“I see.” Rutherford looked down at his desk and pushed some papers around as if looking for one specific piece. He looked up at Palmer. “Do you always bow to the whims of the locals, Captain?”
Palmer jerked, appearing shocked that Rutherford’s attention had centered on him. “Pardon me, sir?”
“Do you always follow the commands of a Scot, or do you follow the orders of your commanding officer?”
Palmer looked at Iain, then back at Rutherford in confusion. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“Did the orders to send Donaldson to the northern division come from your commanding officer or Lord Campbell?”
Palmer opened his mouth and then closed it. His face turned red. “My commanding officer.”
“Why?”
“Because Lieutenant Donaldson harassed a local woman and threatened her.”
“Did he?”
“I never told Captain Palmer how to discipline Lieutenant Donaldson,” Iain said. “But that’s beside the point. The man attacked and nearly killed Cait Campbell. Have you nothing to say to that?”
Rutherford turned his cold gaze to Iain. “What I say and don’t say is none of your concern, Lord Kerr. And I’ll decide what the point is and what isn’t.”
“It is most certainly my concern. She is my clanswoman, and anything to do with my clan is my concern.”
Rutherford rocked back on his heels, anger pinching his expression.
“Sir, if I may,” Palmer said. “Lord Campbell is a great asset to the English. He’s worked with us in quelling the Scottish uprisings and helped with the problems of the local population.”
Once again Rutherford focused on Palmer, making the man nearly squirm. “Captain Palmer, did you ever hear Lord Kerr threaten to harm Lieutenant Donaldson?”
“I…” Palmer appeared sick.
Rutherford raised a brow. “Yes?”
“You don’t understand. He was distraught. He obviously cares for Cait Campbell, and she had been threatened. He was angry.”
“Angry and distraught?” Donaldson asked. “And what did he say when he was angry and distraught?”
Palmer swallowed, his gaze caught on Donaldson. Iain’s heart sank. He knew then that all had been lost to him.
“He…he said if I didn’t do something about Lieutenant Donaldson, then he would.”
Iain closed his eyes and felt the noose tighten around his neck. He didn’t blame Palmer. The man was an officer for the English army. His livelihood and his entire career depended on this interrogation. And he was only speaking the truth. Iain had said that.
Rutherford turned his attention to Iain. “Tell me, Lord Kerr, how did you kill Lieutenant Donaldson?”
“With a large tree branch,” Iain said. “I bludgeoned him on the head. Twice.”
“And then you stabbed him and cut his throat?”
Iain frowned. Stabbed? Throat cut? “I hit him with a tree branch over the head. I didn’t stab him or cut his throat.”
“I find it hard to believe that you just happened to find Donaldson in the forest and you hit him on the head twice. You’re a Highland warrior. In my experience, Highland warriors are a bit more sophisticated in their killing.”
“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m a Highland warrior. I am from the Highlands, yes, but I was educated in Glasgow and spent much of my earlier years in England, going to school and building a shipping business.”
“So you’re not Scottish?” Rutherford asked, being deliberately obtuse.
“I didn’t say that,” Iain bit out between clenched teeth. His jaw was hurting, his finger was throbbing, and his head felt like someone was hammering it from the inside.
