Captured by the Highlander (4 page)

* * *

The fast-approaching Royal North British Dragoons were spotted in the distance by a young soldier, who was positioned on Fort
William
’s high north
wall
. “Colonel Bennett returns!” he shouted, and there was a flurry of activity in the courtyard below. Groomsmen hastened to fil buckets from water barrels, and foot soldiers lined up with their muskets on their shoulders, the straps of their haversacks slung across their chests.

The thunderous rumble of hooves signaled the time to open the gates, and the impressive mounted regiment of soldiers
galloped
into the fort.

Lieutenant-colonel Richard Bennett was the first to dismount. He withdrew the important contents of his saddlebags, then handed his horse over to a groomsman.

Striding toward Colonel Worthington’s quarters, Richard
pulled
off his gloves and removed his cavalry helmet.

His saber bounced against his thigh as he walked with single-minded purpose to address Worthington, for he had news to report. He’d burned another crofter’s cottage, where he’d found maps, weapons, and letters from a number of known Jacobites.

A moment later, Richard was received by his commander.

He was not prepared, however, for the unsettling image before him when he stepped through the door.

The snowy-haired Duke of Winslowe was seated in a chair, and the colonel was standing over him with a glass of brandy, which the duke seemed
unwilling
or unable to accept, because he was too distraught.

“Thank God you’re back,” Worthington said, turning from Winslowe. “Something dreadful has occurred, and we
will
need to rely on both your discretion and your resolve to set things right, Bennett.”

“You have my utmost cooperation, Colonel Worthington.”

“It concerns Lady Amelia.”

Worthington paused, and Richard
swall
owed heavily, bracing himself for the news that the colonel seemed reluctant to report. “What has occurred?”

The commanding officer breathed deeply, then at last conveyed the details. “Your betrothed was abducted last night.”

Richard stood motionless, clenching his jaw, until he could locate the composure and self-control required to speak calmly. “Abducted? By whom?”

“There is evidence to suggest it was the Butcher of the Highlands.”

Richard’s upper lip twitched. He took a step forward. “You are
telling
me that that savage has taken
my
fiancée from inside the heavily guarded,
full
y garrisoned stone
wall
s of Fort
William
?”

The portly duke looked up at him and nodded. “My niece,”

he said. “My brother’s only daughter … I have known her since she was a babe in her mother’s arms. We must do something, Bennett. I was the one who brought her here, and if anything happens to that gel, I
will
never forgive myself.”

Barely able to see beyond the scarlet rage that was burning his eyes, Richard gripped the hilt of his sword and backed away. “Who is responsible for this? Who was on duty last night?”

They both watched him with concern, and when they did not answer quickly enough, he shouted at them both, “
Who,
dammit!”

“They’re
all
dead,” the colonel replied.

Richard backed away toward the door. “I
will
find her,” he said. “And when I do, I
will
cut that Jacobite traitor into a hundred pieces. Not just for Amelia’s honor, but for my king and country as
well
.”

Richard strode out of the room, crushing instantly the flicker of distress that had lodged in his gut, for he was not the kind of man who gave in to such weakness.

* * *

Amelia sat on the floor of the cave, fighting against an overwhelming sense of defeat. No matter how hard she tugged and wrenched at the thin ropes binding her wrists, she could not free herself. She was trapped like a helpless fawn in a wolf’s den, and soon her captor would return and do what he’d wanted to do to her
all
along, since the moment he’d crept into her fiancé’s bedchamber. Then suddenly Duncan was there before her, kneeling down,
pulling
a knife from his boot. Terror exploded inside her.

“
Please,
” she said, tugging harder and more desperately at the bonds. “If you possess the
smallest
shred of humanity, you
will
let me go. You must.”

He raised the knife in the dim light, and just when she thought he was going to cut her throat, he sliced through her bonds instead. They dropped lightly to the ground.

“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” He took both her hands in his and held them up to inspect the undersides of her wrists.

“I admire your tenacity, but look what you’ve done to yourself.”

A thin trail of blood was dripping down her arm. He reached for a cloth, dipped it into the pot of water that hung on a hook over the unlit fire, and touched it to her wrists.

Gently he washed the blood away.

“Are you going to
kill
me?” she asked, glancing uneasily at the sword he carried. “Because if I am to be put to death, I wish to know.”

He remained focused on what he was doing. “I’m not going to
kill
you.”

She was grateful for the information, certainly, but was
still
a far cry from feeling reassured.

“What about the other Highlander?” she asked. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.” She glanced toward the mouth of the cave.

“You’re right. He detests the very ground you walk on.” The Butcher folded the cloth and continued to wipe her forearm with the cleaner side of it.

“Why? Because I am English? Or is it because I am engaged to Colonel Bennett?”

Duncan paused. “I reckon both those things make him want to murder you where you stand.”

The cloth touched a tender spot, and Amelia snapped her hand back.

Duncan looked at her intently, and somehow without a single word he persuaded her with his eyes to endure the discomfort without complaint. She found herself responding, as if she were being lured into obedience.

“Why do you both hate my fiancé so much?” she asked, striving to keep her mind sharp and clear while she offered her hand to Duncan again. She watched the water run in shiny rivulets over her raw, chafed flesh and focused on the movements of his hands. “What did he ever do to you, besides fight for our King in this war?”

Duncan’s eyes flashed up. “
Our
King? Are you referring to the wee German laddie who sits on your throne like a puppet to parliament and speaks French?”

“He is the rightful King of Great Britain,” she argued.

“Which—in case you are not aware—according to the Act of Union, includes Scotland. But that is beside the point. It is my betrothed who is your target. Why?”

“It’s not a topic I mean to discuss with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I doubt it’s something you’d want to hear.”

She shifted on her knees. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s the reason you took me prisoner.”

The Butcher’s eyes lifted, and he studied her careful y.

“Aye, but are you sure you want to know
everything
about your fiancé? It might change how you feel about him.
all
your romantic dreams of your handsome Prince Charming on a fine white
stallion
would be crushed. Then what would you do? You wouldn’t know east from west.”

“Of course I am sure,” she replied, refusing to be daunted by his patronizing tone. “Besides, there is nothing you can say that
will
change how I feel, because I know in my heart that Richard is a brave and noble soldier in this war. It is unfortunate that he is your enemy, but he does his duty for his country—that is
all
.”

Duncan finished tending her wounds,
balled
up the cloth, and tossed it into the pot. “Al right, then. I
’ll
tell
you the reason why you’re here, though I cannot give you
all
the particulars, because it’s best if you don’t know the identities of the people involved. But what you need to know is this: Your betrothed is a tyrant, a rapist, and a murderer of innocent women and children. He’d burn every peaceful homestead in Scotland if he could.”

She sat back and scoffed. “That is ridiculous. You are obviously mistaken.”

“Nay, I am not.” The Butcher rose to his feet and crossed to the other side of the cave where the food was stored. He seemed to be evaluating her expression in the dim light.

Amelia shook her head. “Yes, you are. I
know
Richard. He is a good man and an honorable soldier. He served under my father, who was also a good man and an
excellent
judge of character. He would never have given our engagement his blessing if Richard were unscrupulous. My father loved me and cared for me very much. He wanted me to be safe and happy. That’s
all
he ever wanted, so you are wrong.”

He had to be.

“I am not wrong.”

“Yes, you are.” She watched him tear off a hunk of bread from a loaf he withdrew from a basket. He crossed the cave and held it out to her.

“And you are a fine one to accuse another man of being a tyrant and a murderer,” she said, accepting the bread. “You are the Butcher of the Highlands. Your acts of brutality are legendary, and I’ve seen them with my own eyes. Not only did you kidnap me, but you
killed
Lord knows how many soldiers on the way into my bedchamber, and you
full
y intended to chop off Richard’s head once you got there. So I
will
not hear any more of this fictitious talk. You
will
not convince me that he is a tyrant when clearly I am looking at the very essence of tyranny, right here.”

She stuffed the bread into her mouth and only then realized, with some anxiety, how boldly she had just spoken to the infamous Butcher.

He watched her chew and
swall
ow, then turned in silence to the basket of food. He tore off another hunk of bread.

For a long time he said nothing, and she was uncomfortably aware of the massive broadsword at his side and the inconceivable strength in those muscular arms and shoulders.

Despite the fact that he was her enemy, she could not fail to acknowledge the inarguable truth that he was a magnificent specimen of manhood, a born warrior. In the field, she had been completely incapacitated by him, while he had seemed almost
pleased
with her efforts to fight him.

That was probably what had prompted her to surrender.

But when he’d washed the blood off her arm just now, he’d shown that he was at least capable of some kindness.

“Get up,” he said, with his back to her. “I’m in need of sleep.”

“And what
will
you do with me while you are sleeping?” she asked.
«Will
you tie me up again? What if the other Highlander returns?”

She glanced uneasily at the cave entrance, which had grown bright with a shimmering morning mist, while the Butcher moved deeper into the den toward a bed of fur at the back.

“You
’ll
be lying beside me, lass, nice and close.”

Amelia tensed immediately. “I
will
not.”

“You have no choice in the matter.” He removed his leather scabbard and sword and placed it—along with the pistol—on the ground next to the fur. “Come to bed.”

Come to bed?

“I am a virgin,” she blurted out in a rush. “I do not know if that means anything to you, it probably doesn’t, but I would like to remain so.”

He regarded her with displeasure. “You’re saving yourself for Bennett?”

She wished there were another way to answer the question—a way that would not stoke the fires of his vengeance—but there was not. “Yes, I wish to save myself for marriage.”

His eyes turned toward the light outside the cave, as if he was careful y contemplating her reply.

“If you leave me with my virtue,” she added, “I promise I
will
…” She was not quite sure what to offer in return for such an act of kindness on his part. “I
will
give you five hundred pounds. Or rather, my uncle
will
.”

Surely her guardian would honor that settlement.

The Butcher’s eyes narrowed. “Save your negotiating. I’ve already decided to ask for much more than that.”

She was pleased at least to be getting somewhere, to be speaking of practicalities regarding her release. “So it’s ransom you want, then? In cash? Or land? Do you want a title? Because I am not sure my uncle has the power to grant that, but he could certainly—”

“I want no land, lass, nor do I seek a title.”

“Then what
do
you want?”

The silence grew sharp and edgy while he stood in the gray hue of the morning light. “I want your betrothed to come and fetch you.”

“So that you can
kill
him.”

“Aye, but it
’ll
be a fair fight. I
’ll
let him defend himself before I cut him in half. Now, get up and come to me.” He sat down on the fur with his back to the
wall
. “It’s been a long night and I’m weary of talk. I want your warm body next to me, to ward off the
chill
in my bones.”

She stood and approached him. “Are you not worried that I might slip your dagger from your boot and slit
your
throat the moment you
fall
asleep?”

The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, as if he were amused by the notion. “I
’ll
wrap my arms around you, nice and tight, and keep you very close—so if you move so much as a hair on that pretty head of yours, I
’ll
feel it.” He grinned.

“I
’ll
feel it right here, under my kilt.”

She glanced around the cave and wished there were a way she could somehow avoid lying next to him—because she knew very
well
what he kept hidden under that kilt—but resigned herself to the fact that such hopes were futile. She had no choice but to surrender to the inevitable. She would have to lie next to him and try to sleep, for however long she could.

She sank to her knees, then stretched out on the soft fur.

He lounged behind her with his back to the
wall
and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Her heart began to pound faster at the intimacy of their position as he
pulled
her close. She’d never lain in bed with a man before, not even Richard. He was too much of a gentleman to suggest any such thing before marriage. But here she lay this morning, with a huge Highlander pressed up against her backside.

He nuzzled her hair with his nose, and his touch sent tingles of awareness up and down her arms and legs.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I cannot help it. I’m cold.”

But it was so much more than that. He was sexual y bold.

Decency and decorum meant nothing to him, and every move he made caused her to lose her breath. It
all
seemed carnal and primitive, beyond anything she’d ever imagined would happen to her in her proper, civilized life.

She realized suddenly that nothing in that life would ever be the same again. Not after this.

He inched forward, nestling his hips closer. Her heart quickened.

“You
’ll
warm up soon enough,” he said. “And you can stop your shivering. I
’ll
not be groping you this morning, lass. I told you I was weary.”

She tried to relax, but her body would not stop shaking. “I suppose I should thank you.…”

“
Thank
me,” he said with surprise, lifting his head.

“Yes. For not depriving me of my virtue. I am grateful for that at least. Thank you.”

He chuckled and tucked his knees into the backs of hers, then nuzzled the side of her head again.

“You shouldn’t be too quick to thank me, lass,” he said in a voice that grew quieter as he began to drift off. “Because I never promised you
that.
”