Page 69 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Faither…
* * *
Charlotte sat in the familiar surroundings of her father’s tent. That was the wonder of living with the army; they could move wherever they were required to go, and her father’s lodgings would remain exactly the same.
It was extremely disorientating, in a way. So much had happened recently with Charlotte, and yet here she was, sat in the same old tent.
A tent in which I have been struck by my own father, knocked to the ground, more times than I care to remember.
The thought made her stomach clench up with dread.
The tent flap was ripped aside and Captain Bolton stalked into the room. His face was impassive, but Charlotte knew her father well enough to recognize what the glitter of his bright blue eyes meant. They were full of promise, the promise of what though, Charlotte did not like to think.
“Father,” she began.
She should have known better than to speak before being spoken to.
The back of her father’s hand caught her squarely across the mouth and sent her reeling backwards so that she collided with his desk.
“Watch your tongue, girl,” he said icily. Charlotte could taste metallic blood in her mouth, but she made no sound. It was clear to her that her father was in an extremely dangerous mood.
How much did that ghastly tracker of his tell him, I wonder? Surely, one of his men would not have had the courage to tell him––
“Watch your tongue,” the Captain said again, slowly, staring at his daughter as if he had seldom come across anything quite so repugnant. “If only I had given you that advice more often, perhaps you wouldn’t have disgraced yourself quite so grossly.”
“Father,” Charlotte ventured, swallowing blood so that she could talk. “I’m not quite sure what––”
Captain Bolton raised a finger so swiftly that Charlotte jerked back into the desk again.
“Before you begin lying through your vile teeth to me, girl, allow me to introduce you to someone,” the Captain said. “Hirst, get in here!” he barked.
The tent flap was pushed aside once more, and the third tracker––the man that Edward had almost beheaded––walked into the room. Charlotte’s heart sank and her mouth dropped open.
Not dead, but it was a close thing.
The man’s previously quite unassuming and fairly handsome face was now dominated by a huge scar that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his ear. The wound had been stitched, but it was evident that the cut must have basically gone right through to his teeth.
Charlotte swallowed, captivated by the gory sight of the large stitching that must have been holding the man’s cheek together.
“I would make the introductions,” Captain Bolton said, his tone dripping venom, “but I believe you have already met.”
Charlotte did not know what to say, so she tried to lie.
“Father, I am not sure what this man has said to you,” she said, “but he and his colleagues tried to––tried toassaultme when they found me.”
To her consternation and sadness, her father did not even react to this stretching of the truth. Hirst on the other hand gave a soft snort of derision.
“Hirst told me that, when he and the other two trackers that I sent to find you and rescue you came across you, you had already beenassaultedby the Highlander that abducted you,” her father said.
Charlotte could feel herself coloring.
“I want to hear him say it himself,” she said, indicating other man.
“Yes, well, unfortunately, Hirst finds talking rather problematic presently, Charlotte,” Captain Bolton said. “He wrote his report. I rather think that it was almost having his head cut off that did it. You may have noticed he carries a slight injury, courtesy of the heathen that took you.”
Charlotte could see that her father would never believe anything that she said. However, her own troubles were suddenly overshadowed by the very pressing awareness that he was going to head to the MacQuarrie lands to avenge the slight on his honor––even if he had his daughter back in his possession.
“Father,” she said, raising her chin and staring scornfully at the man who was supposed to have taken care of her and protected her after the passing of her mother.
