile brightened her face, and she straightened with a slight bounce. “ ’Tis been almost a year since I was taken. Almost too good to believe.”

“Well, believe it.” Iona patted her arm in encouragement. “ ’Tis a shame what those people are doing to young lasses.”

“I shall be getting back to the kitchen. I do not want to leave Rose alone for too long.” Violet headed for the door.

“Rose came too?” Lauren asked. “Who else?”

“Just us three. I think the others were too afraid.” Violet swung the door open and gasped. A man with a black bag stood with a raised fist as if he was about to knock on the door.

“I am sorry.” He grinned. “I am Dr. Drake.”

“I was just leaving.” Violet sneaked around him and ducked out of the chamber.

He walked in and set his bag on the side of the bed. “Looks like someone tried to break your jaw.” He reached under Lauren’s chin and nudged her head to the side so he could get a better look. “At least they did not succeed. You have a solid bone. Any trouble moving it when talking or chewing?”

“ ’Tis tender and sore,” Lauren said. “My ribs hurt more. I can hardly breathe. Feels like someone is piercing me with a broad-
sword.”

“I am sorry, but I will need to take a look.” Dr. Drake glanced at Iona. “Will you be able to assist me?”

“Aye.” She nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

The next few minutes proved to be torture as he moved Lauren around to examine her from front to back. He asked her a series of questions. Dr. Drake unbound her ribs and reset her with something sturdier.

He questioned her about personal details and the possibility of rape. Lauren could relieve his concerns on that score. She didn’t share all the despicable things she witnessed, only what she thought might relate to her health. How could she explain the horrible nightmares and that she feared the marriage bed?

Much of the damage lingered in her mental state, taunting and torturing her as if she had been part of the acts. She felt dirty and ruined for having witnessed them and for being in the Pink House. Her bruises would eventually disappear, but her tarnished memories would remain. How could Malcolm want a woman like her? How would he feel when people talked about her? And she had no doubt that gossipers would talk.

“You have broken ribs on both sides,” Dr. Drake said, leaning over her. “Breathing will be uncomfortable for a while. I recommend staying in bed with as little movement as possible for three weeks.” He held up a finger and lowered his voice in severity. “Even if you begin to feel better, do not get up and start moving around. That is when the healing is critical. It may be better but not complete.”

“I shall be tendin’ to her an’ I assure ye, she will be as still as a root.” Iona walked to the foot of the bed and inclined her head at the doctor. “What about the pain?”

Dr. Drake pulled out a brown bottle from his bag and handed it to Iona. “I only want her taking this when the pain is unbearable during the day. Just a spoonful at night for the first three nights. ’Twill help her sleep, but I do not want her to become dependent on it.

“ ’Tis a mixture of several things from my herbal garden. The starvation she has endured caused her to lose weight, and she is dehydrated. Start out giving her chicken broth and gradually increase her portions with vegetables, then breads and meats.”

He placed his black hat on his head, picked up his bag, and walked to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Send for me if you need me.”

“We will.” Iona pulled the covers up to Lauren’s chin. “Lauren, I know ye need yer rest, but Rob asked if he could come in to see ye afore he leaves.”

“I am feeling much better now that Dr. Drake is not moving me about.” The pillows behind her helped prop her up so she could breathe better.

“Good, I shall get ’im.” She walked across the hardwood floor. Lauren closed her eyes and listened to Iona’s steps and the click of the doorknob with the creak of the hinges as it opened. Male voices rumbled from the hallway. Dr. Drake spoke with Rob and Malcolm about her condition.

Footsteps came closer. “Lauren, I am sorry for what my father had Fairbanks do while we were away.” Remorse filled Rob’s voice. She blinked and tried to focus on his face. His skin heated with shame. She reached out her hand. He dropped to his knees, gripping it. “I am so sorry.” The whispered plea came out in a tremor.

“ ’Tis not yer fault.” She swallowed with difficulty. “What about my indenture?”

“I brought the original contract with me.” Rob wiped his eyes and produced a rolled parchment. He pulled the string tying it together and opened it. Without a word, he ripped it in two. “I am taking this to the courthouse and officially releasing you. As far as the Mallard family is concerned, you are a free woman. The Pink House never exchanged written records with Fairbanks. ’Tis the risk Adelle took in being in the kind of business she is in.” Rob turned to his new friend.

“Malcolm, you are my witness to tearing up this contract.”

“Indeed, I am.” Malcolm slapped Rob on the back in a friendly pat. “I am much obliged.” The two men shook hands.

Rob turned back to Lauren and kissed the top of her hand. “I appreciate your forgiveness. I plan to return home and do as you suggested: take over the plantation, and run things better than my father did.”

Lauren smiled. “Does that mean no more floggings?”

“None. They are now forbidden.” He sliced his hand through the air. “I plan to hire someone to replace Stan Fairbanks before my father returns. Otherwise, he might try to rehire the man.”

“Logan Grant might be a good overseer,” Malcolm suggested.

“Actually, I was thinking you might.” Rob raised a brow at Malcolm.

“Thank ye, but as soon is Lauren is well, I plan to resume the search for my sister. I may not be staying in the area.”

Fear pierced Lauren’s heart, and she couldn’t suppress a gasp. It hadn’t occurred to her that Malcolm and Iona might leave Charles Towne. What would she do?

“What is wrong?” Malcolm leaned toward her, touching his knuckles to her forehead.

“Where might ye be going?” she asked, hating how her voice now sounded like a croaking frog.

“Wilmington, North Carolina.”

After everyone left and while Lauren slept, Malcolm and his mother settled in the parlor. She sat in her wooden chair and picked up her sewing kit. Too much silence grated on Malcolm’s nerves and left him to imagine the worst. He turned to his mother. “What did Lauren tell ye, ’bout the Pink House? What did they do to her?”

“I am surprised at ye, Malcolm.” She frowned, looking up at him from her sewing. Lines formed around her mouth as she gave him a hard stare. Malcolm shifted in his seat across from her, feeling like a lad once again. Her stern tone sounded as if it belonged to a robust woman half her age. “Ye know I will not betray Lauren’s trust, no matter that ye’re my son. I will tell ye this. She has been through quite an ordeal. Ye’ll have to be patient with ’er. ’Twill take time for her to heal, both physically an’ emotionally.”

He stood and paced in front of the dark fireplace, rubbing the back of his neck. “One minute I want to know the details, an’ the next I would rather not know a thing.” He leaned an elbow on the wooden mantel next to a vase of wildflowers his mother had picked. “A fickle mind has never been part of my character.”

“Do not be so hard on yerself, lad. ’Tis a difficult situation, to be sure.” She poked her needle through the fabric. “Ye’ll hear naught from me.”

“I shall try to get another job over the next few weeks while Lauren heals.”

“Mayhap the loggers will take ye back.” Her hopeful tone tugged at his heart. At least the fighting money he had earned would last them for a while.

“Lauren seemed a wee bit distant toward me earlier today,” Malcolm said, worried she had changed her mind about him. He shrugged. “I am not sure what to expect.”

“Give her time.” His mother looped her needle and thread, pulling until it stopped. “She may never be herself again.”

“I understand, but somethin’ is not right.” Malcolm shook his head, unconvinced. “She will not look me in the eye. She has naught to be ashamed of.”

“She will come ’round. Ye will see.”

Over the next three days, Lauren slept a great deal and talked very little. Malcolm watched her at times, taking turns with his mother. He bought her a new Bible, thinking she might enjoy reading it while she healed, but it still lay on the table by her bed in the same position. If he hadn’t known her before her experience at the Pink House, he wouldn’t have guessed her to be a faith-filled woman. The knowledge seared him through to the heart, especially since she was the one who inspired his returning faith.

His mother took Lauren a plate to break her fast. Malcolm followed a few moments later with a fresh cup of coffee. Lauren sat up, wincing at the effort as his mother propped pillows behind her. Then she placed the tray on Lauren’s lap.

Malcolm handed the steaming cup to her. Their gazes met as she accepted the mug. His warm fingers touched hers, sending a tingle through his hand and up his arm. Her pleasant expression shifted to instant dislike, and she jerked away.

Her reaction stung. He swallowed his disappointment and tried to hide his embarrassment by pretending nothing had happened. “Did ye sleep well?”

“Aye, and yer mither spoils me with her great cooking.” Lauren bit into a warm biscuit.

“ ’Tis enough ye like it.” His mother strode toward the door. “I have a few things to do in the kitchen. Malcolm will keep ye company for now.”

Malcolm stood in awkward silence while she chewed. Even if she wanted him to leave, this time he would not. He had been too accommodating in the last few weeks. He ached to be near her, to help her overcome the bad memories. If only she would allow him to love her beyond the hidden chambers of her heart, he would show her how much he cared for her.

“I am glad to see ye eating more. Ye’ve lost so much weight.” Malcolm sat in a chair and scooted it closer to the bed. “Kathleen will be coming over today with Deidra and Logan after work.”

“What about ye?” she asked, fingering the patterned quilt his mother just finished making last week. “I thought ye planned to go back to work?”

“Why do ye want me gone?” Malcolm leaned his elbows on his knees. As he studied her, he willed Lauren to look at him. “Lauren, do I make ye uncomfortable, lass? It seems as if ye’re avoiding me.”

“Nay, not ye, Malcolm.” She picked up a slice of ham and paused. “ ’Tis me. I am the one who has changed.”

She bit into the meat and chewed, keeping her gaze averted. Frustration welled inside Malcolm, but he forced himself to remain still. He didn’t know what to say, but he refused to give up.

“Lauren, I do not know what ye’re thinking, but I want ye to know that my feelings toward ye have not changed.” She gulped. Anxiety increased his pulse. “Do ye not believe me?” When she didn’t answer, Malcolm reached for her hand. “Lauren?”