“Dinna touch me!” Madeleine blurted in a vehement whisper, jerking her arm away. “I’ll walk with the guards, if ye dinna mind. They’re far better company.” She heard Garrett sigh heavily, but he gave no reply as he stepped back.
Madeleine walked from the room surrounded by her silent escort. She could sense Garrett’s gaze on her as they stepped out into the courtyard, could feel it searing into her all the way to the stone chapel.
She entered the dim interior, knowing that when she next saw the light of day she would be wife to an Englishman, wife to Major Garrett Marshall. Her life had been spared, yet it would never, never be the same.
Chapter 26
Madeleine laid her head back against the copper tub, luxuriating in the delicious warmth of her bath.
She hadn’t known what she wanted to do first when she entered the well-appointed suite on the second story of this comfortable inn, eat or bathe. Now she was glad she had opted for the tub, despite her gnawing hunger. It felt so wonderful to be clean again!
She sighed, breathing in the heady fragrance of the rose-scented bath oil the maidservant had poured into the water. She had never smelled such sweetness. She began to work her fingers through her wet, tangled hair, smiling in spite of herself.
When the innkeeper’s stout wife had showed her to these rooms less than an hour ago, it had been like walking into a vision of unexpected luxury, especially after the days Madeleine had spent in her bleak prison cell.
A fire burned cheerily in the sitting room hearth, and thick tallow candles were aglow on the mantelpiece and in ornate wall sconces. A cloth-covered table, laden with all manner of savory dishes beneath domed silver lids, was set near the latticed windows and flanked by two stuffed armchairs. In the large bedchamber, a gleaming copper tub was placed near the fireplace, already filled with steaming hot water, as if they had known she was coming.
She remembered gasping in surprise, and the friendly Lowland Scotswoman had laughed heartily, urging her to make herself at home. The woman’s last words before she closed the door had stunned Madeleine and still echoed in her mind.
“If there is anything else ye need, Lady Marshall, ye have only to ask my daughter, Clara. She’ll be serving as yer maid during yer stay with us tonight. Yer fine husband said ye must have whatever yer heart desires.”
Madeleine frowned. Lady Marshall. It felt so strange to be called by that name. And as far as having whatever her heart desired, she could see very well through Garrett’s ploy. Already he was trying to curry favor with her to mask his treachery. Well, she would have none of it, and she would tell him as much when next she saw him.
Which she hoped wouldn’t be tonight, she thought nervously, hugging her knees to her chest. She hadn’t seen Garrett since they had arrived at the inn on the outskirts of Edinburgh. He’d ushered her in the front door and handed her over with a few short words to the innkeeper’s wife, who had then whisked her up the stairs.
She was grateful the kindly woman had said nothing about her bare feet and disheveled appearance, covered somewhat by the heavy riding coat Garrett had insisted she wear. Nor had Clara, who had gathered the soiled clothes with only the faintest look of disgust and quickly left the room with them while Madeleine stepped gingerly into the tub.
Perhaps Garrett was seeing after her kinsmen, Madeleine considered, her mood darkening.
She had already been seated in the carriage when they were brought stumbling and limping from the prison, their whiskered faces haggard and pale in the gathering dusk. She had shrunk back from the window, hiding behind the velvet curtains, afraid even to face them, ashamed for what Garrett must already have told them.
Her kinsmen had been assisted into the black coach directly behind hers, a half dozen mounted soldiers flanking the doors. Garrett had then climbed into the carriage with her and told her that the remainder of Hawley’s soldiers would meet them in the morning before they set out for Strathherrick.
Those had been his only words during the entire journey to the inn. He had sat directly across from her, his handsome face cloaked in shadow, a tense silence filling the dark interior of the swaying carriage. She had held on tightly to the leather strap, pretending interest in the sights as the coach rumbled through the forbidding gatehouse of Edinburgh Castle and down the steep hill into the city.
Actually she remembered little of the journey. The countless cobbled squares and narrow wynds, Edinburgh’s famed alleyways, were all a blur. Only the memory of Garrett’s leg occasionally brushing against hers whenever they hit a bump stood out in her mind, unnerving her all the more.
She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. The day’s unsettling events were still difficult to comprehend, and the brief wedding ceremony was something she did not want to contemplate. It had been the greatest relief to arrive at the inn, the greatest relief to find herself alone in these rooms, at least so far.
Madeleine’s gaze darted over to the canopied bed, apprehension filling her. It was so huge, so empty. Would Garrett demand to share it with her? Would he claim his rights as her husband? Surely he wouldn’t force her—
A soft knock at the bedchamber door startled Madeleine, intruding into her uneasy thoughts. She sank lower in the tub and crossed her arms over her breasts, which were barely submerged beneath the water’s surface.
“Who is it?” she called out, her gaze darting frantically about the candelit room. Three thick towels were draped over a low sitting stool, well out of arm’s reach. She would never make it to them in time to cover herself.
“‘Tis Clara,” a cheerful voice replied. The door opened wide to reveal a trim, dark-haired young woman who was deftly balancing an odd assortment of wrapped packages and boxes in her arms.
Clara smiled brightly as she bumped the door with her hip, closing it. “Sorry for the draft, m’lady,” she apologized, setting her bundles on a table placed against the wall. “How’s yer bath? Still warm?” Without waiting for an answer she hurried over and dipped her fingers into the tub. “Och, ‘tis grown a bit tepid, m’lady. Would ye like some more hot water?”
“No, thank ye, Clara,” Madeleine said, feeling the tension ease from her body. “I’ve soaked enough for one night.”
“Very well, m’lady,” Clara replied briskly, wrapping a huge towel around Madeleine’s shoulders as she rose wet and dripping from the tub. Clara flung another towel on the rug, waiting patiently with the last towel in her hands while Madeleine stepped over the rim.
Madeleine’s eyes widened as Clara sank to her knees and toweling her legs. “Clara, ‘tisn’t necessary,” she said with embarrassment, wholly unused to such attention. “I’m able to dry m’self.” She gently took the towel from the startled maidservant. “Perhaps ye’ve a robe I might wear when I’m finished? I dinna have any other clothes with me.”
Clara quickly recovered herself, a wide grin breaking across her pert features. “Aye, there’s probably a robe, m’lady, and more,” she said mysteriously, at the packages on the table. “May I open them for ye?”
Madeleine nodded, quickly buffing herself dry. She wrapped the towel snugly around herself, watching curiously as Clara tore through the pretty floral wrappings on the largest package, string and tissue paper fluttering to the floor. She gasped as the maidservant whirled around, shaking out a lustrous blue silk wrapping gown.
