Madeleine felt his body tense as they neared their bedchamber, and she felt a wild tremor of excitement.
"If you'll kindly open the door for us, m'lady," Garrett said playfully, his warm breath tickling her ear.
She did as he asked and they entered the darkened room, then she swung the door closed behind them.
"Well done." He set her down gently, cradling her face as he kissed her fervently. "Just a moment, love, while I light the fire," he said, moving away from her.
Madeleine stood there shivering, missing him terribly even though he was so close. In a few moments a bright fire was blazing in the hearth. She rushed forward, holding out her hands to warm them.
" 'Tis grown so cold in here," she said through chattering teeth, watching as he shoved the large tub into a corner.
"It will heat up soon enough," Garrett said huskily, returning to embrace her. Then he was gone from her again, wrenching pillows, the tartan blanket, and the heavy bedspread off the bed. He quickly arranged them on the floor in front of the fireplace, then grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him.
"How do you like our bower?" he said softly, running his fingers through her lustrous hair as they lay together before the fire. "Do you think it will do for our wedding night?"
Madeleine's heart seemed to skip a beat, and she blushed in confusion. "Wedding night? But we've already—"
He silenced her with a lingering kiss, then drew back, staring into her eyes. "This is our wedding night, sweet Madeleine. From this night we start anew, you and I. Love has made it so."
"Aye, love has made it so," she repeated softly, tracing the sensuous curve of his mouth with her fingers. " 'Tis a fine wedding bower, Garrett." She thought she might faint when he took her hand and tenderly kissed each fingertip in turn, his tongue teasing the hollow of her curved palm.
"I would that my hunger be sated, my lady wife," he said, a wicked glint burning in his eyes.
A seductive smile played about her lips as she gazed at him boldly, his words filling her with daring. She wound her arms about his neck. "Yer bride is willing and awaits yer pleasure," she said saucily, pressing her mouth to his.
Garrett groaned against her lips, his arms tightening around her like strong bands. For a long time they were lost in the glory of their shared kiss, and it was with great reluctance that he pulled away from her and stood up. His movements were impatient as he kicked off his boots and worked at the buttons on his shirt.
Madeleine rose to her knees, staying his hands. "No, husband, allow me," she insisted brazenly, smiling at his startled expression. "Come." She drew him down to kneel in front of her.
One by one she slowly undid the buttons, revealing his bronzed chest with its sprinkling of blond curls. She gently pushed the shirt from his broad shoulders, her hands caressing and exploring the rugged breadth of him, as if touching him for the first time.
"Never before was a man as beautiful as ye, Garrett," she whispered, her desire making her even bolder. She wanted to please him, wanted desperately to make up for everything that had gone before.
She reveled in the hard strength of the muscles that bulged as his arms reached out for her. She ran her hands down his chest, delighting in the sinewy power beneath her fingertips and the smooth, supple texture of his skin. Her hands strayed lower, over a taut abdomen ridged with muscle, until her fingers found his leather belt.
"You're a wanton lass," Garrett said, his eyes searing into hers as he allowed her to unbuckle the belt and slide it from his waist.
"Only with ye, my love," Madeleine replied, tossing the belt aside. Her fingers wandered to the vertical row of buttons at the front of his breeches. Garrett moaned and caught her hand. "Would ye have me stop, then, husband?" she asked, taunting him provocatively. When he did not answer, she undid the first three buttons, blushing when she encountered the hard swelling beneath the fabric. Anticipation streaked through her, her skin dimpling with goosebumps, and she dared to caress him.
"Enough!" Garrett commanded thickly, rising and yanking off his breeches.
Madeleine had barely an instant to feast her eyes on his glorious nakedness before he was pushing her down on the soft blankets. He stretched his long length atop her, supporting his weight with his elbows.
"It's my turn to play the wanton, my lady wife," he said, his narrowed eyes glinting with heat and fire. He traced his finger along her lace-edged bodice, just grazing the lush curve of her breasts. "Though I promise I will not dally as long as you."
Garrett drew himself up and knelt over her, his powerful thighs straddling her hips. He deftly untied the sash securing her gown. "I like these wrapping gowns best of all, e murmured, chuckling deep in his throat as the lustrous silk fell away from her body. "I'll see that you have dozens. They reveal your hidden treasures so easily." He slid his hand under the hem of her chemise. "And as for this," he whispered roguishly, "the seamstresses shall be kept busy stitching these as well."
Madeleine cried out in surprise when a tearing sound suddenly rent the air as her chemise ripped in two. She felt her exposed nipples grow taut, and she arched her back when Garrett bent over her suddenly and captured a rosy peak in his mouth.
She moaned aloud, thrusting her fingers through his hair as he suckled hungrily and lightly nipped the swollen nubs with his teeth. She was so lost in the dizzying sensations she scarcely realized he had divested her of the last of her clothing, revealing her lithe body.
"There's never been a woman fashioned more beautifully than you, Madeleine," Garrett said thickly, echoing her words to him. His lips found hers, drawing jagged breaths from her as he kissed her with impassioned fervor, a kiss that claimed her once and for all as his own.
His hands, his mouth, and his tongue raced up her writhing body and down again, caressing, teasing, as if he had to touch every inch of her and savor every silken secret she possessed. She opened herself to him, freely, gladly, urging him on with frantic whispers and pleading sighs.
Madeleine heard herself cry out his name as he entered her at last, sheathing himself within the softness and warmth of her body. She eagerly arched her hips to meet his thrusts and wrapped her arms tightly around his back. She rejoiced in the wondrous sensation of his desire throbbing within her, the friction of their skin like a searing mantle of flame between them.
She hurtled wildly toward rapture, oblivious to all else but panting breaths, frenzied kisses, and Garrett's ragged whispers, urging her on.
Suddenly he seized her tightly and rolled over onto his back, carrying her with him. She was astride him now, bracing her hands against his glistening chest as she met the urgent fierceness of his movements, his strong hands grasping her hips as they strove to become one.
"Come with me, Maddie," Garrett demanded huskily. His eyes blazed into hers, his powerful body shaking with passion. "Come with me—now!"
He pulled her to him, capturing her in his arms, his body driving upward within her even as she cried out her piercing pleasure; she, a part of him, he, a part of her . . . one at last in the blinding rapture surrounding them.
***
Late in the night Madeleine awoke to the dull thud of a charred log falling through the grate. She rose slightly from the bed and glanced drowsily at the hearth. Only faintly glowing embers remained of the roaring fire Garrett had stoked there earlier.
She sighed, pulling the blanket up to her chin and snuggling closer against his warm length. She marveled at how well they fit together, as if the contours of their bodies were especially made for each other. One of his arms was hugging her protectively, and she marveled at that, too, how he held her so closely even in sleep.
She peeked at him over her shoulder. His handsome features were lost in shadow, but his beloved face was etched forever in her mind. She rested her head on the pillow, smiling softly to herself as she thought back on their long night of passion. She could hardly wait for the morning, when they might love again.
Desirous warmth flooded her body
as she blushed at her newfound wantonness. It was Garrett, after all, who had teased her just before they slept by whispering that he planned to keep her in bed with him throughout the next day. He had claimed a wedding night was hardly enough to satisfy him. He wanted a wedding week, a wedding month!
Madeleine shivered at the provocative thought. She had to admit that the notion thrilled her.
A darker thought suddenly pressed in on her, clutching at her heart. Glenis's dire warning echoed in her mind, and it chilled her despite the comforting warmth of Garrett's body.
No, tomorrow she would not be able to spend the day in bed. Glenis had judged her well. She'd done a terrible thing, and only she could set it to rights. Tomorrow she would go into Farraline and speak with her kinsmen, alone. She only hoped Garrett would understand and not insist on accompanying her.
It was going to be hard enough to admit to him the accusations she had spread throughout the valley, even though she had believed it was the truth at the time. To have to tell Garrett she had endangered his life was a most unsettling prospect. She would rather die herself than have anything happen to him!
Madeleine's heart thudded painfully. Garrett would have to remain at Mhor Manor. There was no other way. He would be far safer at the estate than riding into Farraline with her.
She closed her eyes, knowing sleep would most likely elude her for the rest of the night. Maybe it was just as well. She needed time to think.
God help her find the right words to sway whatever plans her kinsmen might have made, she prayed fervently. If they branded her a traitor after they knew her change of heart, her brief happiness would be lost.
Chapter 32
"Wake up, Maddie. Please wake up!"
Madeleine's eyes blinked open at the rude jarring. She was stunned to find Meg bending over her, roughly shaking her shoulder.
"Meg, what are ye doing here?" she said, sleep muddling her thoughts. "Quiet with ye now or ye'll wake Garrett."
Meg's expression was guarded as she shook her blond head. "Major Marshall is gone, Maddie. He's ridden out with his men."
"Gone?" Madeleine's heart lurched in her throat, and she rolled over, wide awake. It was true. The bed was empty but for herself, and the sheets were cold where Garrett had slept. She glanced back at Meg, a blush burning her cheeks. She had always made it a point to be well out of bed before the girls arrived in the morning.
"What's going on?" she asked, clutching the covers beneath her chin to hide her nakedness. "Where's Gar—Where's Major Marshall?"
"He's gone in search of two of his soldiers," Meg replied, shifting uneasily. "Seems they went out early this morning to hunt for grouse and never came back. Their horses returned almost an hour past without them."
Madeleine could hardly believe she had slept so soundly that she hadn't felt Garrett rise from the bed or heard him leave the room for that matter. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to wake her.
The last thing she remembered was falling asleep sometime near dawn after lying awake for several hours. She must have been more exhausted from their lovemaking than she realized, despite the worries that she had thought would prevent her from sleeping.
"When did he leave?"
"Only a short while ago, just as Kitty and I arrived at the house. He said to tell ye what had happened and that he'd be back when he found his men."
Madeleine raised herself on one elbow. "Meg, kindly hand me my dress, if ye would," she said, nodding to the blue gown lying crumpled on the floor near the fireplace. She winced, rubbing her aching shoulder. "Why did ye have to wake me so roughly?"
Meg picked up the dress, but she did not readily hand it over, nor did she answer Madeleine's question. Instead she drew a folded piece of paper from her apron pocket and held it out to her.
Madeleine took the paper, noticing that Meg's hand was trembling. "What's this?"
" 'Tis from Angus," Meg said. She suddenly turned on her heel and bustled across the room to the massive wardrobe. "I'll fetch ye one of yer riding gowns, Maddie.
Madeleine stared after her, completely bewildered. Meg was acting so strangely, so unlike herself. Something odd was going on. She could sense it.
She unfolded the letter, quickly perusing Angus's stilted handwriting. Her brow knit in confusion.
" 'Ride as quick as you can to the fork of Aberchalder Burn, Maddie," she read aloud. " 'You've an old friend waiting there to see you. Do not worry, you will not be followed. We're leading the major and his men on a merry chase this morning. 'Twill keep them busy 'til you return. Angus Ramsay.'"
What was going on? she wondered wildly, reading the note again. She started when Meg rushed back to her, a pile of clothing draped over her arm, topped by a pair of brogues.
"What do ye know of this, Meg?" she asked sharply. She sat up, still clutching the bedspread over her breasts.
"I'm only doing what I was told, Maddie," the young woman replied evasively. "Angus said to give ye the note as soon as Major Marshall and his soldiers were gone from the house."
"Surely ye must have read it," she accused. "Why'd ye have known to fetch my riding clothes?"
"I dinna read it. Angus told me to see that ye were dressed and sent quickly on yer way, that's all."
"Very well, Meg," Madeleine said, throwing back the covers. "I can dress m'self, thank ye."
Affronted by her brisk tone, Meg set the clothing on the bed and left the room without another word.
Madeleine dressed hurriedly, her mind in a total quandary.
What should she do? Her first instinct was to try to find Garrett, despite the urgent note. She didn't like the idea that he was being led on some mysterious chase through Strathherrick, knowing his danger as she did.
It was clear to her that his two missing soldiers had unwittingly become part of this ruse, probably trussed up at this moment and hidden where Garrett would never find them. For what purpose? So she might meet an old friend at Aberchalder Burn? Who could it possibly be?
Madeleine suddenly thought of Lord Lovat. He was an old friend, nearly eighty years old. Had he perhaps decided to remain in the Highlands rather than take a ship to France? Since he was a hunted fugitive with a price on his head, it would make sense he would not want to risk having Garrett and his soldiers following her to their meeting place.
She felt a rush of excitement and quickly came to a decision. What better person to help influence her kin than the chief of Clan Fraser himself? Once Lord Lovat knew the truth behind everything Garrett had done for his clansmen, and for her, surely he would persuade the Frasers of Strathherrick to accept Garrett's presence among them.
Madeleine threw the tartan shawl around her shoulders and ran to the door. Perhaps she could venture to hope that everything was going to work out after all.
***
Madeleine shivered as she veered her restless mare onto the leaf-strewn footpath that ran alongside Aberchalder Burn.
The fir trees were dense here, interspersed with Scots pine and naked beech trees that choked out what little sun there was on this cloudy autumn day. The air was chill and damp, indicating that there would be a frost that night if it grew cold enough.
She drew her tartan shawl more tightly around her, wishing she had worn something with more warmth, such as trousers and a heavy jacket. Too bad she hadn't thought of it before she left. She still possessed a set of black clothes, hidden deep in one of drawers in her old room. She simply hadn't gotten rid of them yet.
Madeleine ducked her head, dodging a branch. The fork in this swiftly running stream lay beyond the next thick clump of firs. She listened carefully for any voices but heard nothing except trilling larks and crossbills piercing the sound of rushing water.
As she followed the narrow path down a slight decline, Madeleine trained her eyes on the fork clearly visible ahead. There was no one standing there waiting for her, nor did she see any movement in the dense green foliage surrounding her on all sides.
At last she drew up on the reins, bringin
g her horse to a halt. She sat quietly in the saddle for a moment, looking around her again, then cautiously dismounted.
She tensed as twigs and dried pine needles rustled and snapped close behind her. She turned around slowly. Her eyes widened at the sight of seven ragged Highlanders emerging from behind trees and thick hedges. They were bearded and unkempt, rough-looking men she had never seen before. She doubted they even belonged to Clan Fraser.
Surely Lord Lovat would have his own clansmen for an escort, she thought fleetingly, feeling the slightest quiver of fear. Men he could trust without question. Who were these—?
"Mistress Madeleine Fraser?" one of the men asked gruffly, breaking into her anxious thoughts.
"Aye," she said, holding her ground. She expected him to say more, perhaps explain their presence here, but instead he looked away from her.
Madeleine followed his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as another man stepped from the dense wood, a big man with dark hair and deep-set hazel eyes that caught and held her own. She watched, paralyzed, as he drew closer, not stopping until he loomed in front of her. His massive frame blocked out all else.
"Maddie," he breathed, his voice rough, deep, and hauntingly familiar.
"Dougald," Madeleine whispered hoarsely, staring at his bearded face. "I canna believe 'tis ye. Some fugitive kinsmen told me ye were dead, that the redcoats had hanged you at Inverness in the town square, not long after Culloden." Her voice quavered and died away, her stricken expression registering her shock.
"Ye were told wrong, love," Dougald said, taking a step closer. "I was taken prisoner and held in a stinking Inverness gaol, but they dinna hang yer Dougald. 'Twas another poor wretch they must have seen at the noose." He gestured to the men who were watching them silently. "We escaped from that gaol only two days past, six Camerons, one Macdonald, and I. We're on our way to Glasgow, where we'll catch a ship to France."
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