She felt a dark, simmering rage burn in her guts and wanted very much to speak to thisallegedly brave survivor, who had neglected to mention the partshehad played in his unexpected dip in the lake that night.
“Because I had the distinctdispleasure of meeting Major Curtis. I was there on the beach when the Butcher attacked. I can attest to the fact that this English officer is a scoundrel and a liar.” She was breathing hard now and could barely suppress her fury. “If you must know, he only lives because I pleaded with the Butcher to spare his life.”
“You were there?”
“Yes. Major Curtis was drunk and attempted to disgrace me in the worst possible way.”
Her uncle gasped. “Good Lord, Amelia.”
“But the Butcher came to my rescue. That is why he attacked the camp. He arrived in the nick of time and saved me from certain peril.”
Her uncle’s eyesfilledwith sorrow and regret. He strode forward and took hold of her hands. “If only I had taken better care of you. Clearly there is much you have not shared with me about your experiences as that man’s captive. What hardships you must have endured.”
“Yes, there were quite a few, but I cannot lie about it. The Butcher was indeed my abductor, but he was never cruel. He never hurt me.” She paused. “There arestillso many things I have not told you.”
“Butwillyoutellme one day?” he asked.«Willyou ever trust me withallthat you have endured?”
She stared at him for a long moment, realizing that her greatest suffering was happening right now. “Perhaps Iwill.
But not tonight, because I must see him, Uncle. And I must see him alone.”
* * *
Duncan’s identity would soon be exposed to the world, Amelia thought miserably as she was escorted down the stairs to the prison by a guard in a red uniform. As soon as her uncle saw Duncan, he would recognize him as her former fiancé—the charming and amiable Earl of Moncrieffe.
Duncan’s double life would be revealed and the sky would come crashing down. She, too, might be charged with treason for keeping his secret.
Her stomach turned over. It was a wonder no one had recognized him yet. Colonel Worthington would certainly know Duncan on sight. He had dined at the castle more than a few times over the past year. Dozens of the soldiers stationed here had taken refuge there aswellon a number of occasions. They had offered their assistance just this week in search of Richard. A search nowcalledoff, of course.
News of his severed head arriving at Kinloch Castle in a bag had reached FortWilliamtwo days ago, and the Butcher had never been more fantastical y notorious.
The guard beside her slowed his pace as they approached thecellat the end of the corridor. She trembled slightly, not knowing what to expect. Her uncle had told her that Duncan was half-dead. Part of her hoped it would be a case of mistaken identity—that it was not real y Duncan atall.
But to wish for the punishment of an innocent human being, wrongly accused, was beyond the scope of her conscience.
She did not wish that. She could not.
At last they reached thecelldoor and she rose up on her toes to peer through thesmallbarred window. There, lying facedown on a hay-strewn floor, was a brawny, kilted Highlander. His wrists were locked in iron manacles and chained to thewall. His long, black hair covered his face, making identification impossible, but there was no need to see his face. Amelia knew every inch of his body and recognized the familiar green MacLean tartan. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Duncan—asleep or unconscious. Perhaps even dead.
Her blood quickened. She turned to the young guard, who was fumbling clumsily with his keys, searching for the right one.
“Hurry, please.”
“My apologies, milady.” He found it at last and unlocked the heavy wooden door. It squeaked on rusty hinges as he swung it open. “No need to be frightened of him,” the guard said. “He may look like a monster, but he’s chained up and in no condition to do you any harm. I suspect he’ll be dead by morning, and if not, he’ll be just as dead when they hang him.”
Amelia’s heart throbbed in her chest, but she strove to maintain an appearance of calm as she entered.
“Take a good look at him,” the guard said. “Then I’ll see you out safely.”
She turned to him. “Ishallrequire a moment or two. There are a few things I wish to say to him. In private, if you please.”
His head drew back. “Of course, milady. I understand. I’ll leave you to do just that, but I won’t be far. I’ll be right here in the corridor.callout if you need assistance.” He closed the door and left her alone in thecell.
Heart-wrenching agony nearly choked her as she regarded Duncan, unconscious, on the floor. His hair was matted with dried blood. His left hand was bruised and misshapen, swol en the size of a turnip. There were cuts and contusions on his legs. She knelt down and gently touched his shoulder.
“It’s me,” she whispered. “Please speak to me, Duncan.
Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? Can you move?”
