No one knows who you are. If I can only get you back to Moncrieffe Castle…”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “The Butcher might have been able to slay twenty men and carry you out of here with one hand, but I am broken now, lass. I’ll not be slaying anyone, and I’ll not be leaving this place.”
She sat back on her heels, stared at him furiously, then stood. “Yes, youwill, because Iwillnot give up.Guard!” she shouted. “Let me out of here! And for God’s sake, be quicker with your keys this time!”
* * *
The door to the officers’ quarters burst open, and five uniformed soldiers marched in with muskets at the ready. “Major Jack Curtis, you are under arrest.”
Curtis, who was seated at a table with four other officers, quickly stood. The others stood up aswell,allof them startled by the commotion.
“What are the charges?” Curtis asked incredulously.
“Drunkenness and attempted rape.” They swarmed around him, confiscated his pistol and sword, and seized him by the arms.
“I demand to know the name of my accuser!”
“The Duke of Winslowe, on behalf of his niece, Lady Amelia Templeton. Tsk-tsk, Major. Trying to have your way with a noblewoman? Shame on you.”
They dragged him out of the room and escorted him roughly to the prison.
* * *
Sometime during the night, a surgeon entered Duncan’scell, and after he was gone, Duncan dreamed of angels and his mother’s pearls and Amelia’s mossy green eyes. He felt her hands upon his wounds, healing his bones, and was vaguely aware of her softly kissing his forehead, washing his face with clean, warm water, and rising occasional y to keep the red soldiers from his door. He was alone, of course, chained to thewall. None of it was real. Amelia was not in thecellwith him. She was somewhere else. But he slept soundly that night. And he felt no pain.
Chapter Twenty-five
Amelia fought to stay calm and focused during the night as she paced in her room. She could notallowherself to give way to melancholy or helplessness. She could notfallinto the trap of weeping or lamenting. If shefellapart, she would accomplish nothing.
Duncan was injured and imprisoned, but at least he was alive. It was something to be thankful for when the circumstances of his capture could have easily resulted in a different outcome.allwas not lost. As long as he was alive, there was hope, and where there was hope, there wasstilla chance to save him.
Perhaps she could state his case to Colonel Worthington and explain how Duncan had always treated herwelland how he had rescued her from Major Curtis’s abominable attack on the beach. They might consider those facts and offer some leniency in his sentencing. If they were notwillingto release him ofallcharges, perhaps they would at least spare his life. Instead of the noose, he could be taken to the Tolbooth, and perhaps one day …
Al her thoughts seemed to be whirling about in her brain like dry leaves in a storm. She sat down on a chair, then immediately stood up again and paced.
Perhaps she should appeal to her uncle for help. She had already revealed what had happened with Major Curtis at the lake, and her uncle had taken steps against the major with great effectiveness. He was now in custody. But could she confess everything to her uncle and reveal Duncan’s identity?
No, she quickly decided. That would not be helpful. They might accuse her uncle of being a spy, for he had spent time at the castle. Some might even suggest he had colluded in planning Richard’s death. She, too, could be charged with treason if her knowledge became known. How would that help anyone? It certainly wouldn’t help Duncan. Iain and Josephine would then be implicated, and Duncan would die a miserable death, knowing his family would suffer for his crimes.
She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples and squeezed her eyes shut. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she decided it would be best to keep Duncan’s identity a secret, even if the Butcher was sentenced to death. If it did come to that, Iain would inherit the title, and perhaps they could stage the Earl of Moncrieffe’s death weeks later.…
Stop it, Amelia. Stop it!
Why was she even thinking such things?
She went to the bed and flopped down on her back. If only there were more time.allshe had managed to do thus far was arrange for the surgeon to visit Duncan’scelland give him some laudanum for the pain, and she wasstilltorturing herself over her refusal to send for a priest, when that wasallhe had asked for. Just that one thing, so that he might repent for his sins before the final moment of judgment, and be forgiven and depart from this world with some feeling of peace.
She should not have denied him that.
She had been selfish and insensitive.
A moment later, she was standing at the foot of her bed, staring blankly at thewall. She did not even remember rising to her feet. She chewed on a thumbnail.
Did Iain know Duncan was here? Had he been alone in the cave when he was captured? Where were Fergus and Gawyn and Angus?
Again, she considered sending for a priest, when what she real y wanted to do was spirit Duncan out of there. To circumvent the time-consuming legalities that may or may not work in his favor, and act quickly and aggressively.
But how? He was a prisoner in an English garrison. He was locked in acell, chained to awall. She was not a ruthless, axe-bearing warrior who possessed the strength andskillto break out of such a place and abduct someone in the dead of night, as he had once done.
