A Hint of Rapture

by Miriam Minger

  "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 was she 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 outlaw, 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.

  Chapter 13

  "I'll lead the way, if ye dinna mind, Garrett," Madeleine said when they set out from Mhor Manor twenty minutes later. A curious smile tugged at Garrett's mouth, and she thought he might protest, but instead he inclined his head in deference to her wishes.

  "Lead on, Mistress Fraser," he said gallantly.

  She smiled briefly in return and kicked her dun-colored mare into a gallop. She purposely veered them away from Farraline and the much-traveled roads connecting the villages in Strathherrick, opting instead for a lesser known route across the valley.

  She had no intention of passing through any villages in the company of a redcoat. It was bad enough that word had already been spread that she and Glenis had nursed Garrett back to health. Meg was less trustworthy than Madeleine had thought, it seemed.

  Her kinsmen had questioned her about the rumor when she met them to plan last night's raid, but fortunately they had accepted her explanation that Glenis had taken pity on Garrett and required her help. An old woman's lapse was easily forgiven. She, on the other hand, had to be more careful.

  She could not afford to fan the flames of gossip any further by riding brazenly at Garrett's side for all to see. Her people trusted and respected her, and she wanted it to remain that way. If this route took them longer, so be it. At least her credibility would be preserved.

  They rode in uncomfortable silence for the first half hour, skirting Loch Mhor and the village of Errogie, then headed northwest, where they forded the River Farigaig.

  The lathered horses seemed to enjoy the crossing. The day was very warm, and the sun was brilliant in the blue sky scattered with clouds. The river's shimmering depths and shady banks offered a cool respite from the midday heat.

  Madeleine was halfway across the rushing stream when her mare paused for a long drink. If the river had not been so swollen from recent rains she would not have cared, but she feared the strong currents might topple them. She tugged at the reins, but to no avail. The mare would not lift her head.

  "Ye stubborn beast," she said with exasperation as Garrett drew up alongside her. "On with ye now."

  "Problems?" he asked.

  " 'Tis plain to see, Garrett. She winna budge!"

  With a hearty laugh he took the reins from her and gave the recalcitrant mare a good yank. Madeleine nearly lost her seat as the mare bounded forward after his massive bay, and the horses splashed across the river. When she and Garrett made it to the shoreline, they were soaked and laughing uproariously.

  She smiled at him through the water droplets clinging to her lashes. "Will ye look at us," she exclaimed breathlessly. "We might as well have fallen into the river!"

  "We'll be dry soon from this heat," Garrett said with a grin. He reached out and gently wiped a damp tendril from her flushed cheek. "The water felt good, though, didn't it?"

  "Aye," Madeleine replied, sobering at his touch. She felt a flutter deep inside her breast as he handed her the reins. It was all she could do to murmur her thanks.

  They resumed their journey, but the strained tension between them had been lifted. Madeleine began to point out sights of interest here and there, especially when they reached Wade's Road. Loch Ness stretched to the north and south as far as the eye could see, a great expanse of smooth, blue-gray water flanked by sweeping green hills and steep rock walls dropping into its depths.

  There was a decidedly gloomy air about the loch, despite the bright sunshine. Perhaps it was because the waters were so vast and so deep. Or perhaps it was the eerie stories that leaped to mind whenever one beheld the mysterious loch. Madeleine shuddered, and her skin tingled with goosebumps.

  "Is it true that the Scots believe a monster roams these waters?" Garrett asked, pulling up beside her. "When I was a boy my grandmother told me such a tale, and I had nightmares for days."

  She glanced at him in surprise, wondering how he had read her thoughts. "Aye, 'tis true," she replied, staring back out across the dark water. " 'Tis said to be a great black beast with humps, a long neck, and wee horns on its head. I've never seen it, but my parents swore they did once."

  "Really? When was that?"

  "Long ago, when my mother was carrying me. They were sitting over there." She pointed to a green plateau high atop a rocky cliff, aware that Garrett was watching her with a curious mix of wonderment and skepticism. His interest spurred her on. She enjoyed telling this story immensely.

  " 'Twas a cloudy, late autumn day and the wind was strong, ruffling the surface of the loch. Suddenly the water began to bubble and churn. The beast rose up from the depths and cut through the water with great curved paddles, like black wings. It left a huge wake, then 'twas gone." She chuckled, a faraway look in her eyes. "Da thought for sure my mother would birth me there on the cliff, she was so frightened."

  "And you believe this story?"

  Madeleine stared into his eyes. "Aye, I believe it, if my father and mother said 'twas so." She said nothing for a long moment, then gave another little laugh and looked away. "I used to complain whenever we journeyed by the loch, because I was never gifted with a sight of the beast." She grew thoughtful, her voice soft and quiet. "My da always said 'twas a good lesson. 'Maddie,' he would tell me, 'it teaches ye to believe in something ye canna see.'"

  She sighed, touched by a wave of sadness. To think of her parents together and happy, her father alive and whole. She felt close to tears but choked them back.

  "Your mother must have been very beautiful," Garrett said sincerely, startling her. "Why is there no portrait of her at Mhor Manor?"

  "All the family portraits were slashed to ribbons by the redcoats who came before ye," she replied, watching his eyes darken.

  "I'm truly sorry, Madeleine. If I'd been there, I would have done what I could to prevent—"

  " 'Tis over with, Garrett," she said with a small shrug, cutting off his unexpected apology. "I'd rather not speak of it."

  He fell silent, looking out across the loch, and she wondered what he was thinking. She felt surprisingly little resentment toward him. She could hardly blame him for what had happened to her home, nor could she imagine him ever participating in such madness. She sensed a decency in him that reminded her of her father.

  Madeleine bit her lip, stunned by her comparison. Dougald had never elicited such thoughts from her, nor tad he ever looked at her quite the way Garrett did, making her flesh tingle and her heart hammer, fanning the heat building within her.

  No! Dinna forget Garrett is yer enemy! she chided herself fiercely. Ye canna compare him to yer da or to Dougald. 'Tisn't right!

  Oddly enough, her self-reproach rang hollow within her. Things didn't seem so clear anymore, at least not when she was around Garrett. He seemed to have the uncanny ability to soften her hatred. He was becoming less of a redcoat in her eyes and more of a man, a most intriguing man.

  With great
effort she forced the whole confusing matter from her mind. "Ye were right about my mother," she began anew. "She was said to be the prettiest lass in Strathherrick—lively, sharp-witted, and a bit stubborn when 'twas needed."

  "She sounds just like you, Madeleine," Garrett said softly.

  His compliment caused her to shift uncomfortably in the saddle. "Do ye see that faraway bluff on the northern shore?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject. She flushed under his amused scrutiny and was more than relieved when he looked to where she was pointing. " 'Tis the ruins of Castle Urquhart. 'Twas a fine castle once, belonging to the Grants. There's little left now but crumbling walls and a dungeon."

  "A dungeon? I suppose it's haunted by ghosts, as many of Scotland's castles are rumored to be."

  "No, I havna heard any stories of ghosts at Castle Urquhart," Madeleine replied. "But there are two vaults in the dungeon, left unopened for hundreds of years. One's rumored to have treasure in it, and the other the plague."

  "That's a choice I would not wish to make," Garrett said with a deep, rumbling laugh. He glanced back at her, his expression growing serious. "I've enjoyed these stories, Madeleine, but I think we should move on to Foyer's Falls. Perhaps we can find a nice spot overlooking the waterfall where we can rest and talk further. Jeremy was good enough to pack a lunch for us."

  Madeleine nodded. She suddenly felt foolish and a little hurt. Here she was carrying on about water beasts, ghosts, and castle ruins, when all along Garrett had nothing on his mind but Black Jack.

  "I dinna mean to bore ye, Garrett," she said defensively. "Nor waste yer precious time." She jerked on the reins and kicked her mare, urging the animal into a fast trot.

  Garrett was caught unaware by her swift action. She left him behind, but he quickly overtook her, his bay's powerful strides far surpassing those of her mare. Again the silence lay oppressively between them, both keeping to their own thoughts as they rode side by side along Wade's Road.

  Madeleine ignored the groups of English soldiers they passed, her eyes fixed straight ahead as she and Garrett dodged in and out of the bustling highway traffic.