A Hint of Rapture

by Miriam Minger

  She walked into the room, staring numbly at the closet door, nearly ripped off its hinges. There was nothing left of the planked floor inside the closet, the entrance to the secret tunnel clearly revealed. Angus had told her that Garrett had said something to General Hawley about the tunnel, yet she couldn't imagine how he had found it.

  "It looks like the celebration continued long after I left Mhor Manor," Garrett said behind her, cutting into her thoughts.

  Madeleine turned to face him. "Celebration?"

  He nodded. "Of Black Jack's capture." He quickly changed the subject. "Do you want to look upstairs?

  She shook her head. "No, not yet." She walked past him and into the dining room, aware that he was following her.

  She righted a chair near one of the shattered windows, staring dazedly at the water-damaged sill and the mildewed rug beneath her feet. Rain must have poured in through the empty frames during numerous thunderstorms like the ones she had imagined from her prison cell.

  "I'll board up these windows until we can have new glass brought from Inverness," Garrett said quietly. "If there's anything else you want replaced immediately, Madeleine, you must let me know."

  She didn't answer him but moved toward the door leading into the kitchen. Her nostrils flared, and her stomach flipflopped. There was a putrid stench coming from the kitchen. She paled, afraid to think of what she might find.

  "Don't, Madeleine. Wait here," Garrett bid her, catching her arm. He pulled his cravat from around his neck and covered his mouth with it, then opened the door and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She heard him cough and curse loudly, then listened to the outer kitchen door opening and closing and the long shut windows squeaking in protest as they were hastily raised. Finally Garrett strode back into the dining room and slammed the door behind him.

  "You don't want to go in there for a while, not until the place airs out," Garrett said, his eyes watering.

  "What was it?"

  Garrett grimaced, slightly pale himself. "Hawley's cooks left a sheep's carcass to rot on the kitchen table. I'll have it buried right away and the kitchen scrubbed down." He shuddered visibly. "I think it will be a long time before I'm able to eat lamb again." He took her arm and escorted her back toward the main hallway. "The upstairs is probably much the same as down here. Would you rather we ride into Farraline?"

  Madeleine started, his question piercing the dazed fog that had settled over her. "Why do ye want to go into Farraline?" she asked suspiciously, jerking her arm away.

  Garrett sighed heavily. "I'd like to see the extent of the damage, if you don't mind, Madeleine. As soon as my own soldiers arrive from Fort Augustus, we're going to help rebuild the village. We'll have to work fast if we're to beat the snow."

  Stunned, Madeleine turned on him, his words confirming what she had thought all along. "Part of yer grand plan, aye, Garrett?" she accused loudly, her voice reverberating throughout the silent house. "Well, I'll tell ye this. I'll not be a part of it!"

  "Maddie—"

  "No, ye'll hear me out," she silenced him. "If ye think to use me to sway my kin to yer favor, or to influence them in any way, perhaps to accept the tyranny of King Geordie, ye're wrong. I'm yer wife by law, I canna deny it. But I winna play the wife, Garrett, nor support yer actions. Ye'll soon find out the Frasers of Strathherrick want none of yer help, nor will they want an English spy in their midst, once they discover yer true purpose."

  Garrett stared at her, his eyes darkening though his expression was inscrutable. "It's not my plan to use you, Madeleine, as you so put it," he said grimly, "or to act as a spy, as you so firmly believe. I only seek to right some of the damage done." He strode to the door, calling out over his shoulder. "Either come with me or stay here. It's up to you."

  Madeleine was tempted to tell him exactly where he should go and slam the door in his face, but she wanted desperately to see for herself how the villagers were faring. She swallowed a good part of her ire, knowing she didn't want to wait and hear the news secondhand from Garrett. She ran out the door and quickly mounted her mare, cursing again the skirt that so constricted her movement.

  Neither of them spoke as they rode toward Farraline, the strained silence that was becoming so familiar settling between them once more.

  Madeleine felt her throat tighten as they drew closer, fearing the worse, yet she could already see white smoke curling into the air just beyond the low rise, a very good sign. She nearly shouted for joy as the entire village came into view.

  Many of the cottages had already been rebuilt on the scorched earth where they had stood before, the same stones, now blackened with soot, forming the low walls. She was pleased to see even their small church had been rebuilt.

  Yet it was clear there was still much work to be done. Nothing was left of those poorer cottages built entirely of turf walls and thatched heather roofs. Makeshift hovels abounded where the cottages had once stood, some propped up by charred tree trunks while others leaned against the sturdier stone cottages.

  Madeleine took heart in the amount of activity in the village—children were playing, men were clambering atop newly thatched roofs and weighting them with stones to fend off the wind, women were busily sweeping streets or laboring over communal black pots set upon tripods.

  She inhaled deeply of the aroma of food cooking in the air. She heard laughter and friendly shouting, calls for more stones to finish a wall or more turnips for the stew. She even heard Flora Chrystie calling for her boy Neil somewhere in the village. Her kinswoman's voice carried to her like the sweetest music.

  Angus had been right, Madeleine thought, smiling as she remembered his words of comfort the morning after their capture. Her people's hope had not died that horrible night. She had accomplished what she'd set out to do.

  Thanks to Garrett Marshall, she found herself thinking.

  Aye, she could admit it. Garrett had played a part in this as much as she. This scene would have been far different if it hadn't been for his warning about Hawley's impending threat. She could at least thank him for forcing her into a decision that had spared her people's lives.

  Madeleine turned to him, words of gratitude upon her lips, only to discover he was no longer at her side. She twisted around in the saddle, looking for him. He was riding back toward Mhor Manor. She could barely hear him calling out to the driver of the first wagon just now turning into the estate.

  The moment was gone. Once again she felt her anger swiftly returning as she finally guessed what was in those wagons.

  This was all part of Garrett's plan.

  It had become very plain that he possessed a sizable income, no doubt his inheritance. The extravagant night at the Edinburgh inn attested to that, along with the beautiful clothes he had bought her, the finely bred mare, and even the herd of cattle.

  The wagons were probably filled with things he knew her people needed, things they had lost in the flames that could not be made easily or replaced without money. Precious items he could use to win their favor and acceptance and make his task of keeping the peace for King George all the easier.

  Yet if Garrett had such an inheritance, why hadn't he simply bought himself an estate in England? she wondered, perplexed. Why had he chosen her land instead, forcing her to become his bride so he might live among Highlanders who were hostile at best to any English presence?

  It was beyond reasoning, unless . . .

  No, she hadn't misjudged him, Madeleine decided heatedly, forcing the disturbing thought from her mind. 'Twas easy enough to explain. Whatever Garrett's inheritance, it was probably not enough to buy himself an English estate as fine as Mhor Manor, yet it was sufficient to cover his bribes and afford him a comfortable living on Fraser lands. Bastard!

  Madeleine tugged sharply on the reins, veering the mare hard about. Aye, she would personally see that her kin had nothing to do with Garrett and his wagons full of winter supplies!

  "Maddie Fraser!"

  Startled, she spun the horse b
ack around to find Meg Blair running toward her, waving her hand frantically.

  "Maddie, I canna believe 'tis ye!" the plump young woman cried, tears swimming in her eyes. "I thought for a moment I might be seeing a ghost."

  Madeleine cringed inside. She wasn't prepared to greet anyone yet, especially not Meg, whose tongue was apparently looser than Madeleine had thought. It was Meg, after all, who had spread the news about Glenis and herself tending to Garrett after he had been injured. She watched as the young woman slowed her pace and stopped, her chest heaving.

  "We've been so worried about ye, Maddie," Meg gasped, her chubby face flushed pink with exertion. "Ever since we saw the redcoats taking ye and Angus and the others away that night."

  She drew a ragged breath. "They told us ye were the outlaw who'd been raiding the English. Is that true, Maddie? They said ye were going to hang, but here ye are!"

  Madeleine quickly thought of a way to dodge Meg's breathless questions. " 'Tis I, safe and sound," she replied, forcing a smile, "but we'll have to talk later, Meg. First, ye must go and tell Agnes Burke that Ewen and Duncan are well and coming home, as are Angus and Allan Fraser."

  Meg's eyes grew round. "But how, Maddie? 'Tis a miracle, to be sure—"

  "Later, Meg," she repeated firmly. "Go on with ye now, and hurry. Ye mustna keep such good news to yerself."

  As the young woman nodded excitedly, Madeleine suddenly remembered something. "Meg, did Glenis get off all right to Tullich?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

  Meg's smile faded, and she looked at Madeleine blankly. "Glenis?"

  "Aye, dinna she tell ye that's where she was heading after staying with ye? I've been so worried about her. What did she do after the soldiers came? Was she able to save the cart?"

  Meg seemed totally confused. "Maddie, I dinna know what ye're talking about."

  Madeleine felt a twinge of fear. "I sent Glenis to yer house hours before the soldiers—"

  "Glenis ne'er came to our house," Meg interrupted quietly. "I ne'er saw her that night, Maddie. We've been wondering what became of her, and we checked yer house as soon as the soldiers left, but 'twas empty."

  Madeleine's throat tightened painfully, her hands twisting the reins. "Are ye sure? No one's seen her?"

  Meg studied her helplessly. "Aye, she's not been heard of since that night."

  "Dear God," Madeleine said, her mind racing.

  No, dinna think the worse 'til ye know for sure, she told herself. Glenis might have gone directly to Tullich. Aye, that made sense.

  "Maddie, are ye all right?"

  Madeleine blinked, meeting Meg's worried gaze. "Aye, I'll be fine," she said faintly. "Go on now, Meg. I have to get back."

  "If ye'd like, Maddie, I'll come to the house in the morning and help ye clean up," Meg offered. "Those redcoats left the place in a fine mess. Shall I bring Kitty Dods with me? 'Twould be a lot of work for just the two of us, now that Glenis is g—" She bit her lip as if she just realized what she was saying.

  Madeleine nodded numbly. "Aye, ye may bring Kitty."

  Meg said no more but turned and scurried away as Madeleine wheeled her horse around and set off at a wild gallop toward Mhor Manor.

  Chapter 28

  Madeleine dodged the wagons choking the drive and dismounted near the front door. Her gaze frantically swept the estate grounds, but there was no sign of Garrett. He had probably gone up the road to direct the rest of the cavalcade.

  She dashed into the house and up the stairs, deciding to share her unsettling news with him after she had changed. If she didn't find him then, he would have to wait until she returned. She took only an instant to glance in each room as she passed, relieved to see that the upstairs had been left remarkably untouched.

  No doubt because Hawley's pompous commanding officers had enjoyed these rooms, she surmised with disgust, hurrying down the hall to her own chamber.

  She pushed open the door, stunned to find everything exactly as she had left it but for the unmade bed. She did not waste time contemplating who might have slept there. She rushed to the wardrobe, her hands shaking as she unbuttoned her riding coat and whisked it from her shoulders.

  If she left for Tullich immediately, Madeleine thought as she twisted out of her skirt, she would be at least halfway there before dark. The road was clearly marked. She would have no trouble finding the village nestled on Loch Ruthven's western shore.

  She quickly dressed in a frayed fustian gown, reveling in the freedom of the wide skirt, then kicked off her riding boots. She replaced her silk stockings with thick, woolen ones and donned a pair of sturdy brogues. Lastly she fastened a heavy tartan shawl around her shoulders for added warmth.

  It felt so good to be dressed in her old clothes, she thought, flying to the door. With a last glance at her room, she sped across the hall and down the side stairs. Glass crunched beneath her shoes as she walked through the drawing room to the front door, but she gave it little heed. She stepped outside into the fading afternoon sunshine, searching for her mare.

  She spied the animal munching contentedly in the tall grass just beyond the drive, a soldier holding the reins. Her eyes widened as the young man clucked his tongue and began to lead the horse toward the stable.

  Madeleine ran after him, shouting above the din of rumbling wagon wheels, bellowing cattle, and neighing horses.

  "Hold on with ye!" she cried, catching up to him. "Where are ye taking my horse?"

  "I've orders from Major Marshall to brush her down, m'lady," the soldier answered, still walking.

  "I'll take care of it," she said, yanking the reins from his hand. " 'Tis my mount, after all." Before he could stop her she had hoisted herself into the saddle and swerved the mare around, only to find herself suddenly yanked out of the saddle from behind and enveloped in a strong pair of arms.

  "What!" she gasped, struggling to wrench herself free from whoever was holding her around the waist. "How dare ye! Let go!"

  The arms only tightened, drawing her closer. Warm breath fanned her neck, and she shivered, tensing at the familiar voice which was just above a whisper.

  "You must realize I can't have you stealing out by yourself, Madeleine, not with so many of Hawley's soldiers about. As your husband, I'm determined to protect you, yet I can't be everywhere at once. I'd rather you remain here with me, at least until my own soldiers arrive from Fort Augustus."

  Madeleine twisted in Garrett's arms and glared at him over her shoulder. "I believe I have more to fear from ye than from Hawley's soldiers," she said angrily. "Let go of me, Garrett." To her surprise he did, though he still stood very close to her. Too close. She stepped back, hugging her arms to her chest in a vain attempt to quiet her trembling.

  "Where were you going?" he asked, his eyes staring into hers in a manner which never failed to disconcert her.

  "I think ye most mean where am I going," she responded tartly, trying to compensate for what he was doing to her senses. She fought to keep her voice steady, her words spilling forth in a rush. "I just spoke with Meg Blair, and she told me Glenis never arrived at her home the night ye discovered I was Black Jack. I sent Glenis to Meg's, thinking 'twould be safer, then the next morning she was to set off for her sister's in Tullich." She paused to catch her breath, wondering why Garrett was looking at her so strangely. "No one's seen her since that night," she continued, "not here or in the village, so I'm going to Tullich to see if she's there—"

  "Glenis didn't stop at Meg's," Garrett interjected quietly. "You don't have to worry after her, Maddie. She's fine."

  Astonished, Madeleine could only stare at him.

  "Glenis is at her sister's in Tullich, just as you wanted her to be."

  "How . . . how do ye know?" she asked hoarsely, her mind racing. Why hadn't Glenis gone to Meg's? Surely she must have realized it was dangerous for her to be on the roads so late at night, considering what was to happen.

  "Perhaps we should go inside to discuss this, where it's quiet," Garrett suggested,
glancing at the commotion around them. He took her by the elbow before she could protest and steered her toward the front door.

  Madeleine had to half run to keep up with his determined strides. She stumbled over the threshold but he caught her, supporting her with his arm until they were in the drawing room. He practically forced her down into an armchair, then stood in front of her so she could not rise.

  "You're not going to appreciate what I have to tell you," he said cryptically, "so I'll stand here until you hear me out."

  "What?" she demanded loudly, her temper kindled by his rough handling.

  "Glenis didn't stop at Meg's because she went to find me," he said slowly, watching her face. "And she did, on the road to Inverfarigaig. She told me you were Black Jack, Madeleine, and she told me where we could find you and your kinsmen, at the yew tree near Errogie."

  "Ye're lying," Madeleine said in disbelief. "Glenis would never have betrayed me—"

  "She didn't betray you," Garrett cut in harshly. "Glenis saved your life, Maddie, the lives of your kinsmen, and the lives of my soldiers as well. If she hadn't found us there would have been a bloodbath, and all because you had some idea I wouldn't believe you were Black Jack if you simply gave yourself up."

  "Would ye have believed it, Garrett?" she said bitterly.

  "I don't know," he answered, heaving a sigh. "It doesn't matter now."

  "Aye, ye're right," Madeleine said, staring past him and out the grimy window. "It doesna matter."

  She felt numb. Never in a thousand years would she ever have imagined Glenis would play the traitor. She could hardly comprehend it. Her dear Glenis, the woman who had cared for her since she was a babe. She was her confidante, her friend, and a traitor.

  Madeleine swallowed against the tears welling up in her eyes. "What else did Glenis tell ye?"