Captured by the Highlander (33 page)

Father Douglas arrived at Fort
William
on a Wednesday. His coach, drawn by three impressive chestnut geldings,
rolled
through the
village
of Maryburgh and passed through the fortress gates at noon. He was greeted by a young sentry, then escorted into the officers’ mess for a hot meal of pork stew and rye bread,
followed
by fruitcake and sweet cream for dessert.

He had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Worthington in his private chambers after the midday meal. The colonel offered him a glass of claret and informed him that the Butcher of the Highlands had been tried for treason that morning and had been found guilty.

His sentence was as
followed
: He would be removed from Fort
William
in five days. He would then be transported to the Tolbooth in Edinburgh, where he would remain, incarcerated, for twenty-seven days. On the twenty-eighth day, he would be hanged.

Colonel Worthington was against such a public and lavish display. He believed there would be a riot, not to mention the fact that the risk of escape during the transfer was too great.

He believed the Butcher should be put to death at Fort
William
as quickly as possible, but sadly, politics prevailed and the King’s advisors wished otherwise. They’d communicated their instructions for the Butcher’s imminent capture and death six months ago.

“It is why I am a soldier and not a politician,” the colonel said with a heavy sigh as he sipped his claret. “I have no interest in showmanship. I want only results, without such pointless fanfare.”

Later that evening, Father Douglas was escorted to the prison by two heavily armed guards. They unlocked the
cell
door and waited outside while he heard the Butcher’s confession.

* * *

The
following
morning, a whistle blew. Two guards woke inside a prison
cell
, chained to a
wall
. Their heads were throbbing, their weapons gone. A third guard dashed through the corridor to the Butcher’s
cell
. “Wake up, you cockeyed fools!” While the two soldiers sat up groggily, the one outside fumbled with his keys, dropped them on the floor, bent to pick them up, then unlocked the Butcher’s door and pushed it open.

His wide-eyed gaze
fell
upon the priest, Father Douglas, chained to the
wall
and gagged with a wad of green tartan.

He was fast asleep and wore nothing but his linen shirt. His robes were gone.

The guard hurried to free him. He unlocked the manacles and
pulled
the gag out of the priest’s mouth. “Are you
all
right, Father Douglas?”

Father Douglas pressed a hand to the back of his head and groaned. “My word, someone must have clubbed me.”

Then he noticed his current state of undress. “Why am I half-naked? Where are my robes?”

The guard looked around in dismay. “It appears you’ve been robbed, Father.”

“By whom?”

“Who else but the Butcher?”

Father Douglas frowned up at the guard. “But I came here to listen to his confession. He was shackled to this
wall
and was supposed to be on death’s door. How could he have accomplished such a feat? And where is he now?”

The guard helped Father Douglas to his feet. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say he’s halfway to Ireland.”

“I suppose I should be thankful,” Father Douglas said, “that he took my robes and nothing else. I’m relieved to discover that I am
still
in possession of my head.”

“The Almighty must have been watching over you,” the guard said.

“Though it appears He was watching over someone else, too—the prisoner who just escaped.”

The guard helped Father Douglas out of the
cell
. “Have no worries, Father. Justice
will
prevail. It always does where
villains
are concerned.”

They slowly made their way up the stairs. “But we’re on Scottish soil, young man. Some might take issue with your opinions and
call
the Butcher a hero.”

“And you, Father? What would you
call
him?”

He took a long time to consider the question; then he chuckled. “I am inside an English prison, but I am
still
a Scot by blood. So I suppose I
will
simply
call
him lucky.”

* * *

Sitting at the edge of the glade not far from the MacKenzies’cottage, on the banks of a cool, babbling brook, Amelia tried to make sense of the extraordinary events of her life. A few days ago, she had fled from an English garrison where Duncan was incarcerated, leaving him behind—alone—al
l
the while hoping that she might find the help she needed in order to free him.

Now she sat by this stream in the Scottish interior, praying that her plan had not gone awry and that Duncan would somehow survive.

She lifted her eyes and looked around. This was the very place they had stopped after escaping the English soldiers at Loch Fannich. It was where she had first seen Duncan in a different light, just before he
collapsed
at her feet as a result of the head wound she had inflicted upon him. She had run off and left him alone that night, too, in search of help from others.

Something caught her eye at that moment—a flash of gray on the other side of the stream.
Duncan?
Her heart skipped a beat, however, as she recognized the visitor.

Strangely unafraid, Amelia sat motionless. The wolf sniffed around and soon caught Amelia in her gaze.

How odd and incredible to again be so close to a creature of the wild. Amelia wished she had something to offer the wolf but knew that would be a mistake, because it would only encourage her to return and perhaps discover that the MacKenzies had a stable
full
of plump, juicy animals.

But it was not wrong to enjoy the wolf’s company, Amelia decided, while she marveled at the fact that she felt so very safe in her presence.

Suddenly, however, the wolf lifted her head. Her ears pricked; then she darted in the other direction. She flew into the bush and vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Amelia to wonder if she had imagined the entire thing.

The forest grew quiet again until a clear rustling began behind her,
followed
by the sound of hooves on the moss.

She turned quickly and stood.

Was she dreaming? Twice now had her eyes deceived her?

No, this was real. She was looking at Duncan, fierce and dangerous, sitting atop a chestnut gelding, dressed in his familiar green tartan. His thick sable hair was wild and windblown, his left hand wrapped in a splint. His eye was
still
blackened but less swol
l
en. He looked almost himself again, and he was alive. He was free.

“You’re here,” he said, in that deep Scottish brogue she had come to know so
well
. His expression was stern.

She could not speak. Her heart was racing, for despite
all
the pleasures they had shared and her knowledge of his wealth and aristocratic blood, he was
still
a brutish and intimidating beast of a man when he wished to be.

She
swall
owed hard and forced words past her lips, for she was not about to let him break her. He had never managed to do it before, and he was not going to do it now.

“Yes. And you got away.”

“From the English—aye.” He tossed a leg over the back of the horse and swung himself to the ground. “I was told you played a role in the plan to break me out of there. That it was your idea to bring Father Douglas to my
cell
so he could lend me his robes.”

She wet her lips. “Yes. And he was happy to oblige.”

“But you shouldn’t have taken that risk, lass. If anyone finds out, there
will
be a price on your head. You could be charged with treason.” His eyes flashed with anger. “What were you thinking? You put yourself in harm’s way, and it makes me want to tie you up again, lass, just to keep you safe and contained.”

Amelia glowered at him. “Contained? Honestly, Duncan, you
still
think I am that naïve, frightened captive who needs your worldly wisdom and protection. What
will
it take to convince you that I am no longer that woman? I have learned a great deal about the world, and I am absolutely self-sufficient. I left you, didn’t I? I was not afraid to walk out and live my life on my own terms. So do not dare to ask me if I have stones in my head where my brain should be. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and doing what I think is best.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw, and his eyes narrowed.

“Woman, you make me wild. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I don’t real y care. You can be as wild as you wish to be. I
will
not be afraid of you.”

For a long moment he stared at her as if he was deciding whether or not he should argue; then he strode to the other side of the glade.

“Your plan worked
well
,” he said diffidently, and she breathed a sigh of relief, for it was a clear white flag. “Father Douglas was helpful, and he didn’t seem to mind the manacles too much.”

“And Fergus and Gawyn?” she asked, choosing not to gloat over her victory, for she knew how hard it was for Duncan to surrender this way. “Are they safe as
well
?”

“Aye. They escorted me out through the main gates, and as soon as we were clear of the
village
we left the coach behind and each took a horse. We thought it best to separate.”

“So that you’d be harder to track.”

“Aye. But if anyone finds out about this, lass…” He turned to face her, and his eyes communicated a warning.

She smiled. “I know, I know. There
will
be a price on my head. Have it your way, then. If that happens, I
will
need protection.”

“From a very powerful man.”

Amelia laughed. “Yes.”

At last he crossed to her and took hold of her upper arms.

“I owe you a great debt, lass. You were very brave, and you saved my life.”

She laughed in tearful disbelief. “And you saved mine.”

Ecstatic, rapturous, too happy to even think, she threw herself into his arms and nearly knocked him backwards onto the grass. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He regained his footing and held her tight. “And I thought I’d never see you again, but you must ease up on my ribs, lass.”

She stepped back, and they stood in the center of the sunny glade, staring at each other for the longest time. Then at last his mouth found hers, and he kissed her hungrily. His hands roamed over her body and ignited her desires.

“I don’t want to ever let go,” she said, holding his face in her hands. “I was miserable without you. It’s why I couldn’t leave Scotland, and why I asked my uncle to remain at the fort. I dreamed of you every night, and I wasn’t sure I had done the right thing when I left you. I wanted to go back and ask if we could begin again. I wanted to talk more about what happened with Richard—but then the news of his head in a bag arrived at the fort, and everyone was talking about the ferocious Butcher of the Highlands. I was confused, and then my uncle knocked on my door, and…” She could not finish the thought.

Duncan kissed her mouth, cheeks, and forehead. “You must know,” he explained, “the reason I was there at the cave that night was to surrender my shield. I told Angus that I wouldn’t do it any longer, that I would never take another life.

The last thing you said to me was that you couldn’t love someone who took a life and felt nothing. I wanted to
tell
you that I
do
feel things. Too much, in fact. Everything I’ve done
will
follow
me to my grave. I’ve felt wretched for a long time, but I didn’t know how to change it.”

She touched his cheek. “When I went to Moncrieffe in search of help, Iain and Josephine told me what happened between you and Angus, and I knew I had to get you out.”

She bowed her head. “I am so sorry for
all
of this. You would never have been captured if it weren’t for me.”

He shook his head. “Nay, lass. I’m not sorry for anything. If it hadn’t happened the way it did, I wouldn’t be here with you now, feeling worthy of your affections.”

She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

“But am I truly worthy, lass?” he asked when she withdrew from the kiss. “I broke the vow I made to you. I
killed
Richard Bennett.”

She looked at him with anguish in her heart. “I believe you had your reasons, Duncan, and you must somehow forgive yourself.” She spoke the words with conviction, although a part of her was
still
wary of him and probably always would be. He had lost control of himself and
killed
a man. He had
killed
many men.

“I did have my reasons,” he said, “but I need you to understand something, if we are going to be together.” He touched her cheek with the back of a finger, then strode to the water’s edge. “I learned something about Richard Bennett on the day I
killed
him,” he said, kneeling down and splashing water on his hands.

“What was that?”

He paused. “I learned that he and I were very similar, almost like mirror images of each other. The same, but opposite.”

“How so?”

“We were both warriors, both raised from birth to fight and survive and endure pain.”

She frowned. “But you are nothing like him, Duncan.

Because that man I almost married remembered his own pain, and he wanted to hurt others to make up for it, or to satisfy some dark hankering for revenge against the world.”

Duncan rose to his feet and faced her, so she continued.

“But I know now that the only thing you ever wanted was to prevent the suffering of others. You thought you wanted revenge, but what you real y wanted was to stop Bennett from doing
all
the bad things he wanted to do to good people.”

“Similar,” Duncan said, “but different.” He strode closer.

“But most of
all
, I couldn’t let him do those bad things to
you,
lass. I’ll never
tell
you the things he said before I took his life, but I did what I did to protect you.”

“You did it for me?” she asked,
still
feeling a
small
niggling of doubt, deep in her core.

“Aye.”

“But what about Muira?”

He stopped before Amelia and frowned. “What about her?”

Amelia looked away, toward a weeping
will
ow that dipped its branches into the water; then she slid her gaze back to Duncan’s face, marked with cuts and bruises. “When we were together one night, you told me that you did not want me to ever speak Muira’s name. I have felt your love for her between us, Duncan, but I cannot let it keep us apart any longer. I must understand how you feel about her, and about me.”

“There is nothing to understand,” he said, bewildered. “I loved her once, but she’s gone now. I know that.”

“But do you
still
love her?” Amelia asked. “And
will
you ever care for me the way you cared for her? Because I cannot compete with a ghost.”

“Compete?”
He looked at her as if she had just grown whiskers and a beard. “I don’t want you to compete, lass. I just want you, plain and simple.”

She sighed. “But that is exactly the problem, Duncan. You
want
me. You desire me. I’ve always known that, and I have enjoyed your passions as
well
as my own. There has never been any doubt that there is lust between us. But…”

“But what, lass?” He seemed genuinely confused.

She did not know how to say it, how to explain herself, how to make sense of this, or demand what she truly wanted.

Then Duncan grimaced and took her chin in his big hand and shook his head at her, as if she were completely daft. “I didn’t want to speak of Muira that night,” he said, “because I didn’t want to imagine losing you the way I lost her. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. That’s why I didn’t want to be reminded of it. But you’re the one I love now, lass, with
all
my heart. And if it weren’t for you, there’d be nothing left of me. At least now there’s something beating in my chest. I feel like I can final y have what I once wanted for myself—a peaceful woman for a wife, and a lusty one, too.”

“You love me?” she asked, realizing she’d not heard a single word he’d said after that little declaration.

“Aye, of course I love you, you ninny. Do you have stones in your head where your brain should be?”

She laughed out loud, but he was no longer listening. He was gathering her up into his arms, crushing her mouth to his in a fierce kiss that left her breathless with desire.

“I do love you, lass,” he said. “And I mean to keep you, too. Wil
l
you be my wife and never run from me again?”