Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(87)
Celia nodded glumly. “He has always been envious of my father, always pushing in on everything he did. My father let him, because he is generous. I suppose Uncle Perry wanted power of his own—perhaps he thought the king might give him a title. Being brother-in-law to a duke isn’t the same as being a duke himself.”
“And ye couldn’t find this out skulking around and listening at keyholes?” Alec demanded of Will.
Will opened his eyes wide. “Is that what ye think I do?” His face was different from Alec’s, narrower, his nose longer, but they both had the dark red hair, smattering of freckles, and the Mackenzie golden eyes.
“All right, there’s some of that,” Will conceded. “But I wanted to know exactly what Lord Chesfield and the Honorable Perry Waterson were up to. What better way than to make them think me in their power? You can find out much about interrogators from the questions they ask.”
“Ye can also get your head bashed in,” Alec growled. “Here I am, running up and down England looking for ye, while you’re sitting all cozy in a cell gathering information.”
Will’s expression cleared. “And I am grateful, Alec. I wasn’t quite sure how we’d all get away—I knew I could, but I did not want to leave the rest of those men to their fate. I planned to use the grand ball at the duke’s to my advantage, but I had no idea you’d decided to use it for yours.”
“Alec planned the ball in the first place,” Celia said, rising to his defense. “He had Lady Flora convince my mother to hold it, and then he arranged for the horses and carriages, and for Gair to be waiting with his boat. Mrs. Oswald—Josette—assisted us.” Celia watched Will as she spoke this last, gauging his reaction to the name.
To her satisfaction, Will’s eyes softened. “Ah, Josette. How is she?”
“She appears to be well,” Celia answered when Alec remained silent. “She was quite worried about you, and a great help.” Celia wasn’t quite sure all Josette had done, but the woman had been genuinely concerned about Will. She’d have to write her and tell her Will was well and free. “Alec and all his acquaintances spent a long time planning your rescue,” Celia went on. “He even married me as a part of it all.”
Alec laughed, the sound rich. “No, lass, marrying you was a selfish ruse.” He kissed her neck, his mouth hot. “To get ye all to myself.”
Celia flushed as her skin tingled. Will watched them, then his face softened and he lifted the wineskin in a toast. “Ah, Alec, ’tis good to see you happy again.”
“’Tis good to be so, brother mine.”
“What did my Uncle Perry want to find out?” Celia asked Will, curious even as she warmed to Alec’s touch. “Did he think you had Bonnie Prince Charlie hidden away somewhere?”
Will shook his head. “Funny, they didn’t seem interested in the prince at all. The sooner he fell into a bog or headed back to France the better, as far as they were concerned. No, what they asked most about was the gold.”
“The French gold?” Celia asked. “Good heavens.”
“Aye,” Will said. “It was never found, you know. Mal and I suspected it was stolen by the Highlanders who intercepted it, and they’ve now spent it on ostentatious things like food and clothing to keep them warm through the winter. But Lord Chesfield and your uncle are convinced the gold is still floating about the northern Highlands. They were so adamant, they’ve nearly convinced me as well.”
The end of Will’s nose twitched, as though he were anxious to dive overboard, swim ashore, race to Scotland, and start hunting for lost gold.
“And then I came along,” Alec broke in, “to put an end to your information gathering. And to save your life and that of twenty Scotsmen at the same time. I can see why you’re cursing me.”
Will’s grin flashed. “Truth to tell, I was bloody glad to see ye. Ye did a fine thing, Alec. And ye got yourself a wife in the bargain.” He looked Celia over, his pleased expression warring with one of curiosity. “We’ll be having a grand celebration when we’re back in the bosom of the family, I’m thinking.”
“Aye, that we will,” Alec said. He gathered Celia close, the fold of his plaid coming around her shoulders. “As I introduce to them the woman I love.”
“Love?” Celia asked, her heartbeat speeding.
She hadn’t meant to blurt the question, especially not in front of Will. She flushed, but she studied Alec—he could use the word so casually.
“Yes.” Alec’s golden eyes held fire, passion, truth, and a hint of challenge. “I love you, my Celia.”
“Oh.” Celia burned all over, any hesitancy, fear, and trepidation dissolving at the heat in his voice. “I love you, my Highlander. My Alec.”
A huff of laughter accompanied a swirl of plaid as Will took himself away and down the deck, leaving them alone.
The wind from the sea to the north was brisk, sending rain through the Channel and rough water. The boat tossed, the cold bit at them, but as Alec leaned to kiss her, Celia had never felt warmer in her life.
They lingered on the coast of France, Gair again avoiding British ships prowling the waters in their ongoing war with King Louis. Will had a hideaway near Le Havre, and there the men rested and recovered. Most had a broken bone or two, and some were simply too ill to move.