“As I said, Mistress Fraser, we’ve been stationed here to keep the peace. You and your people have nothing to fear from us.” He quickly changed the subject. “Perhaps you might accompany me through the house,” he ventured. “I’d like to show you that my men have taken great care not to damage your property.” He paused, then added dryly, “Unlike the soldiers who have been here before us.”
“Aye, yer brothers in arms already did a fine job of it,” she muttered under her breath. She was frustrated that he hadn’t answered her question. Yet she sensed her intuition was correct. She would have to speak with Angus and Ewen at once, that very night, and warn them of this new danger.
Garrett held out his arm to her. “Shall we go, then, Mistress Maddie?”
Madeleine shot him a look of pure venom. “Only my kinsmen call me by that name, Captain Marshall,” she said hotly. “Ye may have taken over my house, but ye dinna have the right to consider yerself part of the family. Ye and yer men are unwelcome here, and not a day shall pass that I dinna tell ye so. Now, if ye’ll kindly step out of my way.”
He did so, and she brushed past him into the narrow hall.
“And I dinna need yer invitation to survey my own home,” she flung over her shoulder. “I’ll see to yer men’s clever handiwork m’self!”
Garrett stared after her, surprised by the ungentlemanly direction of his thoughts and the quickening of his desire. God, but she was lovely!
He admired the provocative sway of her skirt—the lustrous fabric skimming her slender hips and the teasing hint of lace petticoat peeking from beneath the hem. It pleased him that she wore no hoops, a ridiculous fashion which had obviously not made it to the Highlands. Her simple gown stirred his imagination, conjuring a tantalizing vision of her hidden charms.
An amused grin lit his face. He had never been so intrigued by a woman before, and the devil knew he’d had his share. Everything about her fascinated him—the way she moved, the timbre of her voice, and her flashing blue eyes. Her every gesture and her every word bespoke passion and spirit.
She was so different from the passive beauties he had known in England, with their carefully schooled smiles, empty heads, and conniving mothers who were eager to wed their daughters to a fortune. Even his memory of Celinda paled in comparison. This woman spoke her mind, and with a vengeance. Damn, it was refreshing!
A curious thought struck him. Other than the obvious act of leaving her home, what would he have to do to bring a smile to the beauteous Mistress Fraser’s lips? he wondered wryly. Could kindness, gallantry, gentle wooing, and a healthy dose of patience win her favor? Perhaps his earlier plan when he had thought her a maidservant was not so far off the mark after all.
If he could gain her trust, even her slightest affection, she might be able to help him. As the mistress of Farraline, she probably knew a great deal of what went on in Strathherrick. Perhaps she even knew where to find Black Jack…
Garrett strode after her, eager to put his new plan into action. From what he had seen of her so far, he had no doubt Mistress Madeleine Fraser would fight him every step of the way. Yet the thought did not daunt him.
His Scots grandmother had told him once there was no woman more stubborn and headstrong than a Highland wench. Yet when her favor was won, however hard fought, there was never a woman more true.
Such a woman’s trust was more than worth the challenge…if it might lead him to Black Jack.
Chapter 6
An hour later Madeleine stormed into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. She startled Glenis, who was draping a fresh tea towel over a pan of hot scones.
“What is it, lass?” Glenis asked, whirling to face her disgruntled mistress. “Though I must tell ye, I canna stand too many more surprises in one day.”
“Have ye seen the dancing room lately?” Madeleine blurted out angrily. She plopped into one of the wooden chairs placed around the table, her gown cascading in rippling folds to the floor. Without waiting for a reply she rushed on, determined to vent her spleen.
“Ye’d never know ‘twas once reserved for our Highland reels and dances and the playing of the pipes. It looks to be a barracks, with twenty bunks lining the walls and men sitting upon them, cleaning their weapons, polishing their boots, laughing and joking and carrying on as if ‘twas a common thing to intrude upon another’s home!”
She drew a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her ear. “The guest rooms have fared no better. Mama would surely be having a fit if she’d lived to see redcoats lying upon her fine needleworked coverlets and satin pillows.”
“Dinna speak so of your mother, Maddie,” Glenis chided, her voice shrill and cracking. “‘Tis bad luck, and well ye know it. Leave her spirit to rest in peace. We dinna need any ghosts summoned forth to add to our troubles.”
“I’m sorry, Glenis,” Madeleine said distractedly. She rubbed her temples; the dull pain was still plaguing her. She was certain it would have been gone by now if not for that infuriating Captain Marshall. He’d given her twice the headache in the span of one short hour!
First he had followed her into the dancing room like a second shadow after she told him she could manage alone. Then he had insisted on introducing her to each of his men, as if she cared to know them: Sergeant Lowell Fletcher, Corporal Denny Sims, the hapless soldier she had shoved in the hall, and so many others whose names had simply flown by her.
To her surprise, the men had been quite respectful and courteous, though a few rough-looking soldiers had eyed her with more than passing interest. At those times Captain Marshall had acted in the most peculiar manner. His expression had darkened, his tone had grown brusque, and he had quickly steered her to the next man.
She would have balked at the possessive pressure of his hand on her elbow if she hadn’t been surrounded by so many soldiers. But his attention gave her an odd sense of security, and she realized grudgingly he was the only buffer between herself and his men. If he appeared protective, so much the better. At least she wouldn’t have to fear any unwelcome advances from them.
That thought reminded Madeleine of a decision she’d made while making her excuses to Captain Marshall and finally fleeing the dancing room. She jumped up from the chair and hurried over to Glenis, who was expertly turning another batch of scones on a buttered griddle set atop the hearth. She kept her voice low in case any soldiers were walking outside near the kitchen windows.
“Glenis, I have something important to discuss with ye.”
“Hold on for a moment, lass, whilst I finish these scones,” Glenis said. She turned the last one, then set down her wooden spatula and wiped her hands on her apron. “All right, what is it ye wish to tell me?”
Madeleine held her finger to her lips, indicating they should speak softly. “In the morning I want ye to tell Meg Blair and Kitty Dods not to come to the house anymore. ‘Tis for their own good whilst the soldiers are here.”
