Madeleine held her breath as Dougald stared at them for a long, long moment. His eyes were full of fury, the battle he was waging between his own will and the stronger will of the clan evident in his face. Finally he stepped back, gesturing to the two men who were holding Garrett.
“Release him,” he said.
As the noose was lifted over Garrett’s head, Madeleine sheathed her knife and ran to catch him, shouldering his weight while Ewen rushed over to support his other side.
“Stand away, Dougald,” Angus commanded. “If there comes a time when all fugitives are pardoned and ye may return to the Highlands, ye’ll come in peace or else ne’er set foot in Strathherrick again. Do ye swear on yer fealty to Clan Fraser?”
“Aye.”
“Allan Fraser?”
“Aye, I swear.”
“Men of Clan Cameron and Clan Macdonald. Do ye swear as brothers of our clan?”
“Aye,” they said.
“So be it,” Angus said evenly. “‘Tis witnessed. Godspeed to all of ye on yer way to France.”
Dougald said no more as he mounted his horse, followed by the seven Highlanders and Allan Fraser. They set out at a gallop across the rugged, heather-clad moor, never once looking back.
“Garrett,” Madeleine said, stroking his bloodied hair and bruised face with tender, trembling fingers. “Ye’re safe, my love. We’re taking ye home, to Mhor Manor.”
Garrett smiled faintly, hearing her words through the swamping pain that gripped him.
“Yes, take me home, Maddie,” he whispered weakly, feeling her lips lightly brush his mouth. It was the sweetest kiss he had ever known.
Epilogue
Mhor Manor
September 1747
Madeleine smiled softly as the light breeze fanned the chestnut tendrils framing her face. She breathed in the fragrant air, scented with wildflowers and sweet heather.
Aye, ‘twas a most special day, she thought happily. Bright with warm sunshine and bright with promise and hope.
Her heart overflowed with love as she gazed at Garrett. He was standing beside Master Simon Fraser, eldest son of their late chief, Lord Lovat. The two men faced the assembled Frasers of Strathherrick, and she thrilled to the rich timbre of Garrett’s voice as he addressed the attentive crowd, over three hundred strong.
“As Master Simon has claimed, the time for reconciliation is upon us. There is much hurt to heal between our two peoples, and perhaps a prejudice that will never be overcome. Yet whatever has gone before we must not forget we are a united land serving the same king…”
Madeleine grew pensive as she listened to him, her musing inspired by his heartfelt words.
They had come so far since that afternoon last autumn when the villagers of Farraline had joined with her to save Garrett’s life. Each passing day had brought with it new triumphs and small successes, a slow, steady building of trust between Garrett and her people that had grown stronger and flourished before her eyes.
So had their love flourished and strengthened, she thought warmly, cementing a bond of respect and trust between herself and Garrett that could never be broken. She had been so happy these past months, her days spent building a life with the man she loved and her nights spent in his impassioned embrace, sharing dreams, laughter, love.
Madeleine glanced tenderly at their infant son, slumbering so peacefully in Glenis’s arms. Her happiness had been made complete at his birth only two weeks ago. They had named him Hugh Geoffrey Marshall, after her father and Garrett’s. Their little son was beautiful, with golden curls and bonnie blue eyes.
Her gaze sought Garrett once more. He looked so handsome in his forest-green coat and breeches. He was no longer a soldier since his military commission had expired. He stood before Clan Fraser not as a conqueror but as a man who wanted only peace and prosperity for the valley he loved almost as well as she did. He had not turned his back on England. He had simply adopted Strathherrick as his own, a part of him as surely as the Scots blood coursing through his veins.
Madeleine’s eyes strayed to her cousin Simon, the young chief of Clan Fraser, recently released from an Edinburgh gaol. His strong profile and stout stature echoed so clearly the features of his father.
She sighed faintly, feeling a rush of sadness as she recalled the mournful day in April when they received news that their Lord Lovat, Simon the Fox, had been beheaded on Tower Hill for his involvement in the Jacobite rebellion. His death had led to an understandable setback in Garrett’s efforts with her people, yet gradually the pain and bitterness had eased, and progress had begun anew. Especially when word came that Master Simon had been pardoned by King George.
She and Garrett had rejoiced in Master Simon’s letter, filled with his plans to visit Strathherrick and his former holdings in the Aird before taking up residence in Edinburgh. It was Simon’s intent to encourage reconciliation among his clansmen, hoping that through his efforts he might one day regain his titles and lands. There was even talk of his forming a regiment of fighting men for the king, who would be known as the Fraser Highlanders.
Madeleine’s reverie faded as Garrett’s words filled her with quiet joy.
