A Hint of Rapture (45 page)

"Meg," she called weakly, hanging on
desperately to the chair.

"What's wrong?" Meg cried, rushing back into
the room. She took one look at Madeleine's ashen pallor and immediately helped
her sit down. "Och, ye're ill, Maddie. What can I bring ye? What should I
do?"

Madeleine waved away Meg's frantic barrage of
questions, feeling her sense of equilibrium gradually returning. "I'm
fine," she insisted, though she could tell by Meg's worried expression
that her young kinswoman was not convinced. "I'll just sit here for a
moment. I'm sure the faintness will soon pass. Do ye think ye might fetch me a
glass of water?"

"Ye've been working far too hard, Maddie,"
Meg chided, wringing her apron. "I hope ye're not coming down with a
sickness from pushing yerself so. Now dinna move from the chair, ye hear? I'll
be right back."

Madeleine leaned her head back and closed her eyes as Meg
bustled from the room. She forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily,
despite the rapid beating of her heart. She licked her lips, hoping Meg was
hurrying back with her water.

At last she heard footsteps in the hall, though they
sounded oddly different than Meg's. She shrugged, thinking perhaps she only
imagined it. She opened her eyes, gasping when Glenis suddenly walked through
the door.

"Glenis! What are ye doing here?"

"I came for a wee visit," the old woman
stated matter-of-factly. "I only got here a few minutes ago. I was on my
way up from the kitchen when I ran into Meg. She says ye're not feelin'
well." She pulled up a stool beside Madeleine's chair and sat down.
"Here's yer water, lass, but dinna take more than a sip at a time."

Madeleine gaped at Glenis, so stunned she couldn't
speak. The glass shook in her hand, water sloshing rough her fingers and into
her lap. She barely noticed when Glenis took the glass and held it to her lips.

"Drink, Maddie," she commanded briskly,
smiling faintly when Madeleine did as she bade her. "Kitty tells me ye've
been pickin' at yer food like a bird, despite her fine cooking," she
continued. " 'Tisn't like ye, Maddie. Ye've ne'er lacked for a good
appetite. Then Meg rushes in, sayin' ye look as white as a sheet and that ye're
feelin' faint." She paused, sighing. "What's ailin' ye, lass? Is
there a chance ye're carryin' a bairn?"

"No, I dinna think so," Madeleine replied,
pushing away the half-empty glass. "Not yet, anyway." At Glenis's
shrewd look, she added uncomfortably, "I'm tired, that's all."

"Aye, ye've done wonders with the house,"
Glenis remarked, glancing around the room. She turned back to Madeleine,
studying her face. "What's truly ailin' ye, Maddie? A heartache, perhaps?
Tell yer Glenis."

"Ye're not my Glenis!"
 
Madeleine snapped indignantly, her
light-headedness swept away by Glenis's words. "Not anymore! Surely ye
must know I've long since heard of yer deceit from Major Marshall."

"Major Marshall, is it?" the old woman
commented with unusual sarcasm. "Is that how ye refer to yer husband,
Maddie, or do ye deign to call him by his first name when it suits ye? Perhaps
when he takes ye in his arms?"

Madeleine felt a surge of outrage that Glenis was
asking her such questions, or even sitting here in her house for that matter!

"I dinna know why ye took it into yer mind to
visit Mhor Manor," she said unkindly. "Ye must know ye're no longer
welcome here."

Glenis rose from the stool so abruptly it toppled over,
hitting the floor with a thud. Her dark eyes flashed with temper, the
expression on her wrinkled face sterner than Madeleine had ever seen it before.
For a moment she feared Glenis would slap her, but instead the stooped woman
drew herself up and rested her hands on her narrow hips.

"I'll tell ye why I've come back to Mhor Manor
Madeleine Elisabeth Fraser," Glenis said, her voice crackling with anger.
"To set ye straight! Ye're makin' a fool of yerself and ye dinna even know
it!"

"What do ye mean?" Madeleine sputtered, her
hands tightly gripping the chair.

"Garrett Marshall loves ye, ye foolish lass! Loves
ye! He told me so when I found him on the road to Inverfarigaig, and thank God
I got there when I did. If I hadna, ye would likely have been killed along with
yer kin. Ye went to prison instead, Maddie, buying Garrett some time so he
might help ye—"

"Ye're mad, Glenis," Madeleine accused
vehemently, cutting her off. She rose shakily from her chair. "Ye dinna
know what ye're saying."

"Aye, I know exactly what I'm sayin'," Glenis
countered, staring up at her boldly. "Ye're so ready to think the worst,
Maddie, just because Garrett's an Englishman. A redcoat. Ye havna given him a
chance to explain, have ye? Did ye ne'er think to ask him how he was granted a
king's pardon for ye, before ye came to yer own conclusions? Ye've always been
a good storyteller, lass, and I swear ye've outdone yerself this time!"

Madeleine found that she could barely swallow, her
throat was constricted so tightly. Her head was beginning to pound. "No, I
dinna ask him," she said through clenched teeth. "I dinna have to ask
him."

"Well, ye might!" Glenis said heatedly.
"Ye might be surprised to find his answer is far different than yer own
fanciful version. Such nonsense about spies and Garrett wantin' yer land, and
him usin' ye to ease his way with Clan Fraser."

"How have ye heard all this?" Madeleine
demanded shakily.

"The story has traveled up to Tullich, and well
beyond Strathherrick, I'll warrant. 'Tisn't ev'ryday an Englishman takes a
Highland lass for a bride to save her from a hangman's rope. Yer warning has
traveled as well, which is why I decided to come here and risk yer fond
greeting. Ye've done a terrible thing, Maddie. Ye've set yer kin against
Garrett before ye even knew the truth."

"I dinna want to hear any more of yer wild talk,
Glenis," Madeleine said angrily, brushing past her to the door. She was
stunned when Glenis caught her arm, the old woman's gnarled fingers gripping
her like talons.

"Aye, then, if ye tell me ye have no feelings for
Garrett, none at all, I'll ne'er say another word!" Glenis challenged her.
"I believe 'tis a heartache that's been plaguin' ye, Maddie, because ye
know deep in yer heart what I'm tellin' ye is true. Ye're lovesick, and ye
winna admit it, not even to yerself! Well, if ye swear to me now I dinna know
what I'm sayin', I'll leave this house and ye'll have seen the last of yer
Glenis Simpson."

Madeleine stared at her, a fierce denial on the tip of
her tongue. Strangely, she could not say it, nor could she find it within
herself to lie. She heaved a ragged sigh, her tormented expression revealing to
Glenis more than words could have ever expressed.

" 'Tis so plain, Maddie, ye havna been able to see
it," Glenis said fervently. "Garrett told me he loved e and I believe
him. He promised me he'd help ye, ye, and not let anything happen to ye."
She released Madeleine's arm, her tone almost pleading. "Garrett saved yer
life because he loves ye. He helped yer kin before, and he's tryin' to help
them now because he loves ye. However it came to pass, Maddie, he's yer
husband. Someday ye'll carry his bairn. Ye must ask him for yerself if my words
are true."

"If 'tis so, why hasn't he said something to me
already?"
 
Madeleine asked quietly,
tears glistening in her eyes.

"Ye're one to ask me that?" Glenis scoffed
lightly. "Ye've made no secret of yer hatred for the English. Garrett
might be afraid ye'll spit in his face, seein' as ye believe he forced ye into
a marriage to suit his own ends. Perhaps he's tryin' to show ye by his actions
how much he cares for ye, hopin' 'twill soften yer heart a bit so he might tell
ye, except ye're thwartin' him ev'ry step of the way."

When Madeleine did not reply, Glenis sighed wearily.
The strain of their encounter was clearly etched on her wizened face.

"I'll leave ye now, Maddie," she said.
"Ye must decide for yerself if ye'll accept what I've told ye. If ye love
him, as I believe ye do, ye'll ask Garrett if 'tis the truth. Then ye'd best
undo the damage ye've caused between him and yer kin. No good will come of things
as they are, Maddie. I only hope 'tis not too late."

"Too late?" Madeleine breathed, searching
Glenis's eyes.

"Aye," she replied gravely. "Yer kin
believe ye're unhappy, married to an Englishman ye've branded as a spy. Did ye
ne'er think they might somehow rid ye of yer husband, believin' 'tis what ye
want? Or did ye think Garrett would simply become discouraged and leave for
England?" Glenis shook her head slowly. "'Tis more likely yer kinsmen
will seek to end yer problems long before Garrett would ever leave ye, lass."

Madeleine sank into the chair, completely overwhelmed.

Garrett loved her. Could it really be true? So many
thoughts, so many sensuous memories, so many things Garrett had said to her
swirled in her mind that she scarcely noticed Glenis quietly leaving the room.
It was the door clicking shut that pierced her unsettling reverie.

"Glenis!" Madeleine jumped up and raced to
the door, flinging it open. She dashed into the hall. "Glenis! Wait!"

Glenis turned around, her face cloaked in shadow.
"What is it, hinny?" she asked gently.

"When I said ye were no longer welcome here,"
Madeleine began, her voice catching, "I dinna mean it, Glenis. 'Twas the
hurt in me, after what ye did."

"I know. Ye thought I betrayed ye, and in a sense
I did. 'Twas the only thing I could think of to save ye, lass. I took a chance
Garrett might care about ye, even as I care about ye. 'Twas worth it to me,
though I knew ye'd hate me for it—"

"I dinna hate ye," Madeleine interjected
fiercely, tears tightening her throat. "I want ye to stay here, Glenis. Ye
belong at Mhor Manor. 'Tis not the same without ye."

Glenis did not answer for a long moment, a weighty
silence filling the hall. At last she spoke, her voice breaking with emotion.

"No, Maddie, I canna. Ye've much to sort out for
yerself. Ye dinna need me here right now. I'll know when 'tis the right time to
return again to Mhor Manor."

Madeleine didn't know what to say. Tears filled her
eyes and tumbled down her cheeks as Glenis turned and walked down the stairs,
leaving her alone in the hall.

She stood there a long time, dazed and uncertain while
one thought rang in her mind.

Tonight, when Garrett returned from Farraline, she
would ask him if what Glenis had told her was true. She had to know. Until then
she would not even dare to hope.

Chapter 31

It was near nightfall when Garrett settled one of the
last stones on the newly thatched roof, then climbed down the rough-hewn
ladder.

"That's it, Fletcher," he shouted, rubbing his
chafed hands together as he surveyed the two cottages they had finished that
day. "Call off the men. It's growing too dark to continue, and too cold,
for that matter."

"I'll agree with you there, major," Sergeant
Fletcher replied heartily from the other roof, his breath hanging like a mist
upon the brisk air. "I hope Jeremy has a nice hot supper waiting for
us."

"I'm sure he does," Garrett said, thinking
about his own supper. He only hoped some of Kitty's wonderful cooking would
soothe his foul mood, along with a snifter of good brandy and Madeleine's
company. During the past few days her behavior had somehow softened toward him,
which was more than he could say for these stubborn villagers.

He glanced at a group of men gathered up the street.
They stared back at him sullenly, then turned and walked into the nearest
cottage, but it was not one that he had built. Those cottages were still
standing silent and empty, as if they were tainted with the plague. As these
two would no doubt stand empty, he thought grimly, their efforts wasted once
again.

Garrett was frowning as he sought out Corporal Sims in
the gathering dusk.

"Sims, ride over and tell the men clearing the
eastern fields that we're finished for the day."

"Yes, sir, Major Marshall."

As the young man rode away, Garrett untethered his
dappled stallion. "Let's ride by the church first, Fletcher, then make our
way back to Mhor Manor. I want to see if anything's been taken from the wagons
today."

He mounted, grimacing at the soreness in his limbs, and
noted how Sergeant Fletcher was hauling himself into the saddle. The older man
caught his look and grinned tiredly.

"Building that last wall today really took the
wind out of me. Those damn stones seem to get heavier all the time."

"I know what you mean," Garrett said dryly,
urging his stallion into a trot as the sergeant rode alongside him and the rest
of his weary soldiers brought up the rear. "I'm beginning to wonder what
the devil we're trying to prove in the first place." He glanced at the grizzled
soldier, noting the deep lines in his face. "What
I'm
trying to prove," he amended, his tone laced with
bitterness. "You're just following my orders, and very well, I might
add."

"I didn't mean the work was bothering me,
major," Sergeant Fletcher replied. "It's just we've been pushing so
hard. We've done a lot since we got here, and the men haven't complained, but
they need a break. A day's rest would suffice."

Garrett sighed heavily, knowing the sergeant was right.
"Granted, Fletcher. Tell them they've earned my highest compliments for
their efforts and a well-deserved day off. You might also say they'll receive
an extra reward when their pay arrives from Fort Augustus."

"That's not necessary, Major Marshall," the
sergeant insisted gruffly. "We're here to follow your orders. You don't
need to compensate us for doing our duty, especially from your own
pocket."

"Enough said, Fletcher. It's what I want to do.
I'm sure the men have wondered often enough why they're building cottages and
clearing fields, which is not your typical military duty. Yet they haven't
questioned my orders once. I've you to thank for that. Perhaps sometime I'll
offer all of you an explanation."