Chapter 8

“So we’re decided?” Madeleine asked, looking around the small table. “We’ll continue the raids, soldiers or no?”

Ewen and Duncan quickly nodded their assent while Angus stared thoughtfully at his folded hands.

“Angus?”

He glanced at her, his brow creased, his deep-set eyes mirroring his turmoil. “Aye, Maddie, I’ll go along,” he said reluctantly. “Though I think I’m more trouble to yer cause than I’m worth.”

“Nonsense,” she objected. “We need ye, Angus. I need ye. And Captain Marshall couldna know yer voice from a few simple ayes and mutterings about the weather.” She rose from her chair. “Duncan, will ye see that Kenneth and Allan know what we’ve discussed today?”

“Aye.”

“Good. I have no doubt they’ll choose to ride with us. Ye might also ask after Kenneth’s arm, Duncan. If he needs more healing salve, ye must let me know.” She sighed. “I guess ‘tis a good thing the Fraser brothers are hiding in the mountains. If Captain Marshall ever saw the scar from that knife wound, it would give Kenneth away for sure.”

She walked to the door, then turned around, her somber gaze sweeping the little party. “If we’re careful and dinna make any wrong moves, there’ll be no trouble. Just be about yer business as before. In no time those soldiers will leave Strathherrick, none the wiser.” She smiled faintly. “Until tomorrow, then. I’ll meet you at the old yew tree at midnight.”

Madeleine closed the door on the low buzz of male voices. She knew her kinsmen would probably share a few drams of whiskey and no doubt discuss their next planned raid on Wade’s Road before they dispersed. As for herself, two halves were quite enough. She felt a bit dizzy. She set off through the village and then down the winding road leading to Mhor Manor.

She was not surprised that the puddles dotting the road earlier that afternoon had vanished altogether, leaving the surface hard-packed and dry. The day was unusually warm for the Highlands, and the hot sun was relentless.

As she walked, Madeleine felt sweat trickling down her back and between her breasts. The heat was so oppressive her breathing was becoming labored, and she cursed the constricting stays she wore. She thought longingly of a cool sip of water and suddenly had an idea.

It had been well over a week since she’d gone swimming in Loch Conagleann at the foot of Beinn Bhuidhe. The tiny loch was one of her favorite places, secluded, peaceful, with a mountain-fed waterfall refreshing its pristine depths. Aye, that was it. A swim was just what she needed.

Madeleine quickened her pace, eager to be rid of her thirst and her sweat-soaked clothing. She left the dusty road behind her, opting for a footpath she had used since childhood. It was the quickest way she knew to the loch.

She almost shouted for joy when she finally reached it. The clear aquamarine water seemed to beckon to her. The calm surface stretched out before her like a shimmering silver mirror in the bright sunlight, disturbed only by a plummeting waterfall at the northernmost end. The tall fir trees rimming the shoreline rustled with the barest breeze, fanning her flushed face.

She immediately kicked off her brogues and rolled down her stockings, holding everything in one hand as she tramped along the gently sloping banks looking for a choice, shaded spot. The grass tickled her toes, and she paused to pick a handful of bluebells and sweet yellow primroses. She inhaled deeply, the delicate fragrance bringing a wide smile to her lips.

How odd, she thought. It felt as if she had not truly smiled in years. She marveled that the simplest things could bring such quiet joy, such serenity.

She strolled on. The stark eastern slopes of Beinn Bhuidhe towered above her in stunning contrast to the lush greenery surrounding the loch. The Fraser brothers were up there somewhere, in their remote mountain cave. That thought brought with it a rush of sadness for their plight, though she knew they were luckier than many. At least they still lived.

She breathed in the perfumed scent of her bouquet once more, willing such melancholy thoughts from her mind. She wanted to forget and enjoy herself, even if it were only for a short time. She wanted no painful memories, no responsibilities, no decisions to be made. Just sparkling water, sunlight playing upon her skin, and fresh mountain air.

At last she stopped beneath a spreading sycamore tree, the low branches providing some mottled shade. She dropped her shoes and stockings and set her wildflowers almost reverently atop a boulder that had tumbled from the mountain in an ancient landslide. Then she turned her back to the loch and hastily began to slip out of her gown.

She was standing in her chemise and linen drawers, her fingers furiously working at the laces of her stays, when a loud splash sounded from the north end of the small loch near the waterfall. She gasped and whirled around but saw nothing, only a ripple growing in ever widening circles and gentle waves marring the mirror-like surface.

What could it have been? she wondered. There were fish in the loch, but hardly big enough to create such a splash. Perhaps a rock had rolled down the steep hill and into the water…

Suddenly a bronzed man shot up from the depths in a glittering spray of sunlit droplets only twenty feet away from her. Madeleine jumped back in surprise and darted behind the large boulder. She cautiously peeked out at the unwelcome intruder who was now standing in waist-deep water.

The man’s back was to her, powerful bands of muscle knotting across his broad shoulders as he raised his arms and ran his hands through his wet blond hair. Then he turned, and she glimpsed his face just before he arched his body and dove cleanly beneath the surface. It was Garrett!

Madeleine sank to her knees, pounding her curled fist on the craggy rock. So much for a quiet afternoon of peaceful solitude. She should have guessed it wouldn’t take long for him to find her favorite place! But why now, when she so wanted to be alone? At least she could be thankful he hadn’t seen her.

She rose to her feet once again and peered over the top of the boulder. Garrett was swimming with forceful strokes toward the surging waterfall, his long legs kicking vigorously. She watched as he disappeared beneath the thundering white cascade, and she felt a moment’s fear.

Those rocks beneath the falls were sharp and jagged, the currents unpredictable, the waters churning and deep—a treacherous snare for even an accomplished swimmer. Stories abounded of those who had lost their lives in such waterfalls. Children were warned away from them by the tale of a phantom water beast, the uruisg, who was said to live in waterfalls and waited hungrily for unwary swimmers.

So she had been warned as a child. Glenis had told her the strange tale and she had never forgotten it, though she no longer believed it. She had been thirteen when she had finally dared to swim beneath this very waterfall, and she remembered the swirling currents trying to drag her down into the depths like cold, grasping fingers.

Madeleine held her breath, her heart pounding.

Seconds passed, and still there was no sign of Garrett. What should she do? What could she do? Perhaps it was already too late…

Relief poured through her when she saw him hoist himself up onto a flat, overhanging rock near the base of the waterfall. She was stunned by her emotion.

He was an Englishman. A soldier. Why should she care if he lived or died? Was it because he was a quarter Scots? Or was it simply compassion for another human being…?

He stood up tall and straight on the rock, and she drew her breath in sharply. Her confused thoughts fled her mind. He was naked…dripping wet and naked. His lean, tanned body was so beautiful, glistening and golden in the sun, that she could not tear her eyes away.

She watched in reluctant fascination, knowing she should not be staring, feeling like a naughty child caught at some prank. Her skin was tingling, a strangeness she had never felt before. She was breathless, her breasts heaving beneath her tightly laced stays.

She had seen near naked men before at many a Highland game when the contestants threw off their kilts in the heat of exertion and wrestled or tossed the caber in a meager loincloth. She had seen Dougald Fraser at such a game, his massive body muscled and strong, his powerful thighs the size of her waist. She had felt embarrassed, aye, and thrilled…but never like this.

Why had she not felt this before, during the raid? she wondered. She had seen Garrett and his men unclothed, tied up and lying defenseless on the ground. But it had been different then. They had been forced to strip. Was it because she had sensed their deep humiliation, their vulnerability before their enemies? Was that why she had walked into the dark woods, unable to watch?

Madeleine shivered. It was the whiskey, she thought dazedly. The whiskey and the hot sun had addled her brain. It seemed she had no sense of anything but the physical beauty of the man standing almost beneath the tumbling waterfall.

Her eyes roamed at will over his body, across his sculpted chest and the rugged span of his shoulders, down his flat stomach, tightly corded with muscle, to his slim hips and the dark triangle of curls below…God’s wounds! Had she no shame?

He turned suddenly, poised to dive off the side of the rock. His long, sinewed legs braced, and his thighs and calves flexed creating a muscled indentation where his hips met his buttocks. Then he was gone, scarcely a ripple cutting the water where he disappeared.

Madeleine felt herself slowly sinking to the ground, and she rested her forehead on her hands. Why did she feel so faint all of a sudden? It had to be the whiskey, the heat, and her stays. Glenis had laced them far too tightly. She fumbled at her back trying to loosen the laces, but it seemed her fingers were so many thumbs. Her hands fell to her sides, and she slumped against the boulder.

Madeleine had no sense of how long she had lain there when she felt a sharp tug and heard a jagged tearing sound. All she knew was that one moment she could scarcely breathe, then the next she was free.

She gulped in great gasps of air, crying out as she was lifted by strong arms. She tilted her head back, her stunned gaze meeting a pair of smiling gray-green eyes.

“It has always been my belief that those garments should be considered instruments of torture and banned from public use,” Garrett said easily, though his tone belied his concern.

He could not have been more surprised to find Madeleine crumpled behind the boulder. How long had she been there? He had thought he was alone at this jeweled loch. He had just finished dressing and was walking along the shore when he saw her lying there unconscious. He was relieved to see her color return swiftly, her skin blushing a becoming rose shade.

“I’m sorry about your stays, but I think you’re better off without them. Especially on such a blistering hot day as this.” He held her close against his chest as he carried her to the shoreline. “Would you like a sip of water?”

At Madeleine’s quick nod he bent down on one knee and set her beside him on the grass, supporting her with his arm. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the water, then brought them to her lips. She drank thirstily, unaware that most of the water was running down her chin and throat, soaking her filmy white chemise.

Once more he brought cool water to her mouth until she pushed away from him and bent over the loch. She splashed her face and throat, then cupped her hand again and again until her thirst was sated. At last she sat back on her heels, a half smile on her lips as she swept back her damp hair.

“I thank ye,” Madeleine murmured hesitantly and shrugged. “I dinna know what happened. I think ‘twas the heat…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked out over the shimmering loch, embarrassed.

Garrett swallowed hard. His eyes were not on the loch. He stared at her full breasts…high and rounded, perfect. The pink nipples pushed tautly against her drenched chemise, the fabric like transparent gauze upon her skin.

A streak of fire shot through his body, a streak of blazing hunger. How he longed to reach out and cradle a tempting mound, to circle a teasing nub with his thumb, ever so slowly, to feel its hardness and taste its sweetness… She was so close to him, he could feel the heat of her body, could smell the heady scent of her skin, her hair, warmed by the sun.

It happened before he realized what he was doing. He rose to his knees, trancelike, and reached out for her. He crushed her to him, his mouth capturing hers. He heard a roaring in his ears as the blood pumped wildly through his veins, and his fingers caressed a firm breast that seemed to leap into his hand.

Madeleine’s heart jumped to her throat.

Suddenly she was dizzy all over again, her body trembling and quaking, held captive by his overwhelming embrace. She did not think of fighting him. Sweet, aching sensation drove all thought of escape from her.

Fragmented pictures flashed through her awareness: Garrett standing in the middle of the camp, his hair like spun gold in the firelight; Garrett bending over the wash basin, sleek and muscular; Garrett beneath the waterfall, his powerful golden-bronze body wet and gleaming.

The pictures quivered and faded as all her feelings, and all her perception centered on the wonder of his kiss. His lips were both rough and gentle as his tongue demanded entrance and filled her mouth, relentlessly searching. She felt as if she were drowning, the world falling away beneath her. She wanted more, she wanted…

“Madeleine,” Garrett whispered huskily, his loins throbbing with desire. He pulled away and kissed her flushed cheeks, her eyelids, and her lustrous sable lashes. His fingers were twined in her hair. “Sweet, beautiful Maddie, lie down with me…now, here.”

At the sound of her name, Madeleine’s eyes snapped open as if a knife had stabbed her flesh. The sunlight blinded her, forcing her into full consciousness.

God in heaven, what was she doing? Had she gone mad? He was an Englishman, a redcoat! She shoved him so hard he lost his balance and fell sideways, right into the loch. The cold water splashed her in the face, like a chilling slap. She reached down and grabbed for her dirk, but the leather sheath strapped to her thigh was empty.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for,” Garrett said wryly, sprawled in the shallow water. He pulled the dirk halfway from his boot, the silver hilt flashing in the sun. “Before I removed your corset, I thought it best to confiscate your weapon.” He laughed shortly. “Just in case you might object to my offer of assistance.”

“Ye son of a whore!” Madeleine hissed, her eyes narrowed. “Give it to me.”

He merely shook his head in answer. He looked at her steadily, his lips drawn into a tight line.

She wiped her mouth, then spat upon the ground. “That’s what I think of ye and yer kind assistance. Dinna come near me again, Captain Marshall, or I swear ye’ll regret it!”

She wheeled around, nearly stumbling, and hurried over to the boulder, where she quickly donned her petticoat and gown. All the while she kept her eyes on Garrett, who hadn’t moved an inch. Finally she grabbed her shoes and stockings, shoving them under one arm, and swept her tattered stays from the ground.

“And I’ll tell ye something else, Captain Marshall,” she said hotly, stamping a bare foot. “If ye pride yerself on yer kisses, ye might know this: I’ve had better!”

She held up her skirt and set off running along the shore. Although she did not once look back, she could feel him watching her.

She had lied.

Dougald had kissed her before, but it had never been like this. Never.

Her skin was still ablaze from Garrett’s caresses, and her lips were on fire. His heat remained…a burning ache, a hint of rapture.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her back to the manor house, as if she could escape the haunting memory.

***

Madeleine did not see Garrett the rest of the day. When she went to bed that night, she found a bedraggled posy of bluebells and primroses on her pillow, along with a folded note and her dirk.

What manner of man was he? she wondered. She sat on her bed for a long time before she read the note. Her fingers were shaking as she opened it, and her eyes quickly scanned the bold, masculine script:

“Mistress Madeleine Fraser, please accept my humble apologies for my ungentlemanly behavior this afternoon. Respectfully, Garrett.”

At the bottom of the crisp paper, a hastily scrawled line was added: “I have never known a kiss such as yours.”

Madeleine unconsciously ran her fingertip over the line while she reread it. I have never known a kiss such as yours …

Shivering, she crumpled the note and threw it at the wall, climbed into bed, and blew out the candle.