A Hint of Rapture (44 page)

"Ye dinna have to do that," Madeleine said at
last, regaining some measure of her composure. She walked to the hearth and
picked up the spatula, smiling at him. "This would have worked
nicely."

Garrett's laughter abruptly quieted, his eyes staring into
hers. "You have such a beautiful smile, Maddie," he said, reaching
out to smooth a tangled chestnut lock. "I'd burn a thousand scones each
morning just to have you share it with me again."

Madeleine felt her breath catch in her throat as his
finger brushed against her cheek, a tingle of excitement streaking through her.
He moved closer, and she thought to turn and run, but her feet seemed rooted to
the floor.

She felt caught in some mystical spell, bewitched by
the expression in his eyes. It was a look of such potent intensity that her
body flushed with stirring warmth, divining its meaning. He had looked at her
in the same way the night before.

Unbidden, she lifted her face to him, closing her eyes as
he bent over her, their lips touching so lightly at first it could have been
his breath on her. She gasped against his mouth when he deepened his kiss,
feeling suddenly dizzy and drunk within his tightening embrace.

She leaned into him, her arms straying around his neck,
overwhelmed by the sheer power and the heady sweetness of his kiss. She could
almost taste the rapture beckoning to her, luring her on, as seductive memories
flickered through her dazed mind.

Madeleine blinked, the spell shattered by the sound of
the spatula clattering onto the hearth. She pushed against Garrett with all her
might, breaking free of his embrace.

"How dare ye!" she cried, slapping his face
before she even thought about what she was doing. She was as surprised by her
action as Garrett appeared to be. His expression clouded, then became
inscrutable, only his eyes reflecting his turmoil.

"That's strange, Madeleine," he replied
darkly. "I didn't think you minded. Last night you surely didn't."

She blushed hotly. His words filled her with anger,
mostly directed at herself, because she knew they were true. She vowed then and
there to stay well out of his way as much as possible. It was obvious she had
little control over her senses when she let down her guard around him, whether in
daytime or at night!

She stepped away from him, grabbing the broom propped
against the wall. "If ye'll excuse me, Garrett, I have a great deal of
work to do."

"You don't have to bother with the kitchen, in
case you hadn't noticed," he said. "The few willing soldiers I could
find helped me scrub it down late yesterday afternoon." He paused, then
added dryly. "Well, the kitchen was clean before I set foot in it. It's
obvious my expertise does not lie in cooking."

Madeleine's cheeks fired at the sensuous thoughts his
innocent statement conjured in her mind.

What was coming over her? she wondered wildly. She
noticed a glint of amusement in his eyes. Could the man read her every thought?
She had to get out of this kitchen!

Madeleine backed up,
knocking
into the door. "I'm— I'm sure Meg and Kitty will have time to see to the
kitchen, Garrett, when they return from Farraline. Dinna trouble yerself. I'll
fix m'self something to eat later."

"Did they just leave?" he asked, mild
confusion lighting his features. "I heard you talking with them in the
dining room only a few moments ago—"

"Ye heard us in the dining room?" Madeleine
blurted uncomfortably, her mind spinning. God's wounds, had Garrett heard
everything she had said to her young kinswomen?

"I heard your voices, Madeleine," he
answered, studying her quizzically. "I was a bit too wrapped up in my
project in here to pay much attention to what you were saying. Why, did I miss
some interesting village gossip?"

Madeleine gulped, forcing a light laugh. "Gossip?
Och, if ye mean Kitty's discussion of her latest beau, aye, then ye missed some
fine gossip. She's spurned two young lads since I've been gone, or so she told
me." She fumbled for the latch, swinging the door closed behind her.

"But I thought the girls were to help you
today?"

She froze, her retreat stayed once more. "Ye know
these lassies," she said over her shoulder, feigning a nonchalant tone.
"They decided they'd best go bramble picking this morning before a frost
kills the berries. They might be back in the afternoon if they're able to fill
their baskets by then."

Madeleine quickly closed the door without waiting for a
reply and hurried into the drawing room.

A half truth was better than none, she thought as she
began to sweep furiously. She only hoped she would be able to keep all of her
stories straight and warn Kitty and Meg in time so they wouldn't give her away
if they did return to help her in the afternoon.

Beaus and brambles indeed. How did she think up such
things?

***

Garrett stood in the midst of the floury mess he'd
created, thoughtfully rubbing his left cheek. It still stung, but the
unexpected kiss he and Madeleine had shared had been well worth the slap.

Just as last evening had been well worth the
frustrating nights spent alone in country inns and chasing sleep in a tent.
Both were welcome signs that her defenses against him were crumbling and that
he had a fighting chance to win her love.

Maddie Fraser. His beautiful, defiant, and reluctant
bride.

How long would it take him to find some measure of
acceptance with her people, and, he hoped, favor and acceptance in her own
heart? How long would it take before he would hear words of love mingling with
her sweet cries of passion? Weeks? Months?

"Patience, man," Garrett said under his
breath, the recent memory of her kiss etched indelibly in his mind. "It's
the only way you'll win her. You must have patience." It was enough for
now that they were sleeping together, enough that she was yielding at last to
her desire. Perhaps tonight she might surrender again . . .

He walked silently to the window and gazed outside at
the double row of wagons, filled with every manner of household goods he had
thought Madeleine's people might need after their recent devastation. He
glanced beyond the wagons to the makeshift corral where the cattle were
confined. He could hardly wait until his men arrived from Fort Augustus, so
that he could set his plan into motion.

Yes, he had a grand plan, but it was far different than
the one of which Madeleine had accused him. He would prove to the Frasers of
Strathherrick an Englishman could be trusted, on his own and without any help
from her. He was committed to this plan with his whole heart and soul. So much
depended on its success.

Garrett clenched his fist against the window frame.

However long it took him, Madeleine was worth it. Her
rare smiles were worth it, as was her laughter, her kiss, and her love.

***

Late that night, Madeleine crept quietly into the dark
bedchamber, her heart fluttering madly within her breast.

Was Garrett asleep? She stopped and listened for a
moment, relieved to hear him breathing evenly. Aye.

As she stole across the floor to the screen, she
glanced at the hearth. Only faintly glowing embers remained of the fire she had
stoked there after supper, hours ago. She had purposely kept herself busy with
other household tasks since then, and she wasn't even sure when Garrett had
retired for the night.

Madeleine quickly changed into her cambric nightdress,
then walked silently toward the bed. She held her breath while she lifted the
covers and climbed in next to him, fearful of the rustling sounds she was
making. She started when her fingers accidentally brushed against his muscled
thigh, her blood thundering through her veins as she realized he was naked.

She began to roll over onto her side, thinking to sleep
as far away from him as possible, when his arm caught her around the waist and
pulled her back. She gasped, struggling, but he held her so tightly she could
not escape him.

"You're not the only one accomplished at feigning
sleep," he said, nuzzling her nape. He pushed away her hair and kissed the
hollow at the base of her throat. "I've been waiting for you, sweet
Madeleine."

She gave a small cry as his hand found her breast, his
fingertip stroking her through the thin nightdress. She felt the wildfire
ignite within her, melting her resolve in a blaze of heat and desire. He
captured her lips, and she was lost . . . .

Chapter 30

Madeleine whisked the crisp linen sheet over the aired
mattress, and Meg caught it on the other side.

"So ye're saying Major Marshall and his soldiers
finished two more stone cottages yesterday, and none of the villagers will
claim them?" she asked as she deftly smoothed and tucked in the clean
sheet.

"Aye, Maddie," Meg replied, finishing a
corner. Flushed with exertion, the plump maidservant stood upright and caught
her end of the thick tartan blanket. "And they'll stay empty, too, along
with the other twelve. We'll have nothing to do with the major's handiwork. My
da says he'd rather live in a drafty hovel 'til he can finish his own cottage
than dwell in one built by King Geordie's spy."

"And what of the wagons Major Marshall left by the
church?" Madeleine queried. "Has anyone taken any of the things he
brought from Edinburgh yet?"

Meg shook her head. "Not a butter churn, not a
spinning wheel, not even a pot. There's even been talk of setting a torch to
the wagons. 'Twould make a fine ceilidh fire, dinna ye think?"

"Aye," Madeleine said quietly, though deep
down she wasn't sure if she truly agreed.

Why did she feel so guilty at this latest bit of news?
she wondered, tucking in the blanket. She should be elated her kin had heeded
her warning about Garrett, yet she wasn't.

Instead her emotions were becoming increasingly
confused, as if half of her wanted things one way while the other half yearned
for something else, something she was afraid even to dwell upon. Frustrated by
her thoughts, she tossed two down pillows onto the bed and plumped them
vigorously.

She had been so busy she hadn't gone into Farraline yet
to see for herself how Garrett was faring, though it made no difference. Kitty
and Meg had kept her up on what was happening in the village, especially since
Garrett's soldiers had arrived at Mhor Manor over a week ago.

The Frasers of Farraline had confounded Garrett's every
effort to gain their favor. They'd even loosed the cattle he'd given them out
onto the moor. Garrett and his men had spent a full day searching for the beasts
and corralling them at the estate, his plan thwarted again.

No doubt that was why he'd grown so moody and sullen,
she thought, pulling the down coverlet over the freshly made bed. Garrett had
said little last night when he and his exhausted soldiers had returned for
supper, and later she had felt a palpable desperation in his caresses, almost
like anger. His fierce passion had left her wholly breathless and spent, and
feeling even more guilty than before.

Madeleine sighed heavily. If today went much as she
imagined, she could probably expect the same from him this evening. Yet why did
it bother her so, like a twisting pain in her heart? He was a spy. He deserved
such treatment, didn't he?

"There now, Meg," she said, forcing her mind
from such troubling questions. She tucked the coverlet between the mattress and
the carved headboard. "We've done a fine job in here."

She stood up, her gaze sweeping the immaculate guest
room from the scrubbed floors and clean woolen rugs to the dusted furniture.
She had saved the two upstairs guest rooms for last, seeing to the rest of the
house first. After this morning's work, everything was finally in order. No
trace remained of Hawley's unwelcome visit.

Even the ruined furnishings and shattered windows had
been replaced, Madeleine mused, raising another window to further air out the
room.

Garrett had wasted no time in sending several of his
men to Inverness with a long list of things to buy. They had returned with more
wagons carrying a mahogany dining table, armchairs, a china cabinet, a gleaming
silver service, bottles of fine brandy, a mantel clock, and many other items
too numerous to contemplate. It was hard for her to admit, but Garrett had made
Mhor Manor feel like a real home again.

"Are ye ready for some lunch, Maddie?" Meg
asked, startling her from her reverie. "I know I am." The maidservant
giggled when her stomach growled loudly, but she didn't seem embarrassed in the
least. "Kitty said she was preparing a steak and game pie for us and apple
fool for dessert."

"Aye, I suppose," Madeleine said. She smiled
weakly, though not at the thought of Kitty's cooking.

Kitty possessed quite a flair in the kitchen,
surprising in one so young. Then again, her mother was a renowned cook and had
obviously taught her daughter well. Kitty had gone out of her way to prepare
tempting meals since she'd taken over the kitchen. Yet Kitty's recent efforts
had been lost on Madeleine. She hadn't had much of an appetite lately. She knew
she wasn't pregnant. Her monthly flow had come while she was in prison. And it
was much too soon yet to feel any ill effects if she had been with child. At
the rate she and Garrett were going, however, she would be pregnant in no time
at all!

A bairn. She flushed warmly at the unsettling notion.
If it happened, they would become a family, with a new life between them. It
struck her that she would not love their child any less, despite what she
thought about its father.

Och, 'tis exhaustion ye suffer, she told herself,
following Meg from the room. She had been working very hard. Perhaps now that
she had finished the bulk of the cleaning, she could afford some extra rest.
Madeleine paused briefly to pick up a small embroidered pillow that the
maidservant had unknowingly knocked from a chair near the foot of the bed. She
straightened, almost collapsing to the floor as a sudden wave of dizziness
gripped her.