"What are you doing?" he asked softly, pushing the door open a little wider with his shoulder. "I was thinking to wake you, but you weren't in bed—"
"I came in here to change," she interrupted him, meeting his probing eyes. "My everyday gowns are in this wardrobe." She felt her heart beat faster as he smiled in understanding, but she tried to ignore it. "I was going to move them into our room" —she flushed at the intimate memories those two words provoked— "after I changed."
"You might have to wait until later for that," he replied. "Meg Blair and Kitty Dods are downstairs. They said you had asked them to come and help clean up the house."
"Aye, that I did," she said, remembering her brief encounter with Meg the day before. "If ye'll have them wait for me in the dining room, Garrett, I'll be there shortly."
He nodded, glancing down at the steaming pitcher of water he was holding. "I brought this for you, but be careful. The water's quite hot."
Madeleine took the pitcher from him, her hands brushing against his. She started, shocked by their warmth when hers were so cold.
"Thank ye," she said shakily, avoiding his eyes as she quickly shut the door. She sensed him lingering in the hall for a moment, and she found it difficult to breathe normally until his footsteps sounded on the side stairs.
How could he have such power over her. How could he unnerve her so easily, now more than ever, she wondered, walking to the washstand. Nothing had changed. He was King George's spy, and she was his unwilling wife.
Not so unwilling, she mused darkly, setting down the heavy pitcher. Aye, that much had changed. Last evening her desire for him had blazed like a wildfire out of control, a fire she feared could easily flare again.
Och, dinna think of it! she bade herself, but her fingers trembled as she slid the robe from her shoulders. She tied back her hair, then poured the hot water into the washbasin and bent over it. She plunged in her hands to warm them, splashing her face again and again.
She bathed and dried herself quickly, shivering from head to toe, her breath hanging in the air like a misty vapor. It was plain she would have to light a fire in every fireplace from now on to ward off the evening chill. Glenis had always seen to that before—
Madeleine's mouth drew into a tight line as she pulled a simple woolen gown from the wardrobe and dressed hurriedly.
Glenis was gone, never to return. The fireplaces were her responsibility now, as was everything in the household, including the kitchen. Meg and Kitty would probably agree to stay on and help her, yet it was her duty to see that things ran smoothly.
After all, she thought grimly as she stepped out into the hallway, she was no longer an outlaw. She had to find something to keep herself busy until Garrett's soldiers arrived from Fort Augustus. At least then she would be able to visit her kin in Farraline and around the valley.
She walked down the main staircase, thinking of the days that stretched ahead. What with her numerous household duties and paying calls in Strathherrick, she and Garrett would see very little of each other, except at night.
Keen anticipation coursed through her at the thought, shocking her with its bold intensity. Angrily she forced it away, a new resolve burning within her. Her lust had clearly overcome her better judgment once, but she would not allow it to happen again. Perhaps if she went to bed late enough this evening, he would already be asleep.
Aye, that's exactly what she would do, she decided, turning into the dining room. She stopped in her tracks as Meg and Kitty jumped up from their chairs and curtsied clumsily.
"What are ye doing?" she asked incredulously. "Get up, the both of ye." She immediately sensed that their awkward behavior had something to do with her being the wife to an Englishman. " 'Tis me, yer Maddie Fraser. I havna changed, nor grown two heads, no matter what ye might have heard."
Usually so lively, Meg was strangely subdued. "Should Kitty and I call ye Lady Marshall," she mumbled, glancing at the pretty, red-haired girl beside her, "now that ye're married to the major?"
Madeleine swallowed hard, her cheeks burning. So she was right, she thought. The word was already out. "Ye'll do no such thing," she replied firmly. "Ye'll call me Maddie, just as ye've always done. And ye must tell everyone in Farraline to do the same, in case they're wondering."
The two young women visibly relaxed, even venturing smiles that clearly showed their relief.
"There, that's much better," Madeleine said, smiling back. Yet she quickly sobered, waving them into their chairs. She sat down next to them, her voice falling to a whisper. "Now, before we set to work, I want ye to tell me exactly what ye've heard in the village. Was it Angus who told ye I was wed?"
Meg nodded, opening her mouth to speak, but Kitty piped up before she could say a word.
"There was a ceilidh last night, Maddie, and everyone came, even the bairns. Angus said ye saved their lives by agreeing to marry Major Marshall the day before ye were all to hang!" she blurted in one breath, her eyes shining with awe.
"Aye," Meg added, "they're more than grateful to ye, Maddie, saying ye're the bravest Fraser lass Strathherrick has ever known."
"So they dinna think I'm a traitor?" Madeleine said quietly, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Ye—a traitor?" Meg exclaimed. "I canna believe ye would say such a thing after all ye've done for us, Maddie. Aye, we know about the raids and ye giving yerself up to protect Strathherrick from Butcher Cumberland's bastard brother. And we know ye married the major to spare yer kinsmen the hangman's noose. Major Marshall admitted as much to Angus."
"What exactly did the major say?" Madeleine asked, her temper flaring.
"He told Angus the only way he could secure King Geordie's pardon for ye was to wed ye, Maddie, but that ye dinna agree to it at first, saying ye wouldna be a traitor to yer kin," Kitty quickly recounted. " 'Twas only when ye discovered ye would save Angus and the others that ye finally agreed."
"Aye, much of that is true, but 'tis a lie about why he married me," Madeleine said, her eyes flashing indignantly. "Did the major explain to Angus why he went through such trouble to obtain a king's pardon?"
Meg and Kitty glanced uncomfortably at each other, Meg speaking at last. "Angus asked him, Maddie, but Major Marshall said 'twas between ye and him alone."
"Now there's an evasive answer for ye," she said through clenched teeth. "And a lie as well. There's nothing between the major and m'self. Nothing."
Strangely, her words seemed hollow to her. Had last night truly been nothing? With great effort she drove the disturbing thought from her mind, reaching a sudden decision as the young women stared at her silently.
Since she wouldn't be able to visit Farraline for several days, she might as well pass on her warning about Garrett through Kitty and Meg. She could be assured her kinsmen would hear of it before the night was out with these two chatterboxes serving as her messengers.
She was stunned by her unexpected stab of guilt, accompanied by a most unsettling sense of betrayal. She was hardly betraying Garrett, she reasoned with herself, irritated by her prickly conscience. She was protecting her people!
"I want ye both to listen carefully," she began, leaning toward them. "When ye go back into the village, I want ye to let everyone know what I'm telling ye now. 'Tis the truth behind my marriage to Major Marshall, and a warning to our kin not to be swayed by anything he might say or do." She lowered her voice, hastily relaying what she believed were Garrett's true motives in acquiring the king's pardon.
"He offered to spy on us if King Geordie granted him yer lands and a pardon for ye?" Kitty said with a gasp when Madeleine had finished.
"Aye."
"And he married ye thinking ye would smooth the way for him with the Frasers of Strathherrick?" Meg asked, stunned.
"He believes I'll be useful to him, nothing more," Madeleine said quietly, almost to herself. "Well, he'll soon realize he's sadly mistaken." She glanced from Kitty to Meg. "I've changed my mind about ye helping me with the cleaning, at least for a few
hours. I'd rather ye go back into Farraline right now and pass along what I've told ye. Will ye do that for me?"
"Oh, aye, Maddie," Meg said somberly, her eyes wide and round. Kitty bobbed her head, her red curls bouncing.
"Good," Madeleine said, walking with them to the front door. "When ye've finished, come back to the house, but not if it takes ye 'til well in the afternoon. The days are so short now, and the nights fall early. I dinna want to worry for ye with these redcoats about Mhor Manor. They're some of Hawley's foul jackals."
The young women nodded as they stepped outside, glancing fearfully at the soldiers who seemed to be everywhere; sitting on the grounds eating their breakfast, leading horses from the stable, talking and joking among themselves.
"There's so many more now than we saw earlier this morning," Kitty breathed nervously.
"I'll watch ye walk down the road," Madeleine assured them softly. "Remember, if it's grown too late stay home, and see that ye have yer fathers escort ye when ye do return."
"Aye, Maddie," Meg called out as she and Kitty walked very close together down the drive, holding hands and looking neither left nor right. When they came to the road, they set off at a run, their skirts and aprons flapping about their legs.
Madeleine kept her eyes trained on them until they reached Farraline, then slammed the door against the soldiers' crude laughter. Bastards! At least she had no doubt that Garrett would keep his own soldiers well in line.
She stood in the hallway, her hands on her hips as she surveyed first the dining room, then the drawing room. The place was in such a shambles she didn't know where to begin—
She jumped as a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a blustered oath.
"What in the blazes?" she whispered to herself, wondering who might be causing such a ruckus. She moved cautiously through the dining room. Surely Hawley's soldiers had enough food in their supply wagons that they wouldn't be rummaging around her kitchen.
Madeleine pushed lightly on the door, opening it just a crack. She peeked into the sunlit room, laughter unwittingly bubbling in her throat. Before she could stop it, she was chuckling aloud. She had never seen a more incongruous sight!
Garrett was standing over the raised hearth, his face and the front of his scarlet uniform covered with a dusting of white flour. He was plopping large lumps of dough onto the sizzling griddle while behind him the kitchen appeared to be the scene of a disaster. Flour was everywhere, and an overturned sugar canister was lying on the floor. Its fall no doubt had caused the crash she had heard a moment ago.
"Damn!" Garrett cursed suddenly, dropping the wooden spatula. He brought his hand to his mouth, sucking a scorched knuckle, heedless to the odor of burning dough wafting from the overheated griddle.
Madeleine clapped her hand over her mouth, but it did little good. Laughter erupted from her throat in hearty peals as she stumbled into the kitchen.
Garrett wheeled around, clearly startled. "What are you laughing at?" he asked defensively, hastily wiping the flour from his face and brushing the front of his uniform. "I thought you might like some breakfast." He picked up the sugar canister and placed it on the table. "I'm baking scones from my grandmother's recipe."
"Ye mean ye're burning the scones." Madeleine hiccoughed, giggling helplessly. She pointed to the hearth. "Look!"
Garrett glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the black smoke rising from the griddle. He rushed over to the hearth, obviously uncertain about what he should do. Madeleine could not believe her eyes when he grabbed two thick tea towels from the cupboard and lifted the griddle from the hearth, chucking the whole smoking mess out the nearest window.
She gaped at him, flabbergasted, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. He smiled sheepishly, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Suddenly he began to laugh, a rich sound that echoed about the kitchen.
"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 fr
ost 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.
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