 
### Table of Contents

Description

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Betrayed - Book Two

Seduced - Book Three

Author Biography

End Credits
Charmed

The Mackenzie, Book One

H.C. Brown

Highlander Drew Mackenzie's double life as a respectable gentleman and the notorious, smuggler, _Le Diable Noir_ , comes into jeopardy the moment Lady Adrianna Beachwood's father rejects him as a suitor. He devises an ingenious deception to meet her in secret by using his cousin, the respectable, Lord Rupert as a decoy.

Nothing goes to plan and when the feisty goddaughter of George II is thrust into danger, her only chance of survival lies in the hands of her courageous and deliciously handsome Scottish warrior.
Charmed

The Mackenzie, Book One

H.C. BROWN

WWW.LUMINOSITYPUBLISHING.COM
**LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP**

CHARMED

_The Mackenzie, Book One_

Copyright © October 2015 H.C. Brown

ISBN: 978-1-910899-36-6

Cover Art by Poppy Designs

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Dedication

For

Gary-- my rock.
Chapter One

Lady Adrianna Beachwood slid into the shadows masking the terrace, her attention captivated on the tall stranger bowing over Lady Bracken's hand in the receiving line. _At last, a gentleman worthy of my consideration_. He straightened and bestowed a brilliant smile on his hostess before moving through the reception room in her direction. Sauntering past in elegant glory leaving the expensive fragrance of bergamot in his wake, he astounded her. Dangerously handsome and with the hungry countenance of a wolf, he cast a predatory gaze over the silk encased ladies gathering in the foyer. From the enthusiastic titters beside her and the flutter of fans in her periphery, his perfect proportions, and elegant form had attracted more than a few ladies devotion.

She admired tall men and he was indeed the most stylish of gentlemen. His magnificent broad shoulders fit snugly inside a dark blue jacket nipped at the waist and worn over crisp ivory linen with an overindulgence of lace in the French mode. Her gaze drifted in wanton abandon from his expertly folded silk cravat tucked into a heavily embroidered waistcoat to his breeches cut tight enough to enhance his long muscular legs. Lifting her fan to hide her heated cheeks, she gaped after him. Rather than covering his head with a wig, he had queued his glossy ebony hair at the nape without one trace of powder, yet he certainly appeared to be a devotee to fashion by the cut of his cloth, and the expensive lace at his cuffs.

Her attention matched his swagger in the direction of the ballroom and entranced by his devilish countenance, she stepped into the hallway and followed him along the passageway. She picked up her step, but he sauntered straight past the ballroom without as much as a glimpse within and continued in the direction of the card room. _Bother!_ Adrianna pressed her lips together and stared after him. Determined not to miss the opportunity to catch his eye, she cleared her throat. The temptation of a man stopped abruptly and turned to face her. His languid gaze traveled over her and as he inclined his dark head, the corners of his full mouth twitched into a secretive smile.

A booming voice, announcing the arrival of her father, broke the spell.

"Ah, there you are Adrianna. Why, may I ask do you find it necessary to dally so close to the card room? It is not seemly for a lady to be in close proximity to gamesters, my dear." He moved to her side then his gaze slid past her and darkened at the sight of the handsome stranger. "Come along, I am sure there are more suitable gentlemen waiting to fill your card." He offered his arm.

Annoyed by her father's untimely appearance, she composed her features into a mask of disinterest, and rested one hand on his arm. "I noticed you in the company of Lord Somerton in the receiving room and assumed you would pass this way so I waited for you, Papa."

His nostrils flared in disgust and he bent his head lowering his voice. His acid tongue lashed over her like a whip.

"You are not a girl on her first come out and should know better than to expose yourself to rakes and ne're do wells."

She turned to him aghast. "Oh, Papa, your worry is unfounded. To be sure, Lord Bracken would not allow scoundrels within a mile of Lady Bracken's soiree."

Her father raised both eyebrows and peered at her thoughtfully through his quizzing glass.

"Adrianna, your naivety astounds me. It would seem I will have to keep a closer eye on you this evening." He tucked an errant curl into her chignon with unexpected skill. "Come along, I have arranged for a number of _respectable_ gentlemen to make your acquaintance."

A wave of heat crawled up her neck. Indeed, the delicious man had caused her pulse to race in an alarming fashion but with her father's words, the hope of an introduction to the tantalizing stranger splintered into a thousand pieces. She forced her lips into a smile, raised her chin, and strolled into the lushly decorated ballroom. Moving through the crush, she made her way toward her usual bevy of friends. She inhaled to calm her nerves and wrinkled her nose in distaste. The delicate glass vases perched high upon alabaster podiums overflowed with roses but did little to disguise the foul odor of stale sweat permeating the stiflingly hot air. All at once, the room moved in and out of focus.

"Adrianna." Her father's voice cracked like a whip in her ear. "What is amiss?"

Flicking open her fan, she met his furious gaze. "It is very hot in here, Papa. Perhaps a cordial might help?"

Her father lowered his deep voice to a whisper.

"Very well. Sit down and for heaven's sake do not make a scene. It is imperative you fill your card this evening." He offered a congenial smile to the small group watching with interest and deposited her beside a matron. "I will go for some refreshment, Adrianna."

Her heart sank at her father's direction. She had little choice but to act the dutiful daughter, although the men her father had thrown in her path had become as boring as last week's broadsheets. _How am I to stand another evening like this?_ She gathered her wits and smiled. __ "Thank you, Papa."

The usual old and uninteresting bread puddings of men approached to fill her card. Listening with feigned interest at their nonsensical dialogue, her thoughts returned to the handsome stranger. She swallowed hard and gazed at the group of hopeful suitors. God help her. From this night onward, she would compare all men to him, her phantom of delight.

The desire to catch another glimpse of him consumed her and she ignored the chatter. With effort, she pushed down the overpowering need to lift her skirts and dash back to the card room. She observed the men her father had selected as suitable and none of them cut a dashing figure or had the face of a dark angel. She hid a smile behind her fan forcing her attention to the conversations buzzing around her like a swarm of angry bees, but her thoughts slipped unrestrained to the card room and the temptation within. Good Lord, the man had taken up permanent residence in her mind. One look at him had bewitched her into a witless ninny.

The suffocating devotion from the group of balding, overweight, suitors was unbearable, and waiting for a convenient pause in the conversation, she stood. "Please excuse me for one moment, gentlemen."

She moved through the crush and along the hallway determined to reach her destination by way of the card room. Lifting her ample silk skirts, she weaved through the crowd keen to glimpse the gamester's retreat and the forbidden delights within. Remaining close to the wall, she slipped into the passageway, rounded the corner, and paused beside the card room door. She peeked inside and her heart raced. He sat at a table close to the doorway engaged in conversation with her host, Lord Bracken. From within, she overheard not a Parisian accent as she had expected from his attire, but a deep Scottish brogue as potent as the finest Scotch whisky.

"Aye, I attended King Louis' Court less than a month ago. Du Court is not a man I would do business wi' and he one of the most brutal men I have had the misfortune to meet. He takes great pleasure in decapitating his enemies and displaying their heads on stakes atop the ramparts of his castle." He cleared his throat. "Not to mention the rumors abounding in respect of the suspicious deaths of his two previous wives. The man is a brute and ma advice to ye is to keep well clear of him."

Lord Bracken's deep voice came in reply.

"It would seem the rumors I overheard in Whites held some truth."

She blinked away images of severed heads hoisted upon stakes and took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Conversation of such a distressing nature was not for mixed company to be sure. With care not to appear too interested in the contents within, she chanced another swift glance inside and she met a pair of emerald green eyes twinkling with mischief.

Breathless at the sight of him, she pressed one hand to her throat. Heavens above, not only had she caught the deliciously handsome man's attention, but his gaze held an enticing offer of intimacy. Her face grew uncomfortably hot and she raised her fan in a vain attempt to disguise her response to him. Unable to look away from his intense expression, she lingered caught in his spell.

The stranger winked at her and his full tempting mouth twitched into a smile around a gold tipped cheroot holder. Her heart pounded and she froze caught by his sinful attention like a rabbit in a deadly dance with a fox. He lowered deliciously long black lashes, folded his cards on the table, dropped his cheroot into the ashtray, and pushed to his feet.

Anticipation prickled down her spine and her limbs refused the command to move. The stranger strolled toward her with an interested expression on his handsome face. Fighting against the overpowering desire to wait for him, she shut her fan, lifted her nose in a dismissive air, and proceeded along the hallway. His soft footsteps sounded behind her and his hand brushed her elbow. She should not stop but the exotic scent of him enveloped her and all good sense fled. Heart pounding with anticipation, she turned slowly to face him.

He stared down at her from a great height, his eyes a sliver of green beneath hooded lids. His gentle smile sent a tingle of awareness to the junction of her thighs. _Dear God, he is magnificent._

"Your servant, ma lady." He bowed. "I noticed ye were trying to get ma attention. If ye have something of importance to say to me. This is not the place. Would ye perhaps walk wi' me in the garden?" He offered his arm.

Heat shot up her neck scalding her cheeks. Embarrassed, she bobbed a curtsy and averted her gaze. "I thank you, sir, but as we have not been formally introduced, I fear I must decline."

"A formality easily remedied." He bestowed a devastating smile upon her. "If ye will wait one moment." He bowed and turned back toward the cardroom.

Moments later, he returned with Lord Bracken. Her father's best friend gave her a long considering stare, sighed disapprovingly, and turned to the Scottish gentleman.

"Lady Adrianna Beechwood, may I present Drew Mackenzie from the Clan Makenzie at Badenoch?"

"I am your most obedient servant, ma lady." Mr. Mackenzie bowed low over her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles leaving a trail of heat then rose. "Now we have been formally introduced, would you, by chance have a space on your dance card for me?"

She lifted her gaze and fell into an ocean of glittering green. "I am afraid my card is full."

He held her gaze and beside him, Lord Bracken cleared his throat.

"I am heartbroken but at least allow me to escort ye to the ballroom." Drew sighed and offered his arm.

Unnerved by the overwhelming desire to melt into his strong arms and damn the consequences, she dragged her senses into a modicum of order, and smiled in her best coquettish manner. "Thank you."

Her pulse raced with every step toward the ballroom. The crush opened like the sea for Moses allowing their passage. People stared and chits dropped open their jaws at the sight of her splendid companion. When they paused on the perimeter of the dance floor, he turned to face her and bowed.

"If ye are not spoken for, I would verra much like to call on ye, ma lady." Mackenzie smiled warmly and met her gaze. "If ye would permit such a thing?"

"I must admit, good sir, you are an intriguing fellow and I would be most happy for you to call on me." She smiled and made her curtsy. "I beg you to excuse me. I find I am late for the first set. Please accept my apologies for disturbing your game."

Unnerved beyond reason, she brushed past him and pushed through the crush spilling from the passageway. The music had started for the first set, and to her relief one of her father's elderly colleagues, Lord Winton, strode toward her, his ruddy cheeks dimpling from a wide smile.

"I believe this is my set?" Lord Winton bowed over her hand dispersing a shower of dust from his overly powdered wig. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you to supper this evening, Lady Adrianna?"

Smiling, she met his gaze. "Yes, I would like that very much, Lord Winton." She gave him her curtsy and laid a hand on his arm.

Standing opposite her partner in the middle of the ballroom, she searched the crowd for Drew Mackenzie, and her heart squeezed at the sight of him. He stood out like a beacon at the edge of the dance floor with one shoulder resting nonchalantly against the wall. He smiled outrageously, then turned and vanished into the crowd.

Her stomach fluttered in an unnerving fashion. In truth, no gentleman had ever looked upon her with desire, after all, her brown curls and fuller figure usually attracted widowers. Indeed, he had caused an unfamiliar curl of desire to blossom inside her and she wanted to experience the thrill again. At last, she had caught a young man's interest. Excited at the thought of their fortuitous introduction, she smiled and could not contain the enthusiasm in her dance steps much to the delight of Lord Winton.

"It is good to see you smile, Lady Adrianna." Lord Winton's violet-scented breath accosted her nose.

She inclined her head and fought back a giggle. "It is a delightful evening to be sure."

To think a dashing young man was interested in her. At one and twenty, she could not afford to lose such an opportunity and making an effort to push his delightful image from her mind, she concentrated on the complicated steps of the dance but to no avail. His handsome face and intimate gaze continued to linger in her consciousness like a forbidden confection.

Drew Mackenzie tried to force his wits into order. Some time had passed since a woman had made such an impression on him. Indeed his heart pounded with a deep attraction that stirred more than his loins. Lady Adrianna was the epitome of his dream lover. She was the essence of a phantom, he craved to love and protect for all time. He could not allow this precious being to slip through his fingers and vowed then and there to throw caution to the wind and pursue her. _I must have her._ He rubbed his chin and stared after her as if he had lost something precious. How could such a beauty be unattached? She had regarded him with a comfortable familiarity and had not flinched at his accent. He wanted her and would do everything necessary to persuade her father he would make a suitable match for her. He would ask his cousin Rupert to make the necessary introductions. He intended to pursue the delightful beauty and discover if his senses had guided him in the right direction and love at first sight really existed.

He inclined his head to acknowledge the arrival of Lord Rupert, the second son of the Duke of Bainbridge, and taking one last glance at the temptress gliding about the dance floor sighed with regret. Business came before pleasure in this instance and Lord Rupert awaited him. He moved through the crush of finely dressed company and made his way toward the elegant gentleman.

Dressed in the height of fashion, Lord Rupert's dandyish attire caught the devotion of both chits and fops. He met his cousin's gaze and wondered if many noticed Rupert's eye color matched his own Mackenzie green and the only trace of Rupert's Highland heritage. Although, now at the age of two and five, he had to admit, Rupert had grown a good breadth of shoulder but the golden curls came straight from his English sire.

He wanted to avoid any undue attention and moved toward an alcove. Not many in society had knowledge of Lord Rupert's Scottish blood and he had no plans to present them with the rumor of a spy in their midst. He bowed. "Your servant, sir. It is good to see ye again, Rupert."

"You are looking exceedingly well, old chap." Rupert bowed and gave him a leg. "Lord Bracken has offered me the use of the library to conduct our business." He led the way through the house and down a passageway. "I must remove myself from the noise. Christ, are my ears deceiving me or have fine ladies so much gossip to discuss they have commenced cackling like a flock of geese?"

Drew followed him along a corridor smelling of beeswax polish. He chuckled. "Aye, would seem they do." He moved to Rupert's side, anxious for some news. "Were you able to purchase some mares for me?"

"Yes, indeed." Rupert stopped beside a pair of double doors and gave the footman standing in the hallway a curt nod. "See that we are not disturbed." He stepped inside the book-lined room and strode toward a table holding a large decanter of whisky and two glasses.

The library had the refinement of elegance, but the lived-in feel was missing. He dropped into a comfortable chair beside the marble fireplace and stretched his legs. "Will they be ready to travel home wi' me? If not, I will arrange for Jamie to meet the ship at Inverness." He grinned. "I have a few ah... _meetings_ to attend to along the French coast in the next month or two."

"Christ, tell me you have refrained from conducting business as _Le Diable Noir_?" Rupert's eyes widened and he groped for the bottle of spirit. "How much longer do you expect to continue in this outrageous fashion before someone of consequence recognizes you?" He poured two drinks then gulped down a glass of whisky in an obvious state of distress "Do stop grinning at me as if you are deranged. Smuggling will see you hanged and well you know it."

"Dinna fash, nayone will recognize me behind the mask. It does not signify. The people I do business with do not move in polite society." He winked. "As _Le Diable Noir_ , I do not dress in the mode of _Monsieur_ Mackenzie, _le_ _formidable_ French wine importer or as a Highlander." He took the glass Rupert pushed toward him and took a sip. "Now will ye forget about ma affairs and tell me how many mares ye have purchased?"

"Very well, I managed to acquire two mares of excellent breeding from Lord Bradshaw but had the chance to meet with a gentleman from France. You may be acquainted with him, Lord Moreau?" Rupert raised both eyebrows.

Disgust roiled his stomach and he snorted. "Och aye, I ken the wee gomeral. Ye dinna do business wi' the likes of him did ye?"

"No, I am not daft." Rupert sat in the chair opposite. He gave him a look of disdain over the rim of his glass. "I overheard him speaking to Lord Bradshaw about a gentleman selling his stock. Apparently, the Honorable Peter Ramsbottom is the proprietor of a very exclusive breeding establishment in Surrey and Lord Moreau was most inclined to purchase a stallion for his benefactor, one Baron du Court."

"Ye are correct. I would dearly love to obtain one of his verra fine mares." He leaned forward in his chair and gripped Rupert's arm. "Tell me, ye secured at least one of Ramsbottom's mares for me?"

"I would appreciate it greatly if you restrained your enthusiasm. You are breaking my arm." Rupert's face had drained of color.

Drew removed his hand and grinned. "Och, I ken verra well, ye have some muscle protecting your bones under that fine garb. Now stop your blathering and tell me about Ramsbottom's mares."

"Well, I spoke to the gentleman in question and had the pleasure of inspecting his stables. After a considerably long negotiation over four bottles of French wine, it would seem he is not only willing to sell the mares but will have them covered by his Destrier stallion as part of the agreement." Rupert plucked at an invisible piece of fluff on his sleeve then shrugged. "Apparently, Lord Moreau was a little short of the funds required to purchase the stallion or indeed any of the mares at this time. I was most fortunate as Ramsbottom was more than happy to negotiate a sale with me." His mouth curled into a satisfied smile. "In all I have purchased six mares, two from Lord Bradshaw and four of the finest mares from Ramsbottom."

Elation drained from Drew. He did not have the funds available to pay for so many mares. After making a recent investment in a French winery, he would have to wait until next quarter to obtain his share of the profits.

_Damnation._ He rubbed his chin. "I gather ye will require a wee bit more money to pay for these fine mares?"

"Ah, _well_ quite a lot more, actually." Rupert's expression was unreadable.

"I am verra sorry to place ye in such an untenable position, but I will not be able to raise the funds overnight." He had perhaps one hundred guineas in his purse intended for his father on his return to Badenoch. "I did mention my recent investment in French wine, did I not? If ye need more money now, I will have to sell ma townhouse but that could take months."

"No, I would not hear of such a thing. The amount you gave me was ample for the two mares from Lord Bradshaw." Lord Rupert arranged the lace on his cuff before meeting his gaze. "As you know, I have always wanted an excuse to leave London. How would you feel about making me a partner in your stables? I have the means to pay for all the mares and any others you may require." He cleared his throat. "You have the finest stables in Scotland, two fine stallions, and mares of your own. I do understand the imposition, but I would only require a small percentage of the profits."

He gaped at him in disbelief. "Ye mean ye want to leave all this behind and move to Badenoch?" He waved a hand to encompass the entire room. "Have ye gone daft?"

"No, as it happens, I am of quite sound mind." Rupert's mouth lifted in a beatific smile and raised his glass in a mock toast. "Of course, the contract I signed ensured the mares would be covered by the stallion before I settle the account and I would be most happy to escort them to Inverness." He met Drew's gaze over the rim of his glass. "Are we in agreement?"

Astonished, Drew raised his glass. "Aye. _Slainte._ " He emptied his glass and met Rupert's wistful expression. "Why do ye want to leave your home? Are ye in trouble?"

"No, I am _not_ in trouble." Rupert smiled ruefully. "What possible attraction does London have for me? I am the second spare, not the heir. At two and five, I have come into my fortune and have no plans to marry or set up a nursery. Life here is fashion, chits on their first come out fluttering their eyelashes at me, and widows trying to get me into their beds." He sighed. "I have fond memories of the holidays I spent with Mother at Badenoch. I miss the freedom and the companionship of my clan--of you and your brothers." He chuckled. "Oh, don't look so appalled, _mo bhilis_. In case it has slipped your mind, my mother made a point of residing at Badenoch for my birth, so in truth, and much to my father's displeasure, I am indeed Scottish, and would prefer to live there."

Many years had passed since Rupert had visited Scotland and it warmed his heart to hear he had not forgotten the Gaelic. He grinned and offered his hand. "Then partners it shall be but an even split, aye? Ye will be verra welcome at Badenoch and aye, I have missed ye too, ye wee fop." He took a sip of his whisky enjoying the rich malt flavor spilling over his taste buds. "I will write to Da and let him ken ye will be returning to the fold. He will be verra pleased to see ye again. What has it been, eight years or more?"

The door flying open and heavy footfalls entering the room prevented Rupert's reply. Drew placed the glass on the table and pushed to his feet to greet the six men regarding him with menace. _Christ, what in Hades have I done now?_ The ringleader of the group puffed out his chest like a rooster and his thin mouth turned down at the corners.

"How dare you, sir." The intruder remained ensconced in his company rather than moving to confront him. The gentleman, for he was indeed a gentleman from the diamond pin in his cravat and the heavy gold watch chain attached to one buttonhole of his blue velvet waistcoat, raised a bony finger and pointed at him. "I insist you keep your lecherous intentions away from my daughter or face the consequences."
Chapter Two

"G _entlemen._ " Lord Rupert sprang from his chair and moved between them his hands outstretched. "You must be mistaken, Mister Ma--"

"Get out of my way, Bainbridge, this is none of your concern. My business is with that despicable fortune hunter."

Drew racked his brain for a reply having no notion to whom he had insulted. To be sure, he had not sought comfort with a woman since arriving in London. He bowed. "Your servant, sir, and to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

" _I_ am Lord Beachwood, forth Earl of Sussex, physician to His Royal Highness King George."

"Och aye, and ye are addressing Drew Alexander Lachlan Angus James Mackenzie, heir of Laird Mackenzie of Badenoch, and I dinna have the faintest idea to whom ye are referring." He straightened to his full height and the group of men shrank back. He glared at Lord Beachwood. The one thing he despised above all was a man who hid behind his friends during a confrontation. "If it is your daughter ye believe I have disrespected, would it not be prudent to speak on the matter wi' me in private?" He shrugged. "Unless ye believe we are beyond civilized discourse and ye wish to take the matter outside?"

"There will be no discussion, sir." Lord Beachwood scowled at him. "I bring you a warning. The _lady_ , you had the effrontery to accost outside the card room happens to be my daughter, Lady Adrianna. I will not have her turned about by the likes of you when Lord Balham has made his offer." He indicated to a thin man beside him of about five and fifty. "I give you fair warning. I do not suffer fortune hunting gamesters sniffing around my daughter and should you so much as glance in her direction, I will inform her godfather, His Royal Highness King George, to send a garrison to Badenoch or wherever, to exterminate your entire clan. Do--I--make--myself--perfectly--clear?"

Drew cast his attention over the group of men and settled on Lord Bracken. The man had an expression of guilt and refused to meet his gaze. He had followed the desired protocol and Bracken had run straight to her father. The memory of the bonnie lass with the dancing blue eyes and happy smile filled his mind. To be sure, she had held him in an alluring spell from the moment their eyes met and now this pipsqueak would deny him the chance to call on her. Damnation!

"Well, Mackenzie, do you intend to reply, or am I speaking too fast for your sensibilities?"

Somewhat confused by the sudden turn of events, he rubbed his chin. "Aye, Lord Beachwood. I understand ye fine, but I am a trifle mystified as to why ye came charging into a private meeting and made assertions on ma good name wi' out good reason. It was I believe ye good friend Lord Bracken who introduced me to your daughter?"

"No reason? You have overstepped your mark. We English do not behave in such a barbaric manner." Lord Balham preened within the shelter of his friends. "I should call you out."

"I would welcome it, ye wee sparrow." Drew rolled his shoulders. "Outside now if ye please. I have ma second and I am sure one of these fine gentlemen will be more than happy to oblige ye?"

"Stand down, Balham." Lord Rupert moved between them with his lips turned down in a scowl. "This is none of your affair."

Lady Adrianna had welcomed his attendance and no wonder. Her lot in life was not so fine if her father had insisted she consider the likes of Lord Balham. Drew blinked and raked his mind for some reasonable explanation for this man's accusations. He had not mistaken her eager countenance or subtle comment on her pleasure of meeting him. A rush of anger forced him to rethink the situation. To be sure, he would have to protect sweet Lady Adrianna from her intolerable father and dispel any notion of an attraction toward him.

Lord Beachwood puffed out his chest like a rooster readying to signal the approaching dawn.

"Good God man, you can hardly deny insisting Lord Bracken made the introduction nor can you deny forcing my daughter to accept your company to the ballroom." He glared at him spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. "How could she have refused such an offer especially in front of her host? She likely believed you to be an acquaintance."

Drew moved his attention back to Lord Beachwood. "Aye, I do recall having a brief discourse wi' a verra respectable lady and I offered her my arm to prevent her being trapped in the crush. Indeed, she could not remove herself from my side soon enough." He leveled his gaze on Lord Beachwood and raised a brow. "I must admit, I was surprised to find a fine lady dallying in the vicinity of gamesters. Perhaps ye should take better care of her, aye?"

"You impudent pup." Lord Beachwood raised one hand as if to slap him obviously thought better of it and let his arm fall limply to his side.

Drew held the man's angry gaze. "Would ye have preferred me to have left her alone in the presence of gamesters?"

"No, I would not. However, my information differs greatly to your account of events." A satisfied smile crossed Lord Beachwood's lips. "You were, I gather, in a hand of cards with Lord Bracken? He informed me the moment you set eyes on her you folded your hand, and went to her."

He forced his muscles to relax in an effort to control the rising need to teach this arrogant popinjay a lesson in manners. "I dinna have to explain ma actions to ye, but as this is a matter of some importance to ye, I will acquiesce in this instance. As it happens, I agreed to meet Lord Rupert before the first set and merely passed the time in the card room awaiting his arrival. I folded ma hand, the moment the music started and left the room, _not_ because I laid eyes upon your daughter." He took a deep breath. " _However_ , if the lady in question is affronted, I meant nay disrespect by asking Lord Bracken for an introduction. Indeed, if this is the case, may I attend her and offer ma apology for causing such grievous offense?"

"No, you may _not_." The corner of Beachwood's mouth turned up slightly into a sneer. "In fact, I suggest you leave this residence immediately. Return to the Highlands where scum like you belong."

"Lord Beachwood, I must protest." Lord Rupert stepped between them his hands outstretched. "There is no need for such insults. Mister Mackenzie has told you the truth."

Drew squeezed Rupert's shoulder. "He is a father protecting his daughter and I take nay offense." He met Lord Beachwood's flushed face with a smile. "I am sure ye dinna plan to take this matter further do ye now?"

"I do not have to challenge you to a duel to remove your presence from London." Lord Beachwood gave a sarcastic laugh. "I could destroy you with one stroke of my pen."

Lord Beachwood gave him pause to believe he had a hidden agenda for his daughter and from her reaction to his offer to call on her, one he had not discussed with her. _Without doubt_ , _the poor lass, is a pawn in a game of money or worse, power._ He lifted his chin and smiled. "Will ye now? I think not. Many of your countrymen have business interests in Scotland and ma father is a powerful man."

"You dare to insinuate your father is more powerful than the King of England?" Lord Beachwood scoffed. "I understood the Scots were bacon-brained, but you must have sawdust between _your_ ears if you believe such a notion."

"Sawdust for brains, is it?" He straightened and glared down at the man. "Are ye sure ye want to take responsibility for the end of dealings between England and France too? I am a particular friend of King Louis and he holds my counsel in such matters in high regard. Higher, I believe than King George relies on his _physician's_ opinion on trade. "

He noticed the flush pinking the tips of Lord Beachwood's ears and straightened. He refused to cower before this inconsequential little man--King Geordie's physician, or no. "Ye are the one wi' maggots in your head if ye believe I would disrespect your daughter. The notion does not signify, so ye may lay down your hackles."

"How dare you speak to me in that fashion, sir?" Lord Beachwood's face had turned an ugly plum color. "You will pay for such insolence."

_I would welcome crossing swords with an insufferable dunderhead like you._ "You appear to be full of empty threats, sir, but if ye insist, get on wi' it, and select your weapons, because ma time in London is limited." He waited for the space of ten heartbeats then inclined his head. "I thought as much." He turned his back on the group. "Good day to ye."

"There is no need for hostilities, no need at all." Lord Rupert ushered the group from the room. "If you would be so kind as to give us some privacy to conclude our business."

Drew refilled his drink and waited for the sound of footsteps to fade. He emptied the glass and waited for the whisky to steady his nerves. As a Scotsman alone in London, he had little choice but to remain calm and not cause trouble but damn it all to hell, Lord Beachwood's dire threats had not quelled his flames of desire for Lady Adrianna. He had no doubt of her attraction toward him. In fact, the connection between them had burned as if fate had thrown them together. Christ, no other woman had affected his heart with a mere flutter of her eyelashes. He wanted to pursue Lady Adrianna Beachwood and it would seem she belonged to another. _God help me, I am truly cursed._

"Well, I must say old chap that was interesting." Rupert dropped into the chair opposite. "Did you act like a cad?"

"Nay, do ye really believe I am capable of disrespecting such a fine lady--any woman in fact?"

"No, well _not_ intentionally but your reputation with the ladies in France is well known." Rupert raised his glass. "Not that there is anything wrong with such pursuits. In fact, I do believe many gentlemen admire notoriety."

Drew snorted. "I dinna believe ma reputation has anything to do wi' Lord Beachwood's outburst. He called me a 'fortune hunting gamester,' did he not? This is a reputation I have neither earned or desire."

Although, if Lord Beachwood had caught wind of his escapades along the French coast, he would have reason enough to fear his interest in Lady Adrianna. No man of his status would risk his daughter being involved with a notorious smuggler. He sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. "Why would he believe I am a threat to his daughter? I dinna ken the gentleman and I would assume, he has nay notion of ma business in France."

"Lord Beachwood? Good Lord no. I am the only person in England privy to your business." Lord Rupert looked scandalized. "I would never divulge a word. Perhaps, as you arrived dressed in the height of Parisian fashion, he believes you made your fortune from hellholes and rich French widows." He chuckled. "That being the case, my dear fellow, you would fall well short of his expectations for Lady Adrianna."

Trust a Sassenach to judge a man by the cut of his cloth rather than his honor as a gentleman. He pushed the disagreeable incident aside, in truth, Lady Adrianna intrigued him, and he wanted to discover more about the bonnie lass with the flashing eyes. "Do ye ken Lady Adrianna?"

"Yes, in fact, I do have her confidence." Lord Rupert winked.

"Och aye, why dinna I like the sound of your association wi' such a respectable lady?"

The tips of Lord Rupert's ears pinked.

"For heaven's sake, Drew, I have no carnal interest in her, none at all." He stared at the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. "If you must know, I often seek the pleasure of her company. We are acquaintances from childhood. My father insisted Lord Beachwood tend my mother during her illness and he resided at the manor for the entire month before she died. He was of the opinion Lady Adrianna would be of some comfort to me as my brothers were away at school. We became close friends. She understands my reluctance toward being leg-shackled, and I her abhorrence of marrying one of her father's widower acquaintances. We have an understanding and I often mark her card at these affairs to give her respite from the old codgers." He smiled. "But I am sure you require more personal information?"

Lady Adrianna had drawn him like a moth to the flame. To be sure, she had befuddled his senses and he had not mistaken her attraction toward him. _I must find a way to see her and know the truth._ Arranging his features in an effort to cover his eagerness for any snippet of information about her, he narrowed his gaze. "Aye, I do but if ye had the pleasure of kenning such a delightful lady since childhood, why in God's name have ye not mentioned her afore?"

Rupert threw both hands in the air and glared at him with an expression of incredulity.

" _You_ , my dearest cousin are a notorious smuggler not to mention a _rake_ and Adrianna is my particular friend. __ Why would I risk such a delicate flower with a man of your reputation? If you had once mentioned an intention to enter the marriage mart, she would have been my first consideration for you." He shook one long thin finger at him. "I will not see Lady Adrianna's heart broken. She may not be in her first come out, but she is a kind and genteel lady and deserves better."

Abashed, Drew swallowed the stinging retort to defend his honor and smiled. "I believe I am a deal better than the 'old codgers' ye mentioned, especially, Lord Balham. At least, I would appreciate her as a beautiful woman, not as a means to increase ma fortune." He swirled his drink and forced his anger to subside. "Ye have ma word. Ma intentions are honorable. She is a remarkably beautiful woman and one I would treasure." He lifted his gaze. "I doubt ye will believe me but the moment I set eyes upon her, it was if we had known each other for a lifetime. I asked her permission to call on her and she agreed. Which makes me wonder if she had any notion of her father's intentions. She did not act like a betrothed lady."

"I can assure you, she is not betrothed." Rupert raised a thin blond eyebrow. "But what of your mistresses? I know Lady Adrianna very well and she would expect a significant amount of your attention."

"Aye well, I admit I have had mistresses in France and had one or two fancy bits at Badenoch." Drew smiled. "But I would forgo any mistress for Lady Adrianna's attention." He sighed. "Ma father insists I set up my nursery soon, he wants to see at least one grandson afore he dies. God's truth, I have enjoyed ma life without the trappings of a wife and had not given marriage much thought but the moment I laid eyes on Lady Adrianna every woman I have met afore faded into insignificance. Tell me what ye ken about her." He grimaced. "Although, it would seem I am a wee bit late if the lass is promised to Lord Balham."

"Not at all. Lord Beachwood's mention of a betrothal does not signify." Lord Rupert's green eyes flashed in anger. "I had the pleasure of Lady Adrianna's company this afternoon for a walk in Hyde Park. I have her confidence and would be the first to know if she had received an offer from Lord Balham. In fact, she has declined every gentleman her father has recommended to date." He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Although, it is possible, Lord Beachwood made a lucrative arrangement with him this eve unbeknown to her." He shrugged. "If he believes you stand to jeopardize his deal it would be a logical reason for him to remove you from the equation."

"Well mayhap, but one would think, he would at least _listen_ to my offer." Drew rubbed his chin and brought to mind each detail of the brief meeting. "Unless she did not have time to mention my intention to call on her? Then again, why would he attack my good name without due provocation? It makes no sense."

Rupert's handsome face creased into a frown and he gave a dismissive wave with one hand.

"If Adrianna has mentioned your intentions to her father, I find it hard to believe he warned you off unless he has already made a lucrative match with Lord Balham."

"Or he hates Scots." Drew grimaced. "He had hate in his eyes for me as if I had caused him a great injustice and I have never met the man afore tonight."

"I have never heard mention of his preferences toward Scots." Rupert refilled his glass and sighed. "I agree it makes no sense at all. There was no impropriety on your part and one would think a respectable gentleman such as yourself would make a suitable match for her. You do have an unimpeachable pedigree. On the contrary, I would have thought, he would have been more than happy." He narrowed his gaze. "I am surprised Lady Adrianna has inflamed such desire in you. Are you sure, you are not making too much of this flirtation?"

Drew leaned forward in his chair. "I understand the ways of women fine and she opened to me like a flower in the sun." He smiled at the image dancing across his consciousness. "I caught her eye again during the first set and have nay doubt she finds me agreeable." He rubbed his chin. "She is an honorable woman, aye, and would not have flirted with me if she had accepted an offer and why would she consider a match with Lord Balham? Christ, the man must be close to sixty."

" _Exactly_." Rupert refilled their glasses. "Something is afoot. It makes no sense at all and one would think Lord Beachwood would value her happiness above all things but apparently not." He sipped his drink. "You will need to keep out of sight, but I will remain as close to her as decent for the rest of the evening." He grimaced. "I dare say her father has devised a scheme to force her to marry the old reprobate."

"Force her? Are ye suggesting, he will allow the despicable wee gomeral to _compromise_ her then insist she marry him to protect her honor?" Drew pushed to his feet. "Maybe I should be the one doing the compromising?"

"Dear God! Have you lost your wits?" Rupert grasped his arm. "Think man. Beachwood would have you thrown in Newgate. He is very close to the king and has his ear." He sighed. "I beseech you, take my carriage to your townhouse, and stop mooning over this chit."

He glared at his cousin. "I am not 'mooning' over her but for some unfathomable reason I have a powerful compulsion to protect the lass from the likes of Lord Balham." He met Rupert's amused expression with a snort of derision. "Ye can wipe the silly smile off your face, I dinna need a fancy piece. Lady Adrianna is different, aye. I feel it in ma bones."

"You want to _protect_ her? Did you by chance hit your head on the way here?" Lord Rupert scrutinized his face for a long moment before his mouth spread into a wide grin. "Dear God you _are_ smitten."

"Aye well, if the lass is free to make her choice, I will offer her another option." He rolled his shoulders. Damn, his cousin could read him like a book "Surely ye would agree I am the better man for such a _delicate flower_ as ye say?"

"Oh, very well, I will keep a close watch on her this evening and inform you if this is a ruse or not but believe me she is not bacon-brained and will never allow an idiot like Balham to compromise her."

Anger rolled over him at the thought of Lord Balham touching her. He forced down the desire to punch the corpselike weasel into offal and nodded. "Verra well, but afore I leave I must have a wee chat with the lady in _private_ ye ken?" He cleared his throat at Rupert's accusing gaze. "Afore I leave, I must discover the way of things between us. Can ye arrange a meeting?" He reached for his drink and swirled the amber liquid around the glass.

"Do you _really_ want her for a wife?" Rupert raised his eyebrows. "Or do you find her a contest you must win after being denied her company?" His chest expanded with a deep breath and a puff of air whistled out between his teeth on a grimace. "You could never resist a challenge, could you? I will not risk Lady Adrianna's good name and indeed, heart, if this is your intention."

The image of her flushed face and inviting smile flitted across his mind. Dear Lord, he would carry her image forever. He smiled. "Aye, I would very much like to ken her better and not because her father has denied me, nay not at all. The attraction between us was powerful and I did not imagine it nor do I lust after her." He rubbed the back of his neck and met Rupert's amused gaze. "Aye, well, maybe I _do_ a mite but my intentions toward her are honorable." He shrugged. "Lady Adrianna is not a girl in her first come out, she is old enough to understand the way of things. If she is willing, I will court her in secret."

"Indeed, but all such discussion is a waste of time unless you determine if the lady is willing to risk her reputation _._ " Rupert inspected his nails. "I advise you to tread carefully, old chap, if you _do_ intend to continue in this reckless manner. Lord Beachwood does not have a forgiving nature. Should one word of this deception reach his ear, he will ship her off to places unknown."

The memory of Lady Adrianna's wide-eyed expression of desire urged him on like an untried lad. "If she agrees to go against her father's wishes and walk out wi' me"--he touched Rupert's arm--"I would be verra much obliged if ye would offer me your assistance and act as chaperone."

A smile lit up Rupert's face.

"Why not indeed? Heaven forbid I should stand in the way of true love. If she agrees to meet you this evening and intends to allow your painful compulsion to woo her, I will make suitable arrangements in your stead." He chuckled. "At least, when the chits believe I have Adrianna on my list of potential brides they will cease pursuing me for a while." He raised both eyebrows. "Of course, I will arrange the meetings within the necessities of decency."

"I thank ye, I would not wish otherwise." Drew sipped his drink and observed his cousin over the rim of the glass. "Do ye think I am a fool for responding so keenly toward a lass I have just met?"

Rupert's expression displayed no signs of chagrin.

"Ah well, life is a concoction of strange occurrences, my friend." He lifted his drink in a toast. "If you are correct and Lady Adrianna is the one destined for you then love will find a way."

"I thank ye. Ye are a good friend and maybe there is more of your mother in ye than ye ken." He sighed. "If Lady Adrianna is willing, I will see how the land lies between us over the next month." He smiled. "Although, I will have to leave London for a few weeks to take the mares ye have purchased to Badenoch. I will accept your kind offer to accompany the others to Inverness. They are too valuable to travel aboard ship unescorted."

"It will be my pleasure and would suit me well as I do need time to tidy my affairs before leaving London." Rupert rubbed his chin. "Lord Ramsbottom's groom would be an asset to us. I could offer him an inducement to leave his employ to work with us. He would be invaluable to me on the journey to tend the mares. What do you say?"

Drew nodded his acquiescence. "I say a man can never have too many experienced grooms."

"Splendid! I shall inform you the moment the transaction is completed and I have booked passage to Scotland." Lord Rupert strolled to the door, turned the handle, and spoke to the footman. "Have my carriage brought around after supper if you please." He turned back to Drew and smiled warmly. "My carriage is at your disposal on the event you require a swift retreat if the meeting is discovered." He chuckled. "Do not worry too much about all this nonsense with Lord Beachwood, such unpleasantries have a way of resolving in due course."

Lord Beachwood's threats against his clan still rang in his ears and a cold band tightened around his heart. He lifted his chin and sighed. "Aye, they do, but I believe Lord Beachwood is set in his ways."

"Ah, but perhaps _we_ can turn the tide of events in your favor. You have lucrative businesses and my father would write a reference, as would my brothers on your behalf to present to Lord Beachwood." Lord Rupert slapped him on the back. "If the lady is willing, I will arrange for a meeting after supper. There is a rotunda situated beside the lake and fortunately concealed by shadows. Wait here until my return and I will take you there." Rupert grinned. "My goodness, I feel like a spy on a mission into enemy territory."
Chapter Three

The evening moved laboriously on without another glimpse of the intriguing Scot, or the opportunity to speak with Lady Bracken about the gentleman. Somewhat distracted, Adrianna failed to take more than a passing interest in the droning conversation of Lord Balham during the course of their set. Indeed, the man spoke without taking a breath as if delivering a long inconsequential speech in the House of Lords.

She glanced at his flushed cheeks noting the hopeful sparkle in his beady black eyes and drew a deep breath. Had she absently agreed to a liaison with him? "I _do_ beg your pardon, Lord Balham, I have not heard a word--the music you see is quite deafening, is it not?"

The thin spider of a man sighed and a waft of fine brandy tainted with the reek of foul breath fell over her. He inclined his head and gave her a tight smile, no doubt to disguise his blackened teeth.

"As you are so distracted, my lady, would you prefer to forgo the last set, and take the air with me on the terrace before supper?"

She fluttered her fan to disperse the odor and nodded in agreement. Even in _his_ company, the cool evening air, and respite from the noise would be a blessing. Her attention drifted to the grandfather clock in the hallway and the tension in her jaw relaxed. Thank goodness, Lord Winton would be collecting her for supper after the next set, and her time with Lord Balham would be short. She noticed him conversing with her father on the edge of the ballroom and as she moved toward the terrace on Lord Balham's arm, both men smiled at her conspiratorially.

A flicker of impending doom crawled up her spine and without due consideration of the consequences, she pressed her fingers into Lord Balham's arm. He gave her a thin smile and she recoiled releasing her grip. Heaven's above, had he escorted her to the privacy of the terrace with the intention of discussing an offer with her? The hairs on the back of her neck rose in disgust. How much longer did her father intend to thrust dusty old tomes of men at her feet?

"Come along, my dear." Lord Balham tipped his head toward her in a far too familiar fashion.

She compared his pallid countenance and sharp tongue to her new acquaintance. To be sure, Mr. Mackenzie's Scottish brogue had spilled over her like warm honey and the intimate appraisal given from below his long black lashes had undone her. To have such a man call on her would be glorious. Her face grew hot at the notion of swooning in his strong arms and the chance to inhale his intoxicating scent again. He had shown an outrageous amount of interest in her and his absence on the dance floor would indicate he had ignored the bevy of young beauties in their first come out. A glow of happiness engulfed her and she smiled into the darkness.

Cool, fragrant air brushed her cheek and lifted the curls on her neck. She sighed with delight and moved toward the balcony railing to peer into the garden below. Pools of light spilled from the lanterns and illuminated the couples strolling along the garden paths. She stared into the heavens and could not remember a night more beautiful. To be sure, Mr. Drew Mackenzie had given her hope of finding a love match.

Lord Balham's sharp voice at her side snapped her back to reality.

"One must keep one's feet firmly on the ground, Lady Adrianna. Do take your head out of the clouds for I wish to speak with you." He moved closer than propriety considered decent and the sleeve of his brown superfine jacket brushed her hand. "I have spoken with your father and he agrees we would make a good match. He is quite insistent we should dispense with formalities and marry as soon as possible." He slipped one thin arm around her waist. "I will call upon you in the morning to make my offer. We must at least appear to be interested in each other's company."

The image of the handsome Scot shattered. A cry of horror escaped her lips and she stepped away. Rounding on Lord Balham, she pitched her voice loud enough for all to hear. "How dare you, sir. Your actions toward me are well past the point of discretion." She moved beside an astonished matron and her round-eyed charge seeking their protection. "Do not think to compromise me. I have a witness in this good woman. I will not be forced into accepting an offer from you." The rage on his face unnerved her and she stepped behind the matron for safety.

The elderly woman bristled and stuck out her chin.

"Have no fear, Lady Adrianna. I will stand witness against this disreputable fiend."

Lord Balham straightened and his thin lips turned up in a demonic smile.

"As you appear to be a little muddled headed this evening, my dear lady, allow me to clarify the situation before your _witness_. Your father and I have come to an arrangement. I _will_ call on you in the morning and make my offer and you _will_ accept."

Lord Balham reached nonchalantly into his waistcoat pocket and took out an enameled snuffbox. He placed a delicate pinch on the back of one hand, sniffed the aromatic powder, and sneezed violently. He straightened, and leveled a menacing gaze on her.

"The only words of _agreement_ I require from _you,_ my dear _,_ is during our marriage ceremony at the church."

She lifted her chin, glad of the small crowd gathering in the doorway. A fine audience indeed to denounce his disagreeable suit. "Are you in your cups, sir, for I can find no other excuse for such intolerable behavior?"

"You _will_ accept me or tarnish your father's good name." Lord Balham's face had turned the shade of a beetroot and spittle shot from his mouth. "He _gave_ me his word."

Shocked, she pressed a hand to her chest. How could her father consider such a disgusting man as a suitable match for her? She gathered her courage. "My father would not do such thing without first consulting me. Indeed, I would rather lay violent hands upon myself than accept an offer of marriage from _you_ , Lord Balham. To be sure, _death_ would be a more favorable outcome than to agree to a match with you." She turned and lifting her full skirts glared back at him. "Do not think of following me, sir."

Her head hummed and a pulse thundered in her ears. She turned toward the crowd and the interested spectators parted to allow her to pass. Shock from the encounter had set her knees trembling, but she took a deep breath, straightened, and headed to the retiring room. Word of the confrontation would move through society in seconds. She ignored the women taking respite from the ball, and waving to a servant to attend her, collapsed on a sofa.

A plump round-faced maid approached her and bobbed a curtsey.

"Are you well, milady? Do you require a cloth soaked in vinegar perhaps, or I have some feathers I could burn for you?"

Taking a glass of cordial from a tray on the table, Adrianna forced her trembling lips into a smile. "I thank you for your concern, but I am quite well. I will only require some fresh air. The ballroom is exceedingly hot this evening."

Staring at the gold ornate pattern on the small table, she tapped her fan in the palm of one hand. The memory of the handsome Scott's liquid gaze lingered in her mind. _I do hope my altercation with Lord Balham does not reach his ears. He may have second thoughts about calling on me._

To be sure, Lord Balham's bold declarations had come without warning and shocked her. The entire affair made no sense. Lord Balham had little to offer. Indeed, his paltry Essex estate offered nothing but boredom. He had no influence over the king, or indeed anyone. His life was as bland as bread and milk. _Why would my father agree to a match with him?_ His disturbing words repeated in her mind.

_"Your father gave me his word."_

To be sure, her father could not force her to accept Lord Balham now, but then again if he _had_ given his word, would she be obliged to consider the match to save his honor? _He did not offer me such consideration, did he?_

Resolute, she would refuse Lord Balham no matter what the cost. She placed the glass of cordial on a small table, and addressed the maidservant. "Brandy if you please."

She ignored the woman's scandalized expression. To be sure, she would need more than cordial to bolster her resolve. Taking the drink from a silver tray, she upended the glass, and gasped. The liquid cut a scorching path down her throat, but the throbbing in her head eased and clarity of thought prevailed. Determined to guide her own destiny, she leaned back to form a plan. She would confide her concerns to her good and trusted friend, Lord Rupert, and seek his counsel. He may well be able to introduce her to the Scottish stranger. Yes, if her father was agreeable to old Lord Balham as a match, surely he would give due consideration to a fine young gentleman.

The door opened to admit another housemaid. The girl moved toward her and curtsied her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Begging pardon, milady, but Lord Rupert is in the hallway. He requests a private word with you. Shall I inform him you are indisposed?"

_How fortunate. No doubt, he has come to offer his support. Dear Rupert, I am truly blessed to have such a friend._ She bit back the smile hovering on her lips at the girl's flustered demeanor. Lord Rupert had the same effect on most women. "Yes. Please show Lord Rupert to the sitting room and inform him, I will be with him shortly." She waved her from the room.

In her periphery, she noticed a servant wearing white cap and crisp apron, waiting expectantly.

"May I tidy your hair, milady?"

Standing, Adrianna shook out her skirts and moved toward the dressing table. She sat in a white ornate chair before a superbly crafted dressing table of French design and peered with some trepidation into the mirror at her reflection. A woman with an angry disposition and flushed cheeks stared back at her. With considerable effort, she arranged her features into a well-trained expression of haughty disinterest. Powder would cover the irritated blush to her cheeks and years of hiding her innermost thoughts would carry her through the ordeal of discussing her humiliation with Lord Rupert.

A few moments later, curls pinned in place and her gown smoothed, she stepped through the adjoining door into the private sitting room. Lord Rupert stood with his back to the fireplace, his superbly fitted green jacket matched his eyes, and worn over a stylish yellow waistcoat embroidered with rearing horses, he was indeed the epitome of fashion. To be sure, he cut a fine figure of a man, broad of shoulder with a narrow waist, and long legs encased in the finest breeches. His eyes danced with mischief at her arrival.

"My dear Lady Adrianna. I am your most obedient servant." He took her hand and bowed low bestowing a light kiss over her knuckles. He straightened and his gaze flicked toward the maid standing in the open doorway. "As the noise from the ballroom is considerate would you permit me to request a maid or perhaps two remain with us so we may close the door to speak on a private matter?"

She raised one eyebrow in query but he offered no further explanation. Wishing she could read his mind, she nodded in agreement. It would seem Lord Rupert had the ability to mask his thoughts too. She gave her curtsy. "Yes, of course, but I am sure one maid is sufficient to avoid a compromising situation." She turned toward the woman. "Close the door and take a seat over there." She pointed to a window seat at the far end of the room and a safe distance away to avoid anyone eavesdropping on her conversation.

Lord Rupert clasped his hands beneath the tails of his jacket and waited with more than a little apprehension for the woman to retire. On his return from pointing Drew in the direction of the rotunda, he had witnessed the entire outrageous discourse with Lord Balham. The betrayed expression on Lady Adrianna's face as she fled to the retiring room angered him. Her father had treated her more like a chess piece in his particular game of life, rather than a daughter to be loved and cherished. In consequence, he immediately approached Lord Beachwood and requested permission to call on her. After the public denouncement of Lord Balham, her father had dropped his regal façade and practically tripped over his tongue in astonishment.

Lady Adrianna's blue stare and silence unnerved him. He observed her with interest. She gave the outward appearance of serenity as if the unpleasantness with Lord Balham had not occurred. He met her bland expression with a smile and raised his voice for the maid to hear. The below-stairs gossip would be an invaluable asset for his deceit. "My dearest Adrianna, your father has given me permission to call on you." He winked at her dumbfounded countenance. "Would you be in agreement?" He offered his arm and led her to the far end of the room then dropped his voice to a whisper. "May I speak with you about a certain Scottish gentleman?"

Her fan came up to cover her face and the fingers on his arm trembled. Concerned by her distress, he stepped away then noticed her shoulders shook with mirth.

"How fortuitous, I had intended to discuss _him_ with _you_." She dropped her fan and her lips curled into a delightful smile. "Surely you do not seek a match with me so what devious plan have you concocted, my lord?"

He drew a deep breath and met her forget-me-not gaze. "I feel for you as a sister, not as a wife and if this offends, I must apologize. However, a certain gentleman who I know to be of good character finds you most desirable and I come in his stead to arrange a meeting." Her cheeks colored and he smiled. "I believe you have given him permission to call on you?"

"Yes, I have but why does he require a go-between and not seek my father's permission to call on me himself?" Both her sienna eyebrows raised in question. "I have given him my thoughts on the matter."

Should he explain her father's threats and risk her immediate rejection of his cousin? No, surely one white lie would do no harm. He shrugged and waved a hand in dismissal. "Unfortunately, at this point in time, I fear he would not pass muster to gain your father's consideration as he has nothing to offer as a prospective match. Although, he is heir to a considerable estate, indeed, he will one day be Laird of Clan Mackenzie and is in a fortuitous business venture with me." He smiled at her astonished expression. "He is not a pauper by any means as I gather you would have noticed by his attire. He comes into a considerable fortune on his majority in six months, is an educated man, and has recently returned from King Louis's Court where he is a confidant of the king."

Adrianna glanced up at him and her eyes rounded in astonishment. She lifted a gold embossed fan to cover her flushed face.

"Is he a rake for he certainly has a way with words?"

Taken aback by her bluntness, he straightened. "I am not at liberty to discuss a gentleman's fancies, but I can convey that his intentions toward you are honorable and should you wish to meet him in the garden this evening after supper, I will act as chaperone."

"A secret meeting?" Her cheeks pinked. "Do you not think that is a trifle unwise?"

He inclined his head and smiled. "I would not condone a meeting with him alone, my lady. I will continue in my role as chaperone to allow you to know him better. Once, he has met the necessary requirements to call on you he will approach your father."

"I _would_ like to meet him again and be formally introduced." Adrianna dropped her fan to reveal a brilliant smile. "To be sure, you are a good friend, Rupert." She touched his arm. "My heart is all a twitter to be involved in such scandalous intrigue."

* * * *

Drew paced back and forth along the dark pathway, melting into the shadows each time a couple strolled along the parallel walkway within sight of him. Apprehension shivered down his spine. To act in such a dishonorable fashion with an innocent girl curdled his wame. He snorted in derision at Lord Beachwood's uncharitable words toward him. Christ, did being the son of a Scottish Laird have so little meaning in England, he had to skulk around in the dark rather than openly declare his intentions?

To think King Louis had given him liberty to court any French lady of his choosing and yet he had refused. Indeed, before meeting Lady Adrianna, he had not given a fig about becoming leg-shackled. So why had this particular lass caught his fancy?

He swiped at the swarm of annoying insects buzzing incessantly around his head sending them to join the clouds of gnats hovering around the lamps bordering the pathway. He turned his attention to the lake looming before him, black and dangerous. Weeping willows hung over the water their branches like the bent backs of witches. An owl hooted overhead encouraging the songs of a thousand frogs to sound a warning. The noise and splashes of their dash to safety obliterated the music drifting from the ballroom and left the rotunda in eerie chaos.

He stared at the terrace hoping to catch sight of Lord Rupert and Lady Adrianna moving through the French doors. Would she go against propriety and agree to meet with him? He rolled his shoulders appalled at making such flagitious plans with Rupert. A smuggler he may be, but he placed his honor above all things. Had the chance meeting of one beautiful woman changed his character to such a degree? Disgusted with his lack of chivalry, he dashed a hand through his hair tearing the ribbon from the neat queue. The image of Lady Adrianna in the arms of Lord Balham had infuriated him beyond reason. _I can only hope I am doing the honorable thing by saving a beautiful woman from the clutches of a disgusting old man_.

His attention moved back to the terrace and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her descending the steps on the arm of Lord Rupert. He moved into the shadows and quickly put his hair to rights. The couple strolled along the pathway nodding and exchanging pleasantries with other couples before slipping unnoticed along the shadowed entrance to the rotunda. As she stepped into view, moonlight poured over her turning her blue eyes into dark, unreadable pools. He drew a deep breath inhaling the floral scent of her and waited for Rupert's introduction.

"My Lady Adrianna, I believe you have met Drew Mackenzie of Badenoch?" Rupert stepped back into the shadows.

Drew reached for her hand and bowing lifted her trembling fingers to his lips. "I am your most obedient servant, ma lady, and I thank you for trusting to meet me in such an unusual fashion."

"Mister Mackenzie." Lady Adrianna bobbed a curtsy but did not withdraw her hand.

Her unexpected boldness unnerved him. He stared down at their linked fingers and for once in his life the witty compliments, he used so frequently to lure a woman to his bed deserted him. Her fingers fluttered in his hand like the uncertain wings of a small bird. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, ma lady, I suddenly find myself without the words to express how delighted I am ye have agreed to meet with me."

A soft, feminine laugh drifted to his ears and moonlight flooded over her smiling face revealing a flash of perfect white teeth.

"I can assure you, I do not make a practice of meeting strangers under the cover of dark, but I must admit you have me intrigued, Mister Mackenzie." Adrianna giggled. "To be sure, to render a man speechless must be a feat indeed?"

He welcomed the darkness covering the heat rising into his cheeks. "I admit ye are a rare beauty and I hope ye will accept ma apologies for the necessity of meeting ye in such an unseemly manner but nay doubt Rupert has explained why I am unable to approach your father at this time." He moved closer to allow her to view his expression in the stream of moonlight. "However, I am an honorable man so, afore I continue, I must ken the truth of the rumor that ye are betrothed to Lord Balham."

Her small hand closed around his fingers and his heart raced in anticipation.

"A rumor indeed. No, I am not marrying Lord Balham. He attempted to compromise me this evening and I gather with my father's blessing." A flash of anger crossed her countenance and she lifted her chin with a determined air. "I assume you were not privy to the altercation between Lord Balham and myself before supper?"

He met the determined look in her eyes and raised an eyebrow in question. "I did not. I hope the witless idiot dinna touch ye inappropriately?"

"He _did_ and I made a public declaration that I would rather commit self-murder than marry _him._ " She smiled ruefully and wet her bottom lip in a subtle invitation of intimacy. "To be sure, I would much prefer the attentions of a younger gentleman."

His gaze went to the slick of moisture on her bottom lip and the heat surging to his groin made his breeches intolerably tight. Good Lord, she might yet allow him to kiss her. He forced his dry mouth to form coherent speech. "Well then, if ye prefer a younger gentleman, would ye allow me to call on ye, wi' Lord Rupert as chaperone of course, but I am afraid, without the permission of your father?"

"To what ends, Mister Mackenzie?" She took a single step toward him, tightened her grip, and tilting up her chin scrutinized his expression. "How will clandestine meetings signify if you believe my father will refuse an offer from you?"

"I dare say he will run me out of London if he discovers I met with ye tonight." He covered her hand and bent closer. "Apart from my honor, I have little for him to consider until I reach my majority in six months. I imagine your father would believe I am interested in your fortune and as Lord Rupert can attest, this is not the case, not at all." He sighed. "I asked Lord Rupert to arranged this meeting because I believe there is a spark of something between us and if this is the case then only a fool would want ye accepting a match wi' the likes of Lord Balham."

"You have not answered my question, Mister Mackenzie. To what ends? I admit I flirted with you in the passageway, but I am not a light skirt." Her tongue darted across her lips again as if tasting the passion-filled air between them. "If you do not have noble intentions toward me, there is little point of us meeting again."

"I dinna ken what the future holds for us, but I am an honorable man and do not seek ye as a mistress. However, if ye agree to make ma acquaintance or not, I will abide by your verdict." He sighed and rubbed his thumb in small circles over the back of her gloved hand. "Will ye agree to walk wi' me in the Hampton Court Maze on the morrow and discuss this matter further?"

Rupert's voice came out of the shadows.

"I have received an invitation from the Prince of Wales to attend a garden party and Mister Mackenzie is my guest. I am sure if your father will allow you to accompany me. The maze would be most private."

"Well then, I would like it of all things." Lady Adrianna squeezed Drew's hand. "I will look forward to speaking with you in the sunshine, Mister Mackenzie." She giggled. "As we are acting with such indiscretion, may I use your Christian name?"

"Aye, if I may call you Adrianna?"

He ignored Rupert's snort of disapproval and bent closer to catch her reply. Her words came out on a sigh.

"Please, do." She swayed toward him and pressed one gloved hand on his chest.

"Sweet, Adrianna." Without a second thought, he drew her against him. Rather than pulling away as he had expected, she made soft mewing sounds and gripped the front of his jacket.

He searched her face for any hint of distress then bent to brush a chaste kiss across her damp lips. Her soft mouth opened to him and the taste of white wine and raspberry tart rolled over his tongue. Inexperienced though she was, she responded to him with unexpected passion. The heated feminine scent of her confused his senses, reason fled and he ravished her mouth in a demanding kiss.

"Ah-hem." Rupert gripped his shoulder. "We should be getting back before we are missed or Lord Beachwood will have me leg-shackled to Lady Adrianna by daybreak."

Annoyed by the intrusion, Drew lifted his head from paradise and gazed at her confused expression. Glossy brown curls had fallen from her coiffure to frame her face. Forcing back the desire to take a silken strand and wrap it around his finger, he stepped back and bowed. "I will look forward to our meeting, tomorrow, Adrianna."

Adrianna stared at Drew Mackenzie in disbelief, her gaze traveled over his features blanched gray in the moonlight. His full tempting mouth glistened from their kiss and his eyes watched her with an unnerving intensity. In an effort to take a single breath, she fought the unfamiliar yet desirous emotions surging through her.

He had kissed her.

_Heavens above, I kissed him back._

She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips reveling in the taste of him. Goodness, she would not have believed a kiss could be so delightful. The tenderness of his lips sliding so wonderfully over her mouth and the heat from his hard body seeping through her silk bodice had curled her toes. The back of her hand still tingled from his soft caress and her heart raced in a most disconcerting fashion. She caught the flash of white from his smile and swallowed hard.

"Aye, we have an attraction." He bowed then straightened. "The hours will drag unmercifully until we meet again."

Drew's voice washed over her, and Rupert's hand gripped her elbow before she succumbed to a threatening swoon and guided her back toward the house.

"Come along, Adrianna."

The moment they stepped into the light, Rupert regarded her closely.

"Let me look at you." He pushed a curl back into place. "I beg you to hide your swollen lips with your fan before they are noticed. We will take refreshments then go and speak with your father about my intention to escort you to Hampton Court Palace."

She opened her fan and peeked at him over the top. "Thank you. Did you know, my dearest Rupert, I have just experienced my first kiss."

"I assumed so." Rupert offered his arm. "I could not imagine you swooning over Lord Balham or any of your father's cronies." He cleared his throat. "Do be careful, Adrianna. I would hate to see Drew break your heart. As one so innocent, I fear you are somewhat vulnerable to a man of his charms."

She tried to drag her mind from the dreamlike state Drew had induced and smiled. "But did you not insist he is a man of honor."

"He is most honorable." Rupert sighed. "But he is a _man_."

* * * *

In the early hours of the following morning, Adrianna stared into the darkness unable to sleep. She tossed and turned for some hours before slipping from the bed and moving to the window. She threw open the heavy brocade curtains then pressed both hands to the windowsill and stared into the star-filled heavens. From now on, night would hold a special meaning for her. She held the secret of a handsome man bathed in moonlight with soft lips and a demanding kiss. She cupped her breasts and ran the pads of both thumbs over her hard tingling nipples wanting more of him. Drew Mackenzie had ignited a passion in her, a desire she did not understand. Her nurse had failed to describe the delicious hardening of nipples or the rush of damp heat between her legs. Dear Lord, a throb of pleasure curled between her folds at the mere thought of him. Her nurse's instructions on wifely duty had mentioned pain but not pleasure. Sighing, she crawled back into bed and gazed at the sky watching the night fade to a new exciting dawn.
Chapter Four

Each stroke of the valet's brush over Drew's green velvet jacket sent dust motes dancing in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window of his dressing room. He adjusted his waistcoat and admired his reflection in the standing mirror. The black silk affair with extravagant silver buttons and exceptional embroidery was one of his particular favorites and in the French mode. Dressed in this fashion, he would easily pass for a French lord, especially in the company of Lord Rupert. After two years abroad, his Parisian accent was faultless, so why did he suffer the annoying cramping of his wame? He pulled on his gloves and glared at his image with such distaste his valet dropped the brush with a troubled expression.

"Is there anything amiss, milord?" Rotheram fluttered his arms like a butterfly pinned to a collector's board.

Drew cleared his throat. "Not at all, I had the occasion to dwell on an unpleasant memory is all."

Why on God's Earth had he risen before dawn and paced his study like an untried youth contemplating his first call on a lady? He did not have the slightest concern about meeting the Prince of Wales. As Lord Rupert's guest, Prince Frederick would accept him without question especially as he had the good fortune to speak fluent German, and had the same interest as the prince. To be sure, his malaise came from the prospect of bathing in Lady Adrianna's beauty and traveling in such an intimate fashion with her to Hampton Court. No other woman had lured him into her web of delights with such intensity. His mouth twitched unnervingly and threatened to spread into a smile at the memory of her kiss. He clamped his jaw shut and arranged the French lace at his cuffs. _Rotheram will be convinced I have lost my wits if I grin like a ninny._

Sweet Adrianna was very different from the women who usually attracted his attention. He did not have to bend double to kiss her and her lush body fitted well against him. Her silken curls reminded him of the rich golden brown of a horse chestnut newly escaped from its husk. Not a dull brown, to be sure, but alive with streaks of gold. Why had the young bucks overlooked her at her first come out? If not for her remarkable countenance then surely her intelligent, witty mind would be favorable. Then again, it would seem the current mode for a _suitable_ female in polite English society preordained women to be _petite_ , blonde, with the penchant of aimless twittering. No wonder, he had never had the slightest inclination to become leg-shackled to a Sassenach and had spent his time with a procession of widows.

He arranged his features to display his usual dispassionate air and took the hat offered by Rotheram. "It is a beautiful day for a walk in the gardens of Hampton Court Palace and I should not require ma cloak but bring it along. I will be in ma study. Inform me the moment Lord Rupert arrives."

"Yes, milord." Rotheram opened the dressing room door and bowed low.

* * * *

Lord Rupert's carriage, complete with four exquisite grays arrived spot on time. Inside Adrianna leaned against the red velvet squabs, her heart pounding with excitement at meeting Drew again. How bold to think of him in such an intimate fashion. She smiled at Lord Rupert and fingered the ribbons on her pale blue dress. She had taken care with her appearance and worn her most spectacular hat, complete with a daring silk bow and ostrich feather.

"You are the epitome of beauty, my dear." Lord Rupert inclined his head. "I dare say, you will be the talk of the town."

"You always give me the nicest compliments, my lord." She inclined her head. "To be sure, I will be the food of much gossip walking out alone with you today."

"Ah, but we will not be alone." Lord Rupert's full mouth twitched into a smile. "We will be traveling with Mister Mackenzie. Indeed, we are just now arriving at his townhouse." He waved toward a stylish house in a tree-lined street. "Will you excuse me for one moment, my lady?" The door opened and he stepped out.

Moments later, he emerged with Drew dressed in an elegant emerald green affair to match his eyes. Her mouth watered at the sight of the handsome Scot moving toward her in long strides. The door to the carriage opened and in a flourish, he removed his hat, and gave her an elegant bow.

"I am your most obedient servant, ma lady." Drew climbed into the carriage in a cloud of bergamot and sat facing her. He smiled and his eyes danced with mischief. "Ye are a vision of loveliness to be sure. I am honored and much relieved ye have agreed to see me again."

_Oh my, you are a vision of forbidden delights and you smell divine._ She offered him her most coquettish smile. "How could I refuse such an intriguing offer?"

"Intriguing indeed and one, I might add, fraught with danger." Lord Rupert dropped onto the seat beside Drew and removed his hat. "As luck would have it, the invitations to the Prince of Wales's garden party have been restricted to a few close friends. I know for certain, none of the people attending will recognize Mister Mackenzie."

"I beg ye both to refer to me by ma Christian name, we are all involved in this deceit and are way past the necessities of formality." Drew's green gaze narrowed on her. "For your protection, ma lady, I have decided to be introduced to the Prince of Wales as Lord Alexander and will speak French if we should encounter anyone at all or German if I am required to speak with the prince." He smiled at her. "It will appear I am the one acting as chaperone, as we all ken what a lecherous lad Rupert is, aye."

She smiled. Rupert's ears had turned a delicate rose pink. Her attention moved between the two gentlemen and settled on their eyes. To be sure, Drew was dark haired and tall with broad shoulders while Rupert was smaller in stature and no wig could match his impressive mass of golden curls, but the shape and color of their eyes matched as if they were brothers. The familiar way Drew spoke to him told of a long association or indeed as one might speak with a brother. _An illegitimate brother?_ Heavens above, no wonder Drew refused to approach her father.

"Are you quite well, Adrianna?" Lord Rupert gave her a quizzical gaze.

How could she possibly approach the subject? She could not in all honesty continue in this fashion if indeed, Drew was one of the Duke of Bainbridge's by-blows. Dear God, she might as well elope with a groom. Gathering her courage, she met Rupert's gaze. "You seem to be on very familiar terms with Mister Mackenzie, my lord. I find myself wondering why you have never mentioned him to me."

"Mister Mackenzie is it again, lass?" Drew leaned back in the seat and stretched his long legs. One muscular calf clad in an immaculate white stocking, brushed the hem of her dress and her heart raced. He offered a benevolent smile. "I will answer that question for ye. We are cousins, but since ma Auntie Jenny died, the Duke of Bainbridge refuses to acknowledge ma family." He sighed. "I dinna think Rupert would mention me as we rarely see each other anymore. I have lived in France for two years past and afore that, ye would have been a mite too young to discuss suitable beaus. Rupert and I grew up together until he left Scotland to attend school in London." He lifted a dark eyebrow. "I raised the very same question with Rupert about ye."

She relaxed although, his referral to her as "lass" did seem a trifle forward. "I would imagine you have many tales to tell about each other?"

"Aye, I do." Drew's mouth curled into a wicked grin. "Rupert had this wee dog. A frightfully ugly beast, wi' long fur and a wicked bite." He chuckled and grinned at Rupert's obvious discomfiture. "He carried the flea bitten rodent everywhere wi' him, like a wee dolly." He chortled and squeezed his impressive bulk into the corner of the carriage.

She bit back a grin at Rupert's tragic expression. "Is he by chance, referring to Fru?"

Rupert, his face the color of a ripe cherry, glared at her. "Yes, I would imagine he is."

"Och, Rupert, the ugly beastie canna still be alive?" Drew raised both eyebrows in an expression of astonishment. "My God, he must be twenty years old or more?" He chuckled with unbridled mirth. "Please tell me, ye dinna still __ carry the hairy dung beetle under your arm everywhere ye go?"

Rupert gave him a scandalized look. "Well, _yes_. In fact, I do, but my current Fru Fru is less than two--indeed, a mere pup and I can assure you, he does _not_ have fleas."

"Well, I must admit, ye smell a might better than ye did afore." Drew sniffed appreciatively. "Do ye douse the wee beastie wi' your own fragrance? I must admit lavender is a might better than wet dog." At Rupert's moan of distress, he held up both hands in surrender snorting with amusement. "Och, dinna get so testy, Rupert. I ken ye loved the wee beastie, but ye should have had a sword in your hand. A wee dog will not protect ye." He turned his attention back to her. "Do you ken the wee beastie, ma lady?"

The image of the small much loved fluffy dog, crossed her mind. Fru Fru was one of a line of companions of the same name. She had comforted Rupert and attended the garden funeral of his last Fru Fru. To be sure, in a home where Lord Rupert's father regarded him as the lesser son, he needed the friendship of his little dog. She forced down the giggle rising in her throat and gave Rupert an apologetic nod. "Yes, and I happen to love Fru Fru. He is more than welcome to come with you when you attend me, dearest Rupert."

Rupert gave her a courteous nod then rounded on Drew.

"At least I carry my dog under one arm and do not wear it hanging from my waist on a belt to keep my skirts from falling down."

"Och aye?" Drew grinned in a flash of white. "I gather ye are referring to ma sporran? I did not make it from a dog. It came from the pelt of wolf who tried to kill ma horse." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Now then, stop this coarse talk afore ye frighten Adrianna." He turned to her and offered an apologetic smile that did not quench the laughter in his eyes. "I am sorry for ma teasing but as ye can imagine, poor Rupert here, is used to it."

Rupert's mouth twitched at the corners in a hint of amusement.

"Well, we cannot choose our sires and although my mother has the bloodlines of Highlanders, it would seem I favor my father in every aspect apart from the Mackenzie green eyes." He shrugged and smiled at her. "I'm afraid, being a great deal smaller than my cousins did not bode well for me during my time at Foiseil Castle."

"Aye, well for some years we thought ye were a lassie." Drew snorted and slapped Rupert on the knee. "Ye can imagine the shock when we dragged back those golden curls and caught sight of his face."

Adrianna glared at him. To be sure, Lord Rupert was a most handsome man. Although, fair of face and without the sharp features of most men, she could not condone such a statement. "I find Rupert's countenance most pleasing. Indeed, he is looked upon kindly by every woman in my acquaintance." She stiffened and flicked open her fan to display her annoyance. "To be sure, _Lord_ Rupert __ does not have to sneak around in order to meet women like you do _Mister_ Mackenzie."

"Oh, well met my lady." Rupert preened and raised a fair eyebrow.

"Och, I _am_ sorry, Rupert." Drew looked anything but apologetic. "I never said ye were ugly. I ken ye have women swooning at your feet. I should have explained how much ye resemble your father." He turned to gaze out of the window. "Ah, our journey is at an end. I can see the lions atop the gates of Hampton Court Palace in the distance." He smiled at her. "Will ye accept ma apology, for my bold talk in your presence, ma lady? We will be arriving soon and we canna have ye arriving indisposed."

She cleared her throat and met his gaze. "I am not at all indisposed, in truth I find your conversation stimulating. I would like it of all things for you to continue the stories about your childhood exploits but not at Rupert's expense, if you please."

Drew's intense expression heated her cheeks and flamed a path between her thighs. She cleared her throat and to avoid his flirting paid attention to closing her fan. "I am afraid I have no such wonderful tales of childhood to share. You are a most interesting companion and I crave to know more about you."

"I am?" Drew leaned back and observed her for a long minute. "I want to ken everything about ye too."

As the coach swept through the majestic wrought iron gates and rattled down the long wide driveway, she leaned back into the squabs and sighed. Hampton Court Palace had always been a favorite place to visit, but of late, her father had preferred to keep her well away from the Prince of Wales and his decadent womanizing. She had no doubt, he trusted Rupert to protect her. She covered a smile with her fan. If he discovered the truth of it, he would have an apoplexy.

The coach stopped before the long red building and a footman approached to open the door and let the steps down. Moments later, she mounted the sweeping staircase on Rupert's arm and they joined the queue and waited for the footman to announce them before she made her curtsy before the Prince of Wales.

Rising, she swallowed hard at the prince's candid gaze. Heaven's above, he was actually assessing her. When he addressed her in broken English, she straightened her spine, and forced her mouth into a small smile.

"You are most beautiful. I am holding a masquerade ball at the end of the month. I do hope you will attend, my dearest Lady Adrianna?"

She inclined her head. "I will be honored, Your Royal Highness."

"Splendid! I will look forward to taking the floor for the first set with you." The prince waved a hand toward Lord Rupert, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I will find someone to occupy him so we may become better acquainted, my dear."

At the prince's outrageous declaration, Drew stepped closer to Adrianna and very nearly forgot his deception. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at the thought of the prince touching her. When the footman announced him as Lord Alexander, he gave his bow, and replied in German to His Majesty's questions about the delights of French courtesans. Noticing the scandalized expression on Adrianna's face, he cut short his expressive dialogue, and moved away from the prince as soon as possible. _Ah, the sweet lass, speaks German, and French too no doubt. I will have to mind my tongue._

He strolled into the gardens and followed his companions to a marquee with a refreshments table and a small group of musicians. His attention moved to the sway of Adrianna's hips and the determined tilt of her chin. His heart sped. Soon he would spend time with her in the maze and in two weeks, he would dance with her at the masquerade ball.

Damn propriety, and the prince, he would fill her card and prevent him from monopolizing her time. It was, after all a masquerade ball, not a soul would know him or care how many times they took to the floor together. The Prince of Wales's guests, so far, consisted of widows or gamesters, and not the elite society usually frequenting Lady Adrianna's circles. God help him, she aroused him and he did not want to frighten her. Indeed, most of his conquests had been anything but innocent. Bold Adrianna may be, but her first kiss had given him the impression she remained pure as driven snow.

Not wanting to appear too anxious to explore the maze and his need to taste her soft, sweet mouth, he encouraged Adrianna to take refreshment, and seated beside Rupert, they listened to the music. He noticed Rupert examining the small gathering with interest and touched his arm. "How did ye manage an invitation to this gathering? These people canna be your usual acquaintances or have I been mistaken about ye?"

"Ah, _no_ I do not usually find myself in such interesting company." Rupert lifted his chin toward a young man with large brown eyes and pouty lips. He dropped his voice and spoke in Gaelic. "I assume His Majesty has invited me because he believes I am of a particular persuasion and not because I enjoy a game of cards." He cleared his throat. "Even more so as I requested to bring you along as my particular friend."

"Ah, now it all becomes clear." Drew smiled at his cousin's flushed cheeks. "He made the most outrageous enquiries about my exploits with French courtesans. I gather he had red lips over yonder picked out for your entertainment fore by?" He grinned. "Or is he not to your taste?"

_"Duin do bhuel!_ " Rupert glared at him. "This is not something to discuss in mixed company, nor any of your concern."

"Are you arguing again?" Adrianna placed her plate on the table and blotted her lips with a fine linen napkin. "What on earth does, _'Dùin do bhuel_ ' mean? It is not a language I am familiar with."

"I must apologize, my lady." Lord Rupert inclined his head. "I am afraid I told Drew to ah... 'be quiet,' so I may hear the music." He sighed. "The language is Gaelic."

Drew grinned. He had noticed the subtle byplay between Rupert and the young man the moment they entered the marquee. _He tells me to shut my mouth and yet he must know Adrianna is aware of his preferences. She feels safe with him as she would with a sister._ He sipped his drink avoiding Adrianna's gaze not wanting to offer an explanation. Without doubt, if she ventured to Scotland, she would learn the Gaelic fast enough without his assistance. Placing the glass on the table, he turned to her. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the maze?"

"Indeed." Adrianna smiled. "Are you coming, Rupert?"

"Yes." Rupert got to his feet and offered her his arm. "Some fresh air would be invigorating." He gave Drew a knowing look then led her from the marquee and along a wide pathway toward the maze.

Adrianna placed her fingertips on Rupert's arm and heart racing in anticipation, forced her mind to concentrate on his discussion about the various flowers in the palace gardens, although her mind had other notions apart from the beauty of nature. Having Drew so close beside her, indeed a mere hand span separated them, sent her normal calm exterior into disarray. She flared her nostrils to inhale the delicious scent of a freshly bathed man, oblivious of the late summer rose bushes spread out on each side of the pathway.

As the entrance to the maze came into view, she noticed with some distress the amount of guests milling around. How could she possibly speak in private with Drew with so many others in plain sight?

"Are you familiar with the maze, my lady?" Lord Rupert raised one perfect blond eyebrow and smiled at her.

The memory of her father's teasing at her distress caused her to reply rather sharply. "Yes, I do recall finding myself completely lost inside some years ago and my father made quite a jest of the affair."

"Have no fear. I know this maze like the back of my hand. In fact, there is a small section closed to guests. The groundskeepers are making repairs to the pathway but will not be bothering us today. We will go there and avoid being disturbed or indeed overheard." Rupert led the way onto the grass and she followed him toward the tall clipped hedges surrounding the maze.

Some distance away from the other guests, they turned a corner to find an entrance blocked by a stepladder. Drew moved forward and with an angelic smile lifted the obstacle for her to enter. Once inside the maze, he replaced the ladder and turned his intense gaze on her.

"Will ye walk with me, Adrianna?" He offered his arm. "I have so many questions to ask ye."

"And, I you." She gave Rupert an apologetic smile. "Do you mind?" She placed the tips of her fingers on Drew's green velvet sleeve.

"No, I will remain here and wait for you" Rupert indicated to a nearby bench. "I am sure I can trust Drew to behave like a gentleman." He gave Drew an austere stare.

"Ye can indeed and I thank ye." Drew led her deeper into the shady dark maze. "I do believe there is an arbor at the end of this row." He smiled. "Ah, there it is." He moved into a cozy nook set inside the hedge, took a white silk kerchief from his sleeve, and dusted the wooden bench. "Ma lady." He waved her toward the seat.

She sat down and smoothed her skirts not sure what subject she should offer in conversation. He sat beside her and his muscular thigh brushed her leg sending her heart racing. The heat of him seeped through the material of her dress, the petticoats below, and her shift to warm her in a most disconcerting fashion. When he reached for her hand, she lost all sense of propriety and answered the caress of his thumb with a gentle squeeze of encouragement. Her boldness startled her, as did the heat in his eyes.

Heavens above, he gazed upon her with an expression of sensual delight, his green eyes almost hidden under long black lashes. She could not waste what precious time they had together in idle conversation. In truth, she craved the taste of him and with wanton abandon placed one hand on his chest. Wetting her lips, she caught his sharp intake of breath and lifted her chin. The ostrich feather perched on her hat dropped between them brushing Drew's nose. His eyes crossed for a moment then he snorted with amusement.

"I thought a large blue spider had fallen from the bushes." His teeth flashed white in the dim light. "Would you mind verra much if I removed your hat?" Without waiting for her reply, he skillfully removed the hatpin and lay the offending garment on the bench.

She wanted to offer an apology, but the next moment his mouth closed over her lips. He placed one large hand on her waist and slid her onto his lap. Perched in a precarious position with the heat from his muscular thighs searing her bottom, she gripped his broad shoulders, and melted into his embrace. He traced a path along her lips with the tip of his moist tongue demanding entrance and the delightful taste of sweet wine spilled over her taste buds. She pressed closer moaning in delight and opening her mouth for him. He flicked his inquisitive tongue inside to caress and tease, driving her to insensibility.

He trailed ardent kisses across her chin, down her neck then paused over the neck of her low cut gown and flicked his emerald gaze to her in a subtle request. Gasping, she tipped back her head in acquiescence and heart racing waited for the pleasure to come. However, none of his kisses brushed her bare décolletage. Instead, without taking his gaze from her face, he dipped his long fingers inside the front of her gown and cupped her breast. Flames of need licked her folds and the now familiar wetness leaked between her thighs. She gasped out his name. "Drew, I-I... "

"Hush, sweetness." He skillfully exposed her breasts to the cool air and gently squeezed each throbbing nipple. "I will not hurt ye. Is ma touch pleasurable to ye?"

She gasped her acquiescence then stared at him incoherently as if he held her in an erotic spell. Blinded by lust, she arched into his hand wanting more of his forbidden touch. Aware her legs trembled and not wanting to slip from his lap, she took a firm grip of his shoulder. "This is madness. I hardly know you, but it would seem you have driven all sense from my mind."

"Do I now? Well, that is as it should be between a man and a woman that have a fierce attraction." His husky voice had dropped a full octave. "I have acted inappropriately, but God help me, Adrianna, it is as if we have known each other for a lifetime." He examined her face. "Tell me it is not the same for ye?"

Denial spent a fleeting moment in her mind then melted like the snow in spring. She lifted her chin to meet his hooded gaze. His expression held such tenderness toward her, tears stung the backs of her eyes. God help her, his delightfully slow caresses would see her undone but held with such tenderness in his strong, powerful arms, respectability fled.

She wanted Mister Drew Mackenzie and damn the consequences. "Yes, I feel the same toward you and it is thrilling as well as most disturbing."

"Ye are so verra beautiful." Drew's attention dropped to her exposed breasts. "So white, and full, and your nipples are like ripe cherries begging for me to taste them."

A breeze rustled through the hedges hitting her bare flesh and her nipples tightened but inside she burned for him. Her cheeks flamed. No other man had seen her so uncovered or spoken to her in such an outrageous manner, but she did not want him to stop. She swallowed hard and regarded him with curiosity. "You want to _taste_ them? Do tell, is that a normal request?"

"Och, lass, it is a beautiful experience and nothing to be ashamed of, it is the way men pay devotion to women they desire. I am sure ye will find the experience most pleasing." He caressed her aching nipples with his rough thumbs, and she gasped with delight.

He observed her intently, then as if waiting for her to refuse his advances paused his exploration, and rested his hot fingers on her neck. Panting with need, she grasped a handful of his raven hair and boldly kissed him. He made a low growling sound deep in his chest and breaking the kiss bent his head. The moment his mouth closed over one hard bud, flames of passion licked her core. Dear God, she would die of such wicked delights. In abandon, she pressed his head to her and wallowed in the wonderful sensations each lash of his inquisitive tongue produced. She pressed into his embrace, demanding he give his attention to the other breast and he complied with a low satisfied chuckle.

As he suckled, nipped, and grazed his sharp teeth over her sensitive flesh, spirals of delight curled deep inside her soaking core. She clung to him driven to the point of insanity by his lusty attentions and wriggled to relieve the insistent ache between her thighs.

He let out a moan akin to pain and lifted his head.

"I would bid ye to remain still _, mo nighean donn._ " He rearranged her position on his lap. "Do I please ye?"

She pressed her thighs together in an attempt to quell the delightful throbbing in her groin and pushed her words out on a moan. "You take me to a strange place indeed. I admit I have never felt so wonderful and yet so bereft."

"Aye, I ken the way of things, but although I yearn for ye too, I will not take this further, not now."

She touched his face, wanting more of the delights he offered. His words of restraint silenced the little worry worm inside her head. "I thank you for your consideration although, I must admit, I do so enjoy your most ardent kisses." She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Your touch makes me restless and long for more, yet I am worried this delight you offer is sinful."

"What ye feel is not wrong when it is with a man who cares for your well-being." He nuzzled her cheek. "I would not dishonor ye by taking ye afore we wed, nor be so low as to have ye on a park bench nay matter if ye begged me. I dinna have to bed ye to ease ye but I will not do so yet. Not until we have an understanding." He brushed tender kisses to the corners of her mouth. "In truth, I have seduced ye. I ken verra well how to please a woman, but I dinna come here to take advantage of ye. Ye are not compromised and may walk away wi' nay harm done."

She cupped his nape and gazed into his liquid emerald eyes. "No harm, you say? Do you believe I would allow any other man to touch me so?"

"Nay. We are verra well matched and ye have responded to me as ye should." He caressed her breast in his large, warm hand. "I also ken ye are new to a man's touch and I have awoken your womanly lust, but I am willing to offer ye so much more than kisses. I _want_ ye, Adrianna, but afore ye say anything, ye must ken more about me."

"I know all I need to know. Rupert has informed me of your weakness for mistresses and of your business." She fought against the flames of desire licking between her thighs for coherent words. "I do not want a suitor who beds mistresses, and although your touch drives me to the point of madness, I am seeking a love match."

"So am I and if ye will allow me to call on ye, I will not visit ma mistress, ye have ma word. Indeed, all are in France and I have no reason to return for some time." He glanced toward Lord Rupert waiting inside the entrance to the maze then shrugged. "I am surprised Rupert told ye of ma business, he must trust ye not to speak a word of it to anyone especially your father."

She stared at him blankly for some moments in an effort to get her mind around his declaration. Rupert had mentioned a business concerning horses. Heavens above, could he be involved in racing his beasts? Her father would not approve of such activities, to be sure. No wonder he required time to establish a respectable business before approaching him. Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, she smiled. "You have my confidence."

He nodded slowly and met her gaze with a serious expression.

"If who and what I am does not trouble ye. Will ye agree to accept nay other gentleman's attention until I am able to speak wi' your father?" He frowned. "It will mean continuing in this fashion until I am able to obtain references from The Duke of Bainbridge and documentation regarding my business in France. I canna remain in London for more than a month. Much as I desire to remain here and court ye, I will have to return to ma home in Badenoch for a short time." His expression turned to one of deep longing. "I did so want to call on ye in the respectable way ye deserve, but I had to act now because the thought of your father insisting ye wed an old widower makes my blood boil. Will ye do me the honor of waiting for me to return, sweet Adrianna?"

She cupped his chin and met the longing in his emerald eyes. "I would wait forever for you, Drew Mackenzie."
Chapter Five

The following week sped by in a whirlwind of forbidden romance, although Drew's attentions went no further than kissing under the scrutiny of Lord Rupert. Flowers arrived from Drew daily, filling Adrianna's bedroom with the heady scent of roses. The attached cards, unsigned but filled with endearments littered her dressing table. The bouquets of red blooms had become the talk of society with all believing Lord Rupert was on the cusp of making an offer. Indeed, her father greeted him on his arrival and would insist, he take drinks with him in the study. Dear Rupert carried on the ruse in splendid fashion and their _romance_ had become the current topic of conversation at every gathering.

When the invitation to the Prince of Wales's masquerade ball arrived she stared at the royal seal, and her heart raced in anticipation. Once again, she would be with Drew in public but to ensure their secrecy, he had decided to cover his long black locks with a wig. No one would recognize him as Drew Mackenzie, not when the Prince of Wales had accepted him as _Monsieur_ James Alexander confidant to King Louis.

When the day of the ball arrived, unable to rest after luncheon, she paced the decorative Chinese rug on the bedroom floor wishing the hours would pass and she would be in Drew's arms once more. A knock on the door brought Betty into her room carrying a silver tray adorned with a small box and one single red rose.

"This came for you, milady." Betty smiled. Lord Rupert is such a generous suitor. Do you not find him most handsome?"

She removed the rose and inhaled the sweet fragrance ignoring her servant's impudent question. "This will need water." She replaced it on the silver tray and lifted the box. "Off you go, Betty."

The door closed behind the indignant maid. She smiled. Of course, she would indulge the girl by showing her the contents of the box on her return, but she required a few moments of privacy to enjoy her gift. With care, she unpicked the red ribbon and peered inside. "Oh how charming." She lifted out a silk mask decorated with blue gemstones and admired the superb quality. Pressing it to her face, she turned to the mirror.

Her reflection showed cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling with love. She lifted the card and read the familiar hand.

_Only such gems do justice to your exquisite eyes. I crave your presence. You warm my heart like sunshine on a summer's day._

_Until tonight._

A familiar wetness, pooled at the junction of her thighs at the memory of his intimate kisses. Indeed, his ardent devotion of her breasts had near made her beg him to ease her restlessness. In his stead, Rupert called on her almost every day to escort her to their rendezvous. They had strolled every secluded spot available in London then moved further afield. She had fond memories of rambling through the woods at Box Hill with Drew and stealing kisses behind giant oaks.

Her maid, thought her most inconsiderate of Lord Rupert for leaving him cooling his heels in her company. Indeed, the sweet girl could not fathom her sudden desire to be alone to pick wildflowers or to examine a certain exhibit at the museum unattended. To be sure, her extended visits to the necessary had brought raised eyebrows on many occasions. No matter, she would do whatever was required to spend precious time alone with Drew. Later, at the masquerade ball with the guests believing her to be in Lord Rupert's company, she would leave him in plain sight, and sneak away in the pretense of visiting the retiring room to meet Drew.

_How delightfully scandalous._

* * * *

Drew stared at the letter in disbelief. He read his brother's rambling scrawl once more and sat down heavily in the chair before the desk. In one fatal blow, Jamie's disastrous news had shattered his bid for respectability, and any chance to offer for Adrianna's hand. He must sell his townhouse at once, to raise the necessary funds to aid his clan and leave for Scotland.

He took the glass of brandy offered by Rotheram and swallowed the contents then lifted his chin to meet his valet's concerned gaze. "Three hundred of my clan are ill with the bloody flux including the healer and now my father has succumbed. Foiseil Castle is defenseless. Seeing our clan so diminished, Clan Munroe conducted a few well-planned raids. They fired our crops, burned the tenant's houses to the ground, and ran off our livestock. I must return home and pray I am in time to help. Pack my bags I will leave at first light."

"I thank God, you are so skilled a healer, sir, I am sure you will put things to right. Do you wish me to purchase any medicinals?" Rotheram raised a brow. "I would imagine the stocks at the castle will be depleted."

Drew took a slip of paper from the drawer and placed it on the desk. His mind in turmoil, he steadied his thoughts, and reaching for a quill, considered what herbs he would need to tend his clan. "Yes, send a footman with this note to the apothecary and tell him to wait." He sanded the document then handed it to him. "It will be necessary to make arrangements with you regarding the staff."

Rotheram's eyes opened wide. "The staff, sir?"

"Indeed. Pack all my personal belongings and set the housekeeper to prepare the house for sale. Instruct Mister Dander, I want all valuables packed, and sent with the remaining staff to Badenoch within the next two weeks." He gave him a tight smile. "Inform them we are returning home."

"Yes, sir." Rotheram carefully folded the note. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

Dear God! He must inform Rupert and Adrianna he would be leaving. He pushed to his feet and turned to his valet. "I am going out, have my carriage brought around and lay out my clothes for the masquerade ball tonight."

Damnation, he had planned to return to Scotland but not now, not so soon in his relationship with Adrianna. What would become of him, if his father died would he ever be able to return to her? As laird, or indeed with his father incapacitated, he would carry the responsibility of protecting the Badenoch tenants. A severely depleted clan would make the defending and running of his estate difficult. He would require assistance but would have to wait until the sickness passed before sending out a calling of the clan.

He rubbed his chin searching his mind for a solution. With the clan's livestock stolen and the crops burned, he would require substantial funds to buy supplies to feed the clan and re-build the tenants houses. He had funds and trusted Rupert to sell his townhouse, but he would have to return to smuggling in the meantime, and not in France, in Scotland. He glanced back at the letter and snorted. Without doubt, Angus Mac Bride, his father's right hand man, would try to gain the clan's backing to appoint him laird in his stead. His only hope lay with his brother, Jamie's determination to ensure his rightful place as the next laird. Although, not yet twenty summers, Jamie had a good head on his shoulders and held the respect of his clansmen. _Aye, Jamie will keep the clan safe in ma stead._

* * * *

Drew arrived at Lord Rupert's residence in time for afternoon tea. Ushered into the study, he flopped into a large wing-backed chair and handed Rupert the letter from Jamie.

"Christ, if your father dies, do you really think Angus will attempt to gain support as laird?"

"I dinna ken, but if Jamie is worried, he has reason, aye, and the clan will need ma presence to ensure Angus has nay claim. This is not ma only purpose for returning wi' haste." He rubbed his chin trying to order his thoughts. "I am the only member of the clan able to raise the substantial funds necessary to rebuild and feed the clan until we can replant and harvest the crops. The moment I arrive in Scotland, I have nay choice but to assume the guise of _Le Diable Noir,_ and seek a suitable business arrangement."

"And how, pray tell do you intend to achieve such ends after being absent from Scotland for more than two years?" Rupert inclined his head allowing a golden curl to fall over one eye.

"Ye ken verra well _Madame_ Josephine is ma go-between in Inverness. I have sent a letter on the mail coach and she will contact a French privateer, by the name of Captain Jacques. He is presently moving along the English coast and should arrive in Inverness afore I do. Although, the blackguard, Baron du Court owns the ship, Jacques is under direct orders from King Louis." He smiled. "I have done business with him afore and I dinna think I will have too much trouble arranging a meeting, there are coves aplenty along the coast."

"Do you have goods to trade in Scotland?" Rupert wrinkled his brow. "Then why not sell them locally and forget this _Le Diable Noir_ nonsense?"

"Och, if it were not for the taxes, I would. As luck would have it, I have a warehouse at Inverness, containing a good quantity of the finest brandy. I can trade a quantity of it to Captain Jacques for gold, _if_ I can keep it away from the excise men." He grimaced then shrugged. "Then I will make shift to haul twelve barrels of aged whisky from Badenoch and trade them with Jacques the following month for goods I can sell in Inverness. I ken King Louis has a fancy for the Mackenzie whisky." He scratched his chin and turned over the plan in his mind. He would require a substantial amount of money to ensure his clan's welfare. He sighed and met Rupert's concerned gaze. "I need coin and have nay option other than to sell ma townhouse, but that will take time. Can ye arrange the sale in ma absence?"

"Yes, of course. I will set my man of affairs to the task at once." Lord Rupert handed him the letter. "What will you do if the Monroes have taken the whisky too?"

"They would not have found a drop, well mayhap a barrel or two of the raw alcohol in the distillery. To be sure, we have hidden caches of whisky going back a hundred years or more and nayone but ma father and brothers ken where they lie. I would say we have maybe two thousand barrels of aged liquid gold in verra safe places."

"Well, I must say that is somewhat of a relief, however, in the meantime, I will arrange a transfer of funds to the Bank of Scotland and send a missive to Jamie. At least, the clan will be able to replenish their larder in your absence." Rupert snorted and held up one hand. "Do not dare insult me by telling me I am not allowed to help my clan in times of need? I will not hear any objections."

"Aye well, I thank ye." Drew raised his eyebrows. "I am not a pauper yet awhile. I have one hundred guineas but will have to leave a substantial portion with ma butler to pay ma outstanding bills and transport ma belongings and staff to Badenoch."

"Do you want me to inform Adrianna you are leaving?" Rupert grimaced. "She will be heartbroken." He moved to his desk and filled two glasses with whisky. "I do believe she is in love with you." He placed the drink beside the plate of cucumber sandwiches on the side table, and took the seat opposite him.

A deep pain of loss curled around Drew's heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and lifted the drink to his lips. He sipped the aged whisky and allowed the warm malty elixir to sooth his wame. _Adrianna._ Leaving her would tear out his heart. He met Rupert's troubled gaze over the rim of his glass. "Aye, there is an attraction betwixt us and I ken my leaving will trouble her. She will nay doubt believe the worse and I will not spoil her time at the ball tonight by mentioning my problems although, she is aware I planned to return home next month. Nay, I want to see her happy and will give her a night to remember. Once we have completed the supper set, I will take her aside to explain why I must return to Badenoch. Hopefully, she will be willing to wait for me." He narrowed his gaze. "Ye will not tell her I have returned to smuggling fore by?"

"I beg your pardon? What do you mean by, 'returned to smuggling'? I have never mentioned such a thing to her. Christ, Drew, do you believe me to be so addle-brained to even mention such a thing?"

"Ye did not tell her? Then how does she ken?"

"I have no notion. You must be mistaken for I only made mention of our business in the stables as a recommendation of your worth, and of course, as a friend it was my duty to make her aware of your mistresses." Rupert shrugged and patted an errant curl into place. "There was no reason for her to know you are _Le Diable Noir_. Before this disastrous news, you planned to put that part of your life behind you. Indeed, you have invested your ill-gotten gains in a profitable business in France. Any gossip toward your intent to be in France for any other reason would be quelled once your involvement in French wine is made known." He shrugged. "Before you return to London I suggest you put _Le Diable Noir_ behind you. Lady Adrianna will never hear the like of it from my lips. I am sure your co-conspirators are sworn to secrecy?"

"Aye, no one in France has seen my face. I wear a mask ye ken?"

Should Adrianna discover his life as a smuggler, love may not be enough to persuade her to marry him. He could not take the chance she would be disgusted and turn from him. _She will never find out about Le Diable Noir --will she? _He swallowed hard. "I will not contact her until my business is concluded. I cannot lie to her, not now or ever."

"When _Le Diable Noir_ is dead and buried that consideration will not signify. No man is required to disclose _all_ his sins to his future wife prior to marriage, but to sooth your conscience, make your confession and peace with God then move on in grace." Rupert lifted his Mackenzie green eyes and glared at him. "And as to why I informed Adrianna about your mistresses, you must remember, she happens to be my _particular_ friend, and I did not want to see her hurt by you or indeed any man. She deserved to understand the ramifications of being involved with a man of your reputation." He cleared his throat. "I would do the same again so strike me now if you must and be done with it."

"Och, Rupert, I ken she is your 'particular friend' and I am pleased ye informed her about ma wicked ways. Although, she is nay a wilting flower but a braw lass wi' a mind of her own. If I am able to convince Lord Beachwood I am a suitable husband for her, we will make a fine match." He grinned at his cousin's bravery. "Ye are a good man, Rupert, and I could not wish for a more competent man to protect her during ma absence."

"Then you will have to resolve matters at Badenoch as soon as possible. Has it slipped your mind that I will be removing to Scotland with your horses in the near future? I will not be able to delay my departure for more than two months or I will be obliged to oversee one of my father's estates. I have had a deuce of a time avoiding him and if not for your request to call on Adrianna, I would now be living in perpetual rural boredom."

Drew snorted with laughter. "Och aye, so what does the wet and wild Highlands really have to offer a wee fop like yourself then?"

"You mean, for a man with my _varied_ fancies?" Rupert raised his glass in a toast. "Let me just say, _Madame_ Josephine's excellent brothel is a _go-between_ for me as well."

* * * *

The evening arrived filled with expectation but the moment Adrianna stepped onto the dance floor with Drew, she experienced a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach as if a disaster was imminent. He had been most attentive since her arrival, yet the emerald eyes peeking through his silk mask held regret and not his usual devotion toward her.

Dressed in black with cream ruffled linen and black silk cravat, he was indeed the epitome of style. For a man of his size, he moved through the complicated dance steps with elegant grace. At each turn, she could not fail to notice the admiring glances and coquettish appraisal of the women seated on the edge of the ballroom, indeed, it would seem he had gained the approval of every lady present. The set finished and he returned her to Rupert's side without uttering a word. She gazed up at him and spoke in French to keep the illusion of his identity. "I thank you, _Monsieur_ Alexander, for a most enjoyable set."

"The pleasure was indeed mine, my lady." Drew bowed then turned on his heel and vanished into the crush.

She turned to Rupert and placed a trembling hand on his arm. "What is amiss? Is he angered over my set with the prince?"

"Not at all, but you should brace yourself for some unpleasant news." Lord Rupert covered her hand and his handsome face lit up with a smile. "Please do not look on me with such a devastated expression, people will believe I am being a cad." He bent his head toward her in a confidential manner and lowered his voice. "Unfortunately, Drew's father is ill and he will have to return home. I will take you to him so he may explain. He is waiting in the garden for you." He led her from the ballroom.

How much time did she have left to spend with Drew, one week, one day? The thought of him leaving London made her heart ache. She straightened, determined to deal with the situation. She _would_ cope without him--somehow.

Although, Rupert made great progress guiding her through the crush, a number of small groups of inquisitive friends halted their progress. She answered polite questions and paused to take refreshment with the Prince of Wales. Not wanting to dance another step with him, she took out her fan and gripped Rupert's arm. "I do beg pardon, my lord, but I find myself indisposed. The heat is making me quite giddy. May we retire to the garden for a breath of fresh air?"

"Of course, my lady." Rupert turned to the prince and bowed. "If you will excuse us, Your Highness?"

"Yes, yes, go along. The night is yet young." The Prince of Wales gave them a dismissive wave.

She moved with Rupert through the French doors and onto the long elegant terrace. A wave of delightful rose fragrance from the vast gardens below filled the breeze caressing her face, but the beauty of the late summer blooms faded into insignificance with each step toward the garden. A woman on the way to the gallows could not have felt worse. To be sure, the thought of Drew leaving her turned her stomach in a most dreadful fashion.

Unable to appear in a hurry to escape the attention of the other guests, they strolled along the path in a languid fashion. She wanted to scream, to run and find Drew and beg him to stay, but how could she expect him to place her above his father or his clan?

Distraught to distraction, she did not notice Rupert had led her around the main building and down a dark path toward the dowager's residence. To her surprise, a candle glowed in the window, although, no one had occupied the house for many years. She stopped mid-stride and glared at Rupert. "Why are we here?"

" _Monsieur_ Alexander mentioned to the prince, he was seeking a safe place to conduct a secret rendezvous with a married lady. Of course, the prince thought it a capital idea and put this residence at his disposal." Rupert opened the door and she slipped inside into darkness. "The candle in the upstairs window is the signal that Drew is within." He closed the door behind them and led her down a dark passageway. "He will be in the sitting room. I will enjoy a few glasses of French wine in the study and wait for you." He opened a door and light flooded into the hallway.

She wet her lips at the sight of Drew standing before the fire. He had removed his wig and gazed at her with such intensity her heart missed a beat. When he held out his large hands, she ran to him. Enclosed in his muscular arms, she could not prevent the tears stinging her eyes. "Oh, Drew, I am so sorry to hear about your father."

"Aye, so am I." Drew stroked her hair and bent to brush butterfly kisses over her cheek. "I am heir to Badenoch, but during ma father's illness it would seem the clan has appointed ma godfather to run things in ma stead over ma younger brother, Jamie. I must return at once. Should ma father die and I am absent, Angus has every right to challenge ma place as laird and I will not have ma clan's future given to a man who does not carry the Mackenzie name."

She lifted her chin and stared into bottomless pits of grief. "Take me with you."

"Oh, ma sweet lass, dinna ye ken how much I want to have ye by ma side?" He kissed her with gentle passion then raised his head and met her gaze. "I will not dishonor ye, not any more than I have already by sneaking around like a thief in the night to spend a few precious moments wi' ye." He sighed and pressed her hard against his chest. "Ye must trust me to return to ye. I canna say when I will be able to return to London, but ye have ma word. I want ye, Adrianna, and nay matter what is thrown in ma path to stop me, I _will_ come back to ye." He gazed into her eyes with a frightening intensity as if willing her to believe him. "I will not be so far from ye. If ye look at the moon each night at nine o' clock, ken that I will too."

He was so romantic but had not once said he loved her. Could this be his declaration, the promise she must cling to in the lonely times ahead? As he swung her into his strong arms and carried her toward a red satin chaise lounge, all doubt vanished. She sprawled across his lap and devoured his ardent kisses, savoring the delicious taste of him, his exotic scent, and the solid strength of him. She wanted to give herself to him in wanton abandon. "I will miss you so much, you have stolen my heart. Take me, here, now. I beg you give me something to remember, a moment to cherish until we can be together again."

His long fingers fumbled on her buttons and in moments, he had stripped her gown and corset leaving her trembling in her shift. She met his hooded gaze and flames of anticipation licked her folds in erotic heat. He lifted her with gentle care from his lap and placed her on the seat then stood to remove his jacket. He gave her a smile of such tenderness her stomach clenched before he turned to pick up her discarded dress and lay it neatly over a chair. He sat beside her and traced her chin with the tip of one elegantly manicured finger.

"Och, Adrianna, ma sweet innocent lass, I will miss you too and although I would treasure the gift you have offered, I will not take your maidenhead. I would never use you for ma own satisfaction and leave ye ruined, but I will ease your restlessness." He lifted the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head. "I want to look on ye and brand ye in ma mind for the lonely days ahead. Ye are so beautiful, so verra soft wi' skin like the marble statues in Rome. I want to touch ye, and taste every inch of ye. Will ye allow me?" He kneeled beside the sofa.

Her face grew hot and she forced down the urge to cover her breasts from his admiring gaze. She trusted him and ached to have him buried deep inside her, but she understood the need to wait. For now, she would enjoy anything he had to offer. He had promised to return for her and she would cherish their time together and look forward to a future by his side. She held up her arms to him and forced her trembling lips into a smile. "I would like that very much."

"Ye will not be sorry." He trailed his cool fingertips over her breasts and bent to capture her mouth.

She arched into his caress and opened for his exploration. The taste of whisky exploded across her tongue and she moaned kissing him back with passion. His touch set her aflame, her nipples hardened to painful peaks, and she gripped his shoulders in an effort to drag his mouth down to sooth them.

"Ye will make a demanding lover. Ma dream is to have ye in my bed and make ye scream out ma name in desire, but I will not have ye without the sacrament of marriage." He lowered his head and used the tip of his inquisitive wet tongue to circle each tingling nipple. "Mmm, you taste better each time." His attention moved downward in slow deliberation. "You have such an exquisite navel." He circled then plunged inside making her tremble with anticipation.

Heat filled her cheeks. "Am I not a deal larger than most women? Indeed, my height and fullness are my downfall as is my hair. Most gentlemen prefer petite blonde ladies."

"I dinna like skinny women and your hair is magnificent. A man would be blind to now see ye are perfect in every way." He raised one dark eyebrow and smiled. "Grasp the arm of the chair and dinna let go until I tell ye. I want to see your perfection stretched out and open for my touch."

Restless, she tossed her head from side to side but complied and gripped the arm of the chair behind her. A wave of panic hit her. Heavens above, would the wetness coating her inner thighs disgust him? She pushed all thoughts aside, the moment his mouth closed around one nipple and then the other. "Oh!"

"Do ye like ma touch?" Drew lifted his head, his lips wet, and glossy. "I would hope so because ye taste verra fine."

She blinked and tried to make sense of his words. The art of conversation had fled and she nodded.

"Ye are so beautiful, so verra beautiful." He palmed her breast in one hot hand and scraped his nails across her sensitive buds.

Each of his movements, each gentle caress, or teasing pinch drove her mad with desire. When he cupped her mound, she rolled her hips to meet the tantalizing strokes of his long, skillful fingers, and as the tips slid between her folds and circled her swollen nub, she gasped in delight. Shimmers of sublime sensation unfurled within her building and surging in wonderful erotic waves. She clung to the chair panting. _Dear God! My head will surely explode if this continues._

His low chuckle broke through the haze of delirium and his warm breath on her most private parts startled her. She dropped her arms and clamped shut her thighs. "You surely do not intend to taste me there?"

"Aye, I do and as with your breasts, ma touch will only bring ye pleasure. Open your legs for me, Adrianna, and allow me to savor every part of ye." He pushed her knees apart and she dropped one of her feet to the floor opening her to his gaze. "Ye are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. So wet and needing ma attention. Now, lass, hold onto the chair for I will not stop until ye have reached your conclusion."

She blinked at him unable to understand but did as he commanded. "My what?"

"Hush now and enjoy what I offer ye." He gripped one breast in his large hand then bent his head.

His soft kisses to her mound brought forth instant rolls of tormenting delight tunneling deep inside her. She dug her fingernails into the silk fabric of the chair heedless of the damage and lifted her hips caught in wave after wave of incredible sensations. When he pinched her nipple and tormented the throbbing nub between her folds, she bucked. "Oh, please, I cannot stand such pleasure. It is too much to bear."

Drew held her hips in his large hands then slid them under her to squeeze her bottom in a most delicious fashion. She could do nothing but squirm under the forbidden delight of his expert ministrations. Caught in the flames of rapture, she gasped for air. Heat raced up her thighs and the erotic sensations expanded then flowered into a confection of exquisite delight. Tremors wracked her and her legs jerked uncontrollably, but she wanted more. Placing one foot firmly on the floor, she pushed her aching folds toward his deliciously tormenting mouth.

"Drew, dear God... I--"

He circled her throbbing nub with the tip of his wicked tongue, then with a feral groan closed his lips over her and suckled hard. Spots danced behind her eyes and with muscles twitching, she rode the crest of erotic euphoria and hovered there on the brink of delight before crashing into lustful oblivion. Floating on a cloud of pleasure, she lay back reveling in his soft kisses. He gathered her in his arms and his damp lips closed over her mouth. She opened to him, accepting the possessive and demanding kiss he offered.

"Ye are _mine_. Nay other may touch ye." Drew growled against her mouth. "Do ye hear me, Adrianna? Ye are _mine_."

She gazed into eyes filled with passion. He had given her a gift to treasure and yet taken nothing for himself. "Yes, I am yours and I will wait for you, I promise."

When he stood, a cold chill brushed over her. Bereft of his heat, she hugged her chest. Pain of loss as deep as mourning gripped her and she took in the sight of him memorizing every inch of his handsome features. How would she survive without him now? She loved him with every part of her being. Heavens, he would see her unhappiness and believe she had not enjoyed their encounter. She would bury the turmoil raging inside her and force her expression into one of blissful happiness. His memory of her must be of love and devotion. When his gaze moved over her face and his lips curled into a satisfied smile, she sighed in relief.

Drew took a jug of warm water from beside the hearth and filled the wash basin. He washed and dried using a thick cloth. Adrianna's face shone with love and contentment. The times they had been together, he had prepared her for his touch, and she had responded well. Her declaration to wait for him had tied an unbreakable knot around his heart and he would do everything in his power to become a suitable match for her. He wanted her father's blessing for her sake and not for her fortune, but whatever the outcome, Lady Adrianna Beachwood belonged to him.

He swallowed hard, hoping the ache deep in his balls would subside. Christ, his beautiful Adrianna's ardent response to his touch had pushed him to the brink of insanity, and how he had abstained from sinking into her liquid heat, he had no idea. Indeed, the madness to have her and damn the consequences had waged war in his head from the moment he touched her. He had overstepped by easing her, but had wanted to demonstrate what she could expect from him in a loving relationship. In truth, he desperately wanted to prove his desire to make her happy in and out of the bedchamber. She perhaps thought of him as a rake, who only sought his own gratification, and he hoped he had rid her of that notion.

He wrung out the cloth and strolled toward her. "Will ye allow me to wash ye?" He unfurled her legs and pressed kisses to her hard pink nipples then lifted his head and smiled at her wide blue gaze. "Will ye remember me now?"

"I will never forget you and not for the exquisite way you made me tremble, but for _you_ , the most honorable of gentlemen." She cupped his face and her eyes filled with tears. "I will miss you more than I can say."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away to wipe away the remnants of his lustful advances. She trembled under his touch and the need to comfort her welled up again. He must keep his head, Rupert would return soon and his advances had gone far beyond genteel kisses. His cousin would be well within his rights to be angry. He turned back to her. "Rupert is waiting. I will help ye dress." He stood and gathered her corset and gown. "How will ye busy yourself during ma absence?" He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet.

"I am sure Rupert will keep me company and away from any of my father's acquaintances." Adrianna turned to allow him to tie her laces. "As your clan is sickly, perhaps I should spend some time with my father and at least obtain some knowledge of healing." She stepped into her dress and pulled it over her arms. "To be sure, there are many children, orphans, and street ruffians I can help too if I have a little knowledge of such things."

He buttoned her gown then went about pushing a few dangling curls back into her coiffeur. He turned her to face him and smiled. "I ken about heeling too. Aye, ye should learn as much as ye can from your father. To be sure, we would make a fine pair working side by side." He brushed a kiss across her lips and sighed. "Rupert will continue to call on ye for as long as he is able. Now, I want ye to promise me, if your father makes plans for one of his friends to wed ye, I beg ye to inform me by way of Rupert. He will get word to me and whatever the cost, I will return." He frowned. "Ye ken I canna write to ye, it would not be seemly to do so."

"Yes, I understand and it would be doubtful my father would allow me to read such correspondence. Will you write to Rupert?" Adrianna chewed delightfully on her bottom lip, her blue eyes filled with despair. "Perhaps you could send news of your father and details of your expected return to London?"

He pulled her into his arms. "I will write to Rupert as soon as I am able and send notes to ye. He will show them to you, but they must be destroyed directly." He sighed. "Until I am able to speak to your father, we must keep our secret or all will be lost."

A sharp knock sounded at the door and they sprang apart. Drew grabbed for his wig and pushed it onto his head then turned to face the door. "Yes, who is it?"

"It is Lord Rupert." The door opened and he sauntered inside raising both eyebrows at Adrianna. "It is the last set before supper and you have been absent for over an hour." He smiled and winked at Drew. "I returned to the house and made comment that Lady Adrianna was indisposed. Although, I gather a few matrons have been scouring the palace looking for her." He sniffed the air and his nostrils flared. "I do hope I will not be accompanying the pair of you to Gretna Green?"

Drew glared at his cousin. "What are ye suggesting? Ye have ma word we dinna need to elope. Although the idea has merits, I dinna care for King Geordie sending redcoats after us and to be sure, her father would go straight to him should she go missing."

"No, he would not because Lord Beachwood believes she is with me." Rupert rubbed his chin and stared blankly at the wall. "No, eloping is out of the question. I would return alone and believing the worse, my father would most likely shoot me for dishonoring the family."

"Christ, Rupert, have ye got sawdust between your ears? I dinna say we planned to elope." Drew straightened his waistcoat. "Now take Adrianna back to the house afore her father insists ye marry her. If that should happen, cousin or not, I will be the one doing the killing." He shrugged into his jacket.

"Very well." Rupert moved around Adrianna inspecting her with a critical eye. "You will do." He offered his arm. "Come along."

Tears welled in her beautiful eyes and Drew pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to her. "Ye have ma word, Adrianna. I will come back for ye or die trying."

Adrianna's gaze searched his face for long moments and although her lips trembled, she smiled.

"I know you will. Goodbye, Drew. Godspeed and may you find your father recovered." She gave a curtsy.

He bowed and fought the lump closing his throat. "I will not say 'goodbye,' Adrianna. _Au revoir, ma cherie._ "
Chapter Six

_Three months later_

"I most certainly made an error of judgment by allowing you to attend my patients with me." Lord Beachwood's mouth formed a thin line. "A very grave error indeed and one I regret."

Adrianna stared at her father in disbelief. "I enjoyed visiting the sick with you, Papa." His angry gaze unnerved her. "I am most grateful for the opportunity to learn from you and I must offer an apology if I have overstepped my mark. You see, I have found great satisfaction in helping the sick and needy. I do believe it may be my calling."

"Indeed! If I had known the truth of your intention, I would never have allowed you to accompany me." His lips curled in disgust. "I cannot dare to imagine what will happen if the king gets wind of his goddaughter sneaking out unescorted, let alone discovering you have engaged in treating the pox infected rabble."

He took out a blue enameled gold snuffbox and tapped it as if deciding to indulge. His penetrating gaze sent shivers down her spine.

"Really, Adrianna, I am at my wits end with you. This very morning, Lord Rupert confided, he does not intend to make an offer for you after all and in truth, I do not blame him. Who would take you after reading this?" He slammed a crumpled broadsheet on the table before her depicting an exact representation of her standing in a crowd of scantily clad prostitutes outside a brothel.

She glanced at the headline: _Lady Light Skirt_ and her face grew hot _. So they think I am a whore._ "I can ex--"

"How many gentlemen of consequence do you believe will offer for you now?" He grabbed the paper and waved it under her nose. "Not one would dare tarnish his good name with the likes of you, madam."

She gaped at him unable to breathe and waved a hand dismissively as if the article held no consequence. " _Really,_ Papa, how could you think such a thing? My giving succor to the sick was not the reason Lord Rupert failed to make an offer. Indeed, Lord Rupert believed my involvement with the sick was a noble gesture."

" _A noble gesture_ , you say?" Her father rounded on her eyes blazing. "Yet, he thought it necessary to deliver the damning evidence into my hands?"

She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to prevent the tears threatening to spill. "Lord Rupert would never do such a thing, not _eve_ r."

"Look at me." Her father rapped his knuckles on the arm of the chair. "Lord Rupert is so concerned the gossip will ruin his reputation, he is planning to leave London for the country." He snorted with disdain. "My God, and to think you have been friends since childhood."

How difficult it must have been for dear Rupert to speak with her father on such a delicate matter. He had stood beside her in Drew's stead for three months and had discussed how he would respond should her father demand to know his intentions toward her. Not with a disgusting broadsheet but with the excuse, he did not look upon her as a wife but as a sister. She lifted her chin and glared at him. "He told me he would be leaving London on his father's bequest. My working with the sick had nothing to do with his leaving or this filthy rag." She grabbed the broadsheet from her father's hand and tore it into shreds dropping it heedlessly on the Chinese rug. "I have lost _nothing_ , Papa, because I would have refused Lord Rupert as well."

"What is wrong with you, Adrianna?" His lip curled into a snarl. "Have you spent so much time wool-gathering you have not noticed the bloom of youth has left your face? Have you not seen the wealth of beauties in their first come out? By the end of the season, you will be too old for consideration by any gentlemen of consequence." He sighed. "Not that it matters now after this public humiliation."

She flinched under his cruel words and dropped her gaze to her lap. How she wished she could mention her love for Drew Mackenzie but she dare not. Since meeting him, she had wanted to yell his name from the rooftops but had given her word to Rupert to remain silent. After all, Drew had promised to return and his many notes had confirmed his devotion. She understood the problems he faced with his clan took time to resolve and she had a lifetime to wait if necessary. For now, gazing at the moon at nine o' clock each night would have to do. She met her father's furious gaze. "I do not care to marry at this point in time, Father."

"Indeed? Is it not bad enough you have become an embarrassment to me?" His expression hardened. "How do you think society will react seeing your face plastered across a broadsheet? You have made me a laughing stock at Whites and I will not tolerate this situation a moment longer. It is time for me to take a firmer hand in the best interests of all concerned." He took a miniature from his pocket and placed it on the table before her. "Fortunately Baron Jean-Pierre du Court has made an offer, so it would seem your reputation has not yet reached France."

Baron du Court? The name sent a shiver down her spine and the memory of Drew's conversation detailing his barbarianism flooded her mind. She swallowed hard searching for a way to make light of the situation. "An offer? He has never laid eyes on me." She peered at the miniature portrait of the ugly French baron and suppressed a grimace.

"Nevertheless, he sent his man of affairs with his offer and is very keen to wed you as soon as possible." His eyes sparkled with triumph and her stomach roiled in fear.

She had made her choice and would take no other but in an effort to appease him examined the portrait closely. The splendid luncheon of eel pie turned to a brick in her stomach and threatened to rush up the back of her throat. Nauseated, she flicked open her fan to cool the growing warmth flooding her cheeks. Her father's consideration of an offer from such a distasteful old man concerned her.

The image of her handsome Highlander crossed her mind. She remembered his kisses, the soft caress of his lips, his promise to return to her. _He will come and end this farce._ Fear curled in her chest making it hard to breathe. Dear God, if Rupert departed for Scotland, she would have no way of contacting Drew to explain her situation. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to focus on how to deal with the intolerable situation. She required more time and would not allow her father to force her into marriage. Changing her expression to one of disdain, she met her father's unyielding expression. "I _am_ sorry, Papa. I cannot accept this gentleman's offer."

"I _insist_ you accept his offer, Adrianna." He scowled at her. "Or you will suffer the consequences."

Her mind reeled with the implications of a forced marriage with Baron du Court. Her skin prickled and she flicked the ornate gold frame across the table then sat back in her chair to await her father's wrath. She had to convince him the necessity of finishing the season to allow Drew time to return to London and make his offer. Surely, after refusing so many gentlemen, her father would agree to a match with him. She lifted her chin. "Do as you may, Papa. I will not marry Baron du Court."

Her father's expression had changed from anger to bewilderment. He cleared his throat and his mouth turned up in a benevolent smile. The sight sent a shiver of apprehension scuttling down her spine. Heavens above, he had decided to change his gambit.

"My dear Adrianna, there is no negotiation in this matter. Your come out was four seasons ago. Do you want to die an old maid?" He leaned back in his chair and assumed a less threatening posture. "Baron du Court will introduce you to the French court. Most ladies would jump at the chance to be involved in such distinguished society." He brushed lint from his breeches and smiled. "I suggest you give his suit due consideration because although I cannot hold a gun to your head, I can have you secreted in Bedlam. I am sure most of society believes you have lost your wits."

Anger flared and then flowed into a wave of panic. She drew a breath to steady her nerves and fiddled with the tassel on her fan unable to look at him. Appeasing her father would require her acquiescence. She flashed look at him from below her lashes and could not prevent the sour tone in her voice. "What has the baron offered to make you rush me to the altar against my will?"

"That is none of your concern." He raised one eyebrow in question. "Do you have another solution for the scandal you have caused? Do you have _anyone_ on your list of prospective husbands? One who is a deaf mute perhaps?"

She swallowed hard. Dare she tell her father of her promise to wait for Drew? No, she could not. She did not give a fig about her reputation, but one mention of her clandestine meetings with Drew and society would shun Lord Rupert. She groped for another excuse, anything to extend her time in London. Lord Rupert's acquaintances have been very attentive of late and all would make a better match. I will finish the season and then make my decision."

"No one will offer for you after reading the broadsheet. The gossip mill is already turning and you will no longer be seen in public." He frowned and his narrow shoulders shook with anger. "You will stop wasting time and accept Baron du Court's offer and have done with it."

_Oh, Drew, I need you. I do not know what to do._ "Have you thought of my feelings in this matter? Baron du Court will not do." She rubbed her temples. "Are you blind to the cruelty in his countenance, Papa?"

Her father's dark eyebrows rose to his hairline and he glared down his aristocratic nose at her. One hand came down hard on the arm of the chair.

"I've had enough of this nonsense." He peered at her through his quizzing glass. "You will do as I say."

She flicked her fan to cover her expression of distaste. To be sure, her depiction in a broadsheet did not give him the excuse to treat her in this appalling fashion. Taking a deep breath to steady her fragile nerves, she met her father's glare. She had to give Drew time to return. "Will you at least give me a few days to consider his offer?"

"No, I will not." He wiped a hand over his flushed face. "I have accepted Baron du Court's offer for your own good. You will remove to France and I will not hear another word about it." He glared at her. "This morning I met with his man of affairs and signed a settlement. You will retain your grandfather's inheritance and your mother's estates in Gloucestershire. I have instead provided Baron du Court with a substantial dowry."

Gaping at her father in disbelief, she dropped her fan, and clasped her trembling fingers together in distress. _Drew, oh Drew, I will lose you forever._ Images of Baron du Court's displeasing countenance flooded her mind causing her vision to waver at the edges. The room swayed and an unpleasant taste filled her mouth. What had she done to deserve such treatment? Lips pursed on the edge of a retort, she caught the flash of anger in her father's gaze. Arguing with him when his mind was set would achieve nothing. Instead, she arranged her expression to one of disinterest. "You have made decisions on my future happiness without consulting me and would send me away in dishonor. I am not to blame for a scribbler's fancies."

"It is too late to worry about your honor but society may well forgive you once you are married to a baron." He glared at her. "To redeem my reputation, your betrothal will be announced in the newspapers on your departure." He snorted. "To ensure respectability on your arrival in France, the Countess D' Cologne has offered her home for your convenience and will act as chaperone. Baron du Court will call upon you to make his offer which _you will accept_. You will be married in France at his castle at Muzon. I will be there in good time for the nuptials." He leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. "When the Baron's ship sails for France you will be on board. He has sent his man of affairs to escort you and your maid. In fact, _Monsieur_ Moreau is waiting in my study." He pushed to his feet, strode to the door, and spoke to the butler.

She stared at her father in disbelief. He had never intended to consider her thoughts on the matter and the proof waited in the study. She stood on trembling knees and smoothed the skirt of her pale blue morning gown before moving her attention to the insignificant man entering the room. Although, dressed in the height of Parisian fashion, the fine garments did nothing to improve his appearance. Indeed, if she had come across the man prone on a pallet, she would have assumed him dead. A powdered black wig framed a cadaverous face with dark circles cut deep beneath soulless eyes set in a scull-like face. Her gaze slid to a black beauty spot in the guise of a rearing stallion adorning one, sunken ivory cheek in the mode of the French Court.

" _Monsieur_ Moreau, may I present my daughter, Lady Adrianna." Her father smiled congenially.

She gave her curtsy and against her better judgment offered a hand. At his touch, ice filled her veins. To be sure, the baron's man of affairs appeared merciless and dangerous. As his kiss lingered on her hand, she set her expression to one of bland disinterest. Good Lord _this_ man was to escort her. She stared at him in disbelief and her nostrils filled with the disgusting odor of stale sweat covered by an overindulgence of lavender water.

_Monsieur_ Moreau spoke in a thick Parisian accent.

"Your servant, my lady." He straightened and his amusement of her distress unnerved her. "I will look forward to our trip together. It is an adventure, _non_?"

She had the overwhelming desire to wipe her hand on her skirt, or better still take a long hot bath. His touch revolted her. "I have yet to agree to this match, _Monsieur_ Moreau, and I still have much to discuss with my father."

"Ah, I _see_." _Monsieur_ Moreau inclined his head and shot a puzzled glance toward her father. "Then I will return to the study and await your decision." He bowed. "My lord."

Agitation flowed from her father and the tension between them crackled in the air. He waited for _Monsieur_ Moreau to leave the room then rounded on her with his eyes blazing.

"There is nothing more to discuss and your rudeness toward _Monsieur_ Moreau is unwarranted. Sit down, Adrianna."

The possibility of losing Drew forever slammed into her and unable to stand, she collapsed into a chair. Without his imminent return, all hopes and dreams of a life with her Highlander would crumble to dust. She closed her fist, determined to fight for the man she loved. Setting her attention to pleating her skirt in order to gain time to think, she searched her mind for as many excuses as possible to cause delay.

She drew a deep breath to steady her frayed nerves and straightened. "May I ask why _you_ have no plans to escort me, Papa? It would be most unseemly to travel alone with _Monsieur_ Moreau." She lifted her gaze. "You do, I assume, intend to view the Baron's estate to ensure my well-being?"

"You make no sense child." Her father stood and towered over her with his hands locked under the tails of his superbly tailored brown velvet jacket. "Baron du Court is one of King Louis's advisors." His dark brows furrowed. "Traveling with your maid at the age of two and twenty is well within the bounds of respectability. I cannot leave London for some time as you know full well, I have patients to consider."

Swallowing the bad taste in her mouth, she regarded her father's expression with interest. She understood the determined set of his jaw, oh yes, he had made up his mind, and any words of protest she uttered would be meaningless. With effort, she ordered her thoughts. If she contacted Rupert immediately, he would have time to inform Drew of her plight. Indeed, her life depended on Drew's presence to change the outcome of her demise.

Forcing back a sigh, she reached for her untouched glass of cordial and sipped meeting her father's thunderous expression over the rim. "Very well but I hope you do not expect me to leave at once. I will need time to prepare for the journey."

"Yes, you will have plenty of time. The voyage will be lengthy as Baron du Court's ship will be delivering goods along the coast as far as Scotland before returning to France."

_Scotland?_ The Baron's ship would lodge a manifest and perhaps Lord Rupert could inform Drew. Mayhap, she could make an excuse to go ashore and meet him. With her reputation already in tatters, eloping with Drew did not signify. She offered her father a small smile. "Who will run the house in my stead, Papa? Will you not miss me?"

"Do not concern yourself over me. I have told you a dozen times or more of my intention to offer for Lady Amelia Duffy and set up a nursery. She is of unimpeachable pedigree and I need a male heir." He raised his quizzing glass and made a noise of soft derision. "I am not getting any younger. My wife will be the mistress of Beachwood Manor."

The enormity of her situation curled around her in a frigid grasp. Her appearance in a broadsheet had not placed her in this intolerable position after all. He had planned a new family and her presence had become redundant. She swallowed the lump in her throat and inclined her head. "Are you sure she will do as a replacement for Mother?"

The familiar tick in his cheek indicated his patience with her was at an end and to persist would cause an irreparable rift between them.

"Enough go to your room, Adrianna."

Aghast, she bent to retrieve her fan and fought back tears. For now, she must act the part of a dutiful daughter, board the ship to France, and hope Drew would rescue her. Straightening, she bobbed a curtsy. "I must apologize, Papa, for placing you in such an intolerable position."

"You have, but all will be forgiven the moment you set foot in France." His thin victorious smile broke her heart.

She arranged her skirts and moved her attention back to the baron's portrait to give her father the impression she had reconsidered. Forcing her lips into a smile, she laid one hand on her father's arm. "Very well, I will go with _Monsieur_ Moreau to France and give consideration to Baron du Court's offer but it is with the greatest reluctance, Papa."

"Thank you. I never intended for us to quarrel." He covered her hand. "You have to believe, I do want what is best for you."

_No, Papa, you have only considered_ _what is best for you_. She withdrew her hand knowing the truth of it. No amount of good intentions would heal the pain of rejection. She meant nothing to him. Lifting her chin, she bolstered her resolve. She would send a letter to Lord Rupert, but she required more information to relay to Drew. "I gather you have organized a departure date and might I ask on what vessel will I be traveling?"

"The baron's ship goes by the name of _The Black Turtle_ and I have yet to make the final plans for your departure." He waved a hand dismissively. "Within the next two months, I would gather."

She clamped her lips together to smother a sigh of relief. Two months would give Drew time to return to London and if he decided the only course was to elope then she would need freedom of movement without her father's constant vigilance. Meeting her father's considering gaze, she spread her hands wide. "Well, Papa, you must understand, I will require new dresses made in the mode of the French Court. You cannot possibly expect me to arrive in France dressed as a pauper."

He straightened as if making a decision.

"Very well, I suggest you visit _Madame_ Boucherie this afternoon. Lady Amelia insists on using her. I believe she follows the latest mode."

Biting back a snort of resentment, she inclined her head in resignation. "Thank you, Papa." She lifted her skirts and swept from the room.

Her father had treated her like a girl in her first come out and had not taken into account her intelligence. She would use the generous portion left to her by her grandfather to escape his plans. Very well, he wanted her from his life, and she would leave England. She snorted. _Scotland, not France is my destination._

The image of Drew's smiling face filled her mind. He had promised to return and time had run out. In the hallway, she waved away her maid, and slumped against the wall. She pulled Drew's linen handkerchief from her pocket, and pressed it to her nose. The scent of him bolstered her courage. _I will see you again._

She straightened thanking God for her ability to keep her head in a crisis. Lifting her skirts, she made her way to her room, and as she climbed the stairs, the memory of her mother opened in her mind like the petals of a rose. She smiled. The precious stones and gold coins her mother had entrusted to her on her deathbed would see her immediate destiny secured. She would find Drew and return to England to claim her mother's estate. She giggled. _I will look forward to seeing the look on your face, Papa when I return with a husband of my own choosing._

**_* * * *_**

After concluding business with _The Black Turtle_ and other vessels along the coast for the past two months, Drew entered the gates of Foiseil Castle with enough food to feed his clan for a month. Finding the keep in chaos, he strode directly to the laird's chamber to discover his father on his deathbed. His brothers, Ian and Jamie stood in the dim light as if guarding the bent figure of his mother sitting beside the bed. In that moment, all hopes and dreams of returning to London and Adrianna fled. The once strong man's skin clung to his bones and the smell of sweat hung heavy in the air. Drew flung open the windows to air the stagnant room. He stared down at his father in disbelief. News had come that his illness had passed and rather than returning to Badenoch, he had spent his time gathering much-needed supplies. "What in Saint Bride happened to ye, Pa?" He touched his pallid damp skin. "Ye dinna look as if the bloody flux has returned. What ails ye?"

His father's voice came out in a cracked whisper, but his eyes held the same determination as ever.

"The Monroe poisoned the wells, I am sure of it. Ma wame is burning and I am coughing blood."

"Aye well, rest easy and I will brew ye a ptisan to sooth the pain."

His father gripped his arm and a determined expression met his gaze.

"It is too late for me, aye. I ken ye will argue, but ye must use what time I have left to make ye presence known." He coughed and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "Angus is gaining favor with the clan, I overheard him planning to make himself laird on ma passing."

Drew patted his shoulder and prayed for the necessary strength to watch his father die. Tears pricked his eyes, but he smiled. "Aye, Jamie told me about the bastard. Dinna fash, I arrived with food aplenty. All ken I have returned home and gave me a fine welcome."

"Good, then bide awhile and tell me about your travels."

Drew sat beside him through a long night and offered what skills he had as a healer to aid his suffering. His father said little but as the first rays of morning spilled through the tapestry covering the window, he turned to him, and twisted the clan ring from his finger.

"Come closer, my sons." His father's green eyes searched the faces of his three boys. "I have been murdered and ask ye to seek vengeance on the Monroe. Guard your mother wi' your lives." With a trembling hand that broke Drew's heart, he pressed the ring into his palm. "I declare ye laird now, go down first thing and call a meeting of the clan, they will swear fealty to ye." He smiled displaying bloodstained teeth. Ma only regret is I dinna see ye wed afore I died."

Drew squeezed his hand. "I have found a bonny lass, wi' hair like the shell of a chestnut and eyes the color of a loch in summer. I will settle things here and then fetch her. Ye will like ma choice, Da."

His father coughed and gasped for breath, red spittle leaked down his chin.

"Aye, well I will die a happy man." He turned his head and reached for his wife's hand. His last words came out in a whisper. "I am _sorry_."

* * * *

The following morning every clansman swore fealty to Drew, and he walked from the Great Hall as Laird Mackenzie. He pushed down the overwhelming grief of losing his father and so many dear friends and relatives, and led the funeral procession to bury his Da beside three of his cousins. He glanced across the lines of kerns in the graveyard and shuddered. With so many dead, the priest had needed to consecrate an additional acre for the burials.

With a heavy heart, he returned to the keep and made his way to his father's study, his sanctuary now. He needed a few moments alone to organize his mind. Opening his father's journal, he skimmed through the pages but found nothing of significance. However, his father had been correct by not placing the blame on the bloody flux for taking his life. All to a man had died of poisoning. He recognized the symptoms the moment he laid eyes on his father's pallid, sweating skin, and purple, swollen, bloodstained tongue. Thank God, Jamie had come to the same conclusion and boarded up the wells then instructed the tenants to haul water from the river.

His father blamed Clan Monroe for poisoning the water and by Jamie's account not three days after the first Mackenzie clansman fell ill, they arrived to burn and pillage. Afore, apart from the odd border raids of a few Mackenzie cattle, they had not dared attack his clan. The men at Badenoch once numbered four hundred clansmen--two hundred of these fine men and many wives and children had died immediately when the poison was at its most potent. The rest had barely escaped with their lives. He could have saved his father if he had returned home a month earlier. He gazed into the heavens. "I am but one man, Lord. What am I to do?"

The door crashed open and Jamie stormed into the study, his green eyes flashing with anger. "Ye ken the houses we built in Downleigi? Jock Murray is in the courtyard wi' three men, he says his son informed him riders wearing Monroe colors burned down the houses, and took the women."

Drew slammed a closed fist on the table overturning a pitcher of ale. The contents pooled then ran over the edge of the desk and dripped to the floor. He dragged his attention away from the dark liquid then gathered his wits. "And where were the men? I gave them explicit orders they were not to leave the village unguarded."

"Aye, ye did true enough." Jamie rubbed his chin and gave him a considering look. "They went hunting. As it has been more than a month since the last raid they thought the women would be safe." He sighed and tossed a dirty piece of paper on the desk. "The Monroe intends to hold the women to ransom."

"Och aye, _ransom,_ is it?" He lifted the note between finger and thumb and peered at it dubiously. "Ten women for two casks of ma finest whisky, aye?" He lifted his gaze to his brother and grimaced. "It is obvious we have a spy in our midst. Someone poisoned the wells and told the Monroe when to strike and now they want to discover the direction of our whisky cache." He grinned. "I will give them their due. Fill two barrels with piss and arrange a meeting at the base of Craig Dubh at noon tomorrow. Ye will take a few men and carts to carry the women to safety. I will take twenty men and leave afore dawn. We will hide in the rocks and wait for the misbegotten arse wipes."

Anger blackened his vision. Laird Monroe had misjudged him if he thought he would cower to the likes of him. He pushed to his feet. "You will make the bargain then leave wi' the womenfolk. I am going to kill them all and leave their murdering carcasses to rot on the road, but they can keep their piss, aye."

"Are ye planning a raid on the Monroe?" Ian strolled into the room and gave him a quizzical stare.

Drew straightened and met his younger brother's curious gaze. At sixteen, the lad could hold his own on the battlefield but lacked the ruthlessness of both him and Jamie. "They have murdered our father and taken our women to ransom. Aye, the debt will be paid in blood--their blood."

The boy paled but gave a curt nod of agreement.

"Aye, I would like to join ye to rid the world of Munroe scum."

"And leave the castle unprotected? Nay, lad, not this time. I will need ye here in my stead. Clan Mackenzie has declared war!"

* * * *

Drew rolled his shoulders to relieve the stiffness following the altercation with the Monroe clansmen foolish enough challenge him. Blood splattered his plaid and boots but overcome with exhaustion he sought refuge in the solar. He clenched and unclenched his right hand, glad he had trained with his broadsword daily during his time in France.

The Monroe clansmen had ridden into his trap, dragging the Mackenzie women on ropes behind their horses. Once the women had driven away atop the cart, he had led the charge and cut down the murdering Monroe pigs where they stood. He snorted and collapsed into the chair before the desk. A bottle of his great grandfather's whisky sat on the table before him. He lifted the bottle and ripped the cork from the opening with his teeth then filled a glass. He held the drink high. "Ye are avenged Da,"

A movement caught his eye in the hallway and he noticed his brothers heading toward the door. Ian stepped inside and waved a document in one hand. He motioned him forward. "Did ye want me, lad?"

"A messenger came afore wi' a missive. He said it was urgent business from Lord Rupert." Ian strode into the room and handed him the letter.

"Ye better get in here too, Jamie." He broke the seal and spread the document on the desk. "Close the door, aye and we will see what is so urgent for Rupert to send this by messenger."

He dragged a hand through his hair and re-read Rupert's note. Despair rushed over him with such hopelessness, he moaned in distress. _Oh God, I am, but one man and yet ye force me to choose between ma clan and the woman I love_.

"What has happened?" Jamie leaned forward in his chair. "Drew, for the love of Bride, say something."

He waved a hand at Jamie in dismissal and stared in horror at the letter written in Rupert's flowery scrip. By the end of the month, his beautiful Adrianna would be unwillingly thrust into the hands of Lord Moreau, henchman of Baron du Court, and set aboard a ship he knew well-- _The Black Turtle_. He snorted with incredulity. Of all the damnable ships and people Lord Beachwood could have chosen to transport his daughter, he had chosen a pirate with more notoriety than him.

He lifted his attention back to his brothers' pale faces. An explanation was in order but how could he explain his promise to a Sassenach lady? He pushed to his feet and paced up and down before the hearth. The study still held the rosemary and lavender scent of father. The desk was scattered with his discarded quills, and the leather chair held the outline of his massive body. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat. Dear God, he had not had the time to mourn him.

Resolute, he turned to face his brothers. "Ye ken I went to London to arrange the purchase of some mares with Rupert?"

"Aye, but I dinna think a few mares has ye in such a lather? Ye mentioned a lass to Da, has she got your wame in a knot?" Jamie eyed him with suspicion. "What mischief have ye got yourself into this time?"

"Verra well. Give me your word not to mention this to the clan." He waited for both men to nod in agreement. "I met a fine English lady but her father made it verra clear I was not to pursue her." He sighed and raised a brow. "I encouraged Rupert to arrange secret meetings wi' her and I gave her ma word I would settle ma affairs and return to speak wi' her father."

"A Sassenach? Ye want to wed a Sassenach. Have ye lost your wits?" Jamie glared at him. "Now what? Is she wi' child?"

Scandalized, he rounded on Jamie. "Nay, Rupert acted as chaperone I dinna compromise the lass but maybe I should have. Her father, Lord Beachwood, physician to King Geordie, is forcing her to wed Baron du Court and she will be traveling to France on none other than _the Black Turtle_." He snorted in derision. "Under the _protection_ of Captain Jacques and Lord Moreau."

"Holy Mother of God." Jamie shot to his feet. "Are ye sure?"

"Aye," He forced down the overpowering need to jump on his horse and ride hell for leather to London to save her and tried to think. "I will need to leave at once and make my offer to prevent this happening."

Jamie eyed the document and his brows knitted.

"Rupert says here, the lass is betrothed to the baron." He lifted eyes filled with sorrow. "Ye canna barge into London and make demands. Her father will not listen to anything ye have to say. What do ye have to offer him against the wealth and position of a title? If ye want this lass then we must be devious, and snatch her out from under his nose, aye."

Drew rubbed the back of his neck. His brother's words cut through his panic and calmed him. He nodded. "I want her for ma wife and she made it plain she is of the same mind."

"Then we must plan our next move but how will ye inform the lady of your intent?" Jamie handed him back the missive. "Mayhap we can use _Le Diable Noir_ to cover her escape?"

Could he arrange a meeting with _the Black Turtle_ as _Le Diable Noir_ and steal Adrianna out from beneath Lord Moreau's nose? He stared at the document in his hand and smiled. "Aye, you may well have the beginnings of a fine plan, Jamie. Rupert mentions that Jacques has business along the coast afore he returns to France and has sent me _the Black Turtle's_ manifest. Although, as a privateer I ken he lays anchor off the coast for his clandestine meetings. I have time to arrange a meeting wi' the weasel again." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I will send a missive to _Madame_ Josephine to arrange the trade of whisky wi' Captain Jacques. She will get a message to him at his first port of call." He turned to Ian. "Do ye ken if the messenger is still here?"

"Aye, he wants to leave by first light."

"Good, I will send the message wi' him." He ran his gaze over Ian and the thought of sending a young lad in his stead curdled his wame. "I will need your help. _The Black Turtle_ will be in London at the end of the month to collect Lady Adrianna. If I send ye wi' _Madame_ Josephine's messenger, will ye meet the ship at its first port of call in Scotland and sign onto _The Black Turtle_ as a deckhand?"

"A deckhand?" Ian frowned. "I dinna ken a thing about ships."

"Aye, I ken but I need someone I can trust to watch over the lass and I will need Jamie to move the whisky to the meeting place." He took in Ian's shocked expression and smiled. "A short trip, aye, so ye can inform Lady Adrianna of ma plan for her escape. Dinna fash, Captain Jacques treats his men well, ye will be fine."

"And when exactly did _ye_ meet him?" Jamie scowled at him. "If I remember, ye remained on the beach and it was me and Angus who conducted business wi' the wee gomeral."

_"_ Och, I have met him afore but as _Monsieur_ Alexander __ but then __ I wore a fine wig and powdered ma face." Drew grinned. "Nayone kens _Le Diable Noir_ is a Highlander and the ruse is necessary to keep the clan's good name out of ma business. This time, he will be dealing wi' _Le Diable Noir_ the wicked brigand who stole the Mackenzie whisky." He turned to Ian. "Can ye do it, lad? Will ye help me rescue Lady Adrianna?"

Ian straightened and a determined expression crossed his young features.

"Aye, ye have ma word but are ye sure there is not another way?"

Drew sighed. How could he possibly explain his need to have Adrianna safe by his side? He opened his arms holding his hands palms up in supplication. "Nay, lad, and trading our whisky wi' Captain Jacques will feed the clan this winter and as to the lass, I gave her ma word I would return for her. Ma word of _honor_ , Ian, ye would not have me foresworn would ye now?"

"Nay." Ian straightened suddenly looking older than his sixteen years. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect her in your stead."

Drew lifted his chin and met Jamie's puzzled gaze. "Ian has pledged his word to help me. Now will ye stand by ma side, brother of ma heart?"

"Aye well." Jamie shrugged and let out a long sigh. "I suppose someone has to keep ye out of trouble."
Chapter Seven

Light-headed from lack of sleep, and with eyes raw from crying, Adrianna smothered a sob. She had departed before word arrived from Drew and had no choice but to remove to France and the uncertain future awaiting her. Pushing the image of her handsome Scot to the back of her mind, she gathered her wits. Drew would expect her to be strong and find a way to his side and she had a plan of sorts. On arrival in France, she would slip away from Monsieur Moreau and book passage to Scotland on the next available ship. Once in Inverness, she would ask the direction of Foiseil Castle and hire a coach and four.

Although, bolstered by her intent to find Drew, rising in darkness and taking her leave before sunrise like, a thief in the night had disturbed her. More so her father's absence on her departure. She had wept before leaving her home but __ determined not to show her anxiety to _Monsieur_ Moreau she straightened and schooled her expression into one of disinterest.

She stepped down from the carriage and moved through the gloom to the dock. Evil smells accosted her and she pressed a lavender-scented handkerchief to her nose to suffocate the foul odors of rotting fish and night soil buckets. Waiting to board, her attention moved to a group of sailors moving sure-footed along a bouncing strip of soaked glossy wood.

Shivering in the chilled air, she tightened her cloak against the breeze lifting her skirts and seeping through her clothes. In the murky light, tales of ghost ships and giant octopi invaded her mind. _Lord, keep us safe on this journey._

As if a prediction for the future, the weather had turned foul to mourn her departure and the band of dark clouds looming overhead promised the journey would be treacherous.

She understood the dangers of traveling by sea having read grisly tales of shipwrecks during inclement weather. Storms changed the oceans from a flat azure expanse one moment and into a raging firmament the next. She glanced at her maid's ashen face. Betty had not uttered one word of complaint about accompanying her to France but removed from country, family, and friends, she would be lost. Adrianna smiled to encourage her and silently vowed to return her to her home.

Loud voices caught her attention and she turned to find a line of burly sailors carrying her trunks. The men moved from the dock to disappear into the thick fog surrounding _The Black Turtle_ and their voices muffled into silence. A movement of air twirled the obscuring mist around them into pirouetting ghosts above the water and bearing a chilling reminder of the many souls lost at sea.

_Monsieur_ Moreau's mouth turned up into a semblance of a smile and he waved her toward the gangplank. The next moment a strong gust of bitter wind swirled her cloak and pulled at her clothes. Distracted, she gripped her cloak tighter to prevent the rush of air raising her skirts.

"Ah, there she is"-- _Monsieur_ Moreau rubbed his hands together--"a most impressive vessel, _n'est_ -ce _pas?"_

The sudden squall had dissipated the blanket of fog and a stream of weak sunlight illuminated the ship. She pressed a hand to her stomach gaping at the apparition before her in disbelief. Icy tendrils crawled up her back and fear held her motionless. Convinced she had fallen asleep in the coach and a nightmare had her in its grip, she came abruptly to her senses at Betty's squeak of terror.

"Come away, milady, that's a devil's ship that is." __ Betty gripped her arm.

Adrianna clamped her jaw shut to smother a scream. _Heaven's above, a pirate ship._ She pinched her arm and winced at the pain confirming wakefulness. Gaping at the vessel in disbelief, she stepped backward, and her chest constricted with fear. _This cannot be so._ She blinked, speechless at the sight before her. The vessel was black from bow to stern with matching sails and a row of polished cannon's deadly snouts peeked through hatches along the side. Her gaze moved to the horrific figurehead looming out of the fog in the guise of a black wolf with fangs dripping blood. Floating on an unearthly gray mist, the vessel appeared to have sailed directly from Hades. Her skin prickled with apprehension and she glanced back to where the hackney had let them down. Perhaps, she had time to escape. At once, _Monsieur_ Moreau's necessity to leave at dawn became abundantly clear.

She turned and glared at him. "Have you lost your wits? I will not step one foot on that vessel." She lowered her voice under the weight of his stare. "That, _Monsieur,_ is if I'm not mistaken, a _pirate_ ship. Is this some kind of jest?"

"Not at all. _The Black Turtle_ is a privateer, Baron du Court has King Louis' gratitude for the wealth this ship brings to France." _Monsieur_ Moreau gazed down at her in an intense unnerving fashion and offered his arm. "Come along, my lady, Captain Jacques is most anxious to catch the high tide."

Unnerved and giddy with uncertainty, she ignored his arm and moved closer to Betty. Searching her mind for some excuse to avoid boarding, she refused to move. Her intention to remain calm and in control of the situation rapidly dissolved into panic but taking in the flippant disposition of the man beside her, she strengthened her resolve. As _Monsieur_ Moreau was in the employ of the Baron as her protector, surely he would not see her harmed. Indeed, if du Court intended marrying her for her fortune, he would have to get her safely to the altar. She lifted her chin and met his anger with a shrug. "I think not. I will seek alternate passage. Have no fear I have the funds to pay for our fares on a more suitable vessel."

"You are acting as if you are still in leading reins. This ship and the men aboard are under the command of the Baron's own man, Captain Jacques, and you will come to no harm. Come along, _allez! Vite_!" _Monsieur_ Moreau's mouth curled into a snarl. He took a firm grip of her elbow and dragged her toward the gangplank.

She dug in her feet and glared at him. "Unhand me."

Sighing, he inclined his head and gave her a quizzical stare.

"Walk or I will carry you aboard. I cannot understand your reluctance, are you not anxious to rush into the arms of your betrothed?" His suggestive smile flashed yellow against his pallid complexion.

Blast his impudence! Lifting her chin, she gave his amused expression the disdain it deserved. "I do believe I can contain my enthusiasm, _Monsieur_ Moreau." She pulled her arm from his grip and stepped away.

"Your father will not be pleased if you refuse to board the baron's vessel." He folded his arms across his chest in an insolent manner. "Stop this childish nonsense at once."

She took one last glance toward the road leading to freedom but to her dismay, the coach had disappeared into the morning fog. Her fate sealed, she disentangled Betty's grip and moved forward refusing his assistance. She could walk the gangplank very well on her own two feet. Placing one foot on the shifting gangplank, she shuffled toward the ship.

A grinning sailor greeted her at the end of the gangplank and encircled her waist with impropriety. She bit down hard on her tongue to prevent words of disdain spilling from her mouth. He lifted her onto the deck of _The Black Turtle_ and then had the audacity to wink at her. She immediately averted her gaze and turned away to smooth her skirts. Betty arrived at her side moments later, wide-eyed with terror. She gripped the girl's thin arm. "Stay by my side, Betty."

"Oh, I will, milady." Betty moved as close as her shadow.

A sharp voice drew her attention. A man dressed in unusual garb strutted toward her barking orders to a nearby sailor in a guttural French dialect. _Captain Jacques?_ She met the man's inquisitive gaze with a haughty stare and waited for _Monsieur_ Moreau to introduce her. The uncouth captain ignored her, his interest settling on Betty. She shuddered in disgust at his slow smile. His lascivious attention toward Betty disturbed her. To be sure, she would keep her maid at hand and well away from Captain Jacques. She reached into the pocket of her cloak, took out her fan, and with a practiced flourish, fluttered it in front of her face to indicate her annoyance.

"My lady, may I present Captain Jacques." _Monsieur_ Moreau waved toward the man. "Captain Jacques, may I present your most honored passenger, Lady Adrianna. She is Baron du Court's betrothed." He grinned at the captain. "So cast your appetite elsewhere. The Baron wants her untouched, _comprendre_?"

"So I have--how do you say in English-- _free reign_ with the maid?" Captain Jacques tilted an enquiring eyebrow toward Adrianna. "What do you say, my lady?"

Adrianna's face grew hot. The impudent lout. She straightened and glared down her nose at the pair of degenerates. "How dare you say such a thing in my presence?"

Not waiting for a response, she snorted with derision, grasped Betty's arm, and turned away. The sound of _Monsieur_ Moreau's chuckle followed her, like a passing bell to her ears. What insignificant protection that beast of a man offered. She strolled along the deck refusing to listen to their bawdy dialogue. Indeed, the conversation was not for mixed company and had curdled her stomach. _Good Lord, I have stepped into madness_. Bending as if to inspect the cannon, she peeked at the captain from below her lashes. He certainly did not resemble a respectable ship's captain. Indeed, Captain Jacques' dirty blond hair hung loose about his shoulders and the hoop of gold in one ear gave him the appearance of a vagabond.

She examined his strange assortment of garish clothes with distaste. He had no care of his appearance whatsoever by the soiled purple silk pantaloons tucked into knee high boots. He wore a yellow shirt embroidered with daisies below a knitted waistcoat in red and blue stripes--a dandy he most certainly was not! She moved her gaze to _Monsieur_ Moreau and shuddered at the sight of his amused expression. To think, the baron had trusted her safe passage to France with this lecherous man. _A murderer and a fool._ A swing of the small coin purse in her reticule would offer more protection. It would seem she had to survive a sea voyage with two despicable men before she could vanish without a trace in Scotland. __ She could not give _Monsieur_ Moreau any reason to doubt her intention to meet Baron du Court either. If he caught wind of her plan to flee once on French soil, the captain might well throw her in irons.

"The Lady Adrianna speaks French, so you have no need to worry about your command of the English language." _Monsieur_ Moreau's Parisian accented French indicated a long time in close proximity to King Louis' court, although, it would seem he understood the dialect of the lower classes well enough. "Make it clear she is to follow your orders. I have no intention of acting as her nursemaid."

She straightened and turned to face Captain Jacques confident jeer. Instinct insisted she should flee back down the gangplank and seek refuge in the closest church. Instead, with leaden feet, she moved closer and fixed her attention to his string of garbled French. She sighed with exasperation. The guttural dialect he used made no sense at all. Holding up one hand to still the man's incoherent ramblings, she addressed _Monsieur_ Moreau. "May I have a word, _Monsieur_ Moreau?"

"Of course, what is it _now,_ my lady?"

She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I am having difficulty understanding the Captain. I believe the tongue is unknown to me. Fortunately, I do understand every word _you_ say in French. Would you be so kind to translate?"

_Monsieur_ Moreau inclined his head in a respectful gesture, but she caught the devil lurking in his expression. With an obvious intention to mock her, he slowed his precise French.

"You are to remain below and not walk on deck unescorted or he will not be held responsible for his crew's actions. Do you understand?"

_Oh yes, monsieur more than you imagine._ She glared at him. "As you mentioned, I am not a child and I do understand perfectly well." Her face heated and he had the audacity to grin at her discomfiture. To be sure, no good would come of any additional discussion with _him_. She sighed. "I thank you for clarifying the situation, _Monsieur_ Moreau."

"Very well, now if you will follow me, I will escort you to your quarters. Fortunately, your cabin has a small window and is close to the galley." _Monsieur_ Moreau led the way through the milling crew and down a small flight of steps. He paused beside an open hatch and motioned Betty to move down the ladder into the darkness. "Wait below for your mistress."

Betty let out a small cry of mortification and gazed at her with incredulity.

"Down _there_ , milady?"

Adrianna stared into the blackness and swallowed hard. Dark places frightened her too, but she refused to cower before _Monsieur_ Moreau. Gathering her courage, she forced her mouth into some semblance of a comforting smile and patted Betty on the arm. "Go along, I will follow directly."

She flared her nostrils at the abhorrent odor seeping from the inky depths. Mayhap the fear of Captain Jacques chaining her in the hold had not ventured far from the truth. As Betty moved down the ladder and disappeared into the unknown, her attention went to the crew, all to a man busy preparing the ship to set sail. They appeared little more than beggars, dressed in rags and adorned with the most unusual tattoos, from gaping eyed soulless skulls to the naked forms of women. The crew did not resemble the smartly dressed sailors of an English Baron's vessel. Good Lord, had her father any notion of the extent of Baron du Court's indiscretions? Not only a tyrant and murderer, but also she could add privateering to his list of profligacy.

She stared at the black hole destined to be her home for the next few weeks and taking one last look at her beloved England, turned to grasp the small handrail. Forcing down her fear of dark places, she backed down the narrow wooden rungs taking cautious steps into the unknown. At the foot of the procession of wooden rungs, she blinked into the darkness. The outline of Betty came into view and she moved to her side. Amidst the rank smell of night soil wafting from places unknown, she could distinctly hear the bleating of goats. She tugged on Betty's arm. "Is this the way to the cabins?"

"I have no idea, milady, but I would guess by that awful smell the hold is in that direction and they keep goats on board for fresh milk and meat." Betty waved a hand in front of her face. "It stinks somethin' terrible down here."

Adriana pressed the handkerchief to her nose again. "One would think we were going to the Indies rather than across the Channel."

" _The Black Turtle_ spends most of its time at sea." _Monsieur_ Moreau dropped down the ladder with practiced ease and landed beside her. "She is a trading vessel. This is why we will be sailing up the coast to Scotland and visiting some of the more remote islands before we return to France."

She gazed up at the shadowed figure, his expression hidden in the darkness. He continued to address her in rapid French no doubt to test her language skills. _Are you contemplating a language duel Monsieur?_ She bit back a smile. Her Parisian tutor would be proud of her. __ "Then why did I not board the ship on the return trip rather than having to endure a long sea voyage?"

"We will not be returning to London." He moved so close the cloth of his coat sleeve brushed her arm. He lifted his chin toward Betty. "Your maid, does she speak French?"

She stepped away, bumping into Betty, who let out a surprised squeak. She laid a hand on her arm to comfort her. "No, she does not."

"Then perhaps, to make certain she does not construe some liaison between us, from now on, our conversations should be in English. Baron du Court will likely interrogate her on our arrival. He is possessive, you understand. " He moved past her along the passageway.

_A possessive murderer, how quaint_.

"These are your quarters, milady." _Monsieur_ Moreau threw open a door and light from a small window filtered into a tiny room. He waved her toward the entrance. "I will leave you to get comfortable." He turned and climbed back up the ladder.

_Comfortable?_ She gazed in dismay at the cramped cabin. The stained linen strewn over the small bunk had the foul odor of unwashed bodies. Thank goodness, she had the good sense to pack her own linen. The very thought of sleeping on filthy sheets made her skin itch. She straightened and cast a critical eye around the small area. Metal braces secured a small table, two chairs, and a washstand to the floor. Empty bottles and other refuse littered the rough wooden planks and a hammock, presumably for her maid, swung above her trunks.

Pressing a handkerchief to her nose, she raised both brows and turned to Betty. "Help me collect up this mess and throw it overboard, Betty. We will have to make haste if we are to make this place livable."

* * * *

A loud noise jerked Adrianna from her nap. Heart pounding, she drew a deep breath and glanced around to find her cabin empty. A slash of white light from the small window tore a gap in the gloom, followed by a thunderclap so loud she feared for her life. She stared at the cabin door willing it to open to admit her maid.

Heavens above, how many more storms must she endure? Treacherous squalls had whipped the sea into madness for seven days since leaving home. Another flash of lightning illuminated the cabin before hail hit the wall like gunshots _. Drew, I beg you. Come for me soon or I will surely perish on this dreadful vessel._

The ship listed then reared up only to crash down with a sickening thud tossing her about the bunk. Terrified, she pressed the pillow hard against her ears to block out the commotion. An icy wind whistled through the small cracks in the wooden beams above her head, chilling her to the bone. She stared in horror at the wall of water outside the insignificant window and grasped the edge of the bunk to gain purchase. "Dear God preserve us."

The next wave pitched her to the floor. She landed hard and pain scored a path up one thigh. The unforgiving waves rolled her across the floor before she had time to catch her breath. With effort, she pushed to her knees and reached for the bunk rail only to find air beneath her grasp. Another surge sent her sliding across the rough floorboards. As she raked the wooden surface for purchase, splinters cut deep into her flesh, and her skirts tangled about her knees.

Disorientated, she struggled to sit but the next wave had her colliding hard with the leg of the table. As metal hit bone, she forced her muddled brain to work _._ "Ahrrr!"

_I must get up. I could die on this filthy floor._ With effort, she slung one arm around a chair as an anchor and shook her head to dispel the black spots dancing across her eyes. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she used the fixed furniture for handholds and struggled to her feet. Taking stock of her soaked dress and bloody hands, she dismissed the injuries. She would survive a few scratches well enough. Moving slowly, she staggered across the cabin and flung open the door. She raised her voice above the noise. "Betty, where are you?"

A splash of water leaked under the door, spilled across the wooden planks, and pooled around her bare feet soaking the hem of her gown. In the walkway, a river of debris sloshed back and forth in disconcerting waves. Fear of being below deck if the ship was sinking gripped her and she peered toward the galley but not one soul lurked in the dark corridor. Surely, Betty or someone would have woken her if the ship had been in danger. In the hope of attracting the attention of someone, anyone, she peered into the gloom. "Betty, _Betteeeeee_. Is anyone there?"

No one answered.

Icy tendrils of apprehension crawled up her spine. She listened intently, but the usual banter of the sailors had vanished. Had everyone abandoned ship or perished? Her mind filled with images of great octopi rising up from the depths and snatching people from the deck. Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, she dragged a breath past the tightness in her chest. _I must find out what has happened._

With care, she stepped over the partition at the foot of the door into foul ankle deep water. Pushing distaste aside, she took a few cautious steps into the corridor. "Betty, are you there?"

_The Black Turtle_ rolled again and the single lantern in the walkway near the entrance to the galley winked out. She turned instead toward the soft stream of light from the hatch and gripping the wooden wall trimming, edged toward the opening. Her skirts swirled in the freezing water and in a few steps, the sodden garment had wrapped tightly around her legs. Panting with effort, she fell against the ladder and clamped her lips shut against the icy rain pouring over her from above.

She thrust one arm through the rungs and moved up to peer through the hatch. Observing the chaos on deck, relief flooded through her. Waterlogged sailors tethered with ropes around their waists fought to secure the ship. Others wrestled with sails flapping like dragon's wings. _I am not alone. Thank God._

A flash of lightning lit up the sea and she gaped in terror at the monstrous waves rising above the ship to blend with the angry clouds dashing across the sky. The wind howled with a banshee's cry through torn sails and tousled her sodden hair.

As sailors passed orders down the line, she caught intelligible snatches of conversations. She turned her head to find Captain Jacques strapped to the helm, his expression fixed in a mask of grim determination. He stood feet apart braced against the wind, his hands white-knuckled on the spokes. Dressed in oilskins, with his wet blond hair plastered to his face, he spun the great ship's wheel. Behind him, a tremendous wave rose up, higher than the mainsail and she froze unable to move. _God help us._

The ship climbed the mountainous seas then rode atop the crest for a heartbeat before plunging downward into a hell of swirling white. She clung to the ladder, her feet trailing behind her as if she had taken flight. A shadow crossed her vision and a scarred face appeared before her with the mouth stretched in a terrible grin. The sailor's large hand came down upon her head and thrust her below. The hatch slammed shut and she fell. Searing pain shot into her temple and her hip burned. Darkness surrounded her and breathless, she curled into a ball in the churning water gasping for air.

Something scurried over her legs and wet claws scraped her bare flesh. Rats! She scrambled to her knees and pawed the wall for purchase. The next wave tossed her back into the filthy water and she slithered to a stop outside _Monsieur_ Moreau's cabin.

The unmistakable smell of opium leaked from Lord Moreau's door overpowering the stench in the corridor. Oh yes, she had experience of the foul concoction. Many a time, her father had administered laudanum to a patient and the sweet sickly smell lingered in her memory. Indeed, Lord Moreau's frequent use of the pipe was evident by the dark circles under his eyes and gaunt appearance.

She dragged her aching legs under her then staggered through the rodent-infested water to her berth and flung open the door. The room moved in and out of focus and a wave of nausea clenched her stomach. She gripped the edge of the bunk and braced against the rolling motion of the ship. Each movement caused the wooden bed rail to cut into the skinned flesh of her palms. She stared down at her ruined hands angry for being such a fool.

Watery sunlight burst through the window and the boat steadied. Relieved, she glanced around the gloomy cabin to assess the damage. Apart from the damp floor, nothing seemed amiss. In an effort to control her nerves, she moved with care to the washstand and concentrated on her injuries. She would need more light to remove the splinters. Turning away she stared at the cabin door her mind reeling. To be sure, a few splinters held little significance in the scheme of things for she had bigger problems to navigate.

Her situation had changed significantly since boarding _the Black Turtle_. Convinced at first, her impending marriage to Baron du Court would keep her safe until Drew rescued her or she arrived in France, she had accepted the Captain's daily invitation to take dinner in his cabin accompanied by _Monsieur_ Moreau. However, after overhearing a disturbing conversation in German concerning their lascivious plans for Betty, she had remained in her cabin pleading _mal de mere_.

Thank God, her father had insisted she endure the long and time-consuming lessons in languages as a child. Better still, not knowing of her skill the two had spoken freely about many things of interest. Most particularly, Baron du Court's reason for offering for her hand. Indeed, as she had suspected, the Baron did not desire a wife and planned to do away with her once he had secured her fortune. The information steeled her resolve. If Drew did not arrive soon, she must find a way to escape _the Black Turtle_ before it sailed for France.

The cabin door flew open and Lord Moreau hung in the entrance like a large black bat. She stiffened and her attention shifted down to the exposed limbs beneath his breeches before meeting his black gaze. "Is it customary in France for a gentleman to enter a lady's chamber without knocking? What do you want, _Monsieur_ Moreau?"

He ignored her question instead raising one dark eyebrow.

"Ah, I thought I heard someone outside my door." He gripped the doorframe, his eyes intent on her disheveled appearance. "I thought mayhap you would require company during the storm."

She gave him her most haughty glare. "The storm is over and Betty is all the company I require. Did you pass her in the hallway?"

"Ah _non_ , my lady. Perhaps, she waited out the storm in the galley."

As a man of insignificant height and painfully thin, _Monsieur_ Moreau's dark hair and pallid completion gave him the countenance of a hawk. Indeed, with his frequent use of the opium pipe, it was a wonder he had the ability of cognitive thought. Since leaving London, the dreadful man had watched her every move. She stepped away from the washstand unable to conceal a wince of pain.

He examined her with a perfunctory look.

"Are you indisposed? The baron will be most displeased if I deliver you in a damaged condition."

His thin hand rested on the hilt of a silver snake's head cane. He carried the stick on his person at all times, but more likely to keep his balance than for protection. Pasting an affable expression on her face, she met _Monsieur_ Moreau's scrutiny. "I am sure it will take more than this squall to take me to my reward, but I thank you for your concern." She straightened. Although he disgusted her, she refused to cower to him. "While I have your attention, _Monsieur_ Moreau, may I have a word?"

"Of course, my lady, what is it you require?"

The floor rolled beneath her feet and taking a firm hold of the side of the bunk, she waved a hand toward her pile of belongings. "I have made every effort to cram everything into this small space, but I am afraid this cabin will not do. There is not enough room to turn around without catching my gown on one thing or another and the smell is abhorrent."

"Captain Jacques had no idea of your attendance on this trip prior to our arrival, my lady. My cabin is no less cluttered. This one is luxurious in comparison and you have a window, do you not? Mayhap you would prefer a hammock in the hold _. Non_? Well then, you will have to make do."

She met his dispassionate expression with a frown. "I fear my safety is at risk and as you are well aware, this passageway leads to the galley and is frequented by uncouth sailors."

He bowed, but his dark rimmed eyes regarded her with contempt.

"None of these ruffians have harmed you. They are all aware of the baron's wishes concerning your safe arrival in France." He sighed in a dismissive fashion and glared at her. "Although, I would not want you informing the baron of my lack of protection and will move into the cabin next door then if you are concerned you may bang on the wall." He stared past her to the small window. "The journey will be over soon. The Captain has one more rendezvous at the dark of the moon and if the weather cooperates, we should sail for France within the week."

His attention moved to the front of her wet gown and his lips curled in a predatory smile.

"Mayhap you should remain in your cabin during bad weather, unless, of course, you desire me to tie you to the mainsail for your protection." He made a great show of examining her disheveled appearance from head to toe and chuckled. "If you feel inclined, do knock on the wall, my lady, and it will be my pleasure to escort you topside."

The bacon-brained lout had the audacity to laugh at her predicament. How dare he? She did not consider her intolerable position the least bit comical. "I am sure Baron du Court will be most displeased at the way you address me. May I remind you I am a lady and not a tavern wench? Now get out of my sight."

_Monsieur_ Moreau's jaw clenched and a nerve twitched in one cheek. He raised himself to his full height and glared at her.

"Ah, _non, non, non_ , milady. I am not how you say, a _servant_ for you to dismiss at will. I am a member of the court of King Louis and you may refer to me as Lord Moreau." His expression turned to stone. "I will send a bonded servant to attend you in my stead. Perhaps you should think long and hard on how to behave in _my_ presence. It will be good practice, _non._ You see, Baron du Court has no patience with disagreeable ladies."

She stared at him in disbelief fighting back the instinct to slap his arrogant face. "I am _not_ betrothed to Baron du Court. Marrying him or not will be _my_ decision and one I will make after I have received his offer at the Countess D' Cologne's residence."

"Ah, _non_. In fact, we will be going straight to the baron's castle at Muzon and you _will_ be married before a priest the moment we arrive. Do you think Baron du Court requires your acquiescence? Your father has sent your dowry with me along with his written permission for the match. Lord Beachwood is glad to be rid of you and I am quite sure you will never see him again."

Aghast, she shrank back. "How dare you, sir. My father would never do such a thing and no man on this earth will force me to marry against my will."

"Lord Beachwood is fully aware of the particulars of the arrangement. Indeed, he suggested all of them." Lord Moreau's mouth twitched into a sadistic smile. "You are no longer in England, my lady. In France, you will have no choice in the matter." He inclined his head, turned, and swayed down the passageway.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and unable to believe her father had betrayed her, tears threatened to spill. She pressed one hand to her roiling stomach and drew a few deep breaths. The image of her handsome Scot filled her mind. _Drew._ His strong, delicious countenance haunted her dreams and filled her with determination. She sighed. The bump on her head may have made her bacon-brained but, in truth, her secret desire had become an anchor of late, a beautiful dream to cherish. __ She missed Drew and blinked away tears but then her heart leaped with anticipation at the thought of him sailing to rescue her. He had given her his word, her knight in shining armor. _He will come for me._

End of Book One
Betrayed

The Mackenzie, Book Two

After her handsome Scot is forced to leave London, Lady Adrianna's father arranges her betrothal to a French Baron known as The Murderer of Muzon. She reluctantly boards his vessel and finds herself on a pirate ship under the perilous protection of an opium smoking deviate, by the name of Monsieur Moreau.

With the captain, hell-bent on her seduction, the feisty goddaughter of George II's only chance of escape lays in the hands of her courageous Scottish warrior.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Outside, the wind had dropped and at last, some semblance of normality prevailed. Lady Adrianna's attention went to the sound of splashing in the passageway. She tensed and reached for a damp cloth to press against the throbbing pain in her brow. _What now?_

She collapsed in the chair and leaned her head into the soothing coolness of the wet rag. As a shadow approached the doorway, the outline of Betty came into view.

"There you are, milady." Betty negotiated the dim entrance with a basket in one hand, shoes, and stockings in the other.

Relief flooded over her. "Oh thank heavens. I thought I had lost you."

"I found myself stuck fast in the galley and had to wait for the bad weather to pass. The cook says the storm has blown itself out for now, so I have brought a bite to eat." Betty smiled. "I will wait a bit for the men to pump the water from the hallway then I will go back for a pot of tea." She shut the door and placed the tray on the table. "We are lucky the cabin has that step to keep the water out. The floor in here is practically dry. Now what is amiss? Are you quite well, milady?"

"I will do but I have had a fall and hurt my head, and my right leg is quite sore too." She leaned back in the chair. "Thank God, the ship has stopped pitching back and forth. Perhaps now we may light a lamp or two."

"Goodness, I should never have left you, milady." Betty placed the basket on the table and went at once to light the lamp. She turned, lifted the lantern, and stared at her mistress wide-eyed. "You are soaked through and filthy to boot. Did _Monsieur_ Moreau have anything to do with this?"

"No! He did not lay a finger on me but the man is a beast, and we are to refer to him as 'Lord Moreau' from now on." She squeezed the rag into a ball in the palm of one hand. "He made my position very clear." She narrowed her gaze at Betty then went on to give her details of her disastrous situation and explaining Drew as Lord Rupert's trusted friend.

Betty's dark eyes rounded and her mouth turned down.

"Oh, milady."

Adrianna pressed the back of one hand to her aching head. "I trusted my father to assure my safety and respect my wishes concerning Baron du Court. I was sorely mistaken." She stood to allow Betty to unlace her sodden gown. "Unless I have help from Mister Mackenzie, I do believe it will take a miracle for me to escape from Lord Moreau."

To be continued...
Seduced

The Mackenzie, Book Three
Author Biography

H.C. Brown is a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning author of Historical, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, BDSM, Time Travel, Action Adventure, and Contemporary Romance.

In 2015, she was delighted to be named Luminosity Publishing's Bestselling Author of 2014.

In 2015, _Highlander in the Mist_ was placed 3rd in Historical and _Rock 'n' Leather_ was placed 3rd GLBT in the Easychair Bookshop Competition.

In 2011, she was delighted to receive nominations in three categories in the 2011 CAPA Awards: Favorite Author, Best GLBT Romance, and Best Science Fiction Romance.

She was nominated for Best Historical M/M in the 2013, Goodreads Book of Year Awards.

H.C writes about strong alpha male heroes and girl next door heroines in complex settings, and all her stories have happy endings.

H.C. welcomes feedback from her readers.

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