“Fraser, sir,” she finished for him. “Lady Jean died many years ago. There is only the young mistress now.”
“Where is she?” Garrett asked, shifting the woman’s weight on his shoulder. “We have much to discuss. And I wish to explain what happened to her maidservant here, Maddie.”
Glenis’s eyes lit with understanding. “‘Tis no maidservant ye’re carryin’, sir,” she murmured gravely. “‘Tis the mistress of Farraline, Madeleine Fraser.”
Now it was Garrett’s turn to stare. He swallowed hard, his face flushing warmly. He had never felt so sheepish in his life. He didn’t know quite what to do or say.
Glenis finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “If ye’ll kindly follow me, sir—”
“Captain Garrett Marshall,” he said.
“If ye’ll follow me, Captain Marshall,” Glenis said with great dignity, “I’ll show ye to my mistress’s chamber, where I might see to her needs.”
Garrett simply nodded. As he climbed the stairs behind the aged Scotswoman, he could not help thinking that his mission had gotten off to another miserable start.
Chapter 5
Glenis closed the polished wardrobe door, clucking her tongue disapprovingly. “Ye’ve scarce given yerself time to rest, Maddie. ‘Tis only been a few hours, and already ye’re up and about. Ye took a bad fall accordin’ to the captain. He told me all about it. He was quite sorry he’d caused ye harm. I think ye should climb back into bed and stay put until tomorrow morn.”
“Since when do ye believe anything an Englishman tells ye?” Madeleine retorted. “I’m fine, Glenis.” Her fingers worked furiously at the mother-of-pearl buttons on her bodice. Knowing what was going on downstairs, she could not dress fast enough. She winced at the sudden sharp ache in her head and bit her lower lip.
“There, ye see!” Glenis noted with exasperation, wagging a bony finger. “I should have forced more of my nettle tea into ye, whether ye liked the taste or no. At least ye’d still be asleep and ye wouldna be feelin’ so poorly.” Glenis moved to the bed and flung back the flowered coverlet. She patted the mattress firmly. “Back to bed with ye, Madeleine Fraser. Ye can speak to the captain in the morning. From the looks of it, those soldiers plan to be stayin’ at Mhor Manor for quite a while.”
“They winna if I can help it,” Madeleine fumed, ignoring Glenis’s suggestion. Redcoats under her own roof! She could hardly believe it. She bent down to fasten the brass buckles on her brogues, then straightened, smoothing the skirt of her clean linen gown. “What did ye say was that captain’s name?”
Clearly frustrated, Glenis sighed heavily and sank down on the bed. She gave Madeleine a look she had known all her life, reproaching her for her stubbornness. “Captain Marshall. Garrett’s his Christian name.”
“I dinna care one whit about his Christian name,” Madeleine muttered under her breath. Without another word she flounced from the room.
How dare they invade my home, she thought furiously as she rushed down the hallway to the main staircase. While she had slept the afternoon away, thirty-odd redcoats had taken over the entire right wing of Mhor Manor. Glenis had told her they were building bunks in the dancing room and the spare guest rooms. Bunks!
Madeleine felt another sharp pang, and she paused, leaning against the wall, until it subsided. Her thoughts were still fuzzy, her memory of the accident earlier that day only fragmented pictures in her mind. She distinctly remembered the wild ride from Farraline, but what followed was no more than a streaking blur of events. Everything had happened so fast.
There had been a violent jolt as her mare struck the other horse, then she had flown through the air. After that she recalled only blackness until she opened her eyes to find herself in the arms of an English soldier. It had been like a terrible nightmare.
She remembered a struggle to free herself and the sound of his deep and steady voice, but not his words. Nor could she recall her own words, only her feelings of anger as he seemed to stalk her, drawing closer and closer. She had had the strangest sensation she had seen him somewhere before…
Then she had been in his arms again, fighting and cursing, the breath knocked from her body as he had thrown her over his shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was lying in her bed, Glenis spoonfeeding her that bitter tea. She had fallen asleep, only to wake a short while ago to find Glenis nodding off in the rocking chair by the window.
Madeleine pushed away from the wall and walked to the top of the staircase. She looked down into the main hallway. Her eyes narrowed as a young soldier entered through the front door, his arms full of bedding.
Indignation seized her. The scene reminded her of the last time redcoats had violated her home. She had been powerless to do anything on that occasion. This time she was not. She practically flew down the stairs and gave the soldier a good shove. He fell back, grunting in surprise, blankets and linen sheets tumbling to the floor.
“What do ye think ye’re doing?” she cried, throwing herself between him and the hall leading to the adjoining right wing. “Get out of my house, ye freckled weasel! Now! And take yer bedclothes with ye!”
The startled soldier mumbled something unintelligible, his face a bright shade of red that nearly matched his uniform. He began to step backward, keeping one eye on her while he glanced over his shoulder for the door.
“Stop right where you are, soldier,” a deep voice commanded him from directly behind Madeleine.
The young man froze. “Yes, sir,” he said miserably.
Madeleine spun around to meet this new adversary, a stinging retort on her lips. It died when she came face to face with the handsome, blond officer who loomed in the archway, the powerful breadth of his shoulders blocking out everything behind him. His eyes, a compelling shade of gray flecked with green, studied her quizzically.
It was he. The man who had accosted her, she thought angrily. A familiar sensation gripped her. She could swear she had seen him before today, but where?
Suddenly her memory cleared, like sunlight piercing through a mist. Her last raid! He had been the commanding officer, forced to strip with his men…She felt a blush scorch her skin, and she bowed her head so he wouldn’t see her discomfort. Her mind raced.
Easy, lass. Stay calm, she assured herself. She and her kinsmen had nothing to fear. They had been well disguised during that raid. ‘Twas only a strange coincidence, nothing more.
