Chapter 12
Garrett groaned as he drew on his shirt, waving away Sergeant Fletcher, who was standing nearby. He had never known his muscles to feel so tight and sore. His trembling fingers worked at the buttons one by one while he stood somewhat shakily in the middle of the room. Finally he was done. He reached for his coat, staggering ever so slightly. The sergeant rushed to his side and caught his arm.
“Captain, are you sure you want to do this? Another day won’t matter so much. Perhaps you should stay in bed—”
“I’m fine, Fletcher,” Garrett insisted sharply, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He shrugged on his coat. “You’re worse than a nagging nursemaid.”
When he saw his sergeant’s wounded look, he chided himself for his thoughtlessness. The man had had much to do with his recovery. He softened his tone. “Don’t worry, Fletcher. It’s time I got up on my feet. Lying in bed another day won’t make it any easier for me to regain my strength. I’ve got to start moving around again, go walking, riding. I need some fresh air—it’s the best cure I can think of.”
“Very well, captain,” Sergeant Fletcher said, though he did not look completely convinced.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Garrett said wryly. “But it won’t happen again. I feel better already, just standing here.”
He remembered all too clearly his first attempt to rise from the bed yesterday, not long after Sergeant Fletcher had left the room to let him sleep. His legs had buckled beneath him, and he had crumpled to the floor. The sergeant had rushed in to find him on his knees clutching the bedspread, vainly trying to stand.
He would have tried again if it hadn’t been for Sergeant Fletcher’s strong insistence that he resign himself to one more day of bed rest. Glenis had vehemently seconded the opinion later, when she heard about his futile effort. He smiled as he recalled her heated words.
“How dare ye get out of bed when ye’re just over the fever,” she had scolded him. “I dinna nurse ye these past four days to see ye take sick agin, Captain Garrett Marshall. Ye’ll do just as the good sergeant has asked ye, and as I’m tellin’ ye!”
She reminded him of his grandmother at that moment, with her hands on her narrow hips and her dark eyes flaring. He had no intention of crossing her. He had obediently remained in bed, and she had rewarded him with the best beef stew he had ever tasted, and more of that fiery Scots tea. He slept more soundly after that meal than he had in days.
Garrett’s stomach suddenly rumbled. It was so loud that Sergeant Fletcher laughed.
“If you’re that hungry, captain, then you must be feeling better, just as you say.”
“Come on, let’s go downstairs,” Garrett said, walking stiffly to the door. “Maybe Jeremy has baked some of his pan bread for breakfast.”
In the hallway he glanced over his shoulder at Madeleine’s room. He was not surprised to see her door wide open. It was late, almost ten o’clock, and no doubt she had already been up for hours.
She probably wasn’t even at home, he thought, holding on to the sturdy banister and taking the steps carefully.
Sergeant Fletcher had told him she had spent much of the previous day and well into the evening in Farraline. He found himself wondering what, or who, had caused her to return so late to Mhor Manor. A lover, perhaps, whom she hadn’t seen for several days because she was nursing him? Probably so. She certainly had gaped at him when he brought up the topic yesterday.
Garrett felt a familiar sting of jealousy, but swiftly quelled it. Madeleine had every right to visit the village and her people as often as she wished. If she was meeting her lover, well, that was not his concern.
He walked outside, his gaze narrowing at the distant thatched heather and turf roofs of Farraline. He heaved a sigh as a tightness welled up inside him.
He was lying to himself if he thought he didn’t care whether she had a lover. He cared deeply. He hadn’t realized how much until he had opened his eyes to find her standing beside his bed. It had been like a sweet dream becoming reality.
Beautiful Madeleine was talking with him, feeding him, caring for him, her hand lightly grazing his shoulder as she plumped his pillows. His pulse had surged at her touch, stoking the fire raging deep within him.
Frustrated, Garrett turned away and followed his sergeant to the back of the manor house, where the cooking tent was set up. He smelled bacon frying, the fresh-baked aroma of pan bread and brewed coffee, but he seemed to have lost his appetite. He halfheartedly took the full plate Jeremy Witt offered him.
“It’s good to see you up and about, Captain Marshall,” the bantam-size cook said cheerfully. “Here you go, sergeant. The rest of the men have already eaten.”
Garrett sat on a rough-hewn bench while the sergeant settled himself on the grass. Fletcher dug heartily into his plate, gulping down huge mouthfuls of food with hot coffee.
“Is something wrong, captain?” Sergeant Fletcher asked mid-swallow, surveying Garrett’s untouched plate.
“No,” Garrett replied tightly. Knowing he needed the nourishment, he forced himself to eat. The food was good, and after a few bites he felt his appetite gradually returning. He finished everything on his plate and even enjoyed another serving of pan bread. He was on his second mug of coffee when he spied a slight figure walking briskly toward the manor house from the direction of the tiny loch. His cup stopped midway to his mouth as he realized it was Madeleine. He set his plate and mug on the bench and rose to his feet, watching her intently.
She was so lovely.
He drank in the fetching vision she made, feeling as if he could stare at her forever. Her blue skirt skimmed her curved hips, its hem swaying as she walked. Her chestnut hair shone glossily in the sun and curled about her face in damp tendrils. She had a towel in her hand, and she was swinging it jauntily.
So she hadn’t gone into Farraline this morning, he thought, feeling a surge of pleasure mixed with relief. She must have been bathing in the loch. He could tell she hadn’t seen him yet, and he enjoyed the sensation of catching a brief glimpse into her private world. She was smiling faintly, and he wondered what she was thinking.
The moment was over too soon. Suddenly she spied him, and he watched the smile fade from her lips. She looked surprised, then her expression became guarded. He sobered as well, feeling a twinge of resignation as he recalled yesterday’s discussion with Sergeant Fletcher.
Three weeks. That’s all he had left. He had hoped to have enough time to win her trust, to develop some understanding between them, perhaps even to…
Thunderous desire ripped through him, his senses reliving the fleeting instant at the loch when he had held Madeleine in his arms. He could feel once again her firm breasts pressed against him, her lips, warm and exciting, opened to him like the ruby-red petals of a flower to the sun, moist and eager for his kiss. With supreme effort he forced his mind back to the urgent matter at hand, though his body was not so easily swayed.
Think of your mission! he berated himself. Your duty! When so many innocent lives were at stake, this was not a time to think of his own selfish needs, his burgeoning desire—
Garrett started. For the first time he realized that was exactly what he had been doing. He had been thinking only of himself. He stared at Madeleine, who was drawing ever closer, though she had slowed her pace.
Well, no more, he thought grimly. The sooner he spoke with her about Black Jack, the better. Either she would believe him and agree to help him, telling him anything she knew about the brigand, or she would not. Of course, there was always the chance she knew nothing.
Garrett turned away, frowning. He didn’t even want to consider that possibility! He addressed his sergeant, keeping his voice low so it would not carry.
“Fletcher, see that the men go about their assigned duties today,” he ordered quietly. “Double the guard as we discussed, and send a patrol of four men on horseback to Farraline. Have them check in every two hours, then on the sixth hour change the patrol. Any questions?”
“No, sir,” Sergeant Fletcher said, hauling his bulky frame to his feet. He glanced beyond Garrett’s shoulder to Madeleine, who was strolling through the dense fir trees bordering the disheveled lawn. His expression was anxious as he sought his commander’s face once again. “Are you sure you want to tell her, captain?”
Without a word, Garrett nodded firmly. He turned and strode across the lawn, ignoring his stiff, aching muscles. He easily narrowed the distance between himself and Madeleine.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, noting the wariness in her stunning blue eyes. It hurt him that there was little welcome shining in those amazing depths, yet his amiable tone did not betray his feelings. “I see you’ve been for a swim.”
Madeleine stopped, gripping her towel in both hands. Garrett’s deep voice thrilled her, though she tried hard not to show it. She swiftly appraised him.
She almost had not believed her eyes when she saw him standing near the cooking tent. She had expected him to remain in bed for at least another day or so. Now here he was, looking none the worse for his illness.
“Good day to ye, Captain Mar—,” she paused, then quickly decided it made no difference. “Garrett.” She avoided the unnerving subject of the loch altogether, an intimate moment she would rather forget. “Ye’re looking well.”
“Yes, I feel much better,” he said, smiling. “I wanted to thank you again for what you did for me. It was so…unexpected.”
“‘Twas no matter,” she mumbled, pretending interest in a colorful patch of wildflowers.
Better to squelch any ideas he might have about why she had nursed him, she thought nervously. She didn’t want him to imagine that she cared.
She glanced back at him and said nonchalantly, “Glenis couldna tend ye all on her own, Garrett. She needed my help. I canna have her working herself to the bone for every crisis besetting my house. We seem to have quite an abundance these days.”
Madeleine saw that her words had the desired effect. His face darkened, but only for a moment. In the next instant he was studying her curiously, as if he was trying to discern her thoughts. She lowered her eyes, suddenly flustered.
“Would you like to go for a ride, Madeleine?” he asked, ignoring her breezy statement. “I would relish the exercise and it would give us a chance to talk privately. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you.”
Madeleine fought to breathe steadily and to keep her voice calm. “Glenis said ye asked about going for a ride the other day.”
“Yes, I did,” he said with a short laugh. “That was before…” He indicated the healing gash on his forehead with a wave of his hand. “It was postponed a few days, that’s all. Perhaps we could ride along Loch Ness, on Wade’s Road? I enjoy that route, and Foyer’s Falls is breathtaking.”
“Aye, ‘tis a beautiful place. One of my favorites,” she agreed, her calm response belying her tumbling thoughts.
At last she would have answers to her plaguing questions! Neither the previous night’s raid nor her morning swim had distracted her as she had hoped they would. She nodded. “I’ll ride with ye, Garrett.”
“Good. Shall we meet within the half hour in front of the house? I’ll have your mare saddled for you.”
“Aye, very well. If ye’ll excuse me, I’ll go and change.” She rushed past him in a flurry of blue skirts, petticoats, and tousled chestnut curls.
Confused, Garrett watched her disappear around the house. He had not expected her to accept his invitation so readily, at least not without some explanation of why he wanted to speak with her. She had spurned him soundly on every other occasion when he had asked her to accompany him so they might talk.
Except for yesterday, he thought. Perhaps the short time they had spent together had softened her opinion of him after all.