Glenis sighed raggedly. “Och, lass, ‘twill be hard goin’ on as before, knowin’ what I do now. I’m fearin’ for ye, lass.” She faltered, fresh tears coursing down her hollow cheeks.
“Ye must, Glenis,” Madeleine insisted softly. “If ye’re strong, ‘twill help me to be strong. We canna show our fear, especially when I may need ye to cover for me in the days ahead. Ye must keep yer wits about ye more than ever. Are we agreed?”
“Aye.” Glenis grabbed Madeleine’s arm, a plea shining in her dark brown eyes. “Ye must let me know when ye tell the captain, Maddie. I dinna want to wake up some morning and find the redcoats have taken ye away…”
“Dinna fear,” Madeleine soothed her, a hard lump in her throat. “And we’ll work something out fore when I do, for I’ll not have ye bearing any of blame.” She gave Glenis a fierce hug, then released her. She glanced over her shoulder at the half-cleared table. “Let me help ye with the dishes, Glenis,” she offered.
“No, hinny, I’ll manage,” Glenis objected with a weak smile. “I think I’d like to be alone for a while…if ye dinna mind.”
Madeleine nodded and quickly left the kitchen, unable to bear the pain she saw etched in Glenis’s eyes. All she could think of was seeking the solace of her bedchamber.
She had wrestled with confiding in Glenis since she returned from Foyer’s Falls, and now that she had, her emotions were spent. She ignored the soldier standing guard in the dimly lit hall and reached for the banister.
“Damn!”
She started at the softly uttered curse, recognizing Garrett’s voice. It had come from the drawing room. She immediately thought to run up the stairs and avoid him once again, as she had done so well since their encounter yesterday.
It had been a brief but unpleasant scene. Garrett had said little when she told him she couldn’t help him; only his eyes had registered his shock and dismay. There was also a trace of suspicion, as if he did not quite believe her. His frustration was evident when he abruptly left her and joined his men, who were waiting for him in front of the manor house. She had never seen him lash his bay so harshly as when they rode out to spend another long day searching the valley.
Madeleine hesitated at the landing, unsure what she should do. If she continued to purposefully avoid him, he might suspect her all the more. Perhaps it was better to seek out his company and act as if she had nothing to hide. Her heart began to pound at the thought, and she walked nervously toward the drawing room.
She paused in the archway, her eyes widening at the comfortable scene. Garrett was seated before the hearth, his legs stretched out in front of him, an opened book in his lap. He appeared so at home, except for the fact that he was not reading but instead was staring into the leaping flames with a troubled look on his handsome face. She could well imagine what he was thinking and quickly determined she would leave at once if he pressed her further about Black Jack.
“Good evening to ye, Garrett.”
Garrett rose suddenly from the chair, the book falling to the floor with a thud.
“Madeleine,” he said, stunned by her unexpected appearance. Her unadorned beauty never failed to astound him. She could be dressed in rags and covered with filth but still she would outshine any woman he had ever known. “I thought you had long since retired for the evening.”
“Glenis and I just finished a late supper,” she replied. Her gaze moved to the armchair across from his. “May I join ye? The fire looks so welcome.”
“Yes, of course,” Garrett said. “You don’t have to ask me if you might sit in your own drawing room, Madeleine.”
She made no comment as she stepped into the room. He caught a whiff of her scent as she walked past him. It was sweet and clean, like sunshine, fresh air, and heather. To him it was a fragrance more heady than the most expensive perfume. It aroused his senses, making him all the more aware of the startling effect she had on him.
Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the book and sat down, watching quietly as she settled herself. He could not help but wonder why she was joining him when she had gone out of her way to avoid him these past few days.
Except for yesterday, he thought dryly. He found his mood darkening once more, despite Madeleine’s stirring presence. Should he ask her again? Her adamant denial had not totally convinced him she knew nothing about Black Jack. And after today’s fruitless search for leads, he was still no closer—
“What are ye reading?” she asked, her soft, melodic voice lulling his anxious thoughts.
Garrett held up the small, feather-bound book. “As You Like It, by William Shakespeare.” He glanced over at the narrow bookcase, lined with well-dusted volumes. “You have quite a nice collection of his works. I’m glad they survived the soldiers who came here in May.”
“Aye,” she said simply, quickly skipping over the disagreeable topic. “My mother was very fond of Shakespeare. She and my father would travel as far away as Edinburgh to see one of his plays, though I’ve not seen any yet.” She smiled wistfully. “I would love to seeAs You Like Itperformed on the stage. ‘Tis my favorite comedy.”
“Mine also,” Garrett said with a wry note in his voice. “That’s why I picked it out. I thought a comedy might ease my mind.”
As the smile faded from Madeleine’s lips, he felt like kicking himself. It was a wondrous thing when she smiled, and talking to her like this was a rare gift. He decided it was worth it to avoid any mention of Black Jack, just to see her smile again.
He would just have to find the cursed brigand on his own, he thought resolutely. Right now, he just wanted to concentrate on Madeleine, to sit with her and savor her enjoyable company.
“Tell me what you like best about the play,” he asked, encouraged when he saw her expression brighten.
“Och, so many things, really,” she began. “‘Tis a love story…” She hesitated, her pretty blush eliciting a surge of warmth in Garrett. “But most of all, I like the character of Rosalind. She knows her own mind, and she’s not afraid to speak it.”
Garrett chuckled as he thumbed through the book, looking for a certain passage. He found it and began to read, his voice soft and resonant: “ ‘From the east to western Ind, no jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lin’d are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind, but the fair of Madeleine.’ ”
“Ye mean Rosalind,” Madeleine corrected, smiling self-consciously.
