A Hint of Rapture (39 page)

Garrett got out of bed and quickly pulled on his boots.
It was late, but if he was going to set his plan quickly into motion, he had to
accomplish a few things before leaving Edinburgh in the morning.

He blew out the candle, plunging the room into
darkness, then moved swiftly to the door. His footsteps were determined as he
strode down the silent hallway, a resurgence of hope spurring him along. He
took the steps two at a time and was almost to the front door when Clara
rounded the corner from the kitchen and nearly bumped into him.

"Och, Major Marshall, ye frightened me," she
exclaimed, stepping back.

"Clara, could you see that the meal is cleared
away in Lady Marshall's room?" Garrett requested. "She might be
sleeping, so be careful not to wake her."

"Aye, I'll be quiet as a mouse," she replied.
She studied him strangely, no doubt wondering where he was off to on his
wedding night.

Garrett suppressed a smile and opened the heavy oak
door. "Oh, yes," he added as an afterthought. "Lady Marshall
should be awakened at sunrise and her things packed. We'll be departing early,
no later than eight o'clock." He ignored her startled look as he walked
out into the narrow street.

"But—but Major Marshall, we lock this door at
midnight. Will ye be back by then?" she called after him.

"Depends if I complete my shopping, Clara. I'll
pound on the door if it's locked against me."

"Shopping?" Garrett heard the young woman
mutter incredulously as she closed the door.

He chuckled under his breath. Yes, shopping.

Chapter 27

The cobbled street was awash in bright morning sunlight
when Madeleine stepped from the inn and was helped into the carriage by her
silent husband. When Garrett closed the door behind her and climbed atop with
the driver, she knew she would be riding alone. She was relieved she had been
spared his company. His light touch on her arm had flustered her altogether.

"A good journey to ye!" the Merretts cried
out as the two shining black coaches jerked forward, the second surrounded by
its somber guard.

"God's blessings to ye and yer husband!"
Clara called to her, waving her apron gaily.

Madeleine forced a smile, waving back, then settled
against the plush seat as the inn disappeared from view.

She yawned drowsily. She had been awakened so early,
just after dawn, that she was still tired. She closed her eyes, her head
bumping upon the cushion, but the carriage was swaying so much she knew she
would never be able to sleep. Instead, she watched as the cluttered houses and
narrow streets of Edinburgh swiftly gave way to rolling hills and trees aflame
with vibrant, autumn color.

They had journeyed no more than a quarter hour when the
carriage rumbled to a stop.

Madeleine leaned curiously out the window, wondering
what had caused their delay. She was stunned to see a long line of loaded
wagons waiting beside the road, and even more surprised by the anxious lowing
of cattle filling the air.

She shielded her eyes from the sun. There were soldiers
everywhere—Hawley's troops. Garrett had said they would be meeting their escort
on the road leading out of the city. But why so many wagons? She counted
quickly. There were twenty-six in all and a herd of Highland cattle, including
a bull. She had never seen such a cavalcade!

Her attention was diverted as Garrett jumped down from
the driver's seat and mounted a beautiful dappled-gray stallion brought to him
by one of the soldiers.

"Garrett, what's going on?" she asked loudly,
raising her voice so she might be heard above the din. "Are all of these
wagons bound for Strathherrick?"

He reined in beside her window, an enigmatic smile on
his face as he nodded.

"Will ye kindly tell me what's in them?"

"Supplies for the long winter ahead," he
said, looking at her warmly.

"What kind of supplies? And what of the
cattle?"

"A herd for Mhor Manor. If you'll excuse me,
Madeleine, there's work to be done."

Before she could reply, he veered the restless stallion
sharply around and rode into the midst of the soldiers. She could hear him
issuing commands, and the confusion began anew as wagons were brought into line
behind the carriages, the cattle bringing up the rear.

Exasperated, Madeleine fell back against the cushion.
His short answers had hardly satisfied her curiosity. Surely Garrett realized
the stable at Mhor Manor couldn't possibly hold so many animals. And twenty-six
wagons full of supplies? Was he thinking to use part of the manor house for
storage? Where would they find room for everything?

She gasped as the carriage suddenly lurched forward,
and she had no choice but to resign herself to her questions remaining
unanswered, at least for now. If Garrett wouldn't tell her, she would just have
to discover for herself exactly what was in those wagons.

The hours passed slowly as they journeyed through the
beautiful Lowland hills. A few times Madeleine managed to doze fitfully, other
times she was lost to introspection, but mostly she gave her mind a rest and
simply gazed at the passing scenery.

It was near nightfall when the carriage finally drew to
a halt outside a rustic country inn. Weary and rumpled from the constant
jostling, Madeleine was more than grateful when Garrett lifted her from the
carriage and she set her feet upon firm ground.

It was only when he led her through the inn's front
door that her apprehension swelled anew. Would tonight be a repeat of last
night? she wondered nervously, not daring to look up at him.

"We'll need two rooms," Garrett said to the
stooped innkeeper, quickly dispelling her fears. "One for the lady, and
one for myself." He turned to her, his eyes gleaming in the dim
candlelight. She could not fathom what he was thinking. "I'll have your
supper sent up to you. We'll be rising at dawn again, so you'd do well to
retire early. Sleep well, Madeleine."

"What of my kinsmen?" she called out to him
just before he walked out the door.

"They'll be camping outside with the soldiers.
Don't worry, Maddie. They'll be fine." The door slammed shut, and he was
gone.

Madeleine's knees fairly wobbled with the relief as she
followed the innkeeper up the stairs to her chamber. She waited while the old
man lit several candles and opened the shutters to allow fresh air into the
room, then she sank unsteadily against the door when he left her to her
privacy.

Her gaze swept the tidy chamber, falling on the large
bed in the corner, a bed she would thankfully sleep in alone. It was clear
Garrett realized from their unsettling encounter the night before that she had
no wish to share his bed. She frowned as she pulled off her traveling coat. She
did feel a bit cheated that she hadn't gotten the chance to tell him so again.

A sudden rap at the door startled her and made her
heart pound furiously. Dear God, had Garrett reconsidered?

"Who's there?" she said, retreating to the
window.

"I've brought yer supper, m'lady.'

Madeleine ran back to the door and opened it, but only
wide enough to take the tray from the old man.

"Thank ye," she said as he closed the door
for her. She carried the tray to the bedside table, her hands shaking as she
made short work of the steaming barley soup and brown bread.

With her stomach warm and full she felt even wearier.
She undressed quickly and climbed into the bed, delighting in the clean linen
sheets and down coverlet. She fell asleep immediately. She did not hear the
door open quietly, nor the soft footsteps fall across the rug.

Good night, sweet Madeleine," Garrett whispered,
smoothing a silken chestnut curl from her cheek. He thought to climb in beside
her, craving the warmth and feel of her lithe body next to his. He could be
gone from her room well before she awoke.

With great reluctance he decided against it. He gazed
at her for several long moments, then left as quietly as he had come.

***

A few nights later, Garrett was not feeling so
charitable. He threw a stick into the blazing campfire, but his eyes were not
on the flames. He was mesmerized by Madeleine's enticing silhouette on the tent
wall, her every movement played out for him in the golden radiance of an oil
lamp he had lit for her use.

He was glad he had ordered the soldiers to set up his
and Madeleine's tent well away from the rest. He could not bear the thought
that someone else might be watching her now, as he was. Madeleine was his wife,
and her beauty existed for his eyes alone.

This was the first time there had been no inn to be
found when the cavalcade halted for the night, and it would probably happen
again before they reached Strathherrick. As they approached the Highlands,
congenial inns were becoming harder to find. The cruel ravages of the past
months had stamped out this means of livelihood as well.

Tonight he was almost grateful for the failure to find
an inn. He was growing tired of sleeping in a separate bedchamber, knowing that
a few strides, even a splintered door, would take him to her side.

Garrett sucked in his breath as Madeleine began to
brush her hair, the sight of the languorous strokes fueling the rising heat in
his body. He counted the strokes, imagining what that slim hand might do to his
flesh in such a slow, languid fashion, and he had to force the compelling
thought away as he felt himself grow hard.

He clenched his jaw, thinking instead of the journey.
Each day's routine had been much like that of the last. He had hardly seen
Madeleine, except for the times he would ride up beside her carriage and inquire
after her well-being. They hadn't even shared a single supper after the first
night. Earlier that evening she had claimed she wasn't hungry, despite the meal
he had prepared. He could well imagine the reason behind her lack of appetite.

The only difference in their routine would come
tomorrow, when the carriages were abandoned because of the steeper terrain. He
would see much of Madeleine then when she would be riding the fine roan mare he
had bought for her.

Garrett's thoughts faded as Madeleine stood up and
began to remove her clothing. He could see her fingers unfasten each button on
her riding coat, and then she began to pull it from her shoulders. He
envisioned the lacy chemise he had bought her, molded to her breasts—

Suddenly she bent and doused the light, as if she
sensed he was watching her.

"Damn!" Garrett swore heatedly, rising to his
feet. He tossed the last of his brandy into the hissing flames and looked up
into the night sky. Stars glittered as far as he could see against a canopy of
blue-black emptiness. He stood a moment, drawing deep breaths of the brisk air,
then resolutely made his way to the tent.

When he lifted the flap, he was greeted by a tense
silence.

"Madeleine?" he said, stepping inside the
tent.

He heard only silence at first, then the sound of
gentle breathing.

So she was feigning sleep, he thought angrily, moving
to the pallet he had set aside for himself. Feigning sleep for fear he would
touch her, hold her, make love to her. Dammit, she was his wife!

He shed his clothing in the darkness and lay down on
the pallet. He lay perfectly still, listening to her as she breathed in and
out, so softly, so convincingly. How he ached to span the small distance
between them and feel that warm breath against his skin, his mouth. How he
longed to hear her moans, her sighs, her gasps of pleasure.

Garrett threw his arm over his head, imagining her
outburst if he so much as made a movement toward her. Her screams would surely
bring the rest of the camp to her rescue, thinking the tent they shared was
being attacked by fugitive Highlanders.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, to sleep.
It seemed impossible!

He could not hold his desire in check much longer, that
much he knew. He had already decided that when they returned to Mhor Manor,
Madeleine would share his bed.

They were husband and wife. He would not suffer being
apart from her within their home. And if they slept together, perhaps she might
surrender at last to the desire he had drawn from her in Edinburgh, the desire
he remembered so vividly from their one night of passion. He could only hope.

***

Madeleine cursed to herself as she strained to catch a
glimpse of Mhor Manor in the distance, and beyond that, Farraline. After journeying
for ten long days, she could barely contain her excitement. She had thought she
would never see her home again. Yet her anticipation was tempered by
frustration at the traveling outfit Garrett had given her. Frowning, she gave
the riding coat a sharp tug.

The narrow woolen skirt forced her to ride sidesaddle,
a ladylike mode she was not only unaccustomed to but disliked intensely. If she
were astride her mount instead of sitting so awkwardly in the saddle, she could
be standing in the stirrups, affording her a better view.

As it was she had to content herself to wait until
their long procession drew closer to the estate. They were moving at such a
snail's pace that it would be another half hour before they reached Mhor Manor!

Madeleine flicked the reins impatiently. She yearned to
see what condition her home was in after that fat swine's brief stay. She hoped
it wasn't a gutted shell like so many of the abandoned manor houses she had
seen along the way, the former homes of Jacobites less fortunate than herself.
Hawley had told Garrett Mhor Manor was still standing, nothing more.

She also wanted to see if the villagers had begun to
rebuild Farraline, as Angus said they would. She desperately hoped that they
had. Already there was a sharp snap in the air. Her people would need snug,
sturdy roofs over their heads to keep out the cold winds and damp mists the
autumn always brought to the Highlands.