Page 16 of Keeping Kate
”You have heard my decision,” Wade said firmly.
“We cannot trust him with her,” Grant snarled. “He was with the wench himself. She casts a spell over any man who comes near her. I barely escaped. She has bewitched Fraser. He will let her loose, and what then?”
Going to the door, Alec looked over his shoulder. “She is only a young woman. Whatever witchery you attribute to her is in your head, Grant. Or perhaps elsewhere.”
Wade huffed a laugh, while Grant sputtered. “You could be a spy just like your doxy, Captain Fraser. You are both Highland stock. There is hardly a Highlander on two feet who is not a Jacobite.”
“What of the Whiggish Campbells and their minions the Grants?” Alec asked.
“And you even more a traitor, being a kinsman of Lovat, who supports the crown and supports you too, I hear.”
Alec took a step forward, then forced himself to stop.
“Gentlemen! That will be all,” Wade interrupted. “Colonel, have you made arrangements for Cameron’s transfer south?”
“He is to be moved tonight,” Grant answered. “The man is a beast. This will not be easy.”
“See it done. Fraser, I suggest you be on hand to assist. It may take several men to load him into the cart if he protests. I do not know how many they will need to get him all the way south. We could use that potion Katie Hell used on her victims, eh? Fraser, do you speak the Irish tongue? You will need it with the Cameron fellow.”
“Some, sir. I will be there.” Alec saluted again and opened the door.
Kate pressedher back against the stone wall and watched the two men in the cell with her. Not long ago, guards had escorted the prisoners inside just as she woke, aching and groggy, from a dreamless sleep. Both men appeared to be sleeping, one stretched out snoring on the floor, the other slumped in a corner.
Shivering in the chill, she stretched, stiff and hurting after the hours of standing in chains. Darkness filled the cell. Nighttime. She had slept the day away.
Raising her knees and tucking her feet under her skirts, she glanced around warily. The prisoner on the floor was a Highlander, judging by his wrapped plaid. He lay with his back to her, long dark hair hiding his features. The other man, dressed in a brown coat and breeches, reclined in an opposite corner. He was staring at her.
Seeing her glance, he touched his brow in salutation. Kate glanced away.
Through the barred iron door, she saw the shadows of guards out in the corridor. Male voices sounded out there, beyond sight of the door of her cell.
The man in brown snorted. “Hey, come sit by me, girl.”
She ignored him, resting her head on her arms. She wanted to use the bucket in another corner provided for essential needs, but not with the man staring at her.
“Och, too good to talk to me, hey? Look, Donald, what they brought us!” With one foot, he poked the man on the floor. The Highlander did not respond.
The seated man shook his head. “Och, they near killed that lad afore they dragged him in here. I ‘spect he’s dead. Just thee and me, lass.”
Kate looked at the prone fellow in alarm. He lay motionless, and could well be dead rather than asleep. His plaid and long-limbed athletic build reminded her of her kinsmen, and that tugged at her heart even in her foggy state. Dropping to hands and knees, she crawled toward him and touched his shoulder.
“Sir? Are you well?” She spoke in Gaelic. He did not move, though she rocked the weight of his big body with a hand. “Sir?” she added in English.
“Gone for sure,” the seated man drawled. “Aye, thee and me for the noo, lassie.” He grinned, showing rotten teeth. “And I am glad o’ that.”
Kate scrambled backward toward the relative protection of the wall, pulling her knees up under her skirts, wrapping her arms around them. She had to find a way out of here, she thought desperately, looking around. The barred window was too high and narrow for escape, and the cell door, an iron framework, was latched and locked.
Then she recognized the style of the lock. She had some familiarity with the things, having spent many childhood hours in the company of the Duncrieff blacksmith. Given time and a small knife or scissors, she could loosen it, she thought. But she had nothing for the task. The few hairpins left in the tangled strands of her hair were silver and too pliable for the purpose.
The scruffy man still watched her, and after a moment, came toward her at a half-crouch. She glanced with dread toward the corridor. No guards were in sight.
“Hey, lass,” he cooed, sitting beside her. “Cold in here. Let me keep ye warm.” He put an arm around her, leaning heavily against her, his breath on her cheek.
Kate pulled back. “Get away from me,” she snapped.
“Och, prisoners need to watch oot for each other here.” He grippedher upper arm. “And they put ye here just for me. How nice,” he drawled.
“Get off me!” Kate tried to pull away, dizzy and still weak from her earlier ordeal as she wriggled in his stiff grasp. He pressed close, smelling vile.
“Oh, such a bonny thing to share me quarters. I heard them say ye like sharin’ a bed wi’ a man,” he said, tugging her head back by a handful of hair so that she cried out in pain. His face was close now, lips near, breath hot and foul. Kate shuddered, braced both hands on his chest, and pushed with all her strength.
