So she was feigning sleep, he thought angrily, moving to the pallet he had set aside for himself. Feigning sleep for fear he would touch her, hold her, make love to her. Dammit, she was his wife!
He shed his clothing in the darkness and lay down on the pallet. He lay perfectly still, listening to her as she breathed in and out, so softly, so convincingly. How he ached to span the small distance between them and feel that warm breath against his skin, his mouth. How he longed to hear her moans, her sighs, her gasps of pleasure.
Garrett threw his arm over his head, imagining her outburst if he so much as made a movement toward her. Her screams would surely bring the rest of the camp to her rescue, thinking the tent they shared was being attacked by fugitive Highlanders.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, to sleep. It seemed impossible!
He could not hold his desire in check much longer, that much he knew. He had already decided that when they returned to Mhor Manor, Madeleine would share his bed.
They were husband and wife. He would not suffer being apart from her within their home. And if they slept together, perhaps she might surrender at last to the desire he had drawn from her in Edinburgh, the desire he remembered so vividly from their one night of passion. He could only hope.
***
Madeleine cursed to herself as she strained to catch a glimpse of Mhor Manor in the distance, and beyond that, Farraline. After journeying for ten long days, she could barely contain her excitement. She had thought she would never see her home again. Yet her anticipation was tempered by frustration at the traveling outfit Garrett had given her. Frowning, she gave the riding coat a sharp tug.
The narrow woolen skirt forced her to ride sidesaddle, a ladylike mode she was not only unaccustomed to but disliked intensely. If she were astride her mount instead of sitting so awkwardly in the saddle, she could be standing in the stirrups, affording her a better view.
As it was she had to content herself to wait until their long procession drew closer to the estate. They were moving at such a snail’s pace that it would be another half hour before they reached Mhor Manor!
Madeleine flicked the reins impatiently. She yearned to see what condition her home was in after that fat swine’s brief stay. She hoped it wasn’t a gutted shell like so many of the abandoned manor houses she had seen along the way, the former homes of Jacobites less fortunate than herself. Hawley had told Garrett that Mhor Manor was still standing, nothing more.
She also wanted to see if the villagers had begun to rebuild Farraline, as Angus said they would. She desperately hoped that they had. Already there was a sharp snap in the air. Her people would need snug, sturdy roofs over their heads to keep out the cold winds and damp mists the autumn always brought to the Highlands.
Madeleine took a deep breath, inhaling the pungent scents of moss and heather. The heather was in full bloom, covering the rolling moor like a purple mantle, and dotted here and there with rare patches of lucky white blossoms. The scattered groves of trees were ablaze with color, especially her favorite, the beech, with its fire-bronze leaves. Another wave of excitement gripped her. She could scarcely believe she was home!
She glanced over her shoulder at the winding cavalcade stretching behind her, grateful she was not bringing up the rear along with her kinsmen and a dozen mounted soldiers. She would have been doubly frustrated. It was all those lumbering wagons that had slowed their progress in the first place.
Her forehead puckered in a frown. She still didn’t know what was in the wagons. Every time she had ventured to peek beneath the canvas coverings, Garrett had suddenly been behind her, inquiring why she was snooping about where she didn’t belong. That accusation had never failed to infuriate her, as did most of what Garrett said to her.
Even his apology over what had happened to Kenneth had angered her. It was Garrett’s soldier who had shot her kinsman, though deep down she knew she couldn’t really blame him. The surgeon’s cruel treatment, after all, had caused Kenneth’s death.
Madeleine sighed, her eyes unwittingly seeking out Garrett at the front of the cavalcade, riding astride his prancing gray stallion. His broad back was to her, his hair shining like honeyed gold in the sunlight. She could not deny she found him to be the most handsome of men.
Her heart beat a little faster as Garrett turned suddenly to find her studying him. When he flashed a smile, she quickly looked away, flustered, her anger piqued more at herself than at him. It never failed to amaze her how his slightest attention set her pulse racing. It seemed her senses were determined to thwart her best efforts to despise him.
At least Garrett had left her alone through much of the journey, she thought gratefully. Especially the nights they had shared a tent. With him lying so close to her, she had been unable to sleep until sheer exhaustion had swept over her.
She had also seen little of her kinsmen. She simply could not face them. It was enough that they presumed she slept each night with a redcoat. She knew she would have to speak to them eventually, but for now she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Och, Maddie, ye canna run away from them forever,” she chided herself, chagrined by her fears. Maybe her kinsmen didn’t think so badly of her after all, despite what she believed. Garrett had said they were grateful to her.
Aye, then, she decided. After her kinsmen were reunited with their families and friends and things had settled down a bit, she would meet with them and explain everything.
She could only guess what lies Garrett had already told them. Her kinsmen needed to hear from her own lips what had actually happened and the truth behind her pardon. She had to warn them not to be swayed by any attempts Garrett might make to gain their acceptance, either by his words or actions—
“What are you thinking?” a familiar voice asked lightly, startling Madeleine from her determined reverie. She glared at Garrett, who had suddenly ridden up beside her.
“My thoughts are none of yer concern,” she snapped, sweeping a loose chestnut lock from her face. She could see his warm smile tighten, but other than that he appeared unperturbed by her churlish reply.
“Would you like to ride ahead with me?” he offered. “You must be eager to see your home again.”
A tart response flew to Madeleine’s lips, but she bit it back. Garrett knew well enough how she felt when it came to Mhor Manor and his ownership of her land. There was no sense in beating it into the ground.
“Aye, I’d like to see what’s left of it,” she replied evenly, ignoring his look of mild surprise. She followed his lead, urging her roan mare into a gallop beside his powerful stallion. They quickly left the plodding cavalcade far behind them.
Madeleine felt a wild sense of exhilaration as they raced along and gladness that she was still alive. In her heart she was grateful to Garrett for saving her life, regardless of his method. Perhaps one day she might even thank him.
No, ‘twas unlikely, she told herself, dismissing the thought. Her exhilaration swiftly became apprehension as they neared Mhor Manor from the south.
