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‘If some low-born lasses have their heads turned by the sight of a smart red coat and a few trinkets, then so be it. That is their fault, not mine, nor my men. And let us remember, you bring me the tale of a common girl, who has no doubt allowed herself to be used by many men.’
‘You cannot allow your men to run wild. Is there no such thing as discipline in the English ranks?’
‘I take offence at that, Sir. And if you accuse Nash of impropriety, then doesn’t that cast the shadow of impropriety on your wife as well? She was accused of consorting with the man after all. Was it not you who swore your wife was truthful?’
‘Bring Nash in here then, and I will squeeze an answer from him.’
‘Beat it out of him, more like. You will not use those fists on one of my officers, Sir.’
‘So you will do nothing?’
‘Even if I wanted to, I cannot, for Nash is taking a ship to London this very eve. How unfortunate that you just missed him. Off to London to marry his betrothed – an excellent lady, by all accounts, rich, titled, well-connected. I doubt he will ever see Scotland again as his new family will ensure him a soft posting somewhere warmer and more civilised.’
‘So you kept me waiting for an audience to give him time to get away, leaving his bastard child behind and its mother not provided for.’
The Major shrugged. ‘It would appear that way to some, I suppose. But the matter is now out of my hands. Captain Nash is no longer under my command. He is nothing to do with me now, but let me say this. The tide is beyond the control of any man. It ebbs and flows as it will.’
Wolfric frowned. ‘I see. Then I hope the tide is still in my favour when I reach Inverness.’
‘Yes. Pursue this, if you must, but remember, Nash is still the King’s officer, and I will not have shame brought on the regiment. If you are to demand money with menaces from Captain Nash, then by all means, feel free to do so. But let us have one thing clear. It is without my condoning it.’
Wolfric was about to rush away, but he stopped at the door.
‘Major Sutherland, why are you not protecting Nash? He is one of your officers, after all.’
‘The rogue got between me and a long-legged filly I set my heart on. She had only to set eyes on the handsome devil, and then she would not look at me. No restraint, that man, to take from his betters. He was arrogant enough to steal what was mine. Nasty piece of work. Now you’d best go, else you will miss the tide.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Orla had just tied Midnight to a post near an alehouse Wolfric was known to frequent when the man himself galloped into view. But he did not stop in the market square. Instead, he rode on in the direction of the river. Orla frowned and began to untie her horse, then stopped. Perhaps he had business there, and she should not intrude. She had pledged to trust him, yet still, a worm of suspicion wriggled in her mind, so she set off after him.
A short gallop brought her to the wharves, where Wolfric was hastily dismounting. He headed towards some men holding their hands out to a brazier. It was a warm beacon in an afternoon turning grey with an oncoming storm. It sputtered weakly in a biting wind coming up the river Ness, winding its way out into the Moray Firth.
Unsure of what to do, Orla hung back and watched. The harbour was a bustling and noisy place, full of people hurrying here and there, intent on their work. Several ships creaked up against the wharf, the thunk of their sails flapping back and forth in the stiff breeze overlaid with the ever-present shriek of seagulls. Laughter spilt from a tavern of sorts, where several women hung around, their faces painted bright like dolls. They leaned against the wall and beckoned men as they passed. Orla smiled to herself. ‘You must not keep such low company,’ is what her mother would say if she could see her now.
Wolfric rushed away, and Orla followed along the crowded wharf, pushed this way and that as she struggled to keep from slipping on the slimy cobbles dusted with fresh snow. It was hard to keep her eyes on him, and she had to stand on tiptoe.
At the end of the wharf, Wolfric came to a halt, staring at a modest three-masted ship where men were hastily loading bales of wool and crates of fish. Orla put her hand over her face. It was a smelly place, and even the wind could not sweep away the tang of fish, rotten vegetable waste, foul water and the yeasty fog of a nearby brewery. She had to choke back nausea and a sudden weak feeling, which almost made her knees buckle. She bent double and retched, and when she stood up, a toothless man grinned and winked at her, making an obscene gesture with his fist.
‘Go to hell,’ snarled Orla. Fearing for her safety, she rushed over and grabbed onto Wolfric’s arm.
He looked horrified to see her. ‘What the hell are you doing down here?’
‘I came to Inverness to find you and saw you ride this way, so I followed.’
‘Why did you come, lass? Is something amiss at home?’
‘No. I just missed you and wanted to see you.’
He took her by the arms and frowned. ‘Oh, Orla, do you still not trust me? Did you think I had gone to Elva?’
Her face grew hot with shame. ‘I…no…well, you always seem to go to her when you come to Inverness, Wolfric. And I don’t mean to doubt you, but….’
‘This is to do with her, lass, but not in the way you think.’ A clatter of hooves had him glancing over her shoulder. ‘You must go,’ he said, his voice hard and cold.
‘Are you angry with me?’ she said, glancing in the direction of his gaze. Captain Nash was handing off his horse to a lad. Orla’s heart picked up its beat.
‘Wolfric no. I will not go. What do you intend to do here?’
