The Devilish Lord Will Read online

  “Here? What are you talking about?”

  Will sent her a slow smile. “There’s more gold in the Highlands than coins, lass.” Josette waited for him to explain but he only tied the ribbon and kissed the top of her head. “But I also believe the rest of the French gold is nearby.”

  Josette spun to face him. “What are you talking about? How can you know that?”

  Will shrugged. “I’m not certain, of course—won’t be until I look, but this is a good place to hide it. I realized that when Naughton told me about Macdonald wanting Kilmorgan. Macdonald has come here several times, both Errol and Naughton say, looking the place over. We know Macdonald looted the castle, damn the man. He’d have plenty of time to stash the gold in the cellars or the tunnels beneath it, even to bury it in the woods. I’m sure Macdonald will bribe enough officials sooner or later to let him purchase this land. Then he’ll live over the gold and off it for years to come.” He paused. “Or so he believes.”

  Josette had to concede this was possible, even logical. “But if we search and do find the gold, what then? How can we prove Mr. Macdonald hid it here, and not the Mackenzies? If a stash of French gold meant for the Jacobite army is found at Kilmorgan, that will condemn your family forever.”

  Will kissed her lips, then smiled at her, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. “I thought I’d let Macdonald himself tell me exactly where it is, lass.”

  When Will dressed and went downstairs, Errol regarded him with an open grin. The big man had drunk more whisky than anyone the previous night, and yet, he was upright, eyes bright, step animated.

  “When’s the wedding, my lord?” he asked.

  Will feigned confusion. “Eh?”

  “From the noises ye two made, Isla and I guessed bairns will soon be coming. Ye’d want to be wed for that, wouldn’t ye?”

  Will’s face heated, but he clapped Errol on the shoulder. “I do. And we will. But first, we have a few tasks to take care of.”

  In a low voice, he told Errol what he intended, and what he needed the man to do. Errol laughed out loud. “You’re a devious one, lad. Always said so. Your brothers are fine men, but you think in ways they never can.”

  “A gift,” Will said. “From God, said my mother. From the devil, said my father.”

  Errol made a cross of his two forefingers and laughed again.

  “You gentlemen are merry,” Josette said as she glided into the room, followed by a curious Beitris. Josette had breakfasted and looked rested and well. Beitris did too, in fact.

  Will slid his arm around Josette, liking her warmth in the crook of his arm. Errol watched with enjoyment. “We are,” Will said. “’Tis a grand day.”

  Josette gave him a wary look.

  “I thought we’d start in the tunnels,” Will said. “Shall we?”

  When Josette gave him a nod, still wary, Will guided her down the hall toward the still room, Beitris following. Errol left them to it, chortling.

  When they reached the entrance to the tunnels, Will took up a lantern, opened the door, and stepped inside. He heard Josette’s footsteps so close on his heels that it made him want to laugh. She was as anxious as Will to discover if his theory was correct. He heard Beitris as well, nails clicking on the floor, a snuffling sound as she investigated the walls.

  “Do you really think Mr. Macdonald hid the gold here?” Josette asked as they reached the wide space containing the barrels. Her words echoed from the rock ceiling.

  “I have no idea. Kilmorgan’s a large place. It could be anywhere.”

  Josette impatiently pulled her skirt free from the end of a rack. “Am I here to help you search? Shouldn’t I be in our chamber sewing your shirts?”

  Will lifted the lantern high, its light falling on her pink face, rich hair, and brown and cream gown. “Why the devil would you sew my shirts?” he asked in perplexity.

  “It’s what ladies do,” she said primly. “When gentlemen are out having all the fun. We mend your clothes and keep the house warm for when you bother to return.”

  Will blinked. “Do you?”

  “Have you so few married friends? ’Tis the way of the world.”

  “I’ve never witnessed Mary or Celia staying home to keep the fires lit while Alec and Mal disappear,” Will said. “Those lassies would never stand for that.”

  “They’re aristocrats,” Josette returned. “I am a commoner. ’Tis a different thing.”

  Will let his grin come as he traced her cheek. “Oh, there’s nothing common about you, love.”

  “Stop,” Josette said, her teasing tone evaporating. “You melt my heart.”

  “Good.” Will brushed his knuckle over her silken skin. “You and I will never be common, my Josie. Trust me on that.”

  Josette flushed but pressed a kiss to Will’s finger, setting fires alight in his blood. He needed to finish this, so he could take her in his arms and convince her to stay with him forever.

  Will made himself turn away and continue walking. They tramped for a time without speaking, Beitris bringing up the rear. Josette didn’t complain about the damp, the chill, or the darkness, or demand Will take her back to the relative comfort of the distillery. She was quite a lady.

  “Does this tunnel come out somewhere?” she asked after a time. “Or lead to deeper caves?”

  Will answered without turning. “It used to reach the hills beyond the castle, but I don’t know if it’s been blocked up. I haven’t been down here since I was a lad. But we should be directly under the castle about now.”

  He glanced up as though he could see through the rock to the home where he’d spent his boyhood. The tunnel had been shored up by stones and wood pillars in ages past and seemed fairly solid.

  “It had some duplicitous purpose, didn’t it?” was Josette’s next question. “Smuggling? Cattle raiding? Carrying off maidens from rival clans?”

  Will chuckled. “You read too many stories, love. We never needed to steal our neighbors’ cattle or our neighbors’ women. Dad absconded with Mum, true, but she had her things packed and ready. Or maybe she didn’t bring anything—I remember she was resourceful. But you’re right about the smuggling. The excise men have always been the true enemy of Scotland.”

  “You’d take the whisky out through here?” Josette continued. “To waiting ships?”

  “Your interest in crime is worrying, love. But you are right—Grandad took the whisky out and brought the brandy in. Kilmorgan is close enough to the sea that we could have boats in a little cove, ready to go out with the tide.”

  “A good place to hide contraband, then,” Josette concluded. “But would Mr. Macdonald know that?”

  “He would if he explored thoroughly enough. Which I hope he didn’t. I don’t want him discovering all our secrets.”

  The floor began to rise as they walked, a good sign. The problem was, the ceiling didn’t rise with it. Before long, Will had to bend double. Josette, not as tall, had less trouble, but she stooped as she walked, gathering up her skirts.

  Will moved with care—it wouldn’t help if either of them fell or brought the stones down on them. He was out of breath and ready to rest by the time he caught a glimmer of light ahead.

  A glimmer only—the horizontal opening they found into the hill was narrow. Will broke away loose earth around it, then set his lantern outside on grass and crawled after it.

  It felt good to stand up in open air after the closeness of the tunnel. Will stretched, releasing the crick from his back, before he turned to help Josette out of the hole.

  She had to tug her skirts free, but she clung to Will’s hands and quickly gained her feet. Beitris wriggled out behind them, shook herself, and looked about interestedly.

  They’d emerged at the base of a sheer cliff that rose above them, the burned shell of the castle just visible on top. The land sloped down from their feet to woods that had thickened since Will had been here, trees creeping toward unused cropland.

  Beyond the woods lay clifftops that overlooked a
cove below, perfect for Mackenzie smugglers. Will at one time in his life had come and gone from that cove on his trips to France, the Low Countries, or England.

  Since Culloden, however, he’d ceased arriving this way. Now he entered the country in places far from here, usually innocuously as a passenger landing in Dover or Greenwich, under one of his assumed names, with masterfully forged papers.

  Josette breathed the fresh air tinged with peat smoke. “Lovely. But I saw no gold as we came through. I had my face pressed nearly to the floor during that last bit—I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  Will agreed. “No sign of digging either. Macdonald might never have found the tunnel. But there are plenty of hiding places at Kilmorgan. The cellars under the castle are extensive.”

  Josette gave him a weary look. “How extensive?”

  “Don’t worry, love. I don’t expect you to help me dig up every inch of my ancestral home. I have other ideas.”

  Her tone remained doubtful. “You never explained how you’d have Mr. Macdonald lead the way. You plan to bring him here?”

  “Messages are already going back and forth between here and Macdonald’s home at Shieldag. Ewan is a swift and trustworthy lad, and Naughton will make sure the man comes.”

  Josette looked aghast. “You sent that poor little boy to Macdonald?”

  “That poor little boy led Mary to safety under the noses of Jacobites who’d come to arrest her father and aunt. Plus, I have Henri playing his part, putting the fear of God into Sir Harmon and Clennan Macdonald that the precious stash might be lost.”

  “Henri?” Josette asked, startled. “I thought he was helping Bhreac protect the ladies at Strathy Castle.”

  “He needed something to do.” Will shrugged at Josette’s accusing stare. “Something that lets him work toward his revenge but without violence or risk to himself.”

  “That is admirable, but will he keep his temper and not try his hand at murdering Sir Harmon?”

  “I think so. Henri is impetuous, but he’s not a stupid lad. I explained to him, as you did, how much better revenge can be if those who did the terrible things are lawfully punished while you live to gloat.”

  “I see. He did not seem convinced.”

  “He has no intention of dying heroically.” Will let out a breath, trying to ignore Josette’s skeptical tone. “I gave him hope, which is what he most needed.”

  “As long as that hope is fulfilled.”

  “It will be. I told him that if I didn’t bring Sir Harmon to justice, he could take his pound of flesh from me.” He pointed down the slope. “Now, the path to the cove might be a bit rough, but I think we can manage it.”

  “Will!”

  “Aye, lass?”

  Josette stepped in front of him, hands on hips. “You told Henri he could kill you?”

  “I might have said that, yes.” Will tried to look innocent. “It won’t come to anything, love. Wilfort dislikes Sir Harmon and distrusts Macdonald and is eager to take them both down. You might not have noticed this, because Wilfort looks the same whether he’s delighted, seething with rage, or wants a cup of tea. Henri is a good lad, just grieved and angry. He won’t hurt me.”

  Josette made a noise of exasperation. “You base every plan you make on your ability to turn people up sweet. Including me.” Her glare could have crumbled the rocks around them. “Why do you believe Mr. Macdonald won’t simply stay home drinking his wine and gazing at his paintings, pretending he knows nothing about the gold? Coming here will only give his secrets away.”

  “Because he’s not that sort of man. If he indeed stole that gold and hid it here, he’ll come racing to save it, especially if he hears that Will Mackenzie is back and nosing around.”

  “Damnation, Will,” Josette said in a near shout. “When will you cease throwing yourself headlong at peril and take care to live? Instead of promising lads they can murder you, or telling a dangerous man you’re alive and waiting for him?”

  “That’s easy to answer.” Will closed his hands around her clenched fists. “I’ll stop when I find the gold, and marry you.”

  Chapter 25

  Josette’s breath left her. She stared at Will, but he didn’t vanish in a flash like the otherworldly creature he must be. He stood before her and told her he would stop rushing headlong into danger the day he married her.

  “Does that mean you’ll never marry?” she asked, throat dry. “As in, you’ll settle down when it snows in hell?”

  Will’s grin flashed. “No, ye daft lass. It means I want to marry you. I told you I would if it turned out you carried my bairn. But I wish to, no matter what.”

  Josette’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “But you can’t.”

  “Why not?” he asked, as though this was not the most important conversation of Josette’s life. “We’re of age and reasonably in our right minds.” Will laid a warm hand on her abdomen. “And the way we’re at it, we’re guaranteeing a bairn. I want it to have a da’.”

  Josette tried to form more words, but she could no longer speak. Years ago Oliver Chadwick had seduced her, lavishing her with attention, charm, gifts. When it was discovered Josette was increasing, he bluntly told her he wanted nothing to do with his child. He’d revealed that he was married, and that his wife would never understand or forgive him. Then he’d vanished, back to his regiment and ultimately, England.

  Josette’s young heart had broken as she’d been harshly introduced to the ways of the world.

  Will, with his golden eyes and ready smile, had walked into her life a few years later and changed it forever. Now he said that of course they’d marry, as though there was no question about it.

  “But you’re dead,” she finally managed, the words coming weakly. “And if you’re found alive, so many will endeavor to return you to your grave—Mr. Macdonald, Sir Harmon, not to mention King George of England …”

  Will skimmed his hands up her arms. “Do you want me dead, lass?”

  She could tease him with, Sometimes, or Do not tempt me so, but Josette had to tell him the truth.

  “No.” Tears stung her eyes. “Never.”

  Will’s smile vanished as he touched her lips. “Then the others do not matter.” He traced her mouth with a blunt fingertip. “When I’m with you, Josie, the world can go to hell. I only want you.”

  Josette swallowed, her heart beating swiftly. “Then … are you asking me to marry you?”

  Will took a step back. “Mmm, not yet. The ground’s muddy, and I want to go down on one knee, like a proper swain.” He touched her lips one last time, as though he couldn’t help himself. “After we have Macdonald and Sir Harmon arrested, and Wilfort keeps his promises, then I’ll be doing some proposing. Properly.”

  “Oh.” Josette wasn’t certain whether to be disappointed, relieved, angry, or amused. “Well. Then I …”

  Will laid his fingers over her mouth. “No, don’t tell me your answer. Not until it’s right. Besides, I don’t want to know if you’re going to refuse. It will keep my heart light. Like I said, hope makes all things possible.”

  Josette drew a breath as Will lifted his hand away. Was he jesting? Or serious? With Will it was difficult to know, and growing closer to him only made her less certain.

  But one look in his eyes showed her his fear, a pain he kept deep within himself, one he was afraid of fanning to life.

  “Yes,” she said, holding his gaze. “Hope does.”

  Will slanted her his warm Mackenzie grin, the one she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “Good. Now, let us search for some gold.”

  Will led Josette to the cove, helping her down the nearly sheer path to the shingle below. Beitris bounded ahead of them, her great paws occasionally sliding off the trail, but she reached the bottom without mishap, finishing the last few yards with a great leap. She waited for them on the rocky beach, tail waving.

  The cove was as Will remembered it, a thin strip of shingle lined with caves. At high tide, the shingle was c
overed, water seeping into the lower levels of the caves. Boats easily slid into the openings when the tide was in, darting safely out of sight.

  The tide was at the bottom of the ebb this morning, so Errol had informed him. Errol kept track of the tides, being an able smuggler himself.

  For now, the cove was deserted. To the far left was a fairly large cave, which never was more than partially filled with water, its deeper areas always dry.

  Will checked that cave first, though he didn’t think he’d find anything there—it was too well used to be a good hiding place, but one never knew. A second set of caves beyond that, mere cracks in the cliff wall, easily missed by those who didn’t know about them, were a better bet.

  Beitris went straight into these narrow caves without fear, but Josette followed Will closely, taking care. She hadn’t said much since Will had blurted that he wanted to marry her.

  What a daft thing to tell her, Will admonished himself. Josette had been made unhappy by men throughout her life, and that included Will. She’d looked shocked, and no wonder.

  He’d hastily deflected the question when he’d seen her stunned surprise, saying he’d ask her again later. Bloody hell, what was the matter with him?

  At least she hadn’t punched him in the nose, turned around, and marched off, showing him a flash of fine ankles. She’d let him run on like an idiot, while she watched him with her calm brown eyes, her lips parted in that fetching way.

  To avoid kissing her, wrapping his arms around her and not letting go until she agreed to be his wife, Will had swung away and nearly ran for the caves.

  And now here they were, both awkwardly pretending the discussion hadn’t happened.

  These smaller caves had been used as well, Will saw as he flashed his lantern about. Above the waterline, niches in the rock held bits of useful supplies—rope, candles, a dark lantern, a cask of water, and a small flask full of brandy.

  Will sniffed the brandy, nodded in approval, and tucked the flask into his pocket. He then helped himself to a new candle for his lantern, lighting it with the old one that had nearly burned out. He left the stub in the niche next to the unburned tallow candles.