Madeleine walked through the dining room and up the stairs. The hall was nearly pitch dark, but she could see well enough. She strolled toward her room, humming a lilting Scottish air.
She stopped suddenly, her blood pounding loudly in her ears. She stared wide-eyed at the faint sliver of light shining from beneath the door to her father’s bedchamber. Visions of phantoms and ghosts leaped in her mind. Could it be that her father’s restless spirit had come to haunt Mhor Manor?
She quickly dispelled the thought, scolding herself for her fears. It was obvious she had been listening far too much to Glenis’s superstitious rambling. There was a logical explanation for the light. There had to be. Glenis or one of the girls had left a lamp burning while cleaning the room, or someone else was in there…
She tested the latch. The door was unlocked. She leaned against it, tripping inside the dimly lit room as the door was abruptly pulled open from the inside.
“Oh!” Madeleine exclaimed, knocking into something broad and hard. A strong arm circled her waist and prevented her from falling. Crisp curls brushed her cheek. She began to scream, but she was silenced by a large hand pressed over her mouth. Panic rose in her throat, and she twisted frantically, trying to free herself.
“Easy, Mistress Fraser, easy. I’d rather you not bring my entire corps to your rescue, so if you’ll kindly refrain from screaming, I’ll remove my hand.”
Captain Marshall! Madeleine tensed at the familiar voice, but she was grateful her captor wasn’t one of those rough-looking soldiers. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and nodded.
She inhaled sharply as he dropped his hand, but instead of releasing her, he drew her closer. Her breasts were pressed tightly against him, and the warmth of his skin seemed to burn through her gown. His warm, male scent swamped her racing senses, and a soft, startled gasp broke from her throat as his fingers gently caressed the small of her back.
A bewildering current of excitement shot through her, and she flushed with embarrassment as she felt her nipples grow taut and rigid, thrusting against her bodice. Her eyes fell to his rugged chest, sprinkled with dark blond curls, and with a start she realized he was naked from the waist up. Anger bubbled within her at his bold presumption, rescuing her from the traitorous sensations flooding her body.
“Release me at once, ye filthy—”
“Redcoat, swine, bastard?” Garrett finished for her, painfully aware of the hardness swelling under his breeches. He regretfully willed away his growing ardor, smiling as Madeleine clamped her mouth shut and glared at him. “You seem to have a limited vocabulary when it comes to English soldiers, Mistress Fraser. Perhaps you might try calling me by my Christian name.”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind,” she snapped. She braced her hands against his bare chest and pushed, but her efforts were futile. He held her too tightly, his arms as powerfully muscled as his chest…a fact which strangely excited her once more. Infuriated by her errant feelings, she threw her head back, her eyes crackling with fire. “Let me go!”
“Garrett.”
Madeleine could see she had no choice in this verbal tug-of-war. “Garrett,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Suddenly he released her, and she felt strangely bereft, but only for an instant. She stepped back, her temper flaring anew as her gaze swept the large room. Garrett’s personal belongings were everywhere, his scarlet coat draped over the chair by the mahogany desk, his waistcoat and white shirt lying on the tartan bedspread, a massive, brass-bound trunk at the foot of the canopied bed…
“What do ye think ye’re doing in my father’s room?” she demanded, her fists clenched.
Garrett sobered, the smile fading from his lips. Her late father’s room. He had guessed as much, from the masculine decor and heavy furnishings. He had also anticipated her response to this new intrusion, but there was no help for it. He needed the space and the privacy.
“I have decided to use this room during my stay,” he explained. “We’ve run short of space for an extra bunk in the dancing room, and the guest rooms are full.”
“Ye should have tried the stable first,” Madeleine said bitterly. “Ye’d fit in nicely. There’s plenty of room, now that most of the stalls are empty. Yer countrymen stole our finest horses, as well as our cattle and sheep.”
Garrett was cut by her insult, though he did not show it. He knew there was great pain fueling her words, a sorrow that only time would heal.
Until trust grew between them, if it did at all, she would likely continue to hurl such insults at him. He would simply have to deflect them and keep his temper firmly in check. It would not further his plan to lash out at her, or to demand her compliance as one of the conquered.
If he stayed his course, perhaps he could crack her defiant exterior and expose the passionate woman beneath, a woman who might be willing to help him…and thereby help her people. These past few moments had already granted him a fleeting glimpse of desire burning in those incredible blue eyes. It seemed his effect on her was much the same as hers on him—a most intriguing discovery.
“I’m sure you can understand the stable would not be suitable,” Garrett said, smiling faintly. “If there was another acceptable chamber on this floor, I would certainly—”
“There is, just down the hall,” Madeleine interjected. “It’s next to mine…” Her voice trailed off, and she flushed warmly, which only unnerved her further. She had never blushed so much before this man had entered her life.
She didn’t want him to think she was suggesting anything, she thought, chagrined. She only wanted him to leave this room for another.
“What I meant to say,” she began, groping for words, “is that there’s a room…on the same side of the hall as my own.”
“I know what you meant, and I already considered it,” Garrett said gently, touched by her obvious embarrassment. “Unfortunately, that room faces the mountains,” he continued. “Though it is a magnificent view, I prefer to stay here. These windows face the road and Farraline. As a commander, I must consider the safety of my men and our position. I’m sure you understand.”
“Aye, I understand,” Madeleine said hotly, “and I’ll have ye understand this, Captain Marshall. Yer being in this room is an affront to my father’s memory. Ye disgrace it with yer presence.”
Garrett remained unperturbed. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said. “I consider it an honor. Your father must have been a very brave and good man to earn such loyalty from his daughter.” His voice fell. “I envy you. My late father and I were never very close.”
Sudden tears glistened in Madeleine’s eyes. “Aye, my da was a fine man,” she barely managed, her throat tightening, “and I’d rather ye not speak of him. ‘Tis an insult as well. He might still be alive if not for the treachery of yer kind.”
