“You must be hungry, Madeleine. Please don’t delay your supper on my account.”
Nonplussed, she watched as he ladled a heaping portion of every dish onto his plate, then poured himself a goblet of wine. He began to eat, virtually ignoring her as he savored his food.
“It’s wonderful, Madeleine,” he said, helping himself to a cheese tartlet. “You should eat. You’ll feel much better, and it will help you sleep tonight. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Madeleine gaped at him, thoroughly bewildered. Garrett seemed so nonchalant, so at ease. Hardly what she would have expected after everything that had happened that day. But here he was, eating his dinner calmly, unhurriedly, and urging her to do the same!
She licked her lips, her stomach growling painfully. The heady aroma of well-prepared food was driving her mad from hunger. She quickly made up her mind. If Garrett could appear composed and unconcerned, then so could she. She set her goblet on the table and began to fill her plate.
‘The meat pastries are wonderful, and the roast chicken.” He spooned a few pastries onto her plate, then concentrated on his own once again.
Madeleine was so famished she immediately stuffed a pastry into her mouth, the brown gravy dribbling down her chin. Before she could catch it, Garrett reached over with his own napkin and wiped it away.
“Thank ye,” she muttered, swallowing. She ate ravenously for several moments, then slowed down as the pains in her stomach subsided. She barely looked up from her plate, unaware Garrett was watching her until she took a draft of wine. His eyes were lit with amusement.
“What?” she snapped, embarrassed. She realized she must have made quite a spectacle of herself, gobbling her food like a pig at a trough. “Ye said to eat,” she said defensively.
“So I did,” Garrett said, sobering. “Please…go on.”
Madeleine set down her fork. Suddenly she did not feel so hungry, and she sensed if she ate any more of the rich food, she might become ill. She plopped her napkin on the table.
“I’ve had enough, thank ye,” she said sullenly, meeting his steady gaze. She tilted her chin defiantly. “How are my kinsmen? Do they…do they know about the…” Her voice trailed off, unable to say the wordwedding. “Do they know what has happened?”
“Yes,” Garrett answered with a touch of irritation. “They know we are husband and wife.” His tone softened, though his eyes were hard. “Your kinsmen are well, Maddie, and grateful to be out of prison. Grateful to you, I should say.”
A yawning silence fell between them when Madeleine did not reply to his cryptic statement. She glanced toward the bedchamber door, feeling a warmth in her cheeks as he followed her gaze, then looked back at her.
“Tired?”
Madeleine nodded, a strange feeling of breathlessness seizing her. She began to tremble, holding her hands tightly so he might not notice.
“Then I’ll leave you,” he said quietly.
She was stunned. “Leave?” Her response was out before she could stop it. She desperately tried to think of something to cover what she’d said, hoping she hadn’t given him the wrong impression. She spied his half-empty plate. “Ye dinna finish yer supper,” she said lamely.
Garrett rose from the chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Actually, I’m not very hungry tonight,” he replied, then quickly changed the subject. “I’ll have Clara come and clear away the food. She’ll wake you in the morning and help you pack. I take it you opened the packages I sent up.” His gaze wandered over her. “That color is lovely on you, Madeleine. It brings out your eyes as well as I thought it would.”
“Aye, Clara opened them for me,” Madeleine said hotly, his words pricking her temper. “If ye think to bribe me with yer gifts, Garrett—”
“Not bribes, Madeleine,” he interrupted, his expression clouding. “Necessities. You didn’t think you’d be traveling back to Strathherrick in those filthy black rags, did you?”
“Och, yes, forgive me,” she flung at him. “My raiding clothes would hardly be suitable for the Lady Marshall. I dinna expect the fine title of lady, Garrett. I thought ‘twas yer brother Gordon who had the title in the family. Or did ye acquire that from the king as well?”
Garrett seemed to flinch. “I have no title, other than ‘the honorable’ before my name,” he explained darkly. “It’s a courtesy style, as it is a courtesy for you to be addressed as Lady Marshall. And you were correct about my brother. Gordon has everything, the title, and the family—”
“Lands!” she finished for him, her eyes flashing. “So ye went after mine instead, Garrett Marshall,” she spat, “Master of Farraline. I’ll have ye know ‘honorable’ doesna suit ye at all. Try bastard, or royal spy! Aye, now that has a fine ring to it!”
It happened so fast, in a blink of an eye. One moment Madeleine was seated, then the next she was in his arms, his fingers biting cruelly into her flesh. His eyes were ablaze with fury, burning into hers. Completely stunned, she could only gape at him.
“You will not call me that again,” he grated, giving her a rude shake. “I’m not the king’s spy, Madeleine. Get that preposterous idea out of your mind.”
“Liar! I dinna believe ye,” she answered hoarsely, finding her voice. She winced at the pain in her arms. “Ye’re hurting me, Garrett! Let me go!”
“Maybe you’ll believe this, my lady wife,” he said as his mouth suddenly came down hard on her lips.
Madeleine gasped, struggling wildly, but her strength was no match for his. He crushed her against his chest, devouring her with his kiss. She quaked from the sheer force of it. Part of her screamed to fight him, to rake her fingernails down his face, but her reeling senses demanded she surrender.
She thought no more as she felt his hand slip beneath her robe and cradle her breast, his fingers circling the hard, sensitive point—around and around—with maddening slowness until she cried out against his mouth when he tweaked her gently.
