Page 13 of Keeping Kate
“I know you do not want to speak to me after—what happened,” he went on. “But I am your best ally just now.”
Kate rolled her eyes a little in silence.
“Captain,” the sergeant said. “No use talking to her. She may only know the Highland tongue. You are of the Highland Watch—do ye know the Irish tongue? She might speak to you if so.”
“I have not used Gaelic since I was in breech-cloths on my nurse’s knee,” Alec said. “And I would wager she has English but refuses to speak in any language. Is it so, lass?” he murmured.
Kate sighed, lowering her head. He felt a deep tug in his heart.
“It is an amazement she has lasted this long,” the sergeant called.
“Highland stubbornness,” Alec murmured. He wanted to reach out, tear those chains away. But she sent him a bitter, furious glare. If he tried to help her, she would likely struggle and hurt herself, weak as she was.
“Ask her why she was spying on Wade’s troops,” the sergeant said. “Colonel Grant wants to know. She is working with Jacobites, though she could be just a harlot plying her trade who was caught in an officer’s tent. D’you think so, sir?”
Hearing the sly question, Alec did not comment. “How has she been treated otherwise since her capture? Do not mistake the question, Sergeant.”
“Well enough, and I take your meaning.”
“See it stays that way. Kate,” he said. “Talk to me.” He touched her shoulder.
She jerked away from his touch, but sagged at the knees so that her arms were pulled up sharply by the chains embedded in the wall. Alec grabbed her and held her up to support her. She leaned against him, subdued, and mewed a little like a kitten. His heart ached, his fury rose. He had to take her out of here now.
“For love of God, lass, tell them something,” he whispered.
“Hey, Captain, no one should be helping the wench!”
Alec looked up. “Sergeant, this punishment is useless. She cannot tell us anything in this condition.” He felt her push weakly against him. “Be still, blast it. I am trying to save you,” he hissed.
“Colonel warned us that she would try to fool us into pitying her. She is a Jezebel, sir. Though I do feel sorry for her m’self. But the Colonel ordered--”
“I am changing those orders,” Alec snapped. “This treatment is ended, Sergeant, as of now.” He had seen enough, heard enough, and would not tolerate it longer.
“But the colonel outranks you,” the man blustered.
“Ethics, sir,” Alec said. “Moral obligation. The colonel can be charged with cruelty if she dies of this treatment without a sentence of death. Get in here and unlock these chains immediately. Now, sir!”
He slid an arm around the girl's shoulders and caught her up, lifting her easily. The sergeant, after a moment, hastened in, muttering about the trouble he would have from Grant. But he unlocked the cuffs and stood back.
Carrying her across the cell, Alec knelt and set her down on the straw. She was limp as a rag doll. He removed his red jacket and swept it over her to cover her, and saw then that her feet, through damp cotton stockings, were swollen.
“The blood has pooled in her feet and legs,” he said tersely. “She must lie prone and rest, or die of apoplexy.”
“But she is a healthy thing, sir. Pretty as they come, strong too. She had best get back on her feet, or ‘tis my head to an onion, sir.”
“I will take the blame. Tell them I forced you. I do not care what you say. Bring for water, blankets, something hot, broth or tea if you have it over there.” Alec stood. “And find a woman to tend to her. There must be some local woman, an herb wife, anyone you can find in a hurry.”
“There is a housekeeper here at the castle.”
“See it done.” Alec reached into his sporran and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the soldier, who nodded.
“What should I tell Colonel Grant?”
“Tell him she’s no damn good to anyone if she dies.” Alec strode out of the cell, footsteps echoing in the corridor.
As he walked away, he heard slow clapping from the other cell. “Good man,” someone said. “Well done, sir.”
