Madeleine gasped, her cheeks firing hotly. She gave no answer but frantically attempted to brush past him. Her foot caught in her skirt, tripping her, and she cried out as she began to fall. The next thing she knew she was staring into Garrett’s eyes, his arms tightening like a vise around her trembling body.
“Who were you thinking of, Maddie?” he whispered huskily, his warm breath fanning her cheeks.
She shook her head, unable to speak. Unbridled sensations rippled through her body. Then his mouth found hers, and she knew nothing but the passionate power of his kiss. His lips ravaged hers, his tongue flicking at her teeth, and she opened her mouth to him. She moaned as he held her to his chest, his fingers twined in her hair.
“Tell me who you desire,” he demanded hoarsely, forcing her head back and covering her throat with biting kisses.
Madeleine nearly screamed aloud as his mouth found the hollow between her heaving breasts, his lips like hot brands upon her flesh. In a passion-dimmed daze, she felt his hand cup her, his fingers dragging away her bodice and chemise. His tongue circled a sensitive nipple in a ring of moist, molten fire. It was hot, insistent, provoking the forbidden hunger already raging within her. If she did not deny him now, she would be lost.
“No,” she murmured, bracing her hands against his chest even as every part of her cried out to meld with him, to feel the wonder of his skin against her body. “No, Garrett, please. I want ye to stop… Stop!”
Her wrenching cry echoed about the room, and tears sprang to her eyes as Garrett pulled abruptly away from her. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes were gray and storm-tossed, his breathing jagged.
“It seems I was wrong once again,” he said cryptically, running his hand through his hair.
Madeleine straightened her bodice, fighting against the tears that would course down her flushed cheeks. “Please, go,” she managed to say, glancing away from him.
“My apologies, Mistress Fraser,” he said stiffly. “I promise you it won’t happen again.” He strode across the room and was gone, his determined footsteps resounding in the hallway.
Madeleine stumbled to the door, scarcely able to see through the tears swimming in her eyes. She shut it and drew the bolt, then leaned her forehead against the polished wood.
How she wanted to fling wide the door and run after him, to tell him that he was the man she desired! But she would not be a traitor to everything she loved, everything for which she had fought so dearly.
“Ye’re the mistress of Farraline,” she whispered fiercely, walking back toward the bed. “Dinna forget it! Yer people are depending upon yer care and good judgment.” Strangely the words gave her no comfort. She threw herself on the mattress, the full burden of her responsibility pressing down on her like a terrible weight.
For the first time she cursed the task her father had given her. She buried her face in a pillow and began to weep bitterly, overwhelmed by fear, intense longing, and regret for all that she would never know.
Chapter 15
Garrett angrily paced the drawing room, a crinkled piece of paper in his hand. He stopped near the window and pushed aside the curtain, holding the paper up to the fading light.
He read the terse message again, for probably the tenth time. It was written in Colonel Wolfe’s distinctive scrawl, punctuated by numerous ink blotches. The words seemed to jump off the page and burn into his brain.
Black Jack had struck again, this time just west of Inverness. General Hawley was furious and threatened immediate action. It was the seventh successful raid in two weeks, not counting the thirty cattle mysteriously stolen in Glen Tarff, a few miles south of Fort Augustus. Seven blasted raids in two weeks, spread out all over the county…
“Damn Black Jack to hell!” Garrett cursed aloud, turning away from the window. He balled up the paper and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He hated to admit it, but this message was further proof that his peaceful mission was a dismal failure. Despite everything he had done—endlessly searching the valley, interrogating villagers, and recently staking out roads at night—it appeared the elusive brigand was unstoppable.
He sat down heavily in the armchair, pounding his fist on the padded brocade. Time was slipping away from him. General Hawley would no doubt be there within days, maybe sooner from the scathing tone of the message.
Was his mission really going to end as he feared, in flaming cottages and the helpless screams of men, women, and children? Soon it would be nightfall. Would Black Jack ride again, while he and his men chased shadows across the valley?
A flash of forest-green skirt, bright tartan shawl, and tousled chestnut hair caught his attention. He moved once more to the window and watched as Madeleine walked toward the house. She gave no notice to the soldiers standing guard. Her eyes were straight ahead, her step brisk and determined.
So she’s finally returning from Farraline, he thought bitterly. From visiting her people, and her lover. While there were so many lives at stake she busied herself with God-only-knew-what, as if there was nothing amiss, no danger looming on the horizon. Her lack of concern was incredible! Could it be she hadn’t believed him about Hawley after all?
Garrett frowned, at a total loss. He had looked for her earlier, determined to ask her one last time for her help, especially now that he had received this message. He still could not bring himself to believe that she knew absolutely nothing about Black Jack, despite her claim of ignorance. It just didn’t make sense, considering her respected position in the valley.
Glenis had told him merely that Madeleine had gone to the village and would say nothing more. It seemed even the old woman had turned against him, avoiding him at every opportunity. Madeleine had certainly evaded him ever since the night he had gone to her room and fairly forced himself on her, thinking she might feel as he did.
His jaw tightened, a wave of frustration possessing him. Fool! Once again he had allowed his personal desires and misguided emotions to get in the way of his mission. He should have pressed her further, as he had intended. Instead he had been bewitched by her company, her smiles, and his own fantasies of how things might be between them when Black Jack was captured.
Garrett flinched as the front door slammed and Madeleine’s light footsteps sounded in the hall. He strode from the drawing room, almost bumping into her. She jumped back, startled, and clutched her basket tightly. It was plain to see that he had unnerved her.
“I was wondering when you might return from the village,” he said, gesturing for the guard to disappear. The man obeyed him quickly, ducking into the hall leading to the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. “We have to talk, Madeleine.”
Madeleine stared at him wide-eyed, aware of the nervous flutter in her stomach and the heat flooding her body. She had scarcely seen him since…
She forced the potent memory from her mind, not trusting herself to remain here with him any longer. “I-I’m sorry, Garrett,” she said, conjuring a convincing half lie. “I’m very tired. A kinswoman in Farraline is near childbirth. I may be called back during the night to bring more of Glenis’s herb medicine. Perhaps we can talk in the morning.” She brushed past him and moved toward the staircase.
