Choosing the Highlander Read Online Free Page A

Terran said.
    “No. He didna.” His disciples had once, but Christ hadn’t allowed them to do it.
    “We must object.”
    He wished they could. “Nay. I promised my father I wouldna cause trouble.”
    If they interfered, they would lose more than the support they had gathered on this journey. Ruthven was a favorite of John Ramsay, one of the most influential lords in King James III’s court. If Wilhelm angered Ruthven, he could expect to find his act stricken from the next parliament proceedings altogether. Unthinkable.
    If Scotia was to survive and thrive alongside England, she needed judicial reform. If Scotia must fight England, she needed warriors who were strong and hale, not disfigured and demoralized by brutal punishments that far exceeded the severity of their crimes. Too many lairds misunderstood the law. That could be helped by passing each noble-born child through school. His act would see that done.
    “We must nay offend Ruthven,” Wilhelm said with regret. “But I doona wish to witness this spectacle. I havena spoken with Turstan, but an execution is nay the time to do so. Let us take our leave. We shall search for him in the village on the morrow.” At worst, they would simply stop in Inverness on their journey home and wait for Turstan to arrive home.
    Before they could extract themselves from the gathering, Ruthven mounted the steps of the chapel. He greeted his guests and then locked gazes with Wilhelm. “There are those among us who in their naivety extol the virtues of mercy over just punishment.” He puffed his chest, drawing attention to his jewels and gold chains. Fog puffed before his mouth as he broadened his attention to the crowd at large. “’Tis a quaint notion. But one that has no place in modern, thinking society.”
    “Oily shite,” Terran muttered.
    Wilhelm agreed. “Come.” He shouldered aside a man who had squeezed up front with a well-dressed lady on his arm, no doubt for a better view.
    The crowd had grown thick. People grumbled at the disturbance of Wilhelm and Terran pushing their way to the stables, where they could find their horses and depart.
    “As God fearing citizens,” Ruthven went on, his voice an assault on Wilhelm’s ears, “Crown honoring citizens, the vast majority of us understand that we who rule shall be held accountable by God for our failures to enact His justice on the Earth. Who but us will protect the common man from the greed of the thief? Who but us will guard our daughters from the rapist? Who but us will shield our impressionable young from the wiles of witches?”
    As if Ruthven wasn’t himself a thief and a rapist. Wilhelm kent for a fact he was. And if the man made deals with the devil for all the influence he wielded in Edinburgh, Wilhelm would not be surprised.
    They were nearly to the stables when the sound of the chapel’s oaken doors swinging open made Wilhelm turn around despite his reluctance to lay eyes on Ruthven’s victims.
    A robed clergyman and four guards escorted two prisoners to the pyres.
    The first prisoner was streaked with dirt and had long, tangled hair falling over his face. He was nude and terribly thin. An urchin, mayhap? He appeared hardly to require one guard let alone one holding each spindly arm. Poor child. ’Twas doubtful at his tender age he’d done aught to earn a death sentence, let alone one so gruesome. If Wilhelm had hated his host before, his hatred doubled now.
    His gaze jumped to the second prisoner and his chest clamped with horror. Hair that gleamed like autumn-gilt leaves framed an oval face with blazing eyes. The prisoner struggled against two guards who worked much harder than the first two. The struggling resulted in brief glimpses of bare breasts and shapely legs between the bodies of the guards.
    Beside him, Terran sucked in a breath. “Christ, Will. They’re women.”
    The guards began binding the prisoners to the pyres. Someone had knotted a gag around the mouth of the auburn-haired lass.