She had shrugged off her coat and waistcoat and was lighting the candles on the mantelshelf.
‘I thought our purse could do with replenishing.’
‘Damned foolishness! Idiocy! Not only did you draw attention to yourself, you risked what money we do have in a game of chance.’
‘Oh, there was little chance involved. I could have taken every groat from Major Albright, but I thought it best to allow him to think he had come off lightly.’ She tossed the purse over to Grant. ‘Here, you keep this. I think we have sufficient now to get us comfortably to France.’
Her insouciance only enraged him further. He threw the purse aside and grabbed her by the shoulders.
‘Can you not see how dangerous that was? What if they had realised you are not what you seem?’
‘There was very little chance of that. My disguise—’
‘Your disguise is no more than an illusion and a fragile one at that! In a smoky room with flickering candles it might fool soldiers in their cups, but what of the morrow, when they see you in daylight?’ He dragged his fingers across her cheek, wiping away the soot. ‘Do you think this feeble masquerade will save you then?’
‘I will keep out of their way in the morning!’ She tore herself out of his grasp. ‘I had to do something, they were so loud and coarse, laughing about what they had done to a helpless old man.’
‘What?’
She had lost him. He had not been attending to the soldiers’ conversation, other than to know that it did not involve them.
Madeleine stormed over to the washbasin and began to wash the soot from her face and hands.
‘The money they were spending so freely.’ She threw the words at him over her shoulder. ‘They said it came from an old watchmaker in Castle Street. Louis Haster. I knew him. I noticed his house as we rode in today, windows broken, door battered down. He was a gentle soul, harmless. And they k-killed him.’ She picked up the towel and began to scrub her face. ‘When I saw the brutes were using his money to pay for their revels tonight, I could not stand by and let it go unpunished.’
She buried her face in the towel, her shoulders drooping, and Grant’s anger drained away. He took a few steps towards her and stopped. Well out of arm’s reach.
‘I am sorry, Madeleine, I did not know.’
‘How could you?’ She took a moment to place the towel neatly back on its rail and said, gruffly, ‘I am grateful to you for allowing me to play.’
‘I could see you were determined.’ He tried to lighten the mood by adding, ‘You are so dashed wilful that, short of picking you up and carrying you away, I did not think I could have stopped you.’
‘I doubt you could, without acting like a bullying older brother.’
She looked up, the candlelight playing over her face, showing him the wry smile curving her lips. If only she knew! The feelings she aroused in him were anything but brotherly. Even in a man’s shirt and breeches she looked very feminine. Very desirable.
A series of thoughts chased through his mind, but he fixed on the safest one.
He said irritably, ‘You still have dirt on your face.’ He picked up the damp cloth from the washstand. ‘Here, let me do it.’
Madeleine closed her eyes and stood patiently while he took her chin in his hand and rubbed at her cheek. She was exhausted by the run of emotions she had experienced that evening. Her nerves had been at full stretch as she had walked to the table where they were to eat, aware of the curious glances of their fellow diners. She had no illusions about the risks they were taking, she knew they should do nothing to draw unwanted attention, but the soldiers’ callous talk, gloating over the fate of the kindly old watchmaker, had put her in a rage.
Ice-cold anger had carried her into the card game, but then she had had to school her mind to strict concentration while she played, judging the abilities of her opponents, winning by just enough to keep them interested, not enough to make them suspicious. There had been a certain satisfaction, even exhilaration, at proving she had not lost her skill, but now it was over and reaction was setting in. She could understand Grant’s anger, but she felt too shaken, too drained, to fight it.
‘There, that’s better.’ He turned her face this way and that, critically inspecting it before releasing her.
Maddie blinked her eyes open, ready to thank him, but the words would not come. Grant was gazing at her and she stood awkwardly, remembering the last time she had felt like this, as if a storm was about to burst over them. It had been the night Grant had kissed her and the fizzing, thrilling shock of his touch had run through her body.
And her body was now crying out for him to do it again. Her mouth was dry, her full breasts strained against the confines of the wrapping she had used to flatten them. She desperately wanted to step forward, to slip her arms about his neck and pull his head down until their lips met. She wanted to forget everything in another explosive kiss...
How long had she been standing here, staring at Grant? Could he read her thoughts, did he feel the same? Heart pounding, she watched his hand come up towards her cheek, then she saw his fingers close into a fist, slowly, as if he was exerting all his strength to pull it back down to his side.
As if released from a spell she took a hurried step back and at the same time Grant turned away from her.
‘I beg your pardon!’
‘It is very late!’
Their words collided with the violence of a thunderclap in the silence.
Grant cleared his throat. ‘I will take the truckle bed.’
‘We had agreed that I should sleep there.’
‘That was before you treated those soldiers to a masterly display of skill that left them out of pocket!’ He gestured towards the door. ‘I will move the bed across the entrance, in case any of them try to sneak in and recover their money.’
His tone was sharp, indicative of irritation. Madeleine said quietly, ‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’
‘Besides, the bed hangings will give you some privacy.’
‘Thank you.’
She climbed on the bed and pulled the curtains tight before changing into her nightshirt. She slipped between the sheets and listened to Grant moving about the room, heard the creak of wood and ropes as he finally lay down on the truckle bed. Then an awkward silence.
‘Grant?’ There was no reply, but she knew he could not be sleeping yet. ‘I beg your pardon. Truly, I do not mean to make things so difficult for you.’
* * *
Grant listened to the words, uttered softly. He heard the note of regret in her voice. He was not sure if she was talking about playing cards or what had happened after, in this room, that flare of attraction that had caught him unawares. One moment he had been cleaning her face as if she was some tiresome and grubby brat, then his eyes had fixed upon her lips and all he could think of was kissing her. Desire had slammed through him, the violence of it rocking him off balance. Thank God they had both come to their senses! This attraction was beyond a mild flirtation now. It had become dangerously strong and he would have to be much more careful in future.
He said, ‘Best get some sleep, we have an early start tomorrow. It is fortunate I paid our shot before we came upstairs. It means we can slip away early, before Major Albright and his cronies are awake.’
‘Yes. Goodnight, Grant. And thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For taking such good care of me.’
He responded with nothing more than a grunt and turned over in the hard, uneven bed. She had nothing to thank him for. The way the hot blood was coursing through his body, she was in as much danger here in this room with him as she had been playing at cards. At the thought of her, lying in that damned bed, almost close enough to touch, he almost groaned aloud with frustration. He turned over again, determined to put her out of his mind.
Confound it, the last thing he need
ed was to be distracted by a woman, especially one so rash, so impetuous as Madeleine d’Evremont. He encouraged the thought and tried to whip himself into a rage over her ability to upset his plans, but gradually he was forced to acknowledge a grudging admiration for the cool way she had dealt with the soldiers. She might well have learned the rudiments of piquet and loo at school, but where had she honed her skills to such a level? By heaven, there was even more to this woman than he had considered.
Grant turned over, thumping his pillow to make it more comfortable. He needed to rest, not to be thinking about the woman sleeping a few feet away. He tried to relax and lie still, but by the unnatural silence of the room he guessed that neither of them would rest well that night.
At last Grant drifted off, but his sleep was disturbed by dreams, all the very worst scenes that he had tried to forget but were seared into his memory. The violence and confusion of battle, charging headlong towards a wall of red coats, knowing comrades were falling, seeing Jamie cut down and expecting any moment to receive a mortal blow himself. Then he was alone in the dark, watching the destruction of a village, helpless to intervene and forced to listen to the screams and cries, his nostrils filled with the reek of smoke from burning buildings. He was in hell and there was no escape.
Somewhere beyond the carnage, Madeleine was calling to him. She needed him and he must help her, but he was powerless, he could not move. He tried to call, but his voice would not work, he could not reach her—
‘Grant, Grant, stop. Wake up!’
He was thrashing around in his bed, tangled in sheets, but Maddie’s voice was still there, closer now. The fog of sleep lifted. He felt the lumpy mattress of the truckle bed beneath him and opened his eyes to find a pale, wraithlike figure bending over him, gripping his shoulders.
‘Madeleine.’ He sat up and reached for her.
‘You were dreaming,’ she said, taking his hands. ‘A nightmare.’
She did not resist when he pulled her into his arms. Still he could not quite believe she was safe.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered. ‘I have disturbed you.’
‘No, no, I was not sleeping very well myself.’ She held him, long enough for Grant to know she was real and for his terror to fade, then she gently pushed herself away. ‘It is nearly dawn, and I was thinking it would be better if we were on our way before the others stir.’
‘A good idea.’ When she tried to rise, he held on to her hands. ‘I will look after you and get you safely to your ship, Madeleine, you have my word on it. I will keep you safe or perish in the trying.’
He could not read her face, he could not be sure that she believed him.
‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘And if at all possible, I would prefer it if you did not die, Grant Rathmore. You are far more useful to me alive.’
With her words the final shreds of his nightmare vanished. Nor was there any constraint in her tone. He let out his breath in a sigh of relief. They were friends again.
Chapter Ten
Grant was relieved to get away from the inn without mishap. With her hat low and a muffler around her chin, Madeleine attracted no second looks from the boots or the sleepy stable hand who witnessed their departure. They took the bridge across the River Ness and followed the road westwards. It was a blustery day, with fitful showers and occasional bursts of sunshine and they passed only a few travellers on the well-worn track, mostly farmers carrying their goods to the market.
They had just passed the ruins of the old abbey at Beauly when the low rumbling thunder of hooves alerted Grant to riders behind them on the road. His companion heard it, too, and looked back.
‘Soldiers,’ she said urgently. ‘Three of them and moving fast... Grant! I think they are the ones from the inn last night!’
‘There is no way our garrons can outrun their horses.’ He looked about him and nodded towards the trees. ‘Let us go that way, towards the river bank.’
Grant turned his pony and led the way off the track and down through a thin belt of trees to the water’s edge.
‘Perhaps they did not see us,’ said Maddie as they dismounted.
‘They saw us all right and they will follow.’ He took the reins from her hand. ‘Go and hide yourself over there. Far enough away that you can run, if you have to.’
‘I’ll not leave you—’
‘Do as I say!’ he ordered. ‘I stand more chance of success if I am not worrying about you.’
She looked as if she wanted to argue, then with a nod she turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Not a moment too soon. At that instant the riders appeared, winding their way through the trees towards them. Grant recognised Major Albright with a lieutenant and the Sergeant close behind. His cronies from the night before.
‘So, we meet again, Mr Malcolm.’
‘Major Albright.’ Grant finished securing the ponies to a branch as he weighed up the odds. Three against one and each of them armed with sword and pistol while he had only the dirk tucked away in his sleeve and his sword. They all looked heavy-eyed, though, which might give him a slight advantage.
‘Where’s your brother?’
Grant jerked his head in the direction of the river. ‘He’s gone to...er...relieve himself.’
The three soldiers dismounted and Major Albright ordered the Sergeant to stay with the horses.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure, Major?’ Grant enquired politely. ‘Are you come to see that we are safely on our way?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I am honoured that you would take the trouble to come after us and to discover our direction.’
The Major shrugged. ‘It was easy enough. You were seen crossing the bridge. It was a simple matter to guess which way you were going and to pick up your trail.’
‘I am gratified by your interest in us, Major, truly I am, but there really was no need—’
‘Oh, but there was.’ The officer’s voice was silky. ‘Your little brother took a great deal of money from me last night, Mr Malcolm. I want it back.’
Grant shrugged. ‘It was won in fair play, you admitted that at the time.’
‘Perhaps, but I am loath to part with my money that easily.’
‘Ah, but was it yours to lose?’
The Major drew out his pistol. ‘I would advise you to hand it over.’
‘Alas, Duncan keeps his own purse.’
‘Then we will wait for his return.’
‘As you wish.’ Grant continued to adjust the harness, keeping the ponies between him and the soldiers.
‘Come over here where I can see you better.’
Grant hesitated, his hand lingering on one of the saddlebags. ‘Thank you, but I am content here.’
‘Well, I am not! Over here. Now.’
Grant hesitated, glancing back at the saddle and moving only a step or two away from the ponies.
‘What is in that pack?’ demanded the Major.
‘What? Oh, nothing of value.’
‘He’s mighty reluctant to leave it,’ muttered the Lieutenant.
‘Go and see what is in there.’ The Major waved his pistol at Grant. ‘You, move away.’
Grant shrugged and took another step to the side. The Lieutenant came closer, pistol in hand. Outwardly relaxed, Grant waited until the man was passing, then he leapt, swinging the soldier around in front of him. At the same time he caught his opponent’s weapon hand in a vicelike grip and twisted. The pistol fell to the ground, clattering against a stone and, in the same instant, the Major fired. Grant felt the Lieutenant twitch and scream as the bullet caught him in the leg.
One man down and one with an empty pistol. Much better odds.
From the corner of his eye Grant could see the Sergeant reaching for his pistol, but he did not pause. He was already charging at the Major and he closed with hi
m, delivering a heavy blow to the chin which sent his head snapping back. Major Albright crashed to the ground, stunned.
Two down.
Grant turned to face the last man, expecting to find the Sergeant levelling a firearm at him. Instead he saw Maddie standing over the soldier’s body, a stout piece of a branch in her hand. As he ran across to her she looked up, her face pale.
‘Is he dead? I crept around behind him.’
‘No, he breathes. Well done.’ He turned to the horses, slapping them hard on the rump to send them careering away, then he reached out and caught her arm. ‘Come along, let’s get out of here.’
Maddie glanced again at the body at her feet before moving away. She was reassured by the slight rise and fall of his chest. They passed the Major, too, stretched out on the ground, his eyes closed. Only the Lieutenant was conscious, clutching at his thigh and gasping with pain.
Maddie took one look at the blood-soaked breeches and dug in her heels. ‘We cannot leave him like that!’
At that moment the man’s head fell to one side and he passed out. Grant bent over the officer and looked more closely at the injured leg.
‘It is only a flesh wound. He will survive.’
He straightened and would have moved on, but Maddie was already tearing off her cravat.
‘He is bleeding profusely.’ She sank down beside the man. ‘We must try to staunch the blood.’
Grant curbed his impatience as she quickly tied her neckcloth around the man’s leg. As soon as she had finished, he pulled her to her feet.
‘There,’ he muttered, ‘That will do until his companions come around. Now let us get out of here!’
Maddie allowed him to bundle her on to her garron and send her trotting off towards the track while he untied his own pony. She heard him cantering up behind her and they had just left the shelter of the trees when there was a shot.
Grant cursed and, turning back, she saw he was clutching at his arm, wine-coloured droplets oozing between his fingers. Behind him at the water’s edge, she saw that the Major had crawled over to his wounded companion and picked up his pistol.
Rescued by Her Highland Soldier Page 12