A Hint of Rapture (9 page)

"Our purpose is simple," he lied. "We've
been stationed in this valley to keep the peace."

She stared at him incredulously. "Keep the peace?
Surely 'tis a jest, Captain Marshall," she scoffed. "Since when have
ye redcoats been interested in anything more than cruel slaughter, the rape of
innocent women and young girls, and the burning of homes and the stealing of
cattle?"

Garrett's jaw tightened. He could not contradict her,
even if he had wanted to. There was truth in her words, demonstrated time and
again these past months. Yet he hated being lumped with the rest of his
overzealous, and often unscrupulous, compatriots.

Obviously he and his men would have to prove that they
meant no harm to the Highlanders of Strathherrick. This would be a peaceful
occupation, just as he had discussed with Colonel Wolfe. Better to establish
such a tone from the start.

"No, it is not a jest," he replied quietly.
"We're here to ensure the welfare of those Highlanders who abide by the
new laws. The English laws. But I agree with you wholeheartedly, Mistress
Fraser. Too many innocents have been punished unjustly for the sake of a few
troublemakers."

Madeleine was taken aback. Such words from an
Englishman? If she did not know better, she might have considered his statement
to be some sort of an apology. Yet smooth words only made her more suspicious
of him.

"What troublemakers doe mean, captain?" she
asked tightly, a vision of her father flashing before her. "Do ye refer to
the brave clansmen who fought and died for the rightful heir to the throne of
Great Britain, King James? Or perhaps ye mean the ones who've escaped the noose
and yer filthy gaols, only to be hunted mercilessly in their own homeland by
the lot of ye bloodthirsty cowards."

Garrett felt a quickening of anger, but quelled it. He
knew she was baiting him. He would not give her the satisfaction of justifying
her preconceptions about all English officers. He decided a half truth was
better than none.

"I admire bravery in any man, friend or foe,"
he said. "I'll not speak ill of those who fight for their beliefs. The
troublemakers are the thieves and outlaws who now prey on the Englishmen and
Scotsmen loyal to King George. Whether they commit their crimes for profit or
revenge, the outcome is the same. It is the innocent people who will suffer and
bear the blame if these outlaws are not stopped."

Madeleine had to force herself to breathe steadily. His
cryptic words fell together like pieces of a puzzle in her mind.

God's wounds! This officer and his men had been sent to
look for her! That had to be it. They must have been traveling to Farraline
when she and her kinsmen raided their camp. Yet it was clear he didn't suspect
her, or she would have surely been arrested already.

"So what ye're saying, Captain Marshall, is that
some of these . . . troublemakers are in Strathherrick?" she asked
innocently, belying her inner turmoil.

Garrett perceived he had given more information than he
had intended. It seemed his hostess was very inquisitive.

"As I said, Mistress Fraser, we've been stationed
here to keep the peace. You and your people have nothing to fear from us."
He quickly changed the subject. "Perhaps you might accompany me through
the house," he ventured. "I'd like to show you that my men have taken
great care not to damage your property." He paused, then added dryly,
"Unlike the soldiers who have been here before us."

"Aye, yer brothers in arms already did a fine job
of it," she muttered under her breath. She was frustrated that he hadn't
answered her question. Yet she sensed her intuition was correct. She would have
to speak with Angus and Ewen at once, that very night, and warn them of this
new danger.

Garrett held out his arm to her. "Shall we go,
then, Mistress Maddie?"

Madeleine shot him a look of pure venom. "Only my kinsmen
call me by that name, Captain Marshall," she said hotly. "Ye may have
taken over my house, but ye dinna have the right to consider yerself part of
the family. Ye and yer men are unwelcome here, and not a day shall pass that I
dinna tell ye so. Now, if ye'll kindly step out of my way."

He did so, and she brushed past him into the narrow
hall. "And I dinna need yer invitation to survey my own home," she
flung over her shoulder. "I'll see to yer men's clever handiwork
m'self!"

Garrett stared after her, surprised by the
ungentlemanly direction of his thoughts and the quickening of his desire. God,
but she was lovely!

He admired the provocative sway of her skirt—the
lustrous fabric skimming her slender hips and the teasing hint of lace
petticoat peeking from beneath the hem. It pleased him that she wore no hoops,
a ridiculous fashion which had obviously not made it to the Highlands. Her
simple gown stirred his imagination, conjuring a tantalizing vision of her
hidden charms.

An amused grin lit his face. He had never been so
intrigued by a woman before, and the devil knew he'd had his share. Everything
about her fascinated him—the way she moved, the timbre of her voice, and her
flashing blue eyes. Her every gesture and her every word bespoke passion and spirit.

She was so different from the passive beauties he had
known in England, with their carefully schooled smiles, empty heads, and
conniving mothers who were eager to wed their daughters to a fortune. Even his
memory of Celinda paled in comparison. This woman spoke her mind, and with a
vengeance. Damn, it was refreshing!

A curious thought struck him. Other than the obvious
act of leaving her home, what would he have to do to bring a smile to the
beauteous Mistress Fraser's lips? he wondered wryly. Could kindness, gallantry,
gentle wooing, and a healthy dose of patience win her favor? Perhaps his
earlier plan when he had thought her a maidservant was not so far off the mark
after all.

If he could gain her trust, even her slightest
affection, she might be able to help him. As the mistress of Farraline, she
probably knew a great deal of what went on in Strathherrick. Perhaps she even
knew where to find Black Jack . . .

Garrett strode after her, eager to put his new plan
into action. From what he had seen of her so far, he had no doubt Mistress
Madeleine Fraser would fight him every step of the way. Yet the thought did not
daunt him.

His Scots grandmother had told him once there was no
woman more stubborn and headstrong than a Highland wench. Yet when her favor was
won, however hard fought, there was never a woman more true.

Such a woman's trust was more than worth the challenge
. . . if it might lead him to Black Jack.

Chapter 6

An hour later Madeleine stormed into the kitchen and
slammed the door behind her. She startled Glenis, who was draping a fresh tea
towel over a pan of hot scones.

"What is it, lass?" Glenis asked, whirling to
face her disgruntled mistress. "Though I must tell ye, I canna stand too
many more surprises in one day."

"Have ye seen the dancing room lately?"
Madeleine blurted out angrily. She plopped into one of the wooden chairs placed
around the table, her gown cascading in rippling folds to the floor. Without
waiting for a reply she rushed on, determined to vent her spleen.

"Ye'd never know 'twas once reserved for our
Highland reels and dances and the playing of the pipes. It looks to be a
barracks, with twenty bunks lining the walls and men sitting upon them,
cleaning their weapons, polishing their boots, laughing and joking and carrying
on as if 'twas a common thing to intrude upon another's home!"

She drew a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her
ear. "The guest rooms have fared no better. Mama would surely be having a
fit if she'd lived to see redcoats lying upon her fine needleworked coverlets
and satin pillows."

"Dinna speak so of your mother, Maddie,"
Glenis chided, her voice shrill and cracking. " 'Tis bad luck, and well ye
know it. Leave her spirit to rest in peace. We dinna need any ghosts summoned
forth to add to our troubles."

"I'm sorry, Glenis," Madeleine said
distractedly. She rubbed her temples; the dull pain was still plaguing her. She
was certain it would have been gone by now if not for that infuriating Captain
Marshall. He'd given her twice the headache in the span of one short hour!

First he had followed her into the dancing room like a
second shadow after she told him she could manage alone. Then he had insisted
on introducing her to each of his men, as if she cared to know them: Sergeant
Lowell Fletcher, Corporal Denny Sims, the hapless soldier she had shoved in the
hall, and so many others whose names had simply flown by her.

To her surprise, the men had been quite respectful and
courteous, though a few rough-looking soldiers had eyed her with more than
passing interest. At those times Captain Marshall had acted in the most
peculiar manner. His expression had darkened, his tone had grown brusque, and
he had quickly steered her to the next man.

She would have balked at the possessive pressure of his
hand on her elbow if she hadn't been surrounded by so many soldiers. But his
attention gave her an odd sense of security, and she realized grudgingly he was
the only buffer between herself and his men. If he appeared protective, so much
the better. At least she wouldn't have to fear any unwelcome advances from
them.

That thought reminded Madeleine of a decision she'd
made while making her excuses to Captain Marshall and finally fleeing the
dancing room. She jumped up from the chair and hurried over to Glenis, who was
expertly turning another batch of scones on a buttered griddle set atop the
hearth. She kept her voice low in case any soldiers were walking outside near
the kitchen windows.

"Glenis, I have something important to discuss
with ye."

"Hold on for a moment, lass, whilst I finish these
scones," Glenis said. She turned the last one, then set down her wooden
spatula and wiped her hands on her apron. "All right, what is it ye wish
to tell me?"

Madeleine held her finger to her lips, indicating they
should speak softly. "In the morning I want ye to tell Meg Blair and Kitty
Dods not to come to the house anymore. 'Tis for their own good whilst the
soldiers are here."

"Who'll help me with the cleaning and washing
then, Maddie?" Glenis protested, raising her voice. At Madeleine's stern
look her tone fell to an agitated whisper. "With my old bones, 'tis a
wonder I can still move about the house at all!"

"I'll help ye," Madeleine said. "I'm no
stranger to housework, if ye remember." She smiled faintly. "I can
wield a broom and dustcloth just as surely as a pistol, Glenis, though I may
not like it as well."

"Och, but that's just it, lass. Ye've got yer
other duties to think about. Ye've no time to be helpin' me. And knowin' ye to
be as stubborn as yer da, I dinna expect ye'll be ridin' out any less than
before, soldiers or no!"

Madeleine fell silent. To be truthful, she wasn't quite
sure what she and her men were going to do now that the English soldiers had
come to Strathherrick. Their situation had become much more precarious. Yet she
wouldn't make any final decision until she spoke with her band later that
evening.

That is, if she managed to sneak out without being
detected. She had no idea how many guards Captain Marshall was planning to
station around the manor house, or where. Their positions would certainly be a
crucial factor in any future raids.

"Glenis, there's something else ye must
know," she began. She quickly relayed the details of her encounter with
Captain Marshall in the main hallway, and of the last raid. Glenis's eyes
widened as she listened, her forehead furrowing with concern when Madeleine
reported her suspicion about the purpose of Captain Marshall's mission.

"I told ye they'd come lookin' for ye one
day!" Glenis hissed, wringing her hands. "Ye wouldna listen! Och,
'tis a woeful day, Maddie. What are ye goin' to do?"

Madeleine shook her head. "I winna know until I
speak with Angus Ramsay and the Burkes tonight, in Farraline. They'll send word
to the Fraser brothers. Together we'll decide if we press on or lay low until
the soldiers leave."

"Dear God, what a choice ye have to make,
lass!"

"Aye. Either way, 'tis risky. If we go on with our
raids, we may be found out. If we stop, the villagers will run out of food. We
have enough stores hidden in the caves of Beinn Dubhcharaidh to last awhile,
but it could be gone before Captain Marshall and his men depart Strathherrick.
I, for one, dinna wish to see children starving again. I'll say as much to Ewen
and Angus tonight."

Glenis grew pensive, then her eyes widened in apprehension.
"Are ye mad, lass?" she blurted, as if she had just realized what
Madeleine had said. "Ye canna walk out the front door tonight, just as ye
please, without the soldiers or Captain Marshall wantin' to know where ye're
goin' at such a late hour!"

"Shhh, Glenis," Madeleine warned, looking
fearfully at the window. "Someone will surely hear ye." She bent her
head close to her servant's ear. "Ye've forgotten about
great-grandfather's tunnel."

Glenis sighed heavily, her shoulders appearing even
more stooped than before. "Aye, so I have . . ." She glanced sternly
at Madeleine. "If I wasna already an old woman, ye'd be turnip' my hair
gray, Madeleine Elisabeth Fraser. I told ye before I wouldna burden ye with my
fears, and I winna now. I'll pray for ye, though, good and hard, so ye'll be
certain to journey safely to Farraline and back again, and make the right
decision. "

She sniffed suddenly, her nose wrinkling. "Och,
the scones, lass, they're burnin'!" She turned back to the hearth and
grabbed the spatula, deftly flipping the scones one by one from the griddle.
"Just in time," she said. "I made yer favorite, cinnamon,
nutmeg, and treacle. I thought 'twould cheer ye after the day ye've had . . .
you'll be needing them now more than ever."