The hours passed slowly as they journeyed through the beautiful Lowland hills. A few times Madeleine managed to doze fitfully, other times she was lost to introspection, but mostly she gave her mind a rest and simply gazed at the passing scenery.
It was near nightfall when the carriage finally drew to a halt outside a rustic country inn. Weary and rumpled from the constant jostling, Madeleine was more than grateful when Garrett lifted her from the carriage and she set her feet upon firm ground.
It was only when he led her through the inn’s front door that her apprehension swelled anew. Would tonight be a repeat of last night? she wondered nervously, not daring to look up at him.
“We’ll need two rooms,” Garrett said to the stooped innkeeper, quickly dispelling her fears. “One for the lady, and one for myself.” He turned to her, his eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. She could not fathom what he was thinking. “I’ll have your supper sent up to you. We’ll be rising at dawn again, so you’d do well to retire early. Sleep well, Madeleine.”
“What of my kinsmen?” she called out to him just before he walked out the door.
“They’ll be camping outside with the soldiers. Don’t worry, Maddie. They’ll be fine.” The door slammed shut, and he was gone.
Madeleine’s knees fairly wobbled with relief as she followed the innkeeper up the stairs to her chamber. She waited while the old man lit several candles and opened the shutters to allow fresh air into the room, then she sank unsteadily against the door when he left her to her privacy.
Her gaze swept the tidy chamber, falling on the large bed in the corner, a bed she would thankfully sleep in alone. It was clear Garrett realized from their unsettling encounter the night before that she had no wish to share his bed. She frowned as she pulled off her traveling coat. She did feel a bit cheated that she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him so again.
A sudden rap at the door startled her and made her heart pound furiously. Dear God, had Garrett reconsidered?
“Who’s there?” she said, retreating to the window.
“I’ve brought yer supper, m’lady.’
Madeleine ran back to the door and opened it, but only wide enough to take the tray from the old man.
“Thank ye,” she said as he closed the door for her. She carried the tray to the bedside table, her hands shaking as she made short work of the steaming barley soup and brown bread.
With her stomach warm and full she felt even wearier. She undressed quickly and climbed into the bed, delighting in the clean linen sheets and down coverlet. She fell asleep immediately. She did not hear the door open quietly, nor the soft footsteps fall across the rug.
Good night, sweet Madeleine,” Garrett whispered, smoothing a silken chestnut curl from her cheek. He thought to climb in beside her, craving the warmth and feel of her lithe body next to his. He could be gone from her room well before she awoke.
With great reluctance he decided against it. He gazed at her for several long moments, then left as quietly as he had come.
***
A few nights later, Garrett was not feeling so charitable. He threw a stick into the blazing campfire, but his eyes were not on the flames. He was mesmerized by Madeleine’s enticing silhouette on the tent wall; her every movement played out for him in the golden radiance of an oil lamp he had lit for her use.
He was glad he had ordered the soldiers to set up his and Madeleine’s tent well away from the rest. He could not bear the thought that someone else might be watching her now, as he was. Madeleine was his wife, and her beauty existed for his eyes alone.
This was the first time there had been no inn to be found when the cavalcade halted for the night, and it would probably happen again before they reached Strathherrick. As they approached the Highlands, congenial inns were becoming harder to find. The cruel ravages of the past months had stamped out this means of livelihood as well.
Tonight he was almost grateful for the failure to find an inn. He was growing tired of sleeping in a separate bedchamber, knowing that a few strides, even a splintered door, would take him to her side.
Garrett sucked in his breath as Madeleine began to brush her hair, the sight of the languorous strokes fueling the rising heat in his body. He counted the strokes, imagining what that slim hand might do to his flesh in such a slow, languid fashion, and he had to force the compelling thought away as he felt himself grow hard.
He clenched his jaw, thinking instead of the journey. Each day’s routine had been much like that of the last. He had hardly seen Madeleine, except for the times he would ride up beside her carriage and inquire after her well-being. They hadn’t even shared a single supper after the first night. Earlier that evening she had claimed she wasn’t hungry, despite the meal he had prepared. He could well imagine the reason behind her lack of appetite.
The only difference in their routine would come tomorrow, when the carriages were abandoned because of the steeper terrain. He would see much of Madeleine then when she would be riding the fine roan mare he had bought for her.
Garrett’s thoughts faded as Madeleine stood up and began to remove her clothing. He could see her fingers unfasten each button on her riding coat, and then she began to pull it from her shoulders. He envisioned the lacy chemise he had bought her, molded to her breasts—
Suddenly she bent and doused the light, as if she sensed he was watching her.
“Damn!” Garrett swore heatedly, rising to his feet. He tossed the last of his brandy into the hissing flames and looked up into the night sky. Stars glittered as far as he could see against a canopy of blue-black emptiness. He stood a moment, drawing deep breaths of the brisk air, then resolutely made his way to the tent.
When he lifted the flap, he was greeted by a tense silence.
“Madeleine?” he said, stepping inside the tent.
He heard only silence at first, then the sound of gentle breathing.
