Outside, the air was fresh, but a bright sun shone down and, where there were high hedges to provide shelter, it was pleasantly warm.
Grant was very conscious of the young lady on his arm, but he reminded himself that they must soon part and he must not allow himself to enjoy her company too much. Not that he would be tempted to delay his departure. The longer he remained in Scotland the greater the danger.
‘What do you make of our hosts?’ Madeleine asked, interrupting his thoughts as they strolled along. ‘Do you think I can trust them?’
He hesitated. ‘I believe so. They are old friends of your father, and he has consigned you to their care.’
‘My father is not always the best judge of character,’ she told him. ‘I noted the white rose and the thistle on the wineglasses at dinner last night. I know that can be a sign of Jacobite supporters, but His Lordship has been very circumspect in his conversation.’
‘My presence might account for his reticence. It is also likely he prefers that the servants remain ignorant of any plans, as much for their own sake as his.’
‘There is that,’ she admitted. She gave a sigh and turned her face up to the sun. ‘What a relief it is to be out of doors and able to speak freely.’
‘You trust me, then?’ he asked, pleased with the idea.
Her face softened into a smile. ‘How could I not, after your service to me? Which reminds me.’ She stopped and pulled a small red leather purse from her pocket and held it out.
‘What is that?’ He made no move to take it.
‘The ten guineas I owe you. I promised to pay it once we reached here.’
‘I had forgotten all about it,’ he confessed.
She pushed the purse against his chest. ‘Take it, Grant. It was honestly earned.’
But it did not sit well with him, taking money from a woman.
‘It is not necessary; I have sufficient to get me to the coast.’ It was a lie and Madeleine’s look told him she knew it.
‘I want you to take it. We agreed the sum.’
Grant noted the stubborn set to her dainty chin, but still he shook his head.
‘I do not want it.’
‘You have a long journey ahead; you will need it.’
‘I shall manage,’ he said impatiently. ‘Put your money away, Madeleine.’
She drew herself up, her eyes flashing. ‘I will be in no man’s debt!’
With that she pushed the purse into the pocket of his jacket and stalked off.
For a stunned moment he watched her walk away, the skirts of her gown catching the light with every sway of her hips.
‘Madeleine, wait!’ Grant muttered a curse and ran to catch up with her. ‘Of all the hot-at-hand females... Stop, damn you!’ He caught her arm, his free hand diving into his pocket to retrieve the purse and thrusting it back at her. ‘I have said I do not want this and I will not take it! I have friends near Aberdeen who will help me, if I need funds. You, on the other hand, may need every last groat to pay for your safe passage to your father. Now for heaven’s sake stop being so foolish and put your money away!’
Her eyes positively blazed with fury and he braced himself for a tirade, but to his astonishment she remained silent. The fire in her eyes was doused by gleaming tears and his own anger died as quickly as it had come.
‘Oh, Madeleine!’ He cupped her face and gently wiped his thumbs across her cheeks. ‘I beg your pardon. I would not for the world make you weep.’
‘I am not w-weeping,’ she retorted, pulling away from him and dashing her lacy handkerchief across her eyes. ‘I detest such weakness!’
That made him smile.
‘I am sure you do,’ he murmured.
She was looking about her with the air of a hunted animal and he said gently, ‘If we go back to the house with you showing such signs of distress it will very likely cause comment. I suggest we continue our walk.’ She did not resist when he pulled her hand on to his arm and they set off again, this time away from the house, taking a path that ran between beds of spring flowers encased in low box hedges.
‘I should beg your pardon,’ she said, after a few moments. ‘I should not have ripped up at you. My father has always deplored my fiery nature, he says it comes from my mother.’
‘My hot temper is inherited from my mother,’ he told her. ‘She is a true redhead.’
Maddie gave a watery chuckle. ‘It would seem we are destined to fight, then.’
‘Could we not declare a truce? After all, I am leaving in the morning.’
‘Then I think we might. We should be able to remain polite to one another for the rest of the day.’
* * *
A half-hour wandering through the gardens saw harmony restored, so much so that all thoughts of returning to the house were forgotten. They walked every one of the many paths and even then Grant was reluctant to turn back towards the house.
‘Lady Lochall mentioned a wilderness,’ he said. ‘If you are not too tired, we might take a look at it.’
‘I should like that,’ she replied. ‘Although why one would want to create a wilderness inside the grounds when there is already so much outside is beyond my comprehension!’
* * *
When Maddie finally went to her room to change for dinner she was refreshed and happier than she had felt for weeks. She had enjoyed walking in the gardens with Grant, once they had resolved their differences. Neither of them mentioned their little contretemps and she resigned herself to the fact that he would not take payment for escorting her to Lochall House. She blamed it on his particularly strong sense of honour and, although she wondered if there was some way he would accept the money without wounding his pride, she did not want to risk the delicate friendship that was growing between them. She knew he was leaving in the morning, but it felt important to her that they did not part on bad terms.
Another altered gown was awaiting her, this time a cream satin, so exquisitely embroidered with colourful flowers and birds that it drew a little coo of pleasure from Maddie when she saw it. When the maid had helped her into the gown, she sat before the looking glass and decided she might be a little more frivolous with the arrangement of her hair this evening. Instead of brushing her dark curls into a tight knot at the back of her head, she coaxed one glossy black ringlet to drop to her shoulder.
‘There,’ she murmured, turning her head from side to side to study the effect. ‘Will I do, do you think?’
The housemaid clapped her hands and gave an ecstatic sigh.
‘Och, ma’am, ye look like a princess, as fair as can be!’
‘Thank you!’ Maddie rose and shook out her skirts. ‘Let us see if Lord Lochall and Her Ladyship will agree with you!’
When she reached the hall there was a servant waiting to show her into the drawing room and she swept in, pausing for a moment when the door closed behind her, as if unsure of her welcome.
Grant, looking around at that moment, felt a little kick of pleasure. From her shiny coal-black curls to the slippers peeping out beneath her satin skirts, Madeleine appeared to glow in the summer sunshine that blazed in through the long windows. Her ivory shoulders rose from the corsage unadorned, but her flawless skin needed no enhancing, and his eyes followed their line to the slender column of her neck and onwards, up to her face.
She was not beautiful in the accepted use of the term, her mouth too wide, the little chin too determined, but there was a delicate flush on her cheeks and the high cheekbones and straight little nose commanded attention. Even her eyes were shining like sapphires.
Grant saw the admiration in Lord Lochall’s face as he moved forward to greet her and was not surprised. She was very striking and would command attention in any society.
‘My dear, your walk in the garden has done you a great deal of good.’
She laughed as she gave him her hand to
kiss. ‘Aided by finding another beautiful gown waiting for me, my lord. I cannot thank you and Lady Lochall enough for your hospitality.’
‘Nonsense, my dear, it is the least we can do for you,’ replied Lady Lochall, waving away her thanks. She glanced the clock. ‘La, how the time has gone on! Shall we go in to dinner?’
* * *
It was the most enjoyable day Madeleine had yet spent since leaving Inverness. The good food and the kindly nature of her host and hostess put her at her ease, but it was the rapport with Grant Rathmore that made it so memorable. Perhaps it was knowing she would not see him again after tomorrow that made them so at ease.
Indeed, the conversation sparkled as they joked and laughed together like old friends. Afterwards she could never remember just what they had talked of, nothing of importance, she was sure, but the evening flew by. Lord and Lady Lochall were content to allow the young people to chatter away. It was not until they were all gathered together in the drawing room later that the conversation took another turn.
The gentlemen had just come in when a servant entered with a letter for Lord Lochall.
‘A note, at this time of night?’ remarked his lady.
Lord Lochall did not reply immediately, but something in his manner put Madeleine on her guard and she waited anxiously for him to speak.
‘It is from Yves d’Evremont,’ he said at last, looking at Madeleine. ‘He sends instructions for your voyage to France.’
* * *
Watching her across the room, Grant found his mind racing with possibilities. There were plenty of small fishing villages along the coast where a rendezvous with a French ship might be arranged. He could go with her, see her safely aboard and perhaps even sail with her. He would like to see her out of danger and restored to her family.
‘From Papa?’ She was gazing eagerly at His Lordship, her hands clasped together. ‘He has organised my passage to France?’
‘He has, my dear.’ Lord Lochall looked down at the paper he was holding. ‘Naturally, he writes obscurely in case his letter should fall into the wrong hands, but it is very clear. The French are supporting the Young Chevalier and, despite the British Navy’s best efforts, French privateers are getting through.’
Madeleine nodded. ‘I have heard as much. When do I leave? Oh!’ She laughed aloud and clasped her hands together. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord, I must appear very ungrateful.’
‘Not at all, my dear. I am sure you are most anxious to see your father. However, you must remain here for some days yet. There are arrangements I must make.’
‘What arrangements?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘Travel in this part of Scotland is not easy at the best of times and at present one must be even more careful,’ replied His Lordship. ‘I must find you a guide and safe houses where you may stay.’
Grant stepped a little closer to Madeleine’s chair. ‘I will go with her. It is no more than fifty miles from here to the coast; with luck we can manage that in two days.’
‘I regret it is not quite that simple,’ replied His Lordship, adding drily, ‘Yves d’Evremont’s arrangements rarely are.’
Madeleine was shifting impatiently on her chair and Grant said quietly, ‘I will withdraw, sir, if you would prefer to discuss this in private with Miss d’Evremont.’
‘No, no, please stay.’ She put out a hand to detain him. ‘My lord, I have no secrets from Mr Rathmore. I believe we may trust him. And he will need to know everything, if he is to accompany me.’
‘Ah, but there is the rub, my dear, I am not sure Mr Rathmore will be able to escort you. Your father’s arrangements take you in the opposite direction. West, into Ross-shire. They are quite specific. There is a French ship sailing for Scotland with gold for the Prince’s cause. Yves has secured you passage on it, but you must get yourself to the rendezvous for Midsummer’s Eve. The Captain will be able to wait a few days for you, but it is not safe for him to tarry in those waters for too long.’
‘Where am I to meet this ship?’ asked Maddie.
Lord Lochall shook his head.
‘Your father is too canny to put such detail into his letter. He says you are to meet with his contact for your final directions at Kinloch, on the edge of Loch Òrail.’
‘What!’
Grant could not help exclaiming when he heard the name. His Lordship was aware how familiar that place would be to him, but Madeleine, however, was looking at him, puzzled. He knew he must explain.
‘I know Loch Òrail. It is but a day’s journey from Ardvarrick.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Maddie nodded, her face grave. ‘And you will not wish to travel so close to your home. I understand that.’ She turned again to Lord Lochall. ‘But why must I go so far? It must be all of a hundred miles from here.’
‘More like one hundred and fifty,’ Grant corrected her.
Madeleine had taken the letter from His Lordship and scanned it, but now she jumped to her feet.
‘That is just like Papa,’ she raged, waving the letter at no one in particular. ‘He turns the simplest task into a mammoth undertaking!’ She began to pace the room with quick, restless strides. ‘I will not do it. A hundred and fifty miles—why, that is madness! I am convinced it would be better to go to the east coast and sail from there to France. There must be any number of vessels that could take me.’
‘But the instructions are clear,’ Lord Lochall insisted. ‘Your father—’
‘My father abandoned me!’ Madeleine stopped her pacing and glared at him. ‘He left me in Inverness, knowing a battle was imminent. He gave me no hint of what he was about. He did not even tell me he was returning to France! I knew nothing until I received his note, telling me to make my way here. And now he is saying I must retrace my steps, travel back to Inverness and beyond, risking my life in the hope that there will be a French ship waiting for me at some western port, if I should ever find it! I believe I shall have more success if I make my own arrangements.’ She turned to Grant. ‘You are bound for France; will you take me with you?’
She was looking at him, a small inferno of anger with her breast heaving and cheeks flushed. Grant knew getting himself out of Scotland would be dangerous enough, let alone taking a woman with him. Her father had contacts and must have paid well to arrange his daughter’s passage whereas he, Grant, had only his wits to aid him.
Lady Lochall spoke up. ‘I must say that appears to be the most logical solution.’
Her eyes, as well as Madeleine’s, were on him now and he knew he was lost. He inclined his head.
‘If you are determined to go your own way, then, yes, I will accompany you.’
‘Very well.’ She nodded. ‘We will leave at dawn. I—’
‘Oh, no, we will not!’ he cut in quickly. ‘If you want my escort, then we must plan this properly.’
‘But you were planning to leave tomorrow, it can make little difference if I come with you.’
‘I beg you will show a little sense, madam! It makes all the difference in the world. We must consult His Lordship; he will know the best way to go about it.’
Their eyes met and held. She was still tense with nervous energy, her eyes glittering dangerously. Grant knew the battle was as much with her own temper as anything he had said.
Lord Lochall cleared his throat. ‘I cannot prevent you from going east, Miss d’Evremont, if you are set upon it, and I will give you every assistance. However, I believe Rathmore is right. You should delay your journey by another day at least.’
‘I cannot see any reason for that.’ She waved an impatient hand. ‘I would prefer to be moving as soon as possible.’
‘I am sure you would, but my neighbour Sumington was quite taken with you and, having agreed to go to the dance tomorrow, it would be remarked upon if you should disappear beforehand.’
Her anger was abating. The angry light had left her face
and Grant could see that she was considering their host’s words. When she looked towards him, her brows raised, he nodded.
‘Lord Lochall is right, you should go. We can make an early start the following morning.’
Madeleine nodded. It was decided. The heated passion of the past half-hour had left her exhausted and she excused herself soon afterwards and retired to her room.
* * *
However, once she was alone, she was too restless to go to bed. She was ashamed of her angry outburst, her lack of restraint when she learned of the journey Papa had planned for her. Lord and Lady Lochall were old friends of her father, they must know he could be by turns fickle, contradictory and autocratic. She had read understanding in their eyes when she raged against Papa, but not in Grant’s. All he knew was that she had a quick temper and she regretted very much that he had witnessed another example of it.
Later, lying in near darkness that passed for night at this time of year, even the warmed and comfortable bed she was in did not help her to sleep. She desperately wanted to apologise to Grant. To try to explain.
CHAPTER SIX
An hour ticked by and, rather than growing sleepier, Madeleine became more restless. She heard the murmur of voices on the stairs, then firm footsteps passing her door. She knew it was Grant, on his way to his own bedchamber at the end of the corridor. She strained her ears, listening for the faint sounds of soft-footed servants, distant doors opening and closing. She waited until the house was silent, then she slipped out of bed, pulling on the silk wrap her hostess had provided. It was a little long and she was obliged to hold it up to avoid tripping as she quietly opened the door and moved silently along the corridor. At the last door she stopped and knocked softly, stepping back a pace as it opened. She breathed a sigh of relief when she knew it was the right one.
‘Madeleine!’ Grant was no more than a shadow against the dim light behind him, a tall figure in billowing shirt and tight breeches.
She said quickly, ‘Good, you are not asleep yet.’
She stepped past him into the room.
Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 7
