Rage detonated in Duncan’s brain. There were flashes of light, an ungodly roar from somewhere over the treetops, and the next thing he knew he was staring down at Richard Bennett’s head at his feet.
The body tipped forward andfellinto him. He shoved it away, then stumbled backwards onto a tree. He dropped his axe to the ground, stared intently at the head and its headless body …
He quickly bent over to expel the contents of his stomach.
A few minutes later, he was standing on the other side of the clearing with his back to the red-coated corpse, looking up at the trees. He had no idea how long he stood there before Fergus and Gawyn camegallopingalong. He heard the vague sound of their voices, then felt a hand on his shoulder.
“What happened here?”
He met Gawyn’s eyes. “Bennett’s dead.”
“Aye, we noticed.”
Fergus was kneeling over the body. “Nice work, Duncan.
But how’d he escape in the first place? You don’t think it was Lady Amelia who set him free?”
Duncan pointed at Fergus from across the distance. “Say that again, Fergus, and you’llwish you were never born.”
“I’llnot say another word about it!” He raised his hands in surrender.
“What are we going to do with him?” Gawyn casual y asked.
Duncan returned to the body and looked down at it, and felt as if he were spinning into thehellish storm of his recent life—a storm that had never real y moved out. Part of him was disgusted by what he had done, but another part felt satisfied. Deeply satisfied. He was drunk with thefulfillment of his vengeance.
What did that make him?
Stalking to his horse, he removed the empty saddlebag and handed it to Gawyn. “Put the head in this bag and take it to Kinloch Castle. Deliver it to the Laird MacDonald with a note saying that this is the English soldier whokilledhis daughter. Don’t let anyone see your face.”
“But whowillI say did this?”
Duncan stared at him and experienced a moment of great clarity.
“The Butcher.” He scooped up his axe and swung himself into the saddle. “Get rid of the body. He cannot be found on Moncrieffe land.”
With that final order, Duncan kicked in his heels andgallopeddeeper into the forest, in a direction that took him farther away from the castle.
* * *
The search for Colonel Bennett continued for the next twelve hours, though Duncan did not take part. Nor did he return to the castle. Instead, he rode alone to the banks of Loch Shiel, reined in his horse, dismounted, and waded into the frigid waters—kilt, pistol, claymore, andall. He kept walking until the water reached over his head, then dunked himself and remained there, submerged, his feet on the muddy floor of the loch, feeling utterly content to beswallowed up by the dark, bitterchill.
When he final y noticed an urgent need to breathe, he broke the surface, sucked air deep into his lungs, then unbuckled his weapons and let everything sink to the bottom.
He treaded water for a moment, immersed to the neck in the cold, then gave himself up to the gentle current. Without the weight of the steel, his feet lifted. His eyes closed and he floated on theswells, dimly aware of the fact that he was drifting farther and farther away from shore.
He thought of Amelia and knew this would bring on the inevitable disappointment he had been anticipating since the beginning. It wouldfallas heavy as an anvil and crush everything. He had broken his vow to her, and she might verywellview it as a violation of their marriage agreement. She might even leave him and expose him as the rebel that he was.
Strangely, however, he felt no despair, no aching regret over what he had done.allhe felt currently was the cool water lapping up against his skin and the sway of his tartan, floating lightlyallaround him.
Was this the peace he had been searching for? Perhaps.
Though he did not feel triumphant, nor did he wish to celebrate. His bones were going numb. He felt almost nothing atall, as if he were not a man but a mere element of the lake. He was composed of water, and he was floating.
Then he began to shiver and realized it was a stupid thought. He was very much a man with hot, pulsing blood in his veins—blood that was growing colder by the minute. He swam back to shore, staggered heavily out of the water, andcollapsedonto his back on the pebbly beach, shivering.
He stared up at the white sky for a while, then found himself gazing up into two round, black holes.
Turner’s flaring nostrils …
