Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(84)

Will gave him an admiring look. “Did Mal do all this? Where is he?”

Alec scowled. “No, I did, ye ungrateful sod. I have a mind to put you back in there and chain you up myself.”

For a moment, Will looked thoughtful, as though seriously considering the idea. Then he sighed. “No, they’d just kill me now. Wilfort,” he greeted the man as he jogged past. “Pleasant to see you again. Mary was well, last I saw her.”

“So I hear,” Lord Wilfort said. “Both of you, go. I’ll stave off whoever is coming …”

Alec paused to press the man’s hand. “Thank you. I thought Mal was mad to steal away your daughter, but you’ve proved a good friend to us.”

“I thought the same,” Wilfort said with his dry humor. “Now I have a pack of crazed Highlanders for in-laws. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance when I am next in Paris.”

He sketched Alec a bow. Alec shot him a salute and turned to run after Will.

He saw his brother flitting from shadow to shadow, as agile as ever, thank God. Alec’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that he’d accomplished his mission, but his blood was pounding, his exhilaration high. Celia would be waiting at the boat, as would Jenny, all prearranged and planned to the last detail.

Alec heard a shout. He turned as the carriage, its lamps flaring, surged along the narrow drive to the old house. Alec saw the large frame of the regimental colonel drop from the box, along with what looked like Celia’s brother. He then saw Lord Chesfield emerge from the carriage, followed by the Duke of Crenshaw.

The colonel and Chesfield yelled for the sentries, bellowing orders and curses. The duke slammed the carriage door but remained behind, arguing with someone inside the coach, not noticing Wilfort approach him.

The carriage door opened again, and Alec went cold as he saw his wife emerge and climb to the ground in a flurry of skirts.



“Papa, you have to stop them,” Celia cried as she sprang from the carriage’s lower step, clutching at her father to keep from slipping. She’d found and restored her shoes, but they were useless in the churned-up mud.

The duke steadied her with concern. “I see no sentries or soldiers—something is wrong. But do not worry, my dear, I won’t let them execute the men tonight. I will see that they’re conveyed to London, where they’ll have a proper trial.”

Her father did not understand it had gone far beyond that. Uncle Perry and his pet colonel were crazed with hatred.

Celia clutched his sleeve. “Alec is in there—I mean Mr. Finn. He’s gone to find his brother. You can’t let them kill him, Papa—please!”

The duke’s eyes widened. “Child, what are you saying? Why would Mr. Finn’s brother …?” He trailed off as realization grew. “Mr. Finn is a Highlander? But—I thought he was Irish.”

Celia was too anguished to worry about explaining. “You have the power to stop them. Please do not let Uncle Perry kill my husband!”

The duke gaped at her for a moment longer before he squared his shoulders, turned, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Perry! Chesfield! Come back at once!”

Colonel Kell and Edward returned to the carriage before the others, the colonel with his pistol out. “They’ve gone—escaped,” Kell snapped. He took in the duke’s expression and abruptly trained the pistol on him. “You did this.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Celia said heatedly. “My father didn’t even know the prisoners were here.”

Uncle Perry rushed into the light thrown by the coach lamps. “What are you doing, Kell? Get out there and hunt them down.”

“No,” the duke said in a hard voice. “Let them go.”

Uncle Perry spun to face his brother-in-law. His dark eyes held the same chill as Celia’s mother’s. “And let them burn and pillage their way through the countryside, raping and killing as they go?”

“They are broken wretches who will flee the country,” the duke said. “If they even live to reach the coast.”

“Have you lost your mind, old man?” Uncle Perry roared. “I’ll tell Freya to declare you insane, and I’ll take over your command. You are a bloody, weak fool, and the sooner you step aside, the better.”

“I believe I am my father’s heir,” Edward said with quiet fury. “When he is gone, you will answer to me.”

“I made you, Edward,” Uncle Perry’s eyes glittered with triumph. “You are mine.”

“No one made me.” Edward’s voice was quiet but strong. “I have listened to you disparage my father and sister for long enough. You are nothing, and now you are finished.”

Uncle Perry’s eyes burned first with fury then calculation. “No matter. The Highlanders have escaped, and they are murdering as they go. What a pity the duke and his son were caught in the melee.”

He aimed his pistol at Edward, and gave the colonel, who still had his gun aimed at the duke, the nod to fire. Celia shouted and lunged for Perry.

Two horses charged out of the darkness. One bowled right into Colonel Kell, sending him into Edward, who grappled with him as they went down. The second horse skimmed past Uncle Perry, a fist coming down to slam into the side of Uncle Perry’s head.

Uncle Perry dropped, the pistol falling uselessly from his grasp. The duke cried out and threw up his hands in defense, but Alec galloped past him and then wheeled his horse and returned, reaching down for Celia.