Free One Man's Love by Karen Ranney

said.
    The other man nodded and moved into position in front of the door.
    “I have a piper to release,” he said, glancing down at her.
    “Are you truly going to let him go?” she asked, surprised.
    His smile startled her. “I am a man of my word,” he said, and waited for her retort.
    She did not give him the satisfaction of responding. But the words seemed to linger in the air between them. No Englishman is a man of honor.
    He stepped back, closed the door, leaving her alone. She looked around the room in desperation. She had helped to tend the dying laird herself and therefore knew this chamber well.
    She opened the door to the clan hall again. Harrison was still there, leaning against the doorframe with his back to her.
    “You’ll stay put, miss,” he said calmly as if he could see her. Perhaps he only sensed her panic.
    “He can’t keep me here,” she announced, a bit of bravado in the face of her very real fear.
    He glanced over his shoulder at her, his face oddly less attractive when he smiled. “Can’t he? He’s the colonel of the regiment. He can do anything he pleases,” he said, then reached over and pulled the door shut in her face.
    She turned and surveyed her prison. Against the wall was a curious-looking chest equipped with a series of drawers restrained by a brown leather strap. Well worn, it looked to be something the Butcher carried with him on his travels.
    The Butcher had evidently chosen this room to be his.
    Was she to be his hostage or his whore?
    She walked around the table and stood looking down at the Butcher’s maps. The loch’s perimeter was carefully delineated. She had never thought that it was so large. It led to the firth, that much she knew, ebbing and flowing with its own tides. Each tiny mark upon the map appeared to be a village, just as a larger symbol must indicate another fort. Another blight upon the landscape. An irrefutable piece of evidence that the English were here to stay.
    A knock on the door preceded the arrival of a young man, his head nearly buried beneath the doubled mattress he carried. She watched as he heaved it onto the bed frame, then stepped back and smiled shyly at her.
    “I’ll not share that with him,” she said, stepping away until her back was against the wall.
    “I don’t know about that, miss,” he said, his cheeks flushing a bright red. “I’m just here to settle the colonel’s quarters.”
    He bent and arranged the mattress until it was square on the frame, then tested its plumpness by pressing on it with both palms. “I would have stuffed it with hay,” he said, addressing his comments to the bed, “but it smelled of horse and other things.”
    She said nothing, only watched him as he walked around the side of the bed closer to her. She backed away, but he didn’t notice, being so concerned about the placement of the mattress.
    “I used grass and pine needles instead,” he said, as if she’d asked. “But I put a few flowers in it,” he confided, glancing over at her. Unexpectedly, he grinned, and the smile reminded her oddly enough of Fergus and his occasional misdeeds. That sudden memorysobered her enough to look away rather than be charmed by a young English soldier.
    “I’ll be bringing you the evening meal, then, miss,” he said, walking to the door. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you?”
    “Is it customary to ask for a prisoner’s preferences?” she asked, rankled by his good cheer.
    “Oh, you’re not a prisoner, miss,” he said earnestly. “You’re the colonel’s guest.”
    She was left without a word to say as he closed the door behind him.
     
    The fact that he’d decided to keep Leitis with him disturbed Alec on a visceral level. A foolish thing to do, to hold Leitis MacRae hostage, a warning whispered in a voice that sounded like his long-dead grandfather.
    The gaol was located not far from the chapel and Alec wondered if the architect had planned this irony. The room was the size of one of