If she had her way, they would set out on another raid that night. It would be the very distraction she needed to free her mind from what she had just overheard and the strange foreboding that still gripped her.
Chapter 12
Garrett groaned as he drew on his shirt, waving away Sergeant Fletcher, who was standing nearby. He had never known his muscles to feel so tight and sore. His trembling fingers worked at the buttons one by one while he stood somewhat shakily in the middle of the room. Finally he was done. He reached for his coat, staggering ever so slightly. The sergeant rushed to his side and caught his arm.
“Captain, are you sure you want to do this? Another day won’t matter so much. Perhaps you should stay in bed—”
“I’m fine, Fletcher,” Garrett insisted sharply, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He shrugged on his coat. “You’re worse than a nagging nursemaid.”
When he saw his sergeant’s wounded look, he chided himself for his thoughtlessness. The man had had much to do with his recovery. He softened his tone. “Don’t worry, Fletcher. It’s time I got up on my feet. Lying in bed another day won’t make it any easier for me to regain my strength. I’ve got to start moving around again, go walking, riding. I need some fresh air—it’s the best cure I can think of.”
“Very well, captain,” Sergeant Fletcher said, though he did not look completely convinced.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Garrett said wryly. “But it won’t happen again. I feel better already, just standing here.”
He remembered all too clearly his first attempt to rise from the bed yesterday, not long after Sergeant Fletcher had left the room to let him sleep. His legs had buckled beneath him, and he had crumpled to the floor. The sergeant had rushed in to find him on his knees clutching the bedspread, vainly trying to stand.
He would have tried again if it hadn’t been for Sergeant Fletcher’s strong insistence that he resign himself to one more day of bed rest. Glenis had vehemently seconded the opinion later, when she heard about his futile effort. He smiled as he recalled her heated words.
“How dare ye get out of bed when ye’re just over the fever,” she had scolded him. “I dinna nurse ye these past four days to see ye take sick agin, Captain Garrett Marshall. Ye’ll do just as the good sergeant has asked ye, and as I’m tellin’ ye!”
She reminded him of his grandmother at that moment, with her hands on her narrow hips and her dark eyes flaring. He had no intention of crossing her. He had obediently remained in bed, and she had rewarded him with the best beef stew he had ever tasted, and more of that fiery Scots tea. He slept more soundly after that meal than he had in days.
Garrett’s stomach suddenly rumbled. It was so loud that Sergeant Fletcher laughed.
“If you’re that hungry, captain, then you must be feeling better, just as you say.”
“Come on, let’s go downstairs,” Garrett said, walking stiffly to the door. “Maybe Jeremy has baked some of his pan bread for breakfast.”
In the hallway he glanced over his shoulder at Madeleine’s room. He was not surprised to see her door wide open. It was late, almost ten o’clock, and no doubt she had already been up for hours.
She probably wasn’t even at home, he thought, holding on to the sturdy banister and taking the steps carefully.
Sergeant Fletcher had told him she had spent much of the previous day and well into the evening in Farraline. He found himself wondering what, or who, had caused her to return so late to Mhor Manor. A lover, perhaps, whom she hadn’t seen for several days because she was nursing him? Probably so. She certainly had gaped at him when he brought up the topic yesterday.
Garrett felt a familiar sting of jealousy, but swiftly quelled it. Madeleine had every right to visit the village and her people as often as she wished. If she was meeting her lover, well, that was not his concern.
He walked outside, his gaze narrowing at the distant thatched heather and turf roofs of Farraline. He heaved a sigh as a tightness welled up inside him.
He was lying to himself if he thought he didn’t care whether she had a lover. He cared deeply. He hadn’t realized how much until he had opened his eyes to find her standing beside his bed. It had been like a sweet dream becoming reality.
Beautiful Madeleine was talking with him, feeding him, caring for him, her hand lightly grazing his shoulder as she plumped his pillows. His pulse had surged at her touch, stoking the fire raging deep within him.
Frustrated, Garrett turned away and followed his sergeant to the back of the manor house, where the cooking tent was set up. He smelled bacon frying, the fresh-baked aroma of pan bread and brewed coffee, but he seemed to have lost his appetite. He halfheartedly took the full plate Jeremy Witt offered him.
“It’s good to see you up and about, Captain Marshall,” the bantam-size cook said cheerfully. “Here you go, sergeant. The rest of the men have already eaten.”
Garrett sat on a rough-hewn bench while the sergeant settled himself on the grass. Fletcher dug heartily into his plate, gulping down huge mouthfuls of food with hot coffee.
“Is something wrong, captain?” Sergeant Fletcher asked mid-swallow, surveying Garrett’s untouched plate.
“No,” Garrett replied tightly. Knowing he needed the nourishment, he forced himself to eat. The food was good, and after a few bites he felt his appetite gradually returning. He finished everything on his plate and even enjoyed another serving of pan bread. He was on his second mug of coffee when he spied a slight figure walking briskly toward the manor house from the direction of the tiny loch. His cup stopped midway to his mouth as he realized it was Madeleine. He set his plate and mug on the bench and rose to his feet, watching her intently.
She was so lovely.
He drank in the fetching vision she made, feeling as if he could stare at her forever. Her blue skirt skimmed her curved hips, its hem swaying as she walked. Her chestnut hair shone glossily in the sun and curled about her face in damp tendrils. She had a towel in her hand, and she was swinging it jauntily.
So she hadn’t gone into Farraline this morning, he thought, feeling a surge of pleasure mixed with relief. She must have been bathing in the loch. He could tell she hadn’t seen him yet, and he enjoyed the sensation of catching a brief glimpse into her private world. She was smiling faintly, and he wondered what she was thinking.
