A Hint of Rapture (30 page)

Madeleine's shoulders slumped, her hands falling limply
into her lap. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, a tear for everything that
might have been.

"Och, Maddie, ye're a fool," she murmured
brokenly, wiping the tear from her face. With great effort, she forced herself
to concentrate on what lay ahead.

She was certain of one thing. When they came upon
Garrett and his soldiers, she would fire her pistols harmlessly into the air.
It would not be her bullets that found him, even if fate decreed he fall
wounded, or die.

Chapter 20

Garrett glanced up at the moon, a white, luminescent
disc hanging like a shining medallion in the night sky. He breathed a silent
prayer of thanks that the rain had stopped over an hour ago, the thick clouds
giving way to long swaths of misty vapor that did little to obscure the moon's
brightness.

He and his men now had a better view of their
surroundings, even though a swirling fog shrouded the ground. It lent an eerie
quality to the night, sharpening their already finely honed nerves and
heightening their senses.

They had been waiting by this slight turn in the road
for several hours, a site Garrett had carefully chosen because of the wide
stream just behind them. The rushing water would mask their movements, a
crucial consideration if they were to maintain their element of surprise.

He was especially grateful for it now. The dozen soldiers
still mounted were shifting constantly in their saddles to ease cramped muscles
while their horses snorted beneath them and pawed the damp earth. The other
twelve men were leaning on trees or pacing, their mounts tethered nearby. The
long wait was growing more interminable with each passing moment, and there was
still no sign of Black Jack.

Garrett drew out his gold pocket watch and pushed the
tiny spring releasing the ornate lid. Eleven o'clock. He slipped the watch back
into his pocket, his expression tightening. God only knew how much longer they
would have to remain hidden behind these fir trees—

A sudden movement farther up the road caught his
attention, the hair prickling on the back of his neck. He motioned to Sergeant
Fletcher.

"Aim your weapons, men, and hold fast!" the
sergeant hissed. "Don't dare move a whisker until I tell you!"

The soldiers obeyed instantly. Those standing
shouldered their muskets and took cover behind the trees. The mounted soldiers
sat rigidly in their saddles, one hand gripping the reins while the other held
a cocked pistol. They waited tensely for the sergeant's signal.

Garrett stared intently between the branches, scarcely
breathing as a dark shape moved closer and closer. He could make out a horse,
its head bobbing as it plodded along, and what appeared to be some sort of
small wagon with a lone, huddled figure upon the seat.

Not even a wagon at that, he amended, but a cart. It
was hardly the mode of transportation he would have expected from Black Jack, but
perhaps several of his men were hiding beneath that blanket, and the others
were following on horseback.

"Easy," Garrett whispered, the cart almost in
front of him. "Easy. Now, Fletcher!"

"Halt where you are!" Sergeant Fletcher
roared, his pistol firing into the sky. The deafening report echoed above them
as Garrett and his mounted soldiers swooped onto the road and surrounded the
wagon. A woman's piercing scream ripped through the air.

"Please dinna shoot, Captain Marshall . . . Dear
God, dinna shoot me!" a quavering voice wailed. " 'Tis me, Glenis!
Glenis Simpson!"

"What the devil?" Garrett cried, wheeling his
bay around sharply. He rode up alongside the wagon and yanked the hood off the
cowering figure. His eyes widened. "Down with your weapons, men!" he
commanded, holstering his pistol and jumping to the ground. He lifted the
sobbing woman from the seat and cradled her in his arms. "Glenis, what are
you doing here?" he said in stunned disbelief.

"Och, it's taken me so long to find ye,
Garrett," she choked through her tears, shuddering against his chest. She
pointed accusingly at the cart. "That blasted animal wouldna go faster
than a slug." Suddenly she clutched his coat, her wet eyes wide with
terror. " 'Tis not midnight yet?"

"No, Glenis, not even quarter past eleven,"
Garrett soothed her, though he had no idea why she would ask him such a
question.

"There's still time, then," she replied, her
sobs quieting. "Still time . . ." Her voice cracked and faded as she
drew a labored breath.

Garrett knelt on one knee and set her upon the ground,
supporting her in the crook of his arm. "Still time for what,
Glenis?" he asked impatiently. "Tell me why you've come this
far—"
 

" 'Tis Madeleine, Garrett!" Glenis blurted.
"Ye must help her. Ye must!"

"What has happened?" he demanded, an icy
chill running down his spine. "Has she been hurt?"

"No, not hurt. Ye must listen to me,
Garrett," Glenis pleaded, twisting to face him. Her dark eyes glistened in
the moonlight, burning with a strange fire. "Ye care for my Maddie, dinna
ye? I know ye took her to yer bed last night."

Garrett flushed warmly beneath her intense scrutiny. He
heard an embarrassed cough and glanced up to find his men had dismounted and
were gathered in a loose circle around him, listening intently. "Go on
with you!" he shouted angrily. "Fletcher, get the men back to their
positions. Now!"

"Yes, sir!" Sergeant Fletcher snapped
briskly. "You heard the captain. Back on your horses. Move!"

Garrett waited until they had swiftly dispersed, then
he met Glenis's searching gaze.

"This is madness, Glenis," he said with
exasperation. "Surely Madeleine told you what was afoot this
evening—"

"Aye, she did," Glenis retorted heatedly,
"and I'll not say anything further 'til ye answer me."

Garrett sighed in frustration. "Of course I care
for her, Glenis," he stated in a rush. "I love her." He snapped
his mouth shut, realizing what he had just said. He had never voiced those
words aloud to anyone before, and he felt naked, as if he had revealed a part
of his soul.

Glenis's eyes seemed to drill into him all the more.
"So ye love her, then," she said under her breath. " 'Tis more
than I could have hoped."

"Glenis, you must tell me what this is all
about," Garrett demanded, glancing beyond the cart and back again.
"Yes, I love Maddie. But what has that got to do with your being here, at
this time of night, and especially since you're aware of the danger?"

"Ye're the one in danger, Garrett," Glenis
shot back, her dark eyes ablaze. "Ye and yer men. Black Jack knows ye're
waiting here! They're going to fight ye, Garrett. Fight ye to the death, unless
ye stop them in time."

Garrett stared at her, his mind racing. Had Madeleine
betrayed him to Black Jack? Had she deliberately set up some sort of trap? No,
it couldn't be, not after . . .

"Glenis, what the hell is going on?" he
yelled, shocking himself at the loudness of his voice.

She struggled to her feet, her narrow chest heaving
with exertion. "I'll tell ye what's goin' on, Garrett Marshall. Black Jack
knows ye're here—because my Maddie is Black Jack!"

Garrett gaped at her, certain she had gone mad. He
stood up suddenly, towering above her. "What did you say?" he asked
harshly, as if daring her to repeat herself.

"Madeleine Fraser, the mistress of Farraline, is
yer outlaw, Garrett," Glenis said steadily, undaunted by his thunderous
look. "She's yer Black Jack. She's been raidin' ye English since a month
after her father was killed at Culloden—raidin' to put food in her people's
bellies."

Garrett shook his head in disbelief. "While my soldiers
and I have been stationed at Mhor Manor? That's not possible, Glenis."

"Aye, 'tis more than possible," she objected.
"There's a tunnel beneath the house rennin' some forty yards beyond its
walls. Ye'll find it in the drawing room closet. 'Tis the perfect way to sneak
in and out without anyone takin' any notice at all." She stepped toward
him and lowered her voice. " 'Twas how ye got that nasty knot on yer head,
Garrett. Ye surprised her coming home from a raid. Ye nearly caught her that
night."

Astounded, Garrett rubbed his forehead. "That was
Madeleine?"

"Aye," Glenis said, nodding. She fluttered
her hand impatiently. "Och, Garrett, I could tell ye so much more, but
there's no time for it. Maddie's kin have convinced her 'tis best to fight ye,
otherwise ye wouldna believe she was Black Jack if she surrendered to ye
easily." She drew a ragged breath and rushed on. "There'll be a
terrible spillin' of blood, maybe Maddie's, maybe yer own, unless ye stop it.
I'd rather see my Maddie in prison than dead on the ground. If ye truly love
her, Garrett, as ye say ye do, ye'll capture her and her kin before a single
shot is fired!"

Glenis's impassioned words drove into Garrett's mind
with resounding force. Madeleine was Black Jack. It was so farfetched he was inclined
to believe it. The woman he loved was an outlaw, a thief!

Good God, she was the bloodthirsty bastard who had shot
his sergeant. His sweet, tempestuous Madeleine!

He gripped Glenis's spindly arms. "I believe you,
Glenis," he said grimly. "Tell me what I must do to avoid this
fight." He felt her knees buckle beneath her, and he quickly grabbed her
by the waist.

"God love ye, Garrett. Thank ye," she said
gratefully, her eyes flooding with fresh tears, her rasping voice quivering
with emotion. "Thank ye—"

"Glenis!" Garrett interrupted urgently.
"You can thank me later if you wish. Tell me what I must do!"

"Aye, ye're right." Glenis hiccoughed. She
drew herself up, standing steadily on her feet though she was visibly
trembling. "There's an ancient yew tree just north of Errogie on the left
side of the road, but before ye round the north tip of Loch Mhor. Ye winna miss
it, Garrett. 'Tis the tallest tree ye'll see, with a huge, twisted trunk. The
leaves will appear dark to ye, like black velvet—"

"I've seen that tree before," Garrett
interjected. "I remember noting it because the yew sprig is the Fraser
badge."

"Aye, that's the one," Glenis confirmed.
"Maddie will meet her kinsmen there at midnight, then they'll set out for
Inverfarigaig knowin' ye're waitin' somewhere along the way. Ye must ride like
the wind, Garrett, and surprise them at the yew tree. They winna expect ye
there. I only hope ye've enough time to make it now."

Garrett pulled out his watch, his breath escaping in a
rush of relief. "We've more than a half hour, Glenis. Plenty of time to
get there and hide, unless Maddie's kinsmen are already there waiting for
her." He grimaced. He didn't even want to consider that bleak possibility
or its consequences.

His commanding voice roared above the sound of the
rushing stream. "Mount up, men, and secure your weapons. Prepare to ride
like you've never ridden before. You'll never call yourselves foot soldiers
again if we manage this stunt."

He turned back to Glenis. "I'll have two of my men
escort you back to Mhor Manor."

"No, Garrett, I'll not be returnin'," she
said resignedly. " 'Tis a traitor I am now to Maddie and her kinsmen. I've
betrayed her trust. She'll not want the likes of me around her home." She
glanced at the cart. "I'll be goin' on to my sister's in Tullich."

Garrett wanted to argue with her, but there was no
time. "My men will escort you safely to Tullich, then." He bent and
kissed her damp cheek. "You're no traitor in my eyes, Glenis. I only hope
one day I may thank you for what you've done." He walked her to the cart
and lifted her onto the seat.

"Take care of my Maddie," Glenis said,
clasping his hand tightly. "Dinna let anything happen to her."

If God wills it, he thought grimly, and the English
courts. What the next hour would bring was uncertain at best, the future a
yawning black hollow he did not want to contemplate.

"I'll do everything in my power to help her,"
Garrett said with quiet intensity. "That I promise you, Glenis." He
squeezed her hand, then stepped away from the cart. "Sergeant Fletcher, I
need two men to accompany Glenis Simpson to Tullich."

"Very good, captain."

Within minutes the cart was creaking down the road
toward Inverfarigaig, a well-armed soldier flanking each side. Garrett knew it
was a circuitous route to Tullich, but better that than steer Glenis back
toward Errogie and the skirmish that would shortly ensue.

He mounted his powerful bay, the animal snorting
restlessly beneath him.

"What's our destination, captain?" Sergeant
Fletcher asked, reining in his horse beside Garrett's.

"The ancient yew of Clan Fraser," Garrett
replied cryptically. At the sergeant's confused expression, his tone grew even
darker. "I'll explain along the way, Fletcher."

Garrett dug his heels into the bay, leaning into the
saddle as the horse lunged forward in a spray of wet dirt. Sergeant Fletcher
quickly followed suit, catching up with him as their horses galloped
neck-and-neck along the road, the soldiers thundering not far behind them.

Chapter 21

Madeleine slowed her fast sprint, stopping abruptly
when she reached the bottom of the hill. Breathless, she bent over and rested
her hands on her knees, her lungs burning as she inhaled great gasps of air.

She always ran this last distance to the yew tree as
hard as she could. It never failed to exhilarate her and clear her mind. She
needed that more than ever tonight.

She stood up, adjusting her black cap and checking to
see that her thick braid was stuffed into her jacket. As she smeared powdery
peat ash on her face, her gaze instinctively darted in the direction of the yew
tree.