the colonel,” Malcolm offered. “Unless he’s bathing, too.”
“Do you suppose it’s some sort of English ritual?” Mary asked, peering over Leitis’s shoulder.
“If it is,” Leitis said, “I doubt it’s repeated in winter.”
“They’d freeze their…” After a quick look at Malcolm’s frown, Ada’s words stuttered to a halt.
“Well, we have to do something,” Leitis said. “We can’t simply stand here gaping.”
“I’d rethink my words, lass,” Malcolm said, frowning. “It’s the three of you who are acting all ninny-like.”
Leitis squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, stepped forward before she could lose her nerve. A man walking across the courtyard halted and stared at her. He approached her slowly, as if he feared she was only a vision.
“I need to speak with the colonel,” she said resolutely. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her chin tilted up.
“You want to see the Butcher?” His accent was difficult for her to understand; the look in his eyes was not.
He had a thin, almost wolfish face, his grin revealing childlike nubbins of teeth and gums that were red and inflamed. His white shirt was stained and gaped open to reveal a hairy chest. It was evident he had not yet taken advantage of the bath.
“The Butcher?” she asked faintly.
“The Butcher of Inverness. The new commander.”
“No, the colonel,” she said, shaking her head. The man who saved the village could not be the Butcher of Inverness.
“That’s the one,” he said, nodding. He looked, she thought dully, pleased at her shock.
The Butcher of Inverness. They had all heard tales of the man. Those Scots who had escaped the slaughter of Culloden had been imprisoned at Inverness,only to be sent to their deaths on a whim. It was said that the Butcher would spare a prisoner because it amused him, or send him to the gallows because of the look in a man’s eye.
The Butcher of Inverness? Her stomach clenched, and Leitis felt as if she might be ill.
The knock on the door was not unexpected, nor was Donald’s face. His words, however, were a surprise.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but we’ve got trouble.”
Donald had been with him ever since Flanders, having joined the army filled with dreams of grandeur and far-off battles. At first his light blond hair, rosy cheeks, and eagerness to please had marked him as barely out of boyhood. But in the past year Donald had been promoted to sergeant and lost the last of his innocence. There were times when his smile was a bit too forced and his laughter had an edge to it. The effect of Inverness, no doubt.
“What is it?” Alec asked.
Donald stepped inside the room. “Sir, there’s a group of Scots in the courtyard, and there are women among them. It’s almost a riot.”
By the time Donald had finished his sentence, Alec was putting on his coat and out the door.
Four Scots stood surrounded by at least thirty men in various stages of undress. One elderly woman was holding her hands clenched to her chest and one old man looked ready for a fight. But it was the younger women the crowd was concentrating on, and one of those women was Leitis.
She took a few steps back to avoid one man’s touch, only to bump into another man behind her. The man laughed as he pulled both her arms backward.
“Please,” she said, “let us go.”
“Give me a kiss and maybe I will,” the man in front of her said.
“Evidently you have a great deal of time on your hands, Sergeant,” Alec said curtly. “However, I can think of a number of tasks to occupy your time, none of which includes terrorizing women.”
The soldiers surrounding Leitis and the other woman stepped back quickly when they realized that they had been overheard.
“Begging your pardon, Colonel,” the sergeant said. “But she’s a Scot.”
It had been a long day; he had been in the saddle since dawn. Surely that was the only reason for the anger that nearly overpowered him then. It was too
“Do you suppose it’s some sort of English ritual?” Mary asked, peering over Leitis’s shoulder.
“If it is,” Leitis said, “I doubt it’s repeated in winter.”
“They’d freeze their…” After a quick look at Malcolm’s frown, Ada’s words stuttered to a halt.
“Well, we have to do something,” Leitis said. “We can’t simply stand here gaping.”
“I’d rethink my words, lass,” Malcolm said, frowning. “It’s the three of you who are acting all ninny-like.”
Leitis squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, stepped forward before she could lose her nerve. A man walking across the courtyard halted and stared at her. He approached her slowly, as if he feared she was only a vision.
“I need to speak with the colonel,” she said resolutely. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her chin tilted up.
“You want to see the Butcher?” His accent was difficult for her to understand; the look in his eyes was not.
He had a thin, almost wolfish face, his grin revealing childlike nubbins of teeth and gums that were red and inflamed. His white shirt was stained and gaped open to reveal a hairy chest. It was evident he had not yet taken advantage of the bath.
“The Butcher?” she asked faintly.
“The Butcher of Inverness. The new commander.”
“No, the colonel,” she said, shaking her head. The man who saved the village could not be the Butcher of Inverness.
“That’s the one,” he said, nodding. He looked, she thought dully, pleased at her shock.
The Butcher of Inverness. They had all heard tales of the man. Those Scots who had escaped the slaughter of Culloden had been imprisoned at Inverness,only to be sent to their deaths on a whim. It was said that the Butcher would spare a prisoner because it amused him, or send him to the gallows because of the look in a man’s eye.
The Butcher of Inverness? Her stomach clenched, and Leitis felt as if she might be ill.
The knock on the door was not unexpected, nor was Donald’s face. His words, however, were a surprise.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but we’ve got trouble.”
Donald had been with him ever since Flanders, having joined the army filled with dreams of grandeur and far-off battles. At first his light blond hair, rosy cheeks, and eagerness to please had marked him as barely out of boyhood. But in the past year Donald had been promoted to sergeant and lost the last of his innocence. There were times when his smile was a bit too forced and his laughter had an edge to it. The effect of Inverness, no doubt.
“What is it?” Alec asked.
Donald stepped inside the room. “Sir, there’s a group of Scots in the courtyard, and there are women among them. It’s almost a riot.”
By the time Donald had finished his sentence, Alec was putting on his coat and out the door.
Four Scots stood surrounded by at least thirty men in various stages of undress. One elderly woman was holding her hands clenched to her chest and one old man looked ready for a fight. But it was the younger women the crowd was concentrating on, and one of those women was Leitis.
She took a few steps back to avoid one man’s touch, only to bump into another man behind her. The man laughed as he pulled both her arms backward.
“Please,” she said, “let us go.”
“Give me a kiss and maybe I will,” the man in front of her said.
“Evidently you have a great deal of time on your hands, Sergeant,” Alec said curtly. “However, I can think of a number of tasks to occupy your time, none of which includes terrorizing women.”
The soldiers surrounding Leitis and the other woman stepped back quickly when they realized that they had been overheard.
“Begging your pardon, Colonel,” the sergeant said. “But she’s a Scot.”
It had been a long day; he had been in the saddle since dawn. Surely that was the only reason for the anger that nearly overpowered him then. It was too
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