Rescued by Her Highland Soldier

by Sarah Mallory

  Soon they were picking their way through the trees and down the hill to the water’s edge. A pre-dawn half light covered the land, but it was possible to see the river gleaming silver-grey as it wound its way through the valley.

  ‘The water is quite shallow here,’ said Grant as they made their way to the bank. ‘The bed is rocky, so we will have to take care, but the trees and the natural bends of the river will give us some cover. With luck no one will be watching at this time in the morning.’ He paused and looked across at her. ‘Are you ready?’

  Madeleine swallowed nervously. If there were soldiers guarding this stretch of the river, then they would soon know of it.

  She nodded. ‘Lead on, sir.’

  ‘Good. Follow close behind me, now.’

  Once they had slithered down the bank into the water, the sure-footed ponies made easy work of the river, although for Madeleine the crossing seemed to go on for ever. She was aware of the birdsong in the trees, the noisy gurgle of the water as it splashed and danced around the rocks on the riverbed, but she was tense, her spine stiff as she anticipated any moment hearing a shout or a shot.

  The ponies picked their way over the loose scree on the far side of the river and scrambled up the bank. Soon they were once more hidden among the trees. Only then did Maddie realise she had been holding her breath. She closed her eyes and clung to the saddle, head bowed.

  ‘Madeleine? Are you ill?’

  Grant came up beside her and caught her arm. She put her free hand over his and gripped it, drawing comfort from his very real and solid strength.

  ‘No, only relieved that we are once more under cover. I fear I would not make a very good soldier.’

  ‘You have shown great courage.’

  In one swift movement his fingers twisted beneath hers and he lifted her hand to his lips. The gesture was so unexpected that it startled Madeleine. She was more accustomed to Grant teasing her. Indeed, she would have preferred him to make a joking riposte. His quiet words made her heart soar, yet at the same time she wanted to cry, although she was at a loss to know why.

  Grant cleared his throat and carefully released her hand. ‘We had best be moving on.’

  He led the way, weaving between the trees and bushes, Maddie following in his wake, unable to forget the way he had kissed her hand. She found herself reliving the moment, feeling again the delicious, aching lightness inside that made her want to hug herself. She looked at the man riding ahead of her. She was paying him handsomely for his escort, but she did not think that was the reason for his kind words. She did not believe he would speak anything but the truth, so did he really approve of her? She squirrelled the idea away, afraid to put too much store by it, but hoping it was true.

  * * *

  They pressed on through the morning and into the afternoon. Grant spoke to the tenants of a small farm and purchased fresh bannocks and cheese, which they stopped to eat about a mile further on.

  ‘From what the farmer told me, I think we are little more than ten miles from Loch Muick,’ said Grant.

  ‘Do they know that is our destination?’

  ‘No, but even if they did I doubt they would betray us. They made it clear they have no love for the army.’ He added, to reassure her, ‘A few more hours will see you safe.’

  Maddie merely nodded and continued to nibble at a piece of cheese. They had found a grassy bank, sheltered from the wind and overlooking the River Muick, to sit and eat. It was strangely peaceful and she was moved to remark upon it.

  ‘The sun has rarely put in an appearance on this journey. In fact, until now the skies have been mostly leaden ever since I left Inverness. I have never known a country so cold and wet.’

  ‘Ah, but there is nowhere better than the Highlands when the sun shines,’ murmured Grant, lying back with his hands behind his head.

  ‘It is the rarity that makes it so prized,’ she declared. ‘And the biting winds seem to blow all year round.’

  She waited, expecting him to defend his homeland, but when she turned to look at him she saw that he was fast asleep. A wave of tenderness washed over her. He had stayed awake all night, keeping vigil. He must be quite exhausted.

  Gently, she removed the uneaten bread from his fingers and rewrapped it.

  ‘Sleep now,’ she murmured, reaching out to smooth a stray lock of auburn hair from his brow. ‘It is my turn to keep watch over you.’

  * * *

  They reached their destination as the sun was heading towards the western mountains. Lochall House was a substantial property on the edge of a wide glen that looked like a haven of green tranquillity. The house itself was built in the old style, a rectangular block with two square towers set diagonally on the corners, but lime harling and the addition of an extra wing had softened the old lines.

  ‘That is a welcome sight,’ remarked Maddie, drawing rein to look out over the prospect before they descended to the valley.

  Grant stopped beside her, his keen gaze taking in the tended fields and smoke rising from the bothies in the small settlement at the edge of the loch. It appeared as yet untouched by the troubles.

  ‘Looks can be deceptive,’ he warned her. ‘We will approach with caution.’

  * * *

  Thankfully his fears were unfounded. Upon arrival they were shown into the drawing room, where their hosts were waiting for them.

  ‘Mistress d’Evremont! I am delighted to see you have arrived safely.’ Lady Lochall hurried towards Madeleine, a smile on her kindly features and her hands held out in welcome.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Maddie looked about her, an anxious note in her voice. ‘I had hoped to find my father here...’

  ‘Alas, no, my dear child. All we have is his letter, telling us to expect you. It appears he was obliged to return to France upon a delicate family matter.’

  ‘It is a pity he could not have let his daughter know of it sooner,’ remarked Grant.

  Lord Lochall looked at him, his brows raised in enquiry, and Maddie hurried to make an introduction.

  ‘May I present Mr Grant Rathmore, my lord? He kindly agreed to escort me here from Kildrummy.’

  ‘Any relation to Logan Rathmore, of Ardvarrick?’ asked Lord Lochall.

  Grant bowed. ‘His son, my lord.’

  His Lordship’s manner softened a little more. He appeared reassured by Grant’s answer and Maddie wondered if her escort was not such a lowly traveller as he had made out.

  ‘But are you not on your way home, sir?’ Lord Lochall asked him. ‘Miss d’Evremont said you had come from Kildrummy. This is a mighty long way in the wrong direction.’

  ‘I am not going to Ardvarrick. I am heading for the east coast and France.’

  ‘Well now,’ exclaimed Lady Lochall, ‘What a blessing it would have been if only Yves d’Evremont had known of that, Mr Rathmore—’

  ‘My dear, you are too precipitate,’ cut in Lord Lochall, frowning at her. ‘I am sure we do not need to bore our guest with these tedious matters.’

  ‘No, no, of course not, how silly of me!’ Lady Lochall laughed and fluttered about them, shepherding them further into the room, encouraging them to take a seat.

  ‘But you said you have heard from Papa, my lord,’ said Madeleine, remaining on her feet beside Grant. ‘Odd that he could not find the time to write to me.’

  ‘Perhaps he considered the situation in Inverness to be too volatile to risk a letter,’ suggested Lord Lochall peaceably. ‘And from his missive, I believe his return to France was a matter of some urgency.’

  ‘It is always the same with Yves,’ declared Lady Lochall, laughing gently. ‘He is forever telling us that he is engaged upon some delicate matter, or something of vital importance to France, and it is always of the utmost secrecy!’

  ‘You would appear to know my father rather well, ma’am,’ Maddie remarked.

 
‘Yes, indeed, we knew Yves d’Evremont even before he married your dear mama. We have kept in touch with him ever since, although we have not met for some time.’ Lady Lochall gave an airy wave of one hand. ‘We attended their wedding, in Dijon. Do you remember, my lord? A long time ago now and, alas, we have seen little of Yves since then. Those were such good days... But enough of that! Your dear papa gave us no idea of when to expect you, which is why you find us in such disarray and rooms not prepared. Yves wrote that you would be travelling with your maid.’

  ‘She was reluctant to come.’ Maddie gestured towards her companion. ‘Which is why I was glad to enlist Mr Rathmore as an escort.’

  He caught her hand and carried it to his lips. ‘And it has been an honour to be of service to you, Miss d’Evremont!’

  She saw the wickedly teasing gleam in his eye, but it was the kiss on her fingers that made her snatch her hand away. She could still feel it, tiny darts of fire piercing her skin and travelling up her arm. The sensation was disconcerting. It made the breath catch in her throat and threw her off balance.

  A servant had come in with refreshments and while Lord and Lady Lochall were distracted Maddie took the opportunity to glare at Grant.

  ‘I am not paying you to flirt with me, sir!’ she hissed.

  She turned away, but not before she saw a shadow of surprise cross his face. Immediately she was contrite. What was wrong with her, that she must rip up at him over such a trifle? It was most uncivil of her to remind him that he was little more than her servant. Really, she was becoming quite a harridan.

  Lady Lochall came bustling up.

  ‘Come, come now, I pray you will both sit down with us and take a glass of wine while bedchambers are prepared for you!’ She carried Madeleine off to a sofa and sat down beside her. ‘My dear, what a time you have had of it, being alone in Inverness with the battle virtually on your doorstep! Thank heaven you reached us safely. Let me look at you, for I have not seen you since you were in your cradle! Yes, you have your dear mama’s colouring, such a shame she died so young, for I am sure she would not have allowed Yves to bring you to Scotland at such a time! But enough of that. You are here safe and that is all that matters. Now, I am sure you would like to try one of these little cakes, nothing too much, of course, or they will spoil your appetite.’

  Lady Lochall rattled on and Madeleine responded when necessary, aware that their host was engaging Grant in conversation on similarly innocuous subjects. It was clear that nothing more was to be explained about the arrangements for her flight to France, for a while at least.

  * * *

  Grant responded mechanically to his host’s attempts to converse, his true thoughts concealed beneath a look of polite interest. His spurt of anger against Madeleine d’Evremont had quickly faded into rueful acceptance. Having delivered her safely to Lochall House, he had allowed himself to relax his guard and it had been in a playful mood that he had kissed her hand. He had known almost immediately he had made a mistake, for there had been such a jolt of attraction as his lips touched her skin. He had known a sudden desire to pull her close and capture her mouth with his own. Her swift rebuke had been a brutal reminder of what she thought of him. Theirs was a business arrangement. He had been at fault and would take care not to put himself in that position again.

  At last a footman came in to announce that rooms were ready and they all rose. Lady Lochall waved towards the servant.

  ‘Samuel will escort you to your room, Mr Rathmore, where I trust you will find everything you need. If we have forgotten anything, pray do not hesitate to ask. I shall tell Cook to set back dinner and we shall meet here again in, say, two hours. Will that suit you, sir?’

  Grant bowed. ‘You are all kindness, ma’am.’

  He followed the servant out of the room, aware of his relief that the Lochalls were treating him as a gentleman. And why should they not? After all, he was still Grant Rathmore, heir of Ardvarrick, whatever Mademoiselle Madeleine d’Evremont thought of him.

  * * *

  When Grant had gone, Madeleine felt bereft, desolated that she had not been able to apologise to him, but she hid it beneath a smile when Lady Lochall took her arm.

  ‘I shall escort you upstairs to your room myself, Miss d’Evremont. You will feel so much more comfortable when you have had a little time to refresh yourself.’

  Chattering, her hostess swept her out of the room and up a wide staircase. Maddie glanced up, hoping to see Grant ahead of her, but he had already disappeared and she tried to concentrate upon what her hostess was saying.

  ‘I had Tomson, my abigail, look out some clothes for you. They belonged to my daughter, before she was married, and you are not so very different in size, although she was a little taller, I think. Tomson is an excellent seamstress and will add a little tuck here and there to make them fit you.’

  ‘But I could not possibly impose in this way, my lady!’

  ‘My dear Madeleine—I may call you that, may I not?—it is no trouble at all, I assure you. Your father hinted that you would be travelling light and I feel sure you would like to change out of your riding clothes, if for no other reason than to prettify yourself for Mr Rathmore.’

  At this Madeleine stopped. She felt a slight embarrassment that her hostess had seen Grant kiss her hand, but that was nothing to her mortification at the cruel way she had rebuffed him.

  ‘Lady Lochall, please believe that I have no interest at all in Mr Rathmore, nor he in me. I paid him to escort me here.’ She managed to laugh. ‘Goodness, it has come to a pretty pass when one cannot hire an escort without tongues wagging.’

  Lady Lochall looked as if she would say more, but something in Madeleine’s manner prevented her. She merely sighed and shook her head, and they continued up the stairs.

  * * *

  It was a full two hours before Madeleine was ready to make her way back to the drawing room. Her hostess had been a little optimistic in comparing Madeleine’s petite figure with that of her daughter and it took the long-suffering maid a great deal of expertise and ingenuity to adjust a green satin robe to fit. She was just putting the finishing touches to Maddie’s hair when Lady Lochall knocked on the door.

  ‘May I come in? I have come to fetch Miss d’Evremont down for dinner, Tomson, if you have finished.’

  ‘I have now, my lady,’ replied the maid, stepping back and critically surveying her handiwork. ‘I think she’ll do now.’

  Maddie rose from the dressing stool, laughing and blushing at the same time as Lady Lochall clapped her hands and exclaimed that she had never seen the closed gown look better.

  ‘Tomson, you are a miracle!’

  ‘She is indeed, ma’am,’ agreed Madeleine, ‘and I am most grateful to you for allowing her to dress me, although I did not mean to keep her here for so long. After all she is your maid.’

  ‘Do not fret, my dear, the second housemaid helped me dress, which was all that was required today, and I am delighted with what Tomson has achieved for you. I shall have her look out more gowns tomorrow. And I will not be gainsaid, Madeleine, because they are doing no good shut away in a trunk so you had best make use of them.’

  Maddie’s stuttered thanks were cut short as the abigail grimly reminded Her Ladyship of the time.

  ‘Oh, heavens, yes, thank you, Tomson. Come along, my dear, the gentlemen will be waiting for us!’

  * * *

  Grant had been shown into a small but well-appointed guest room. He shrugged off his coat and gave it to the servant to take away and clean it up as best he could, then he made use of the ewer of hot water to wash off the dirt of travel before stretching himself out on the bed. He was asleep almost immediately, only to be woken some time later by a soft scratching at the door.

  As he sat up, a small man in a black suit entered.

  ‘I beg your pardon for disturbing you, sir, I am Bailey, His Lordship’s valet. He as
ked me to bring your change of clothes.’

  ‘My what?’

  The valet ignored the question and reverently laid the garments over a chair.

  ‘I took the liberty of looking these out for you, sir, and I trust they will fit you. I judged your size from your existing coat.’

  ‘Mighty good of you,’ muttered Grant. The way the fellow said the last words suggested he did not approve of the shabby frock coat with a musket ball hole in the skirts.

  Bailey gently laid a pair of tartan stockings on top of the pile, then turned to Grant.

  ‘Will that will be all, sir?’

  ‘Aye,’ growled Grant, swinging his legs off the bed. ‘Thank you, but I don’t need you to help me dress.’ The man bowed solemnly and as he moved towards the door, Grant called after him. ‘Pray thank His Lordship for his kind consideration.’

  * * *

  At the appointed time he presented himself in the drawing room, where he found Lord Lochall waiting for him. He bowed slightly and waved a hand towards his attire.

  ‘I am indebted to you, my lord, for supplying me with fresh clothing.’

  ‘It is nothing.’ The ghost of a smile appeared on His Lordship’s thin face as he handed over a glass of wine.

  ‘I take it you had exchanged your Highland dress for those rags you arrived in.’

  ‘It was...expedient.’

  ‘You were at Culloden?’ The blunt question surprised Grant, but he answered calmly.

  ‘Aye. A foot soldier.’

  ‘An officer, surely.’

  Grant shook his head. ‘I left Ardvarrick with hardly a penny to my name and joined up. I’d not use my father’s money for a cause he did not support.’