A Hint of Rapture

by Miriam Minger

  "A clever plan, lass," Ewen broke in with a low chuckle, "if 'twas how ye meant to have Black Jack captured alone."

  "Aye," she said, smiling thinly. "I told Captain Marshall if Black Jack sensed he was being followed, he would melt into the night and they would never find him. Better to nab him quickly than let him get away."

  "That plan winna work for us now, Maddie," Angus said. "What will ye say to him since we're riding with ye?"

  Madeleine's expression grew pensive, then she shrugged. "I'll tell him I've changed my mind, that's all. I'll say I've thought about it and decided 'tis better if he captures every last one of the outlaws, just in case General Hawley winna be satisfied with only Black Jack. 'Tis more than plausible."

  "So where will we meet?" Duncan asked eagerly, leaning forward in his chair.

  "At the yew tree at midnight," she replied, "then we'll set out for Wade's Road. I'll explain to Captain Marshall the route Black Jack and his men would most likely take if they were planning a raid for tonight. He and his soldiers will no doubt hide somewhere along the way." She fell silent, then continued softly. " 'Twill be as much a surprise for them as for us when we finally come upon each other in the dark."

  " 'Tis a sound plan, Maddie," Angus said simply. "So be it."

  He walked over to the cupboard and grabbed the whiskey decanter and four glasses, setting them on the table. He filled the glasses and passed them around, then raised his own high above his head.

  "A toast," he stated reverently. "To our chief, Lord Lovat, God keep him safe to France. To our raid tonight, God grant us strength and courage to face our enemy. And to Mistress Madeleine Fraser, the bravest lass ever to walk the heather!"

  Exuberant ayes echoed about the cottage as they drank the fiery liquor. One by one the empty glasses slammed onto the table.

  What a stubborn hardheaded lot, Madeleine thought warmly, accepting their tribute with a tremulous smile. She should have known that once her kinsmen cast their lot for her cause they would never desert her.

  Tears smarted her eyes as she whisked on her shawl and bid hasty goodbyes. She practically fled from the cottage. She knew she would break down completely if she heard another such toast, and she had decided long ago never to let her kinsmen see her cry.

  She set out at a brisk pace along the road to Mhor Manor, wiping away the tears with her palms. She inhaled deeply and filled her lungs with heather-scented air.

  It had grown cooler since she had walked to Farraline earlier that afternoon. The whistling wind caught at her hair, flipping it behind her shoulders, and dragged at her skirt. The fresh air steadied her racing emotions, and she looked around, reveling in the wild Highland beauty.

  The sun was hidden behind a bank of ponderous gray-white clouds, and its rays bathed their ragged borders in gold fire. Occasionally a bright shaft of light illuminated the barren mountain slopes, then just as quickly faded, plunging the world into muted color and shadow.

  Madeleine threw out her arms and twirled along the road, her face turned up to the darkening sky. She loved it when a thunderstorm was brewing. As a child she would rush outside into the rain to dance about and stomp in the mud puddles. Poor Glenis would run out with a blanket, sputtering and scolding, and try to catch her until she was soaked to the skin as well.

  Madeleine's arms dropped suddenly to her sides, and she stopped, overcome by dizziness.

  Glenis. She had talked to everyone today but Glenis. She had been in such a rush to get to Farraline and see her kinsmen that her faithful servant still did not know what was to happen that night. And now the plans had changed, becoming even more deadly.

  She quickened her pace, oblivious to the rugged scenery she had delighted in only moments ago. Her mind sped with everything she had yet to say and do.

  Glenis would have to leave Mhor Manor as soon as Garrett and his soldiers rode out in their pursuit of Black Jack, she decided grimly.

  She would give Glenis what little gold coin she had to help provide for her future needs, and a sturdy horse and cart for traveling. Glenis could stay the night at Meg Blair's, then set out in the early morning for her widowed owed sister's cottage in Tullich. Glenis would be safe there, far away from the horrors of whatever was happening at Mhor Manor.

  Madeleine turned into the drive, spying Garrett almost immediately where he stood conversing with his guards. He looked over and began to walk toward her.

  Her heart thudded painfully at the sight of him. She met his eyes for an instant and then forced herself to turn away. She headed quickly for the kitchen door, but he followed right behind her.

  "Madeleine," he called out, his long strides no match for her own. He caught her arm gently, and she stopped. "I've been wondering when you'd get back," he said.

  His gaze raked over her and settled on her windburned cheeks and tangled hair. He swept a stray lock behind her ear, his fingers grazing her earlobe. She shivered, marveling that his simple touch could arouse her so.

  "Has the babe come yet?" he inquired lightly.

  "Babe?" Madeleine replied, confused. She gasped, suddenly remembering her excuse of a kinswoman near childbirth. She nodded vigorously. "Aye, 'tis a fine strapping boy, born just an hour past," she blurted out, noting he was eyeing her quizzically.

  "Mother and child are doing well?" he asked, a curious smile playing about his lips.

  She laughed nervously. "Och, they couldna be better, though 'twas a good thing I brought more of Glenis's herbs. 'Twas a long, difficult birth." She glanced pointedly at the kitchen door. "Glenis is waiting for a full accounting, Garrett," she rushed on. "She's a keen interest in birthing bairns, ye know. Even though she's too old for midwifery now, she likes to keep up on such things." She paused, catching a breath. "If ye'll kindly excuse me."

  "By all means," Garrett allowed gallantly, caressing her arm before he released her. "Perhaps after you've spoken with Glenis, we could share supper tonight. Say, in an hour? We won't be able to linger very long, but I'd be honored by your company, even for a short while."

  Madeleine stopped midway through the door, her pulse racing as she considered his unexpected invitation.

  She didn't like the thought of being alone with him again, recalling the mixed torrent of emotions she had experienced at breakfast, but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. Supper would probably be her only opportunity to talk with him privately before he rode out, and he had to know her change of heart concerning Black Jack's compatriots.

  Besides, an hour would give her just enough time to see to everything Glenis might need and counter any of her protests about leaving Mhor Manor.

  Madeleine peeked at him over her shoulder. "Aye, I'll sup with ye, Garrett," she said. Then she disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door.

  Garrett stood there a moment, a familiar sense of bewilderment washing over him. He had experienced it during his every encounter with Madeleine since . . .

  He had first felt it that morning when she had asked him abruptly to leave the room, hiding herself from him as if he hadn't so recently delighted in the wondrous perfection of her body. Her subdued greeting had hardly been the welcome he had expected after the wildly passionate night they had shared.

  Then at breakfast, she had been thoroughly preoccupied despite the seriousness of their conversation. Even when their talk changed to more lighthearted topics and he had reached his fingers out to touch hers, she had pulled her hand away. She had seemed agitated and had finally excused herself, saying she had to change clothes and then journey into Farraline to see after her kinswoman.

  He sighed heavily, staring at the door in consternation.

  Her behavior had been peculiar at best, and highly disconcerting. He could not help wondering if there really had been a new birth in Farraline. He could swear she had no idea what he was talking about when he first asked her about the babe. Yet why would she have made up such a story?

  Garrett shrugged, at a complete loss. He walked back toward his men, shaking
his head.

  Maybe it was he. Maybe he was so distracted with the thought of finally capturing Black Jack that he was imagining difficulties where none existed.

  He couldn't wait until the bastard was clapped in chains and the whole unpleasant matter settled once and for all. Then he could devote his entire attention to Mistress Madeleine Fraser!

  Chapter 19

  Madeleine peered out the kitchen window, taking care to hide well behind the curtain. She watched until the last of Garrett's soldiers disappeared down the drive, their shapes swallowed up by the deepening dusk.

  A jagged streak of lightning suddenly cut across the sky, briefly illuminating the dark world outside. She glimpsed them once more before she turned from the window. Garrett was in the lead on his huge bay, followed by twenty-four mounted soldiers riding in pairs.

  Madeleine leaned against the windowsill. She still couldn't get over the frenzied activity of the past half hour. One moment she and Garrett had been eating supper in the dining room and engaging in light conversation, then she had abruptly mentioned Black Jack and everything had changed.

  Garrett had almost dropped his fork when she said she had changed her mind about Black Jack's men. His eyes had bored into hers, his mouth tightening as she told him she believed he might find the entire band of outlaws on the narrow road between Errogie and Inverfarigaig.

  That had been the end of supper. Garrett had excused himself immediately, saying that he and his men were setting out at once to position themselves along the road. It might be hours before Black Jack rode by, but at least they would be well hidden and ready.

  Within minutes Garrett and his soldiers had assembled in front of the house, Sergeant Fletcher's sharp commands mingling with the excited buzz of men's voices and neighing horses. A heavy drizzle had done little to dampen the soldiers' enthusiasm.

  There had been an air of nervous excitement among them that had chilled Madeleine to the marrow. To her, it had seemed like a macabre carnival. She knew within hours many of them would be dead.

  Madeleine heaved a ragged sigh and pushed away from the windowsill. She could not think of that right now. She crossed the kitchen and knocked on Glenis's door.

  "Glenis, are ye packed and ready?" she called softly, careful lest she be heard. Garrett had left six soldiers behind to patrol the manor house. She could hear Corporal Sims chatting with several guards stationed just outside the front door. Their jovial laughter carried into the kitchen.

  "Glenis!" she hissed, more loudly this time. The soldiers' high spirits were beginning to grate on her nerves, which were already stretched taut. Did they have to be so brazenly overconfident? Those six men were fortunate they had not ridden out with the others!

  The grating sound of the latch lifting interrupted her grim thoughts. She stepped back as Glenis drew open the door.

  Madeleine could not help thinking how fragile her servant appeared, how frail and stooped. The furrows in her face were deeper and more pronounced. It looked as if Glenis had aged another ten years since Madeleine had told her tonight would be the final raid. Yet Glenis's dark brown eyes were glittering brightly, reflecting her plucky temper. Madeleine found solace in that, believing Glenis realized it was best that she leave Mhor Manor.

  "Aye, lass, I'm ready," Glenis muttered, blowing out the solitary candle resting in a wall sconce. She walked slowly into the kitchen, carrying a large basket over each arm.

  "Here, let me help ye," Madeleine offered, but Glenis shook her gray head.

  "I can manage these two," she insisted firmly. "There's a sack on the floor ye can carry for me."

  Madeleine picked up the bulky sack and hoisted it over her shoulder. "The cart's just outside the kitchen door, Glenis," she said. "The redcoats were so busy they dinna notice what I was about."

  Glenis merely nodded and shuffled to the door. She set down one of the baskets for a moment and drew the hood of her thick woolen cloak over her head. She took a last sweeping look at the dimly lit kitchen, then picked up her basket and opened the door.

  They stepped outside into a light rain, thunder roaring dully in the distance. The storm that had threatened earlier seemed to have bypassed the valley, though occasional streaks of lightning still flashed across the sky.

  Madeleine lifted the sack into the cart, then the baskets, and covered everything with a heavy blanket to protect the meager belongings from the rain.

  "There, Glenis," she said, turning to her servant. "The blanket should hold fine 'til ye get to Meg's. 'Tisn't raining so hard ye need to worry about yer things."

  "I dinna care if they float away," Glenis sputtered vehemently, her face suddenly etched with sorrow. "They mean nothing to me, Maddie Fraser. Nothing. Ye're the only thing on God's earth I care about. And to think there's nothing I can do to stop what's to happen to ye . . ." Her voice faltered, sobs shaking her hunched shoulders. Her trembling hand gently caressed Madeleine's wet cheek. She struggled to say something, but no words came.

  "Hush with ye now," Madeleine whispered, folding her beloved servant into her arms. It pained her heart terribly that she had no solace to offer. She hugged Glenis fiercely, the old woman shuddering in her arms, until at last she drew away. "Ye must go, darlin' Glenis. "

  "Aye," Glenis sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her quavering voice was tinged with sudden resolve. "I must go." She turned and grasped the edge of the cart. "Help me into the seat, lass."

  Madeleine obliged her, handing her the reins when Glenis was settled, her cloak drawn tightly around her slight frame. "Godspeed," she said simply. Without waiting for a reply, she slapped the horse's rump. The animal jerked forward, the wheels creaking and churning in the mud.

  "Hold on, there!" a male voice shouted.

  Madeleine spun around just as Corporal Sims rushed up and grabbed the harness, staying the startled animal's course.

  "Where do you think you're off to?" he blurted, looking from Glenis to Madeleine. "What's going on here?"

  Madeleine's eyes flashed a quick warning to Glenis, urging her to be silent, then she turned back to the corporal. "Dinna Captain Marshall tell ye Glenis was traveling into Farraline this ev'ning, Corporal Sims?" she asked innocently, smiling at him. "On a special mission."

  "Why, no . . . uh . . . he didn't," the young soldier stated, clearly distracted by her winsome smile.

  "Och, with all the rushing about, he most likely forgot," she said lightly. She leaned forward, speaking to him in conspiratorial tones. "Can I trust ye to keep a secret, corporal?"

  He glanced over his shoulder at the other guards standing by the front door, then looked back at her. He stepped closer, inclining his head. "What secret?"

  "Captain Marshall asked Glenis if she wouldna mind fetching a cask of Scots whiskey for him from her cousin in Farraline," she whispered into his ear. "Her cousin's one of the finest distillers in Strathherrick."

  "Whiskey?"

  "Aye. Captain Marshall wants it for the celebration after, well, ye know. 'Tis a surprise for ye and the rest of the soldiers. To thank ye for all yer fine efforts, I suppose."

  "Oh," Corporal Sims breathed, licking his lips.

  "I'd go m'self," Madeleine continued, "and spare Glenis the trouble, but she'd like to visit with her cousin. He's been sickly of late, and she has some herb medicine for him." She paused, smiling at him apologetically. "I hope ye dinna mind me spoiling the surprise for ye, corporal, but ye did ask."

  "No, no, I don't mind," the soldier stammered. His expression clouded. "It's a dangerous night to be out, though, Mistress Fraser, for you or your housekeeper. Perhaps I should accompany her—"

  "That winna be necessary, Corporal Sims," Madeleine objected firmly, "but I do thank ye for yer kind offer just the same. I'm sure Captain Marshall would find yer efforts better spent in guarding Mhor Manor." Her voice fell to an insistent whisper. "Glenis should really be on her way, ye know. I dinna want to think of the captain's displeasure when he returns to find his whiskey has been delayed."r />
  Corporal Sims's eyes widened, and he sharply sucked in his breath. "I've held you up too long already," he said, waving on the cart.

  When Glenis clucked her tongue to the horse and flicked the reins, the cart squeaked into motion, and Madeleine caught the corporal's sleeve. "Ye winna say a word to the others, will ye, Corporal Sims?"

  He glanced down at her hand on his arm and swallowed hard. If it hadn't been so dark she would have seen he was blushing to the roots of his scalp. He met her searching gaze. "Not a word," he declared emphatically. "I'm in command . . . uh . . . while Captain Marshall and Sergeant Fletcher are gone, of course. If I say it's none of their business, they won't ask me again."

  "Thank ye, Denny," Madeleine said warmly. "I'll be sure to mention yer kind cooperation to the captain."

  He seemed stunned that she'd used his first name, or even remembered it. "My—my pleasure, Mistress Fraser," he stuttered, smiling sheepishly. He turned around so abruptly that he stubbed boot on a flagstone and almost tripped. He straightened his shoulders, however, and kept on walking as if nothing had happened.

  At any other time, Madeleine might have laughed. On this occasion she felt only relief that another unforeseen obstacle had been overcome. She waited until the corporal had rejoined the other guards, then she caught up with the cart as it rumbled down the drive. She held on to the seat, running alongside. Her other hand clutched her muddied skirt to keep it from tangling in the wooden spokes.

  "Who taught ye to tell such stories, Maddie Fraser?" Glenis scolded, feigning a reproachful tone. She glanced tenderly at Madeleine, her eyes awash with tears, then her gaze skipped back to the curved drive.

  Madeleine felt hot tears streak her face, mingling with the cool rain. Her lips were quivering as she attempted a smile. "Ye did, Glenis Simpson," she panted. "Every time . . . ye caught me in some scrape . . . ye told me I better have a good story . . . or else."