“Isn’t it lovely?” Clara breathed, laying it out on the bed. Soon the bedspread was covered with delicate lace undergarments, a quilted robe in apricot satin, several sets of silk slippers, a pair of shoes with elegantly curved heels, two light woolen traveling gowns, soft leather riding boots, even a silver hairbrush, as box after box was unwrapped.
Madeleine could only stare at all the finery, her ire rising. Was Garrett attempting to bribe her with these gifts? she wondered heatedly. He would find himself sadly mistaken if he thought he could soften the edges of his selfish deceit and make her more amenable to his marriage of convenience with such a ruse.
She shivered suddenly, feeling a chill despite the warm fire at her back. Her skin rippled with goosebumps. She couldn’t remain wrapped in this damp towel forever.
Clara must have read her mind, for she quickly scurried toward her with the quilted robe. “Och, I’m sorry, m’lady. I was so busy unwrapping the packages I almost forgot ye were waiting for yer robe.”
“‘Tis no matter, Clara,” Madeleine said, dropping the towel and easing into the satin garment. At once she was warmed, the light padding chasing away her goosebumps. She walked over to the bed and chose a pair of slippers lined with down, sliding them onto her feet. They fit perfectly.
“Would ye like me to comb out yer hair, m’lady?” Clara asked. “‘Tis such a pretty color, now that the dirt’s been washed away—” She clapped her hand over her mouth.
Madeleine could not help laughing. “Aye, I suppose I was a fine sight to behold,” she admitted lightly. She crossed to the dressing table and sat on the brocade stool. “Ye may try to tackle this mess if ye wish, Clara. Ye might find it more trouble than it’s worth.”
As Clara picked up a comb and began working expertly through the wet, tangled snarls, Madeleine stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was shocked by the dark circles beneath her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks, her image a weary shadow of her former self.
She sighed softly. The strain of the past few weeks had taken its toll upon her. She thought of her kinsmen, recalling their gaunt faces. If only she knew how they were faring tonight.
“Clara,” she said, glancing up at the young woman. “Do ye know what’s become of the four men who arrived at the inn shortly after my husband and m’self ?”
“Oh, aye, they’re fine,” Clara answered, smiling as she combed out a glistening lock. “They’ve nice rooms on the third floor, along with the soldiers. Yer husband bought new clothes for them, too, m’lady. He’s up there right now, seeing that they have everything they need.” Her gaze met Madeleine’s in the mirror. “If ye dinna mind me saying so, Lady Marshall, yer husband is a most generous man. He told my parents to spare no expense in making this a comfortable ev’ning for ye and yer kin.”
Madeleine did not answer, her temper flaring anew. She was grateful her kinsmen were being well treated, but it irked her that Garrett was putting on such a grand show. For what? She was not fooled. It was all part of his plan.
If Garrett won some small modicum of her kinsmen’s favor, it would only make it that much easier for him to spy on them when they returned to Strathherrick. Perhaps he was even telling them he possessed a bit of Scots blood to ease their minds and gain their trust. She couldn’t wait to inform them it was Sutherland blood, the traitorous clan that would sooner lick King Geordie’s boots than aid their Highland brothers in placing Stuart on Britain’s throne.
“There now, m’lady,” Clara said, sweeping Madeleine’s thick hair back from her forehead with the silver brush. She stepped away from the stool, surveying Madeleine’s image with obvious pleasure. “Ye look beautiful, m’lady, as ye should for yer wedding night.”
Madeleine started, twisting around on the stool. “Who told ye ‘twas my wedding night?” she blurted.
“Why, yer husband, m’lady,” Clara said, looking at her strangely. Then a slow smile spread over her face. “Och, I know just what ye must be feeling, Lady Marshall,” she said with understanding. “I was so nervous on my wedding night only a few months past that I locked my poor Jamie out of my room!” She blushed, giggling. “‘Twas only later I discovered what fun I’d missed.” She sobered suddenly. “Ye’re as white as a sheet, m’lady. Let me fetch ye some wine.”
Madeleine caught her frilled sleeve, fighting her sense of light-headedness. “No, I’m all right, Clara. I think I could use a bit of food, though.” As if to emphasize her words, her stomach rumbled loudly. She forced a smile to her lips. “Aye, perhaps some food and a glass of wine. For my nerves, as ye say.”
Clara held on to her arm as they walked into the sitting room, not letting go until Madeleine was seated comfortably at the table.
“Mama’s an excellent cook,” Clara said, lifting the silver lids one by one. Aromatic steam wafted up from the white, oval plates, making Madeleine’s mouth water. “Ye’ll feel better in no time once ye taste some of her rabbit pie and thyme-roasted chicken. ‘Tis the best in Edinburgh town, I’d swear.”
Madeleine nodded, her eyes agape at all the food.
Besides the two main dishes Clara had mentioned, there were cheese tartlets, tiny crescent-shaped meat pies, and fresh-baked scones accompanied by pots of golden butter and dark heather honey. A wheel of Stilton cheese was surrounded by sliced apples and pears, and for dessert, a light ginger pudding studded with plump raisins was accompanied by a small pitcher of lemon sauce.
Clara handed Madeleine a crystal goblet brimming with red wine. “Shall I fill ye a plate, m’lady?” she queried kindly, a look of concern still on her face as Madeleine took a small sip.
“I’ll see to her now,” a deep, male voice answered for her. “Thank you, Clara.”
Madeleine almost choked on her wine. She looked beyond Clara to Garrett, whose broad shoulders seemed to fill the door frame, and she felt a nervous rush of excitement. He stepped into the room, his eyes warmly appraising her.
Clara bobbed a curtsy. “Of course, Major Marshall.” She flashed a reassuring smile at Madeleine, then hurried out, closing the door quietly behind her.
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. Madeleine dropped her gaze and tightly gripped her goblet, staring into the wine’s deep red depths.
She tensed as Garrett’s footsteps moved toward her, Clara’s words resounding in her mind. Tonight was her wedding night. Tonight was her wedding night…
She continued to stare blindly at the wine, afraid to look up, afraid of what she might read in his eyes, and afraid of what he might find in hers. No matter what she thought of him, she could not slow her racing pulse or stop the quiver of desire streaking through her.
“Mrs. Merrett said she would prepare a fine meal, but I had no idea she meant a feast.”
Madeleine blinked at the sound of a spoon hitting a platter and looked up, hazarding a glance in Garrett’s direction. He was seated across from her now, casually filling his plate. He smiled as he dipped the serving spoon into the rabbit pie.
