The Devil’s Due Boucher, Rita (ebook reader for pc TXT) 📖

“That is absurd. Any fool could see that she is not the kind to pull the trigger,” Duncan maintained.

“Any fool,” Fred repeated, “don’t walk up askin’ to be shot.”

“That ancient fowling piece should never have gone off,” Duncan mumbled, looking at his feet, rooting out a pebble with his bare toe.

“But you were better than ‘alf ‘opin’ it would, weren’t you?” he asked.

Those rheumy eyes focused on Duncan, daring him to answer. The glint of tears was almost as unbearable as the pain in the older man’s gaze. Duncan plucked a pebble from the bank and tossed it toward the loch’s center, watching the ripples spread as he tried to find words. There was no denying that the thought of ending it had been tempting.

“It weren’t your fault, Major.” Fred broke the silence. “‘Twas them what chose to cut and run when you told them to stay put, bloody fools. The Frenchies picked them off the beach like bleedin’ fish in a barrel.”

Duncan clenched his fists as he looked unseeingly out onto the water. “They were my men, my responsibility.”

“They were arses!” Fred maintained. “Stupid officer arses who wouldn’t follow orders. You weren’t the one what got them into a Frenchie prison, but you’re the one what got them out.”

“No, it was me that got us into prison,” Duncan disagreed, picking up another rock to toss it with controlled fury. “Had I not been fool enough to confront Vesey before the battle we would never have been in that situation. I have little doubt that he was behind the orders that sent us straight into the enemy’s lap.”

“‘ee meant you to be killed, Major. That’s certain and never mind ‘oo would die with you,” Fred reminded him. “But you are alive, man and there be a reason for that, sure as my name’s Fred Best! So far it seems you weren’t meant to die from takin’ a flyin’ leap, or drownin’, or at the end of an old flintlock, so stop trying to find out ‘ow you’re going to die and figure out ‘ow you mean to live! And if you feel you owe them men somethin’, you take better care to stay among the quick.”

“Aye,” Duncan conceded focusing on the distant shore. “Vesey will pay, I swear it.”

“Never known you to break your pledged word, Sir,” Fred emphasized, satisfied for the moment with the vow that he had extracted. He could only hope that the force of that oath might be enough to keep Lord MacLean from stepping off the edge of despair. But once that promise of vengeance was fulfilled . . . Fred stifled a sigh. Perhaps by then, Duncan MacLean might have something to live for. “Let’s find your clothes. Won’t be no good to no one, if you make lung fever your next test.” He put a hand on Duncan’s arm.

Duncan reached over and grasped his servant’s hand. “How many times now, have you saved me from myself?” he asked.

“Not near as many as you saved me ‘ide,” Fred said, giving himself up to recollection. “They would ‘ave flayed me to pieces, if you ‘adn’t come along when you did, plucked me right off the whippin’ post. And that minds me of the time . . .”

The man’s fingers were like tentacles of ice. “Tell me when we have reached an even score, Fred,” Duncan cut him off, “You fetch your horse and get back to the castle to dry off. I shall attempt to locate my trousers and shirt, though I confess it scarcely worth the effort considering their sorry state.”

“Ain’t goin’; not without you,” Fred said, his teeth chattering.

“I will be fine,” Duncan said, giving Fred a gentle push. “You need not worry about me now.”

“It ain’t you what’s the matter.” Fred jerked his head in the general direction of the castle, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “‘The besom with the skillet ‘as me shakin’ in my shoes. I know ‘er kind. Looks to be a right sweet armful, but an ‘eart like a stone.”

Duncan chuckled at the thought of Kate’s companion as a “sweet armful.” But his amusement faded at the rumble of distant thunder. “She likely won’t be there, Fred, so you need not fear,” he said, squinting at the sun, trying to ascertain how much time had passed since he left the castle. “When last I saw them, the women were intent on leaving. Kate is likely convinced that I am the devil incarnate.”

“Must ‘ave more ‘air then wits, to quit with a storm brewin’,” Fred commented, his brow furrowing. “Is the way we took over the mountains the only road ‘ere?”

“Aye, ’tis called the Hellgate.” Duncan nodded. “And by the feel of it, I’d say the wind is blowing from the north. The pass will become a veritable mudslide when the torrent hits.”

“Barely fit for a goat when we got by,” Fred observed.

“And they’ve a wee bairn with them,” Duncan added, worry seeping into his voice.

“I left me ‘orse tied up on the causeway,” Fred said. “It was from there I saw you. I’ll bring ‘er up and unload ‘er straightaways. We got more than enough time to fetch them back afore the storm ‘its.”

“I shall meet you at the castle,” Duncan agreed.

“If we ‘ave to ride pillion,” Fred called over his shoulder as he mounted. “Daisy’s on your saddle.”

Chapter 5

Duncan snatched up his garments, pulling on small clothes and trousers, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to hop into his boots at a half-run. The squall was moving far faster than he had anticipated, the clouds already hiding the peak of Beinn Airidh Charr. Fred was correct, of course. Even if the women had left immediately, a man on horseback might easily catch up with them well before they reached the Hellgate. There was really no need for him to rush about like a headless chicken.

Deliberately, Duncan forced himself to slow down, tying the arms of