Untamed (51 page)

Authors: Pamela Clare

But now she was out there somewhere, a captive of men who would not hesitate to do unimaginably cruel things to her.

As second in command of His Majesty’s forces in the colonies, William had heard all the tales—accounts of torture, maiming, rape. They’d always just been words on parchment to him, nothing more than the cost of war. This one burnt alive, that one beaten and sold, this one adopted and forced into heathen marriage.

But the thought of Sarah enduring such a fate…

In truth, William didn’t give one whit what happened to the other two captives so long as Sarah was returned to him alive and unscathed. MacKinnon had probably guessed as much. He’d seen the disgust on MacKinnon’s face when MacKinnon had heard that one of the captives was William’s niece.

For a moment, I thought you’d grown a heart.

How could William expect a man like MacKinnon to understand that Sarah was worth more than a thousand common frontierswomen?

“Pardon me, my lord.” Cooke’s voice came from the doorway.

William turned to face him. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Cooke bowed neatly. “I asked local churches to hold observances this evening so that prayers might be said for your niece. Services at St. Peter’s begin in half an hour.”

“Well done. Thank you.” It was then William remembered he was in a state of undress, his wig sitting forgotten on his desk, his coat draped over a chair with his cravat.

“If I may be of any assistance, my lord…”

William gave a consenting nod, his gaze drawn back to the window.

“Don’t worry, my lord. Major MacKinnon will find her.”

C
onnor took a sip of rum, trying to read the letter Morgan had sent him by firelight. He knew what it said by heart, but still cherished each word, the news it held warming him more than the fire. Morgan was now a father twice over. His bonnie wife, Amalie, had come through a difficult travail and borne him twin sons. Morgan had named one of the wee bairns Connor Joseph in honor of Connor. Och, aye, and in honor of Joseph, too.

“His mother is Indian.” Joseph smiled and puffed out his chest like a tom turkey, feathers and all. “He’ll be a warrior like me.”

Connor lifted his gaze from the parchment. “She’s only one quarter Indian. The rest of her is French, aye? He’s a MacKinnon. He’ll be bonnie and braw—like me.”

They’d been having this wee argie-bargie since Morgan’s letter had arrived two days ago and were clearly no nearer to resolving their difference of opinion. Knowing it was time to sleep, Connor folded the letter and carefully stowed it with his gear.

Joseph sat on the bed of spruce boughs beside him. “What do you expect she’s like?”

“Who?”

“Lady Sarah Woodville. Wentworth showed you a likeness of her.”

“She looked like a spoiled princess, unable to do a thing for herself. She’ll likely be after us to serve her tea and crumpets on the way back to Albany.” Connor lay down, his feet toward the fire, the anger he’d felt all through the day spilling out. “Wentworth never gave a damn when other women were taken. He had Iain nearly flayed alive for savin’ Annie. But when his niece is stolen…”

Connor let the thought go unfinished. There was no need to explain.

“She is not to blame.” Joseph lay down and drew the bear skin up over both of them, his body pressed against Connor’s for warmth. “Whatever Wentworth has done—she is innocent.”

Connor closed his eyes. “Och, would you let a man sleep!”

A vague sense of guilt stirred in his chest. He quashed it.

The lass’s kin had laid waste to the Highlands, shedding MacKinnon blood, and her uncle had enslaved Iain through deceit. What kind of woman could spring from the loins of a clan such as that? Whatever else she might be, it wasn’t innocent.

But the image of Lady Sarah, young and beautiful, was there before him and would not leave his mind. And in his dreams she was weeping.

PAMELA CLARE
began her writing career as an investigative reporter and columnist, working her way up the newsroom ladder to become the first woman editor of two different newspapers. Along the way, she and her team won numerous state and national journalism awards, including the 2000 National Journalism Award for Public Service and the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Colorado Society of Professional Journalists. A single mother with two sons, she lives in Colorado at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Visit her website at
www.pamelaclare.com
.