Untamed
“He gestured toward an opulent armchair, a troubled look on his face, the fingers of his right hand pressed against his temple.Aye, the old man was on the biting end of a bottle of brandy.Morgan sat and waited in silence to hear his fate, his mind still filled with Amalie, her scent still upon his skin.“The first matter we must discuss, Major, is your conduct yesterday.” Bourlamaque settled himself behind his writing table. “I cannot tolerate fighting amongst my officers. It breeds dissension and distracts us from our efforts to win this war.”“I understand, sir.” Morgan met his gaze without wavering and pressed on, needing to say it. “ ’Tis grateful I am that you allowed poor Charlie a Catholic burial and that you stood there beside me. You are a far better man and more honorable than he whom I was forced to serve. I will accept whate’er discipline you decide is fittin’ wi’out complaint.”Bourlamaque’s stern countenance softened slightly. “We French do not flog our officers as the Briti...sh do, except for the most extreme of offenses, and this does not warrant such a response.MoreLess
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