She sighed with longing. He was waiting for her in the drawing room. She could sense it. She had agreed to meet him downstairs by seven o’clock and have supper him. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was a quarter past. Perhaps he had already realized she wasn’t coming. She would simply have to tell him tomorrow she had changed her mind.
She could not go to him. She wanted to, badly, but she could no longer allow herself to share his company. Not tonight, and not tomorrow night, if she hoped to fight the forbidden desire growing ever stronger within her.
Aye, she knew now that the strange yearning that had plagued her was a desire which would surely make her a traitor to her people if she gave it free rein.
When she was around Garrett, nothing made sense anymore. It was so easy to forget that she was a brigand and to forget why she had become one, to forget the raids and her waiting kinsmen. She forgot Garrett was an Englishman, a redcoat, and therefore her sworn enemy. And that she could not afford to do. She needed a clear mind to continue her raids and to face what lay ahead.
“No more, Maddie,” she murmured to her reflection in the glass. “Ye canna fail yer people. They need yer full attention, now more than ever before.”
Tonight there would be no lighthearted discourse with Garrett, no shared laughter, and no conflicting emotions as he walked her upstairs. She would stay in her room until it was time to sneak out through the tunnel. By then, she hoped, he would have retired for the night. She would simply have to find some other way to pass the time.
Madeleine’s gaze swept her chamber, awash in soft candlelight, and settled on her open wardrobe. She caught an enticing glimmer of sapphire-blue satin and knew exactly how she would while away the hours. She would try on her mother’s gowns for one last time. It was a girlish fancy, perhaps, but she did not know when, or if, she might have another chance.
She crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out the blue satin gown with its silver brocade bodice and underskirt, then ran to her bed. She was overcome with nostalgia as she changed, her troubled emotions forgotten for the moment. The fabric glided like cool water over her skin and pooled at her bare feet.
It had been such a long time since she had tried on this beautiful gown. Her fingers trembled as she pinned the bodice to her chemise, knowing it would not look quite right without stays but not caring. She hadn’t worn a corset since that afternoon at the loch.
The memory of Garrett’s kiss came flooding back to her as if it had happened that very day, and her wretched torment began anew. She tentatively touched her lips, feeling again the blazing heat of his mouth upon hers.
She had found herself thinking of that moment many times over this past week, especially in Garrett’s presence. He seemed to elicit the wildest imaginings in her—
“No more,” she warned herself unconvincingly, crossing to the full-length mirror. As she stared at her shimmering reflection, she tried to shrug off the vivid memory, but the unsettling sensations stayed with her, taunting her.
Would Garrett find her lovely in this gown? she wondered, shivering with excitement. She trailed a finger along the low-cut bodice and up the lush curve of her breast, sighing softly.
She turned, her satin skirt rustling and swaying, and stood in profile. Her hands strayed to her white throat. She lifted up her hair, envisioning a more sophisticated style, then she let it tumble down her back in a riot of tangled chestnut curls.
She closed her eyes, her hand sliding slowly down her body from her neck to her curved hip. An image of Garrett leaped into her mind, and she sighed again. He was dripping wet, naked and his strong hands were caressing her own wet skin…
“I far prefer your hair down, Madeleine, wild and unfettered. Like you.”
Madeleine’s eyes flew open and she whirled on her intruder, mortified that he had seen her… God’s wounds, she had never felt so embarrassed!
“Garrett! How—how long have ye been standing there?”
“Not long,” he said quietly, stepping inside the room. “Forgive me for startling you, Madeleine. When you didn’t meet me in the drawing room, I decided to come and find you. I knocked, hearing your footsteps, and opened the door slightly.” He paused, his eyes raking her from head to foot. “I see you’ve dressed for dinner.”
Madeleine moved away from the mirror, flustered by the way his gaze was fixed upon her, as if he would devour her whole. She shivered at the thought, struggling to maintain what little was left of her composure.
“Garrett, ye really must leave. I canna sup with ye tonight.”
“No?” he asked, drawing closer to her. “Then why the gown? It is a most becoming one, I might add.”
“‘Twas my mother’s,” Madeleine blurted, becoming increasingly unnerved by his presence. “I wanted to try it on, that’s all.”
“It fits you perfectly, Madeleine,” he said appreciatively. His gaze wandered to her breasts, which thrust against the neckline. “Perfectly.” He met her eyes, his expression growing serious. “Why won’t you dine with me?”
She retreated a step, her heart pounding furiously as she took another desperate stab at dismissing him. “I’m feeling a bit out of sorts, Garrett,” she said, smiling weakly. “Perhaps another night.”
He did not reply but studied her closely. Odd tremors shot through her, and she had to fight to calm her breathing.
Her gaze moved over him, and her pulse fluttered as she noted the simple elegance of his clothes. He wore tight-fitting black breeches which accentuated his slim hips and sinewed thighs, and a full, white shirt which heightened the golden cast of his skin, the open collar revealing a nest of dark blond curls. His hair shone like burnished flame in the flickering candlelight, while his striking features were half cloaked in shadow. Oh, why did he have to be so handsome?
“I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts as well,” he said at last, his voice laden with a deep intensity she had not heard before. “Perhaps we suffer the same malady, you and I.”
“M-malady?” she stammered.
Garrett nodded, his eyes searing into hers. “A fever, a fire burning in the blood, an ache that has but one cure. That’s how I feel whenever I’m around you, Madeleine.” He reached out and smoothed a silken tress. “Who were you thinking of when you stood before the mirror? A lover, perhaps?”
