Free Untamed by Pamela Clare Page A

met a legend.”
    Then Bourlamaque turned to his lieutenant and spoke in French. “Allez!” Go!
    For a moment the lieutenant looked vexed. Then, with a smart bow to Bourlamaque, he turned and was gone, closing the door behind him.
    Bourlamaque turned to gaze out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have already sent word to Fort Edward informing your commander of your unfortunate death. I see no cause for your men to risk their lives in a vain attempt to rescue you.”
    “You whoreson!” Heart thrumming, Morgan felt a hope he hadn’t realized he’d had wither and die.
    As long as his brothers believed he was alive, there’d been a chance that they would come for him.
    But Bourlamaque was still speaking. “As I am sure you know, Major, you will not leave Fort Carillon alive. You and your brothers have cost France dearly in this war. Your men are the scourge of our frontier. It is not only France that demands your death, but also the Abenaki, whom you and your men wronged some winters past when you destroyed their village at Oganak, leaving women and children defenseless.”
    “At least we dinnae rape and kill women with babes in their bellies, as you and your allies have done. Do you ken what we found at Oganak? There were more than six hundred scalps hangin’ from their lodge poles—the scalps of men, women, and children, scalps you paid—”
    Bourlamaque cut him off. “A group of Abenaki men have just arrived to claim you. They will take you back to their village and burn you alive over a matter of days until you can remember nothing of this life but pain—not the color of the sky, nor the taste of wine, nor even your blessed mother’s name. You will beg for death, plead for it, but it will be slow in coming.”
    Dread he’d been trying to ignore slowly uncoiled at the base of Morgan’s spine and crept in shivers up his back. He was not impervious to fear, but he’d be buggered before he’d allow it to show. “You make it sound so pleasant.”
    Bourlamaque turned to face him, and beneath the rage on his face, Morgan saw something else—regret. “It won’t be, Major, I assure you. And yet the lack of gallantry exercised by both sides in this war is appalling to me. Out of the respect I bear you as an adversary and officer for sparing the lives of women, children, and servants of the Church, I am prepared to offer you an arrangement.”
    Morgan said nothing, certain he knew what Bourlamaque’s offer would be.
    “Tell me all that I wish to know about the Rangers, about Fort Edward, about your commander, and I will see that you receive not only a swift, painless death, but last rites and a Catholic burial.”
    Morgan closed his eyes, the full horror of his plight laid out before him. Wentworth and his brothers believed him dead. Unless he somehow managed to escape on his own, he would be tortured and burnt alive. Whatever was left of his body would be hacked apart, his scalp hung on a lodge pole, a trophy to blow in the wind, his bones scattered in the forest for the animals. For there was no question of his being able to accept Bourlamaque’s offer. He would sooner suffer a thousand unbearable deaths than betray his brother or his men.
    He opened his eyes, met Bourlamaque’s gaze. “I thank you for your generous proposal. Regretfully, I cannae accept. The darkest corners of hell are saved for betrayers. I would rather suffer the fiercest torment and die with my honor intact than face God as a traitor.”
    Bourlamaque studied him for a moment. “You have time to reconsider. My surgeon tells me you will not be strong enough to move to the guardhouse for at least a week. Should you change your mind in that time—”
    “I willna, so you’d best get on wi’ it.”
    “There is no cause to be rash, Major. Send for me if you wish to discuss my offer again.” Then Bourlamaque gave a little bow, opened the door, and was gone, leaving Morgan with only his regrets and his fears.

Chapter