He slowly blinked. “I am Major Curtis, at your service.”
“I never took you for a poet, Jack,” one of them said, tossing a handful of pebbles at him.
Frustrated beyond measure, Amelia spoke harshly. “I assure you, sir, the Butcher is true flesh and blood, and I believe…” She paused, looking back in the other direction. “I believe I may havekilledhim.”
Saying it aloud made her feel sick to her stomach.
Another soldier emerged from the tent, drinking straight from a bottle. “This is a joke,” he said. “Someone is having it on with us. Look at the dirty wench. She’s no officer’s bride.
She’s as grimy as a fishwife. I say we have some fun with her.”
“It’s no joke,” she declared. “I was abducted out of FortWilliam. I am engaged to Richard Bennett, lieutenant-colonel of the Ninth Dragoons, and the Butcher and his band of rebels are not far from here. We must make haste to escape and report what has occurred.”
The one with the bottle staggered repulsively toward her.
“Come here, darlin’. Give me a kiss.”
“Keep your putrid hands off me!” She backed up and stole a glance over her shoulder, looking for a way to escape. It occurred to her only then that she should have stolen the axe out of Duncan’s belt. Why hadn’t she? “Stay where you are, sir.”
He charged fast, however, before she could even brace herself. His hands closed roughly around her upper arms, and his mushy lips attached themselves to her cheek. He sucked on her face, his wet tongue probing and licking. Thesmellof his breath and body was sickeningly foul, and she grew wild with anger.
She swung her arms and tried to punch at him, but his grip was uncompromising. He was a large, heavyset man who could easily overpower her, even while intoxicated.
The others came out of the tent and began to whoop and cheer and applaud, entertained and goaded by Amelia’s kicking and scratching.
“Let me go!” she ground out, but the next thing she knew she was flat on her back, struggling and shoving withallher might, while the vile, disgusting creature pressed his heavy body to hers.
“I’m next,” she heard one of the others say, and then there was a dizzying, high-pitched ringing in her ears, drowning out everything but the sound of her own frantic heartbeats and the ferocity of her screams as she fought.
There were noisesallaround her, groans and crashes and terrible thudding sounds, and then the flabby heap of flesh on top of her took to the air. She watched him fly upward in an arc and land in the lake with a resounding splash.
She sat up, and there was Duncan, standing over her, feet braced apart, axe in hand, his broad chest heaving, his teeth bared like an animal. Their eyes met and locked, and he stared down at her in a crazed frenzy of murderous rage.
His hair was matted with blood, and his face was drenched with it, like a hideous mask of war paint.allshe saw was the whites of his eyes, and her insides seized with shock.
The sound of splashing water drew her attention toward the lake.
With his claymore swinging in the side scabbard, Duncan strode to the water’s edge. He waded into the dark moonlit waves, stalking after the soldier who had attacked her.
The man began to sob. “No, please, no!” He tripped backwards and plunged beneath the surface, then scrambled up and started swimming in the other direction, away from shore, kicking and flailing desperately in the waves.
Duncan pushed his way in deeper, not held back in the slightest by the resistance of the water. He raised his axe over his head.
Amelia rose to her feet in horror. She could not watch. She couldn’t bear to witness the vicious slaughter of a man in cold blood, right there in front of her eyes, despite what he’d almost done to her just now.
“No, Duncan!” she shouted, taking an anxious step forward.
Her voice seemed to arrest him on the spot, and he looked down at his kilt floating in the waterallaround him. It was as if she hadpulledhim out of a trance.
He turned around, waded out of the lake, and whistled for his horse. Turner came trotting out of the trees without saddle or reins. Duncan slipped the axe into his belt and mounted the great black beast. He rode bareback to where Amelia stood in front of the tent, surrounded by three dead soldiers.
He looked down at her and held out his hand.
She hesitated.
Then one of the soldiers moaned androlledover behind her. She jumped and turned. Another began to drag himself across the beach, away from the camp, as if he were crawling toward safety in the bushes.
So they were not dead afterall—although their leader, Major Curtis, wasstillthrashing about in the lake and would probably drown in the next few minutes.
