Chapter 9
It was early in the morning and still Garrett could not sleep. Angry at himself, he had been staring at the ceiling for hours, watching the shadows dance on the plaster and listening to the howling wind.
What had come over him at the loch? What had become of his resolve to be patient? The questions echoed over and over in his mind, like a taunt, even as he knew their answers.
He had wanted Madeleine Fraser more than he had ever wanted any woman. He wanted her even now, and he was astounded by the strength of his feelings. How had this woman so bewitched him in so short a time? It seemed that whenever he thought of her, or was near her, he lost all control.
Garrett felt like laughing out loud at the absurdity and the sheer hopelessness of his rampant desire. She would never have anything to do with him, not after what he had done. She would probably never trust him. He could only hope his short note and the return of her dirk had soothed her temper.
He didn’t exactly like the idea that she carried such a weapon, and it violated English law. But when he saw the fine engraving on the hilt, he knew he had to give it back to her. It was a gift from her father. She had lost enough already. He would just have to watch his step in case she chose to reward his generosity by a stab in the back!
Garrett rolled onto his side and tucked the pillow under his head. He wondered what she had thought of the last line of his note, or if she had even read it. He had debated whether to write it, but then had thrown caution to the wind. It was true. He had never known such a kiss…It was all sweetness and fire, proving an inner passion as wild and tempestuous as her spirit.
He felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Were her words true as well? He would be a fool to think such a beauty had never been kissed before. Perhaps she already loved a man, had lain with a man…
Enough! Garrett thought silently, closing his eyes in frustration. He had to get some sleep! In only a few hours he and his men would resume their search of the valley for any signs of Black Jack.
If they were as unsuccessful as they had been yesterday, he would have to begin questioning the villagers, but without giving away his mission. He held no illusions that the wary Highlanders would offer much information, but perhaps a mistaken word or an expression might give him a clue, something to scent the trail.
Colonel Wolfe had made it clear to him that he didn’t have a lot of time before General Hawley would take matters into his own hands. He certainly couldn’t afford to wait and risk his entire mission because of one woman. After what had happened at the loch, he doubted Madeleine would give him the time of day, let alone come to his bed and regale him with secrets. He must have been crazy to think it was ever a possibility.
Garrett sighed heavily and tossed onto his other side. It seemed that sleep was determined to elude him tonight. All he could think of was Madeleine. Her lips were so red, so warm, and her breasts were so soft. Her lithe body had felt so good pressed against his own. God, he would surely go mad!
He forced the provocative image from his mind and willed himself to think calmly, rationally. Obviously he wasn’t ready to give up on his original plan, no matter how farfetched.
He would proceed with his search of the valley, yet he would also continue to try to win Madeleine’s trust. He was certain she might be able to help him. She was mistress of Farraline and a leader to the people of Strathherrick. Surely she knew something that might lead him to Black Jack.
Garrett threw one arm over his head and shut his eyes once more. An unsettling question nagged at him. Did he want to win Madeleine’s trust purely for the sake of his mission, or was there another, more selfish reason?
If he knew the answer, he wasn’t admitting it even to himself. Not yet.
***
Garrett awoke three hours later to the sun slashing through the windows and across the bed. He groaned, flinging his arm over his eyes. He felt as if he hadn’t slept at all.
A firm knock on the door rattled his senses still further.
“Who is it?” he shouted irritably.
“Sergeant Fletcher. The men are up and ready to ride, sir,” a brisk voice intoned through the door.
“Very good, Fletcher. I’ll be right down.” Garrett threw back the covers resignedly and rose from the bed.
He rubbed his shoulder, which he had bruised on a jagged rock beneath the waterfall. He should have known better. He dressed quickly, ignoring the persistent ache, his mind already on the day ahead. He left his chamber and walked out into the silent hallway.
His gaze instinctively flew to Madeleine’s closed door, but he turned the other way and headed downstairs. He stopped abruptly at the landing when he heard a woman’s voice just outside the front door. It sounded like Meg, the young maidservant Glenis had introduced him to yesterday. Surprisingly she was the only other help in this huge house.
“Please let me go, sir. I’ve told ye, I dinna need yer help with my basket. ‘Tis empty, see for yerself. Now I must be on my way. Glenis is expecting me.”
“What’s your hurry, chit?” a deep male voice groused unpleasantly. “That old goose can wait. Walk with me into the orchard, like I’ve asked you, nice and proper. We’ll pick some apples, eh, what do you think about that? Then we’ll spread your apron on the ground and sample a few.”
Garrett bristled as he recognizing the soldier’s voice. Damn that Rob Tyler! If there was any man in his company born to make trouble, it was that one. He’d been a thief before buying a commission in the army to save his neck from the hangman’s noose. Garrett had only brought him along because Tyler was an expert marksman. He strode to the door.
“I winna ask ye again, sir…Och, what do ye think ye’re doing?” There were sounds of a scuffle, a frightened gasp as something ripped, then a resounding slap.
“Don’t think to cuff me again, wench, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what, soldier?” Garrett exploded, wrenching the door open so fiercely it slammed against the wall and nearly fell from its hinges.
