Garrett stonily acknowledged the officer, then turned to Sergeant Fletcher. “Give the order, sergeant,” he said tersely.
“Step lively, men. We’re on to Fort Augustus!”
Garrett was consumed by fury as his men began to march in solemn double lines down the dirt drive, his prancing bay bringing up the rear. He felt as if he were living a nightmare. The events of the past hours played relentlessly in his mind…
Last night after a few brimming goblets of wine, General Hawley had soon tired of asking questions about Black Jack and had insisted upon viewing the secret tunnel. Axes had made short work of the planked floor in the drawing room closet, exposing the gaping black hole.
It had been a terrible revelation, and had confirmed everything Glenis had told him. Yet it was no more terrible than the general’s disclosure of his plans for Madeleine and her kinsmen amid a celebration which was fueled by copious quantities of red wine.
“First we’ll have a day’s respite after the rigors of this evening,” General Hawley had stated drunkenly, his strident laughter echoing about the room, “then we’re off to my new headquarters in Edinburgh and the triumphant task of delivering our Jacobite dogs to the castle gaol. Within a fortnight, the wench and her traitor friends will be tried for treason and hanged!”
Garrett grimaced at the awful memory, his knuckles white as he clutched the reins. He had known at that moment there was no use in making a plea for Madeleine’s life and the lives of her kinsmen. After what he had witnessed in Farraline he could expect no mercy from General Henry Hawley.
No, he had decided to wait. Another idea was forming in his mind. It was a desperate plan, but it was his only hope.
Garrett turned in his saddle, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Mhor Manor and the stable just beyond the house. His heart thudded dully. But it was too late. The buildings were already hidden behind a thick copse of fir trees.
He twisted back around, wondering how Madeleine was faring that morning, wondering if she was well. Thanks to Hawley, he had not seen her since he had handed her over to Sergeant Fletcher last night. The general had forbidden any access to the prisoners because he feared an escape attempt.
At first Garrett thought he could get around the order because his men were serving as guards. He had gone to the stable after Hawley and his commanders had finally retired to their rooms, only to discover that Sergeant Fletcher and his men had been replaced by some of General Hawley’s own troops.
His request to enter had been denied. Frustrated and angered, he had returned to Glenis’s room, his assigned sleeping quarters since the rooms upstairs were occupied by Hawley’s officers. There he had spent a sleepless night, his mind in anguish.
The worst part of this endless nightmare was the sickening feeling that he might never see Madeleine again.
“Dammit, man, you will see her again!” Garrett whispered fiercely to himself.
“What was that, Captain Marshall…uh…I mean Major Marshall?” Sergeant Fletcher asked, dropping his position at the back of the line to walk beside Garrett’s horse.
Garrett sighed. “Nothing, Fletcher. I was merely—”
He paused, struck by a sudden idea. “I’ve decided to ride on ahead, sergeant,” he continued evenly, masking his impatience. “Colonel Wolfe should be informed of our successful mission and Black Jack’s capture as soon as possible. I’d like you to take charge of the men and see them to Fort Augustus in my stead.”
“No trouble at all, Major,” Sergeant Fletcher replied, slinging his musket more comfortably over his shoulder. “You’re right about Colonel Wolfe. He’d be more than interested in the news.”
“Good,” Garrett responded, scarcely hearing him. “I’ll expect you and the men sometime later this evening. It shouldn’t be too hard a march without the wagons.”
He didn’t wait for a reply but spurred the bay into a fast gallop. The massive animal seemed to sense his urgency, and his forceful strides rapidly lengthened the distance between Garrett and his startled soldiers.
Garrett’s thoughts whirled as he sped along, the wild scenery around him fading into a blur of color.
As soon as he reached Fort Augustus, he would explain everything to Colonel Wolfe. He could trust the colonel to understand. He would ask for immediate leave, then set out at once for London.
His brother Gordon was his only chance. As a respected court minister, he had the ear of King George. Nothing less than a king’s pardon would rescue Madeleine from the gallows, and Garrett must somehow persuade Gordon to request one—in time to save her.
Garrett clenched his teeth as a wave of bitterness gripped him. How humiliating that he should have to entrust his fragile dream, his very soul, to a brother who had always hated him.
He only hoped Gordon still wanted to possess Rosemoor. It was his only means of bargaining for Madeleine’s life.
Biting tears suddenly clouded his vision, choking off his last thought. He was shaken by the intensity of his emotion.
“No, this fight isn’t over yet,” Garrett vowed defiantly.
He thought of Madeleine’s wild beauty, her kiss, her laughter, her smiles, and her touch. The vivid memories spurred him on and he raced across the purple heather, thinking only of when he would see her again.
***
“They’re gone, Maddie,” Angus reported. “Major Marshall and his soldiers are gone.”
