For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (33 page)

“Lads, Malcolm MacGregor is mine!” her father shouted above the others as they slowed their horses to a stop behind him.

Her father dismounted and strode toward Malcolm as he unsheathed his sword. Malcolm had no weapon to protect himself.

With her heart twisting in agony, Lauren ran toward them. “Nay!”

“Malcolm, this man says he is Lauren’s father, but I did not expect him to come at you like this.” Mr. Saunders struggled down the side of his horse, his black hat askew upon his head.

Her father reached Malcolm and swung his sword at him, but Malcolm ducked and moved to the side. “I am not fighting ye, Duncan.”

“Aye, ye will.” He took a deep breath and swung again. “Or ye’ll die a coward’s death.”

Malcolm rolled away and kicked him from behind. Her father stumbled forward but soon regained his balance.

“Uncle, he is unarmed,” Keith Campbell said, coming toward them.

“Ye stole my daughter an’ for that ye’ll pay.” His forehead wrinkled in anger, her father glared at Malcolm. “ ’Twas the one thing ye could do that would make me follow ye across the Atlantic.”

“I told ye, Duncan. I will not fight ye.” Malcolm stood tall and still. “ ’Twould hurt Lauren, and I will not do it.”

“Oh? Since when did Lauren start mattering to ye, MacGregor? What lies have ye promised my daughter?” He raised his broadsword high above his head. Malcolm stiffened, clenching his fists at his side, bracing himself. Would he simply stand there and allow her father to slice him to death?

“Nay!” Lauren screamed as she ran in front of Malcolm.

Duncan brought down his sword.

Chapter 18

18

M
alcolm’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He shot an arm around Lauren’s waist and pulled her against him as he sidestepped and twisted, hoping to shield her with his body. Immense pain sliced through his shoulder. It was as if coals of fire pulsated through his head. Nausea rumbled through his stomach, and the rest of his body went numb. He couldn’t feel his legs as they crumbled beneath him.

He tried to lean to the side to keep from crushing Lauren under him, but his sense of balance also left him, and he couldn’t tell which way he fell. A pool of blood soaked his shirt. Had Duncan hit an artery? His vision blurred, but his hearing remained intact as Lauren screamed.

Had he hurt her when he fell? He couldn’t tell. “I am . . .” Words failed him. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he needed air.

“Now look at what ye’ve done.” Anger carried in Lauren’s voice. “Malcolm, I am here. Can ye hear me? I will not leave ye.”

Duncan stumbled backward. “Why are ye defendin’ him?”

“Aye . . . keep . . . talkin’, lass,” Malcolm mumbled.

“Malcolm, my lad!” Tears carried in Iona’s voice as she rushed toward them.

“I am pressing the wound with his plaid to stop some of the bleeding.” Lauren leaned over him. “Mr. Saunders, fetch us a doctor. He will need stitches. Hurry!”

“Has he washed yer brain of all ye know ’bout the MacGregors?” Duncan demanded.

“Aye, Lauren, what are ye thinkin’?” Scott Campbell came up behind her father, confusion swirling in his blue-eyed expression. His blond hair was a shade darker than she remembered.

“If Da’s blade had tipped forward an eighth of an inch more, he would have severed a main artery,” Lauren said, ignoring her father and brother. “Still, I think he sliced through an important vein. Ye’re losing a lot of blood. I am afraid to move ye.” She closed her eyes. “Lord, please let Malcolm live. Help Mr. Saunders bring back the doctor in time.”

“Ye’re prayin’ for him now? The verra mon who stole ye from yer family an’ country? Who caused ye to be beaten in a bordello?” Duncan smacked his forehead in disbelief. His red face tightened in anger as his veins pulsated through his neck and temples. He grabbed Lauren’s arm. “Come on. I came here to take ye home. Let us go.”

“Nay!” Lauren jerked away and continued to press Malcolm’s wound. “I will never go back home. I am staying here with Malcolm. If ye had not taken his family, he never would have been tempted to take me.” Tears soaked Lauren’s voice as she brushed his hair over his forehead. “Why did ye do it, Da? Iona and Carleen never did anything against ye.”

“Yer mither died because of her.” Duncan pointed at Iona. “An’ ye were becoming just like her. Goin’ over to Inverawe to take care of the poor an’ catch their diseases. The more I forbade it, the more ye would sneak away an’ do it. Ye thought I did not know. Well, I did, an’ I saved yer life by sendin’ them away.”

“Mither died giving birth to Blair. ’Tis a lie. All ye ever do is lie.” More tears streamed down Lauren’s face as she watched Malcolm’s life drain from him. His skin looked too pale.

“Da, what are ye sayin’?” Scott leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “I remember her dyin’ after Blair was born. ’Twas childbirth.”

“He is talking ’bout the time I nearly died with a case of pneumonia,” Iona said. “My husband had died in the Jacobite war, my children were young, an’ most o’ my family was in Glenstrae. Mrs. Campbell learned of my situation an’ came to nurse me back to health. She even cared for my children.”

“Aye, an’ she had just given birth to our own bairn. She was too weak to be caring for all of ye.” Duncan’s harsh voice vibrated through them. “Ye lived while my children’s mither perished.”

“I am sorry.” Iona rubbed her tired eyes, red with tears. “I heard she had died soon after, but I never knew ’tis from me.”

“Aye, a combination from being weak with childbirth an’ the pneumonia ye gave her.” Duncan’s voice hardened. “I was not ’bout to let the same thing happen to Lauren.”

“Ye wasted yer time coming here. I will not go anywhere with ye.” Bitterness brought a hard edge to Lauren’s tone.

“Ye’ll do as I say!” Duncan grabbed her arm and jerked her away from Malcolm as he tried to reach for her, but his reflexes were too slow. His head hit the sandy ground. Blood gushed from his wound, soaking his shirt with more warmth that quickly turned cold. Malcolm lay shivering in his own blood.

“Iona, press the wound hard to stop the bleeding,” Lauren said over her shoulder. She kicked and clawed at her father. “Let go of me. I am grown and will choose my own fate.”

Malcolm leaned up, but dizziness clouded his vision.

“Nay, lad.” Gentle hands pushed him back. “This is a battle between Lauren an’ her da.”

“She does not wanna go with ’im.” Malcolm groaned, blinking as if to clear his vision. Taking a deep breath, Malcolm struggled to his feet in spite of his mother’s protests. “Duncan Campbell, are ye forgetting somethin’?”

Duncan turned and, with an evil grin, shoved his daughter from him. “I have never known a MacGregor to give up a fight. Glad to know ye will not be the first.” He licked his bottom lip and spat on the ground. Taking a warrior’s stance, he leaned forward, bracing his legs. “Glad to know ye will not be disappointing me.”

“Nay, Da, he is wounded.” Lauren grabbed his arm, but he shoved
her back.

“Scott, get yer sister, an’ keep her away.” He stalked toward Malcolm, who struggled to his feet. “I told ye, did I not? That ye would fight me?”

“Aye, ye did.” Malcolm nodded, motioning for Scott to move Lauren farther back and out of the way. Her brother held an arm around her waist and swung her up each time she kicked back at him. Malcolm turned his attention to Duncan. “At least I now know why ye have such a strong vendetta against our family.”

Malcolm kept blinking, as if trying to focus. He staggered to the side.

Duncan charged, his sword at the ready. Malcolm groaned as more blood soaked his shirt. When he lunged toward the right, Malcolm tumbled to the ground, the side of his face plowed into the gritty sand. The air in his lungs crushed out of him. He waited for Duncan’s sword to pierce his back. Instead, steel clashed against steel.

“Sorry, Uncle, but I canna stand by an’ watch ye murder a mon in cold blood,” Keith Campbell said. “I am no match against yer sword, but at least I can stand on my feet.”

“Well, ye will not be standin’ for long.” Duncan lunged at him and their swords clashed again.

“Da, nay!” Scott let go of Lauren and pulled his own sword against his father. “Keith is not only our kinsman, but he is now a vicar. Are ye willin’ to murder one o’ the Lord’s verra own?”

“I am willin’ to take down anyone who gets in my way. Now move, son,” he said, clenching his fists. His angry scowl resembled a bear more than a man.

“Malcolm is down. Ye have Lauren, an’ she is why we came. Let us be gone from here afore that other mon returns.”

“Move!” Duncan breathed heavy like an ox pulling a load up a mountain. He lifted his sword and swung it against his only son. “Get out o’ my way, lad!” he growled through his teeth.

“Malcolm, you better not dare leave me.” Lauren crawled to Malcolm and lifted his head onto her warm lap. “Stay with me.”

“Uncle, stop afore ye hurt Scott.” Keith charged at Duncan. The men charged each other, their swords clanging like short bells. Scott could not match his father’s broad strength, but he made up for it in agility and speed. Keith stepped back but stayed nearby with his sword ready lest Scott needed his resistance.

“My own family has turned against me.” Duncan paused. “I never thought I would see the day. Ye’re all Campbells, or have ye forgotten?”

“Aye, an’ none o’ us is willin’ to hurt a vicar,” one of the other men said.

“I think my da has gone mad,” Lauren said. She brushed some of the sand from Malcolm’s face. “I love ye, Malcolm MacGregor, no matter what happens.”

“Ye what?” Rage coursed through her father at her words. “I shall finish him, I will.” He thrust his sword out and ran toward Malcolm. Lauren threw herself over Malcolm.

“Da, ye’ll hurt Lauren!” Scott chased after him, moving with the speed of a cheetah.

Both Scott and Keith lunged at Dunccan from opposite directions, grunting in the effort. The three of them collided. Keith was able to deflect Duncan’s sword, scraping against it, while Scott stumbled over Malcolm’s feet. The sword went spiraling down as Scott fell into the blade’s path. It sliced into Scott’s chest. He moaned and landed with a thud on his back. A stunned expression painted his face as the glow of life paled to an ashen gray.

Duncan shuddered with horror as he realized what had just happened. He fumbled to his knees beside his son, blinking in disbelief. Unusual pain and remorse reflected in his eyes as the lines in his face deepened and his forehead wrinkled. Keith dropped to the ground on the other side of Scott.

“Son, I am sorry. ’Twas an accident,” he said, touching his son’s shoulder.

Keith scrambled to grab Scott’s hand and leaned over him. “Scott, God saw what ye did in saving Malcolm an’ myself, but now ye have to save yerself. Do ye believe an’ accept Christ?”

Scott tried to speak, but all he could manage was a gurgling sound.

Lauren wept.

“If ye canna talk, blink.” Scott blinked, his lips trembling and turning blue. He gasped for air, severe pain etched in his smooth face. “If ye believe an’ accept Christ, blink again.” Scott blinked. Blood dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. A few moments later, his labored breath grew silent. His eyes stared. He was gone.

Lauren sobbed as she leaned over Malcolm, wetting him with her salty tears. Malcolm’s grip on her hand went limp. “Malcolm?” He didn’t respond. “Nay!”

Lauren’s eyelids felt heavy and swollen. Her tears had soaked her sleeves where she kept wiping her face. She continued to press against Malcolm’s wound. It had been a while since he had moved or spoken. She tucked her finger under his chin and turned him to face her. His eyes were closed and his face deathly pale. Fear punctured her heart as she slid her fingers over the pulse at his neck. It beat slow and steady. He was alive.

Horses raced down the road toward them, and relief filled her. They could still save Malcolm. Remorse scratched at her grief-stricken heart as she glanced over at her brother. He was so young—too young to die.

Her father’s men tried to convince him to leave and avoid being arrested. They tugged at his arms, but he jerked away. “I am not leavin’ my son!”

“We canna stay,” one man said as they mounted their horses and rode away. Only Keith and her father remained.

Lauren stroked Malcolm’s hair as Iona sat beside her. Silent tears crawled down her weathered wrinkles, and her shoulders slumped.

Mr. Saunders arrived with the doctor and the magistrate and a few local men. Two of them set out after the other Campbells while the magistrate questioned Keith.

The doctor slid to his knees next to Malcolm. He ripped open Malcolm’s shirt and assessed the wound. “ ’Tis a good thing he is already unconscious. He has lost a lot of blood.” The doctor sighed as he looked from Iona to Lauren. “I need to sew him up right away before we move him.”

He pulled out a flask of water and cleaned the wound. The bleeding had finally slowed enough for him to pull a needle and thread through. Lauren closed her eyes and looked away.

“If he gets proper rest and nourishment over the next few days, he will make it. The main thing we need to watch for is infection. I shall leave a bottle of laudanum for the pain.”

“Thank ye, Doctor,” Iona said, brushing her gray hair from her forehead. A layer of perspiration broke out on her forehead.

“Where will you be taking him?” the doctor asked. “I would like to stop by and check on him sometime tomorrow.”

“We will be going back to Mr. Saunders’s boardinghouse,” Lauren said.

The doctor looked at the magistrate. “We need to get Malcolm MacGregor back to the boardinghouse as soon as possible. Can you finish questioning the women from there?”

“Indeed, but I am taking these two in first.” The magistrate pointed a thumb at Keith and Duncan. “Sounds like this one accidentally killed his son while trying to murder Malcolm. His son tried to stop him and got in the way.” He turned to his men. “Tie them up.”