Chapter 32

“Wake up, Maddie. Please wake up!”

Madeleine’s eyes blinked open at the rude jarring. She was stunned to find Meg bending over her, roughly shaking her shoulder.

“Meg, what are ye doing here?” she said, sleep muddling her thoughts. “Quiet with ye now or ye’ll wake Garrett.”

Meg’s expression was guarded as she shook her blond head. “Major Marshall is gone, Maddie. He’s ridden out with his men.”

“Gone?” Madeleine’s heart lurched in her throat, and she rolled over, wide awake. It was true. The bed was empty but for herself, and the sheets were cold where Garrett had slept. She glanced back at Meg, a blush burning her cheeks. She had always made it a point to be well out of bed before the girls arrived in the morning.

“What’s going on?” she asked, clutching the covers beneath her chin to hide her nakedness. “Where’s Gar— Where’s Major Marshall?”

“He’s gone in search of two of his soldiers,” Meg replied, shifting uneasily. “Seems they went out early this morning to hunt for grouse and never came back. Their horses returned almost an hour past without them.”

Madeleine could hardly believe she had slept so soundly that she hadn’t felt Garrett rise from the bed or heard him leave the room for that matter. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to wake her.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep sometime near dawn after lying awake for several hours. She must have been more exhausted from their lovemaking than she realized, despite the worries that she had thought would prevent her from sleeping.

“When did he leave?”

“Only a short while ago, just as Kitty and I arrived at the house. He said to tell ye what had happened and that he’d be back when he found his men.”

Madeleine raised herself on one elbow. “Meg, kindly hand me my dress, if ye would,” she said, nodding to the blue gown lying crumpled on the floor near the fireplace. She winced, rubbing her aching shoulder. “Why did ye have to wake me so roughly?”

Meg picked up the dress, but she did not readily hand it over, nor did she answer Madeleine’s question. Instead she drew a folded piece of paper from her apron pocket and held it out to her.

Madeleine took the paper, noticing that Meg’s hand was trembling. “What’s this?”

“ ‘Tis from Angus,” Meg said. She suddenly turned on her heel and bustled across the room to the massive wardrobe. “I’ll fetch ye one of yer riding gowns, Maddie.

Madeleine stared after her, completely bewildered. Meg was acting so strangely, so unlike herself. Something odd was going on. She could sense it.

She unfolded the letter, quickly perusing Angus’s stilted handwriting. Her brow knit in confusion.

“ ‘Ride as quick as you can to the fork of Aberchalder Burn, Maddie,’” she read aloud. “ ‘You’ve an old friend waiting there to see you. Do not worry, you will not be followed. We’re leading the major and his men on a merry chase this morning. ‘Twill keep them busy ‘til you return. Angus Ramsay.’ ”

What was going on? she wondered wildly, reading the note again. She started when Meg rushed back to her, a pile of clothing draped over her arm, topped by a pair of brogues.

“What do ye know of this, Meg?” she asked sharply. She sat up, still clutching the bedspread over her breasts.

“I’m only doing what I was told, Maddie,” the young woman replied evasively. “Angus said to give ye the note as soon as Major Marshall and his soldiers were gone from the house.”

“Surely ye must have read it,” she accused. “Why’d ye have known to fetch my riding clothes?”

“I dinna read it. Angus told me to see that ye were dressed and sent quickly on yer way, that’s all.”

“Very well, Meg,” Madeleine said, throwing back the covers. “I can dress m’self, thank ye.”

Affronted by her brisk tone, Meg set the clothing on the bed and left the room without another word.

Madeleine dressed hurriedly, her mind in a total quandary.

What should she do? Her first instinct was to try to find Garrett, despite the urgent note. She didn’t like the idea that he was being led on some mysterious chase through Strathherrick, knowing his danger as she did.

It was clear to her that his two missing soldiers had unwittingly become part of this ruse, probably trussed up at this moment and hidden where Garrett would never find them. For what purpose? So she might meet an old friend at Aberchalder Burn? Who could it possibly be?

Madeleine suddenly thought of Lord Lovat. He was an old friend, nearly eighty years old. Had he perhaps decided to remain in the Highlands rather than take a ship to France? Since he was a hunted fugitive with a price on his head, it would make sense he would not want to risk having Garrett and his soldiers following her to their meeting place.

She felt a rush of excitement and quickly came to a decision. What better person to help influence her kin than the chief of Clan Fraser himself? Once Lord Lovat knew the truth behind everything Garrett had done for his clansmen, and for her, surely he would persuade the Frasers of Strathherrick to accept Garrett’s presence among them.

Madeleine threw the tartan shawl around her shoulders and ran to the door. Perhaps she could venture to hope that everything was going to work out after all.

***

Madeleine shivered as she veered her restless mare onto the leaf-strewn footpath that ran alongside Aberchalder Burn.

The fir trees were dense here, interspersed with Scots pine and naked beech trees that choked out what little sun there was on this cloudy autumn day. The air was chill and damp, indicating that there would be a frost that night if it grew cold enough.

She drew her tartan shawl more tightly around her, wishing she had worn something with more warmth, such as trousers and a heavy jacket. Too bad she hadn’t thought of it before she left. She still possessed a set of black clothes, hidden deep in one of drawers in her old room. She simply hadn’t gotten rid of them yet.

Madeleine ducked her head, dodging a branch. The fork in this swiftly running stream lay beyond the next thick clump of firs. She listened carefully for any voices but heard nothing except trilling larks and crossbills piercing the sound of rushing water.

As she followed the narrow path down a slight decline, Madeleine trained her eyes on the fork clearly visible ahead. There was no one standing there waiting for her, nor did she see any movement in the dense green foliage surrounding her on all sides.

At last she drew up on the reins, bringing her horse to a halt. She sat quietly in the saddle for a moment, looking around her again, then cautiously dismounted.

She tensed as twigs and dried pine needles rustled and snapped close behind her. She turned around slowly. Her eyes widened at the sight of seven ragged Highlanders emerging from behind trees and thick hedges. They were bearded and unkempt, rough-looking men she had never seen before. She doubted they even belonged to Clan Fraser.

Surely Lord Lovat would have his own clansmen for an escort, she thought fleetingly, feeling the slightest quiver of fear. Men he could trust without question. Who were these—?

“Mistress Madeleine Fraser?” one of the men asked gruffly, breaking into her anxious thoughts.

“Aye,” she said, holding her ground. She expected him to say more, perhaps explain their presence here, but instead he looked away from her.

Madeleine followed his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as another man stepped from the dense wood, a big man with dark hair and deep-set hazel eyes that caught and held her own. She watched, paralyzed, as he drew closer, not stopping until he loomed in front of her. His massive frame blocked out all else.

“Maddie,” he breathed, his voice rough, deep, and hauntingly familiar.

“Dougald,” Madeleine whispered hoarsely, staring at his bearded face. “I canna believe ‘tis ye. Some fugitive kinsmen told me ye were dead, that the redcoats had hanged you at Inverness in the town square, not long after Culloden.” Her voice quavered and died away, her stricken expression registering her shock.

“Ye were told wrong, love,” Dougald said, taking a step closer. “I was taken prisoner and held in a stinking Inverness gaol, but they dinna hang yer Dougald. ‘Twas another poor wretch they must have seen at the noose.” He gestured to the men who were watching them silently. “We escaped from that gaol only two days past, six Camerons, one Macdonald, and I. We’re on our way to Glasgow, where we’ll catch a ship to France.”

“Ye’re sailing to France?” she said numbly, her mind barely registering his words. “‘Tis where our Lord Lovat was bound, or so I believed ‘til today. The note from Angus said an old friend was waiting here. I thought perhaps ‘twas Simon Fraser having changed his mind to stay in the Highlands.”

Dougald’s expression was grim. “Lord Lovat was captured by the redcoats almost a month ago, Maddie.”

“No!”

“Aye, I only heard it m’self the day before we broke from the gaol. They found him hiding in a hollow tree trunk on an isle in the middle of Loch Morar.” He clenched his teeth, his tone dripping with bitterness. “Lord Lovat was almost to the sea and they caught him, the bastards. He’s in the Tower of London, lass, awaiting trial for high treason.”

“God save him,” Madeleine whispered, completely stunned. Lord Lovat was in the infamous Tower! He would not be able to help her now. She would have to plead for Garrett alone.

“I’ve come to take ye away with me, Maddie, to take ye to France,” Dougald said in a rush, shattering her dark reverie. His tone grew harsh, his eyes burning into hers. “Ye’ll be glad to know ye’ll not have to spend another night with that English swine ye wed to save yer kin. Nor will ye have a lawful husband when the sun rises in the morn. Ye’ll be free to wed yer Dougald Fraser.”

She gasped as he reached out suddenly and enfolded her in his brawny arms, a huge hand stroking her hair.

“I’ve more good news for ye, love. Our bonnie prince escaped to France a few weeks ago, and we’re following him there. He’ll soon make another bid for the throne of Britain, and this time we’ll prove the victors. Ye’ll have yer lands restored, Maddie, and I’ll be the master of Farraline, just as yer father intended.”

Madeleine could scarcely breathe for the icy fear gripping her heart, a sense of foreboding striking into the depths of her soul. At that moment she did not care about the prince. She could only think of Garrett.

Dear God, what were her kinsmen plotting to do with him? she wondered desperately. She had to know before she could even begin to plan how to protect him.

She wrenched away from Dougald, ignoring his startled look. “What do ye mean?” she rasped in disbelief. “Stop talking to me as if I were a child! Ye speak as if I’ll be a widow by morning.”

“So ye will, my darlin’ Maddie,” Dougald said soothingly. “‘Tis all arranged. Our kinsmen were having the devil of a time trying to decide how to rid ye of the major ‘til I came along unexpectedly. Back from the dead, ye might say.”

Madeleine winced as he laughed hollowly, a dry echo of the hearty laugh he had once possessed. It chilled her to the bone.

“Angus and I spent last night devising our plan, so ‘twill appear to be an accident,” he continued, sobering. “We canna risk the redcoats venting their wrath on Farraline once more. But we’ll need yer help.”

Madeleine tried to speak steadily though she felt her world was crumbling around her. “What plan, Dougald?” she asked, glimpsing the flare of intense hatred in his eyes.

“Once the redcoats have bedded down for the night, ye’re to give us a signal. We’ll creep in and capture them, tie them up, then burn Mhor Manor down about their heads. ‘Twill be a ceilidh fire like none other, Maddie! And the English authorities will ne’er question what happened, since ye’ll supposedly have perished, too. ‘Twill seem an unfortunate accident, and there’ll be nothing left to prove otherwise—”

“Ye would burn them alive?” Madeleine cut him off, gaping at him in horror.

“Aye, and gladly!” Dougald spat, his ruddy skin flushed with fury. “They did the same to us at Culloden. Surely ye heard that story from the hunted clansmen passing through Farraline. I was hiding in a ditch and heard the terrible screams when the redcoats set the barn afire, with the wounded Highlanders inside.”

He paused, his face twisting in torment at the awful memory, then continued, eyeing her grimly. “If ‘tis yer house ye’re worried after, Maddie, I’ll build ye a far grander one when we return with our prince to claim Britain’s throne for the Stuarts. But dinna let me think ye’re balking because ye might harbor some bit of affection for these bastards, or yer English husband, I should say.”

Madeleine backed away from him, terrified by the dark threat in his voice, terrified by the change the ill-fated rebellion had wrought in him.

The Dougald she had known since childhood was gone, the same as if he had died. This cruel man was a stranger to her, hardened by all the brutality he had witnessed, embittered and hell-bent on revenge.

Only such a man could have conceived this gruesome plan, and her kinsmen were influenced enough by her false accusations and the thought of her unhappiness to go along with it. She doubted Dougald would let her leave the glen if he knew where her true feelings lay. She would be a fool if she made even the slightest mention of it.

She forced a smile. “Of course I’ll help ye with yer plan,” she said, hoping her trembling would not give her away. “I hate these redcoats as much as ye. What signal shall I use?”

“When all is quiet, wave an oil lamp in the kitchen window,” Dougald replied, studying her strangely. He moved toward her. His voice was eerily quiet. “Ye’re shaking so, Maddie? Why?”

“‘Tis—’tis such a shock to see ye again, Dougald,” she said truthfully, staring into his eyes. “I’m so happy, that’s all. So glad that ye’re alive.”

Madeleine swallowed hard, hoping her last words had convinced him. She was grateful Dougald had been spared the noose. She had cared for him, after all. But now she felt more wretched than she ever had before.

She loved a man she had once hated, and hated this man for threatening her newfound love. And Dougald was the man her father had chosen for her…

No, dinna think of it! she berated herself, stifling her twinge of guilt. If loving Garrett made her a traitor, so be it. She would do anything to protect him, to protect their love—

Madeleine started as Dougald’s hands easily circled her waist. She didn’t dare protest as he pulled her against his powerful chest.

“‘Twas only my dreams of ye that kept me going during those long months in that filthy gaol, Maddie Fraser,” he said thickly. “I stayed alive for ye, finally broke out of prison for ye. When I heard ye were married to a redcoat I would have come for ye then and strangled him with my bare hands if Angus hadna stopped me.” His arms tightened around her, and he sank his fingers into her hair, drawing her head back roughly. “This Major Garrett Marshall, he’s tasted yer charms before me, hasn't he, Maddie?”

Madeleine said nothing, not wanting to goad his rage any further.

“I know he has, and for that he will die,” Dougald said bitterly.

She closed her eyes as his mouth found hers, possessive and brutally demanding. He was hurting her, and tears welled beneath her lashes. She choked them back, even as she fought against the wave of nausea assailing her senses. She only hoped he would not discern that she felt nothing for him now—nothing.

When he finally released her, she felt defiled by the man who had once been her betrothed—a man who was no more than a shell of his former self, a man from whom she had everything to fear.

“I—I should get back,” Madeleine stammered, glancing behind her for her horse. One of the other Highlanders was holding the mare for her, and she quickly thanked him as she took the reins. She winced as Dougald gave her a lift into the saddle, hardly able to bear his touch on her.

“We’ll watch for yer signal, Maddie,” Dougald said, his hazel eyes boring into hers curiously. “Dinna forget.”

Her throat was constricted so tightly she could not reply. She merely nodded, a fixed smile on her face as she sharply turned the horse around and galloped back along the shaded path, putting as much space between herself and Dougald Fraser as possible.

Tears ran unchecked down her face; sobs of disbelief tore at her throat. Her desperate thoughts spurred her on, even as she broke from the trees and raced toward Mhor Manor.

As soon as Garrett returned to the estate, they would ride into Farraline and face Angus together.

Next to herself, Angus spoke for the entire village, and his word was respected throughout Strathherrick. He had believed in Garrett once, before her wild accusations had poisoned his mind against him.

If Angus accepted the truth, there was still a chance that he might be able to sway her kinsmen against Dougald’s hideous plan.

She cried out her anguish at the darker thought that he might not be able to convince them.

If so, she would flee her beloved Highlands with Garrett and never return.

Aye, she would do it gladly. She would do anything to save his life and their future together.