Chapter 5

Glenis closed the polished wardrobe door, clucking her tongue disapprovingly. “Ye’ve scarce given yerself time to rest, Maddie. ‘Tis only been a few hours, and already ye’re up and about. Ye took a bad fall accordin’ to the captain. He told me all about it. He was quite sorry he’d caused ye harm. I think ye should climb back into bed and stay put until tomorrow morn.”

“Since when do ye believe anything an Englishman tells ye?” Madeleine retorted. “I’m fine, Glenis.” Her fingers worked furiously at the mother-of-pearl buttons on her bodice. Knowing what was going on downstairs, she could not dress fast enough. She winced at the sudden sharp ache in her head and bit her lower lip.

“There, ye see!” Glenis noted with exasperation, wagging a bony finger. “I should have forced more of my nettle tea into ye, whether ye liked the taste or no. At least ye’d still be asleep and ye wouldna be feelin’ so poorly.” Glenis moved to the bed and flung back the flowered coverlet. She patted the mattress firmly. “Back to bed with ye, Madeleine Fraser. Ye can speak to the captain in the morning. From the looks of it, those soldiers plan to be stayin’ at Mhor Manor for quite a while.”

“They winna if I can help it,” Madeleine fumed, ignoring Glenis’s suggestion. Redcoats under her own roof! She could hardly believe it. She bent down to fasten the brass buckles on her brogues, then straightened, smoothing the skirt of her clean linen gown. “What did ye say was that captain’s name?”

Clearly frustrated, Glenis sighed heavily and sank down on the bed. She gave Madeleine a look she had known all her life, reproaching her for her stubbornness. “Captain Marshall. Garrett’s his Christian name.”

“I dinna care one whit about his Christian name,” Madeleine muttered under her breath. Without another word she flounced from the room.

How dare they invade my home, she thought furiously as she rushed down the hallway to the main staircase. While she had slept the afternoon away, thirty-odd redcoats had taken over the entire right wing of Mhor Manor. Glenis had told her they were building bunks in the dancing room and the spare guest rooms. Bunks!

Madeleine felt another sharp pang, and she paused, leaning against the wall, until it subsided. Her thoughts were still fuzzy, her memory of the accident earlier that day only fragmented pictures in her mind. She distinctly remembered the wild ride from Farraline, but what followed was no more than a streaking blur of events. Everything had happened so fast.

There had been a violent jolt as her mare struck the other horse, then she had flown through the air. After that she recalled only blackness until she opened her eyes to find herself in the arms of an English soldier. It had been like a terrible nightmare.

She remembered a struggle to free herself and the sound of his deep and steady voice, but not his words. Nor could she recall her own words, only her feelings of anger as he seemed to stalk her, drawing closer and closer. She had had the strangest sensation she had seen him somewhere before…

Then she had been in his arms again, fighting and cursing, the breath knocked from her body as he had thrown her over his shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was lying in her bed, Glenis spoonfeeding her that bitter tea. She had fallen asleep, only to wake a short while ago to find Glenis nodding off in the rocking chair by the window.

Madeleine pushed away from the wall and walked to the top of the staircase. She looked down into the main hallway. Her eyes narrowed as a young soldier entered through the front door, his arms full of bedding.

Indignation seized her. The scene reminded her of the last time redcoats had violated her home. She had been powerless to do anything on that occasion. This time she was not. She practically flew down the stairs and gave the soldier a good shove. He fell back, grunting in surprise, blankets and linen sheets tumbling to the floor.

“What do ye think ye’re doing?” she cried, throwing herself between him and the hall leading to the adjoining right wing. “Get out of my house, ye freckled weasel! Now! And take yer bedclothes with ye!”

The startled soldier mumbled something unintelligible, his face a bright shade of red that nearly matched his uniform. He began to step backward, keeping one eye on her while he glanced over his shoulder for the door.

“Stop right where you are, soldier,” a deep voice commanded him from directly behind Madeleine.

The young man froze. “Yes, sir,” he said miserably.

Madeleine spun around to meet this new adversary, a stinging retort on her lips. It died when she came face to face with the handsome, blond officer who loomed in the archway, the powerful breadth of his shoulders blocking out everything behind him. His eyes, a compelling shade of gray flecked with green, studied her quizzically.

It was he. The man who had accosted her, she thought angrily. A familiar sensation gripped her. She could swear she had seen him before today, but where?

Suddenly her memory cleared, like sunlight piercing through a mist. Her last raid! He had been the commanding officer, forced to strip with his men…She felt a blush scorch her skin, and she bowed her head so he wouldn’t see her discomfort. Her mind raced.

Easy, lass. Stay calm, she assured herself. She and her kinsmen had nothing to fear. They had been well disguised during that raid. ‘Twas only a strange coincidence, nothing more.

“That’s hardly a way to treat your new guests, Mistress Fraser,” the officer began, interrupting her thoughts. “Allow me to introduce—”

“There’s no need for introductions,” Madeleine snapped, quickly recovering herself. She looked him full in the face. “I know who ye are, Captain Marshall.”

“Garrett.”

“Whatever. Glenis has told me all about ye.”

“Ah, then. I hope it was complimentary.”

Garrett smiled as his gaze wandered over her. He took in every aspect of her comely appearance, from her glossy curls to the trim fit of her lavender gown. Its buttoned bodice, demurely edged with lace, revealed a full swell of creamy bosom. She was definitely not a maidservant, he thought appreciatively. How could he have so misjudged her?

He was also pleased to observe that she looked none the worse for her accident. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy rose color, her eyes were lively and sparkling. He took a step toward her. “How are you feeling?”

“What are ye and yer sorry lot of soldiers doing in my house?” she demanded, disregarding his soft-spoken question. His frank appraisal was unsettling, and she shivered, acutely aware of his striking good looks. She placed her hands on her hips and eyed him belligerently, forcing her mind from this baffling attraction.

“Perhaps we could sit in the drawing room while we discuss a few matters, rather than stand here in the hall. Or we could stroll outside. The sun is about to set and it’s a lovely summer evening.”

“I’ll not sit down nor walk in any garden with the likes of ye,” Madeleine said evenly, raising her chin. “Ye’ll kindly answer my question, Captain Marshall. Why are ye turning my home into a…a bunkhouse?’

“Very well.” Garrett gestured to the soldier, who was still standing stiffly to one side. The man quickly gathered up the bedding and hurried past them. Only when he disappeared down the hallway did Garrett speak again. His expression sobered.

“I’ll be brief, Mistress Fraser. Your manor house will be serving as headquarters and billeting for myself and my men for an indefinite period of time.”

“Billeting?”

“Yes. We’ve been ordered by our chief commander, General Henry Hawley, to occupy Strathherrick.”

Madeleine started. She had heard of Butcher Cumberland’s bastard brother. His cruelty had far surpassed the duke’s at Culloden. If this man was one of his officers, surely he was cut from the same maggot-infested cloth. “For what purpose, captain, if I might ask?”

Garrett did not readily reply. He could not tell her the truth because it might jeopardize his mission.

If she knew anything about Black Jack, she could possibly warn the brigand of their intent to capture him. No doubt the bastard would flee into the mountains at the first whiff of trouble. Then all would be lost, for himself and the people of Strathherrick. Perhaps if he could ever trust her, it might be different, but for now…

“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 do ye 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 brigands 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 brigands 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.