“Aye, Maddie,” Meg called out as she and Kitty walked very close together down the drive, holding hands and looking neither left nor right. When they came to the road, they set off at a run, their skirts and aprons flapping about their legs.
Madeleine kept her eyes trained on them until they reached Farraline, then slammed the door against the soldiers’ crude laughter. Bastards! At least she had no doubt that Garrett would keep his own soldiers well in line.
She stood in the hallway, her hands on her hips as she surveyed first the dining room, then the drawing room. The place was in such a shambles she didn’t know where to begin—
She jumped as a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a blustered oath.
“What in the blazes?” she whispered to herself, wondering who might be causing such a ruckus. She moved cautiously through the dining room. Surely Hawley’s soldiers had enough food in their supply wagons that they wouldn’t be rummaging around her kitchen.
Madeleine pushed lightly on the door, opening it just a crack. She peeked into the sunlit room, laughter unwittingly bubbling in her throat. Before she could stop it, she was chuckling aloud. She had never seen a more incongruous sight!
Garrett was standing over the raised hearth, his face and the front of his scarlet uniform covered with a dusting of white flour. He was plopping large lumps of dough onto the sizzling griddle while behind him the kitchen appeared to be the scene of a disaster. Flour was everywhere, and an overturned sugar canister was lying on the floor. Its fall no doubt had caused the crash she had heard a moment ago.
“Damn!” Garrett cursed suddenly, dropping the wooden spatula. He brought his hand to his mouth, sucking a scorched knuckle, heedless to the odor of burning dough wafting from the overheated griddle.
Madeleine clapped her hand over her mouth, but it did little good. Laughter erupted from her throat in hearty peals as she stumbled into the kitchen.
Garrett wheeled around, clearly startled. “What are you laughing at?” he asked defensively, hastily wiping the flour from his face and brushing the front of his uniform. “I thought you might like some breakfast.” He picked up the sugar canister and placed it on the table. “I’m baking scones from my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Ye mean ye’re burning the scones.” Madeleine hiccoughed, giggling helplessly. She pointed to the hearth. “Look!”
Garrett glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the black smoke rising from the griddle. He rushed over to the hearth, obviously uncertain about what he should do. Madeleine could not believe her eyes when he grabbed two thick tea towels from the cupboard and lifted the griddle from the hearth, chucking the whole smoking mess out the nearest window.
She gaped at him, flabbergasted, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. He smiled sheepishly, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Suddenly he began to laugh, a rich sound that echoed about the kitchen.
“Ye dinna have to do that,” Madeleine said at last, regaining some measure of her composure. She walked to the hearth and picked up the spatula, smiling at him. “This would have worked nicely.”
Garrett’s laughter abruptly quieted, his eyes staring into hers. “You have such a beautiful smile, Maddie,” he said, reaching out to smooth a tangled chestnut lock. “I’d burn a thousand scones each morning just to have you share it with me again.”
Madeleine felt her breath catch in her throat as his finger brushed against her cheek, a tingle of excitement streaking through her. He moved closer, and she thought to turn and run, but her feet seemed rooted to the floor.
She felt caught in some mystical spell, bewitched by the expression in his eyes. It was a look of such potent intensity that her body flushed with stirring warmth, divining its meaning. He had looked at her in the same way the night before.
Unbidden, she lifted her face to him, closing her eyes as he bent over her, their lips touching so lightly at first it could have been his breath on her. She gasped against his mouth when he deepened his kiss, feeling suddenly dizzy and drunk within his tightening embrace.
She leaned into him, her arms straying around his neck, overwhelmed by the sheer power and the heady sweetness of his kiss. She could almost taste the rapture beckoning to her, luring her on, as seductive memories flickered through her dazed mind.
Madeleine blinked, the spell shattered by the sound of the spatula clattering onto the hearth. She pushed against Garrett with all her might, breaking free of his embrace.
“How dare ye!” she cried, slapping his face before she even thought about what she was doing. She was as surprised by her action as Garrett appeared to be. His expression clouded, then became inscrutable, only his eyes reflecting his turmoil.
“That’s strange, Madeleine,” he replied darkly. “I didn’t think you minded. Last night you surely didn’t.”
She blushed hotly. His words filled her with anger, mostly directed at herself, because she knew they were true. She vowed then and there to stay well out of his way as much as possible. It was obvious she had little control over her senses when she let down her guard around him, whether in daytime or at night!
She stepped away from him, grabbing the broom propped against the wall. “If ye’ll excuse me, Garrett, I have a great deal of work to do.”
“You don’t have to bother with the kitchen, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said. “The few willing soldiers I could find helped me scrub it down late yesterday afternoon.” He paused, then added dryly. “Well, the kitchen was clean before I set foot in it. It’s obvious my expertise does not lie in cooking.”
Madeleine’s cheeks fired at the sensuous thoughts his innocent statement conjured in her mind.
What was coming over her? she wondered wildly. She noticed a glint of amusement in his eyes. Could the man read her every thought? She had to get out of this kitchen!
Madeleine backed up, knocking into the door. “I’m— I’m sure Meg and Kitty will have time to see to the kitchen, Garrett, when they return from Farraline. Dinna trouble yerself. I’ll fix m’self something to eat later.”
“Did they just leave?” he asked, mild confusion lighting his features. “I heard you talking with them in the dining room only a few moments ago—”
“Ye heard us in the dining room?” Madeleine blurted uncomfortably, her mind spinning. God’s wounds, had Garrett heard everything she had said to her young kinswomen?
