“Do you know the Butcher’s true identity?” she asked, sitting forward,stillwatching him. She was more curious now than ever about his life and upbringing. Had he been at Glencoe? Did he have family? Brothers or sisters? What kind of childhood had he known? Had he gone to school?
Learned to read? Or had he only ever known how to fight andkill?
“No one knows where he comes from,” Beth said. “Some say he’s a ghost. But rumors abound that one of the rebels who fights at his side is a MacDonald who survived the Glencoe massacre. He was just a wee lad at the time, and his mother stuffed him into a trunk to hide him from theCampbells. He crawled out after it was over and watched her bleed to death in the snow.”
Was it Angus she spoke of?
Beth tossed her head toward her father, who was quietly drinking his wine by the fire, and lowered her voice. “My father’s nephews perished there, too.”
Amelia’s stomach turned at the thought ofallthose people dying so violently on that cold winter morning.
“What about the woman who was to be the Butcher’s wife?” she asked suddenly. “Does anyone know who she was?”
Beth shook her head. “It’s awell-guarded secret. But I reckon many young Scottish lassies would like a chance to help heal that damaged heart of his. The lads like to talk about his axe and his sword and the mystical powers in that ancient stone, but the lassies like to gossip about the power of what he keepsunderhis kilt.” Thankful y, Beth changed the subject. “So you say the Butcher stole you away from your fiancé?”
“Yes.”
Just then, the door burst open with a terrible crash. Beth screamed, and her father dropped his goblet on the floor and rose out of his chair with a threatening war cry.
In a blinding flash of tartan, Duncan, too, was off the bed and onto his feet, sweeping Amelia behind him with one arm while he drew his pistol from his belt and aimed it at the intruder.
The hammer cocked under Duncan’s thumb. The whole world seemed to standstillas Amelia stared across the room at Beth’s husband, Craig—trapped in a stranglehold with a knife to his throat.
Chapter Nine
Duncan, evidently, had recovered. Amelia, however, thought it might be her turn to take to the bed, for she was certain she was about to faint dead away at his feet.
“What’s happening here?” he asked in a deep and threatening voice. Hestillheld the pistol aimed at Craig, and his gaze flicked from Beth to the old man, then settled darkly on Angus, who kept Craig under control with the sharp point of his dagger. “Who are these people?”
Angus spoke to him in a clear voice. “I saw your horse outside, but this one I’m holding by the neck told me he never saw you, that he had no visitors. I knew he was lying to me, so I thought I’d take a look for myself.”
“Of course I was lying,” Craig ground out. “This man and woman are under my protection. I didn’t know who thehellyou were, and Istilldon’t, you bluidy bastard. So until I do, you can rot inhell.”
Duncan turned his head slightly, as if to ascertain that Amelia was safe behind him.
“I’m fine,” she said. “These people gave us care. Truly.
You have my word.”
He reached up and fingered the pasty salve on his head, then sniffed the concoction.
“They helped theEnglishwoman,” Angus corrected in his usual antagonistic tone. “And I wouldn’t be surprised to see a troop of redcoatsgallopinginto the stable yard any minute now.”
Duncan had not yet lowered his pistol. She noticed his long fingers close around the handle of his axe.
The old man glared petulantly at Angus. He raised his cane off the floor and pointed it at him. “Who are you, to break down this door and accuse this family of English sympathies?”
“I’m this man’s friend,” Angus replied, tossing a glance in Duncan’s direction, “and he needs me to watch his back because he has more than a few enemies lurking about. Like this one here.” He gestured toward Amelia.
“I brought him here to save his life,” she argued. “Hecollapsedin the woods.”
“It’s no wonder,” Angus said. “You clubbed him in the head with a rock.”
Al eyes turned to her. She met Beth’s disappointed gaze, and her heart sank.
“Is that true, Amelia?” Beth asked. “Did you strike him down? Are you his enemy?”
She struggled to find the best way to explain herself. “Not exactly.”
