Rescued by Her Highland Soldier

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘And where is your destination?’

  That was not something she wished to share with a stranger.

  ‘I am going south,’ she said vaguely. ‘To stay with friends.’

  He was leaning back on his chair, his long legs stretched before him and his booted ankles crossed as he regarded her with a touch of scorn in his deep brown eyes.

  ‘And what kind of friends is it that lets a young lady travel without an escort?’

  Maddie hesitated, then admitted, ‘They do not know I am coming—’

  She broke off as the door opened and a young serving girl entered. Her companion looked up.

  ‘Ah, here is the maid come to tidy the room and we shall be very much in the way here. Shall we go over there and sit by the fire?’

  Madeleine’s brows lifted. ‘But there is no fire.’

  ‘It has been prepared, so I can soon light it and then we will be out of the girl’s way.’

  They moved their chairs nearer to the hearth and made innocuous conversation while the maid bustled about, clearing up the broken dishes on the floor and setting the table. When she had finished the girl bobbed a curtsy and would have left, but Grant Rathmore stopped her. He glanced at Madeleine.

  ‘Perhaps, ma’am, you would like to go to your room to wash your hands before we dine? The maid might go with you, if you would rather not be alone.’

  She was touched and not a little surprised by his consideration. He was clearly not such a vagabond as his untidy appearance suggested.

  She rose. ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Rathmore. I shall not be too long.’

  He rose, too, and bowed. ‘Take all the time you need, Miss d’Evremont.’

  * * *

  Alone in the room, Grant walked over to the window. Outside, the shadows were lengthening in the yard and, although there was some time yet until sunset, Grant decided he would fasten the shutters. The landlord had assured him he would keep his men on watch throughout the night, but one could not be too careful. He would keep his sword with him, too, in case of attack, although he hoped he might at least enjoy his meal in comfort and peace, for once. Truth be told, he was looking forward to dining with the lady.

  Miss Madeleine d’Evremont. The name suggested she might be French and he thought he had detected the slightest accent in her speech. She had left Inverness with her maid, but no escort. Did that mean she was a fugitive, like himself? Grant shrugged away the question. The answer was no concern of his. He had no time to worry over a stranger.

  Yet she was a pretty little thing. She spoke well, too, in a pleasingly musical voice. An educated lady, he thought, and she could not be without funds, if she could afford to bespeak this parlour. The devil of it was, with her dainty figure and heart-shaped face she would always be at risk from men, especially soldiers whose blood was up.

  Having satisfied himself that the shutters were secure, Grant turned away from the window and his thoughts returned to the lady. She would attract trouble like a magnet! He had enough problems of his own and was not in a position to shoulder those of anyone else. He would enjoy dinner, thank Miss Madeleine d’Evremont for her hospitality and be on his way.

  * * *

  When Maddie returned to the parlour the candles were burning and casting a soft, golden glow over the room. A branched candlestick stood on the table, throwing extra light on the two places set. Her fellow diner was putting more logs on the fire, but at her entrance he rose and dusted his hands.

  ‘In good time, Miss d’Evremont, our host is about to bring in the dishes. A ragout of some sort, I believe, but perhaps we should not enquire too closely.’

  He held her chair for her and poured them each a glass of wine before sitting down and engaging her in conversation. His polite manner soon put Maddie at her ease, which she suspected was his intention. He must know as well as she how improper it was for a lady to be dining alone with a man she barely knew. Just because he had saved her from the redcoats did not mean his intentions were any more honourable.

  ‘You are frowning, madam, is aught amiss?’

  ‘Only that I know so little about you, Mr Rathmore.’

  ‘In these troubled times, perhaps that is for the best.’

  ‘Perhaps, but that does nothing to quench my curiosity.’

  She gave him an encouraging smile and in response his eyes gleamed, but he shook his head.

  ‘Nay, madam, let it suffice that I am a traveller, making my way to the east coast. I am no one of note. Hardly worthy of your attention. I suggest we talk of more interesting matters.’ He reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses. ‘For instance, your English is excellent, but it is not your native language, I think?’

  She raised her brows a little. ‘You tell me nothing of yourself, but expect me to divulge my history?’

  ‘That would be far more interesting to me.’

  She laughed at that and blushed a little. ‘Very well, sir, since I have nothing to hide! You are correct, I am French by birth, but France is no longer my home. I have been travelling through Europe for the past four years.’

  ‘With your parents?’

  She took a sip of wine while she considered how best to answer him.

  ‘With my father. My mother died when I was a child and when I reached seventeen Papa deemed me old enough to come with him on his travels. They have been extensive, Dresden, Vienna, Rome. Even London, for one brief period. For the past year we have been in Inverness.’

  ‘He is an ambassador, perhaps?’

  The thought made her want to laugh. It was quickly stifled, but she saw his look of surprise.

  ‘Now, what have I said?’ he demanded.

  ‘My father has many traits that would be useful for such a post, but, alas, no.’ She took another sip of wine. ‘He lives by his wits. His income is, to say the least, erratic.’

  ‘A gambler, then.’

  She heard the minatory note in his voice and said, with a little touch of hauteur, ‘Nothing sordid, I assure you. Papa is connected to some of the major aristocratic families in France.’

  She had no idea if it was true. Papa had told her it was so, but he was always embroidering the stories of his past. However, for some reason it was important that this man did not think her low-born.

  ‘And what brought you and your father to the Highlands?’

  ‘Papa has friends here. He never explained it fully.’

  That at least was the truth. Maddie knew it would be better if she stopped there. It was safer if she said no more, but for some inexplicable reason she felt she needed to speak, to tell someone.

  ‘Papa left Inverness two weeks before the battle and I have not seen him since.’

  ‘He was caught up at Culloden? My condolences—’

  ‘No, no, you misunderstand. He is not dead. He sent me a note, when it was clear the Jacobite army had been routed, explaining that he could not return and instructing me to make my way to...to a house where I might be safe.’

  ‘You told me earlier you were going to stay with friends.’

  ‘Alas, I am not acquainted with these people.’

  ‘But they are friends of your father?’

  ‘I believe so...it is possible that Papa will be waiting for me there.’

  ‘But even on that point you cannot be sure!’ Grant gave an exasperated hiss. ‘What was your father about, to leave you alone, with the country in such turmoil, and then to send you to a place you do not know, to people whom you cannot trust to help you—it is unforgivable!’

  She fluttered one hand. ‘It is not the first time Papa has had to disappear. Or that I have had to rely upon the goodwill of his...contacts. I am grown used to fending for myself, although I confess, this time, it was a blow to lose my maid.’

  ‘Was your father involved in the recent uprising?’

  She was growing accus
tomed to his blunt manner. What surprised Madeleine was that she felt comfortable enough to confide in him.

  ‘Possibly, although he did not tell me the nature of his involvement.’ She sighed. ‘I cannot deny Papa likes living by his wits. He positively enjoys the thrill of high-risk ventures, although the rewards never turn out to be as great as he believes they will be at the outset.’

  ‘He has no right to drag you into his schemes.’

  She smiled at that. ‘What else was he to do with me? We have no close family who would take me in—besides, I have been mistress of my father’s household for years now. I should not take kindly to being under another woman’s thumb.’

  * * *

  Grant could well believe it. There was a self-sufficiency to Mistress d’Evremont that intrigued him. From what she had told him she could not be more than two-and-twenty, but she had the assurance of someone much older—witness how easily she now turned the conversation towards less personal matters.

  He followed obligingly. They talked of food, of wine and the weather, neither of them mentioning the recent Jacobite defeat or the current apprehension that gripped the land as government soldiers roamed at will, striking terror into the local inhabitants with their violence and lawlessness. However, he guessed it was still in the lady’s mind, as it was in his. A constant, menacing presence, hanging around and over them like an ugly cloud.

  * * *

  At last the meal was done and Grant reluctantly acknowledged that he could delay no longer. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and put it down on the table.

  ‘I am done. My grateful thanks for your hospitality, Miss d’Evremont, but alas, I cannot stay. The moon, such as it is, will be rising now and I must be on my way.’

  ‘You are going?’ She looked and sounded surprised.

  He shrugged. ‘I have a long journey and I am travelling on foot. Besides, in these lawless times it is safer to travel at night. And if you will take my advice, you will not delay in setting off tomorrow.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘You should ask our host to let one of his men go with you, or two if he can spare them. It is not safe for a woman to be travelling alone.’

  The easy mood had gone and she regarded him solemnly, acknowledging the danger they had tried so hard to ignore for the past few hours.

  ‘You are quite right, I need an escort.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘Would you come with me?’

  Chapter Two

  Madeleine could not read the look in Grant Rathmore’s dark eyes and his untidy beard concealed any clue to his expression. She thought he was going to refuse and she hurried on.

  ‘It is not so very far out of your way and I can pay you. I will cover all your expenses for the journey and give you another ten guineas when we reach our destination.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘A house in Glen Muick. I understand it is only some twenty miles south of here.’

  ‘Twenty miles of rough track,’ he told her. ‘And if that were not bad enough, the route will be swarming with redcoats. Glen Muick is south of the River Dee. Any crossing is sure to be heavily guarded.’

  ‘Are you suggesting this to make me increase the payment?’

  ‘Not at all. I do not want your money.’

  So, he would not come with her. Maddie’s disappointment was surprisingly strong but she thrust it aside. She would not show him any weakness.

  ‘I have told you, I am quite capable of looking after myself. I shall avoid the soldiers and find an unguarded place to cross the river. I beg your pardon, Mr Rathmore. I should not have asked it of you.’

  Grant watched her as she rose and she came around the table towards him, holding out one dainty hand. He took the proffered fingers and gazed at the lady. She was very calm, there was no hint of anything but polite indifference in her face as she dismissed him.

  ‘I will bid you adieu, Mr Rathmore, and wish you a safe journey.’

  When she tried to pull her hand away, he tightened his grip.

  ‘No, wait. I will escort you to Loch Muick.’

  She inclined her head and thanked him politely. He caught the faintest flicker of relief in her eyes, then it was gone.

  ‘You will need a mount, of course.’

  ‘I am sure our host can find me something. A garron would be best—a Highland pony. They can carry a man for many miles and over the roughest ground.’

  She nodded. ‘I bought two when we left Inverness. Unfortunately, Edie, my maid, has taken one of them.’

  ‘If you have the means, then we can buy another. And talking of means, I will need a room for the night.’

  ‘Very well. I will go and see our landlord now.’

  As she opened the door, he stopped her.

  ‘Perhaps you would ask him to supply me with a razor.’ He grinned and rubbed a hand over his beard. ‘If you are paying my shot here I can at least make myself presentable for you.’

  Madeleine inclined her head, but she did not smile. ‘I will instruct our host that he is to supply you with everything you need.’

  When she had gone out, Grant poured himself another glass of wine and sat down again, wondering just what he had done.

  * * *

  Grant Rathmore was already in the private parlour, breaking his fast by candlelight, when Madeleine came in the next morning. For a moment she did not recognise him. Gone was the dark growth of beard, exposing the smooth lines of a lean, handsome face. His auburn hair was brushed until it shone and neatly confined by a ribbon at the back of his neck.

  He looked up as she entered and, when he smiled, Maddie was shaken by the jolt of attraction that shot through her.

  ‘Good morning, ma’am, I trust you slept well?’

  He jumped up and pulled out a chair for her. Madeleine was glad to sit down, she was still reeling from the effect of his smile. It made her feel as if her bones were melting. She hid her confusion behind a scowl.

  ‘I did, until I was so rudely awakened!’ Heavens, even common civility was beyond her! ‘I assume it was on your instruction that I was obliged to get up at this ungodly hour?’

  ‘It was.’ He resumed his seat, seemingly unperturbed by her irritable manner. ‘I told you last night we must make an early start. Now, what will you take for breakfast? There are eggs and bread, of course, but I am afraid there is no ham. The landlord tells me he was obliged to give that up to the soldiers who came by here last week. However, the salmon is freshly caught and quite delicious. You should try it.’

  She allowed him to put a little fish on her plate and Grant went back to his own meal, hoping her bad mood would pass once she had eaten something.

  ‘How soon must we leave?’ she asked him later, when he refilled their coffee cups.

  ‘As soon as you have finished your meal,’ he told her. ‘The landlord is saddling the ponies as we speak.’ He glanced up. ‘I understand you have no lady’s saddle.’

  ‘No. It is more practical to ride en cavalier.’

  ‘Is that not a little...revealing?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied coldly. ‘I wear silk breeches beneath these skirts.’

  Grant’s lips twitched and a teasing riposte came into his head, but the steely look in the lady’s eye prevented him from saying anything more. She would not appreciate being teased and, curbing his smile, he merely nodded and stirred his coffee.

  ‘Good idea. The tracks are very rough here.’ But his particular demon of mischief was hell-bent upon provoking her and he added, ‘Even for a man.’

  He heard her sudden intake of breath, the cold, haughty note in her voice as she responded.

  ‘I have ridden with my father through the Alps, Mr Rathmore. I can assure you I managed the mountain passes very well.’

  ‘I am sure you did, but I doubt you were being pursued by murderous redcoats at the time!’

  He bra
ced himself for another sharp retort. To his surprise, she laughed.

  ‘No, although Papa and I were chased by brigands upon several occasions and once by wild animals!’ She pushed away her empty plate. ‘My father also disliked females who kept him waiting, so off you go and prepare yourself for the journey, Mr Rathmore, I shall be with you in a trice.’

  * * *

  Heavy clouds obscured the rising sun and it was in a grey twilight that they set off from the change house some half an hour later. Maddie was glad of her thick cloak to ward off the morning chill. It would also protect her from the rain she felt sure would fall before too long. Their ponies were sturdy creatures, well suited to the rugged terrain, and she was quite comfortable in the saddle, but she wondered how her companion was faring. Grant Rathmore was taller than average and she guessed he was more accustomed to riding a much larger horse. She glanced across, taking in the straight back, the proud way he held his head. His speech and manner suggested he was an educated man of good family—if his dress was a little shabby, that was to be expected of someone travelling on foot. He had told her he was from Ardvarrick, wherever that may be, but he had said it with confidence. Was he a landowner, then, or a landowner’s son? She found herself wondering if he was married. He was certainly attractive enough to steal any woman’s heart.

  As if aware of her scrutiny he looked around at that moment and Maddie quickly averted her gaze, but not before she had seen the gleam in his eyes.

  This will not do, she scolded herself. This is no time for dalliance with a handsome stranger!

  Yet she could not stop the heat suffusing her cheeks and was mortified that he should see her blush.

  Whatever he might once have been, now he is nothing more than a hired servant.

  That was a much better thought. She was accustomed to dealing with servants.

  ‘Will you tell me now just exactly where we are going?’ he asked her.

  ‘I am paying you to take me to Glen Muick, Mr Rathmore. What more do you need to know?’