A Hint of Rapture (48 page)

"When did he leave?"

"Only a short while ago, just as Kitty and I
arrived at the house. He said to tell ye what had happened and that he'd be
back when he found his men."

Madeleine raised herself on one elbow. "Meg,
kindly hand me my dress, if ye would," she said, nodding to the blue gown
lying crumpled on the floor near the fireplace. She winced, rubbing her aching
shoulder. "Why did ye have to wake me so roughly?"

Meg picked up the dress, but she did not readily hand
it over, nor did she answer Madeleine's question. Instead she drew a folded
piece of paper from her apron pocket and held it out to her.

Madeleine took the paper, noticing that Meg's hand was
trembling. "What's this?"

" 'Tis from Angus," Meg said. She suddenly
turned on her heel and bustled across the room to the massive wardrobe.
"I'll fetch ye one of yer riding gowns, Maddie.

Madeleine stared after her, completely bewildered. Meg
was acting so strangely, so unlike herself. Something odd was going on. She
could sense it.

She unfolded the letter, quickly perusing Angus's
stilted handwriting. Her brow knit in confusion.

" 'Ride as quick as you can to the fork of
Aberchalder Burn, Maddie," she read aloud. " 'You've an old friend
waiting there to see you. Do not worry, you will not be followed. We're leading
the major and his men on a merry chase this morning. 'Twill keep them busy 'til
you return. Angus Ramsay.'"

What was going on? she wondered wildly, reading the
note again. She started when Meg rushed back to her, a pile of clothing draped
over her arm, topped by a pair of brogues.

"What do ye know of this, Meg?" she asked
sharply. She sat up, still clutching the bedspread over her breasts.

"I'm only doing what I was told, Maddie," the
young woman replied evasively. "Angus said to give ye the note as soon as
Major Marshall and his soldiers were gone from the house."

"Surely ye must have read it," she accused.
"Why'd ye have known to fetch my riding clothes?"

"I dinna read it. Angus told me to see that ye
were dressed and sent quickly on yer way, that's all."

"Very well, Meg," Madeleine said, throwing
back the covers. "I can dress m'self, thank ye."

Affronted by her brisk tone, Meg set the clothing on
the bed and left the room without another word.

Madeleine dressed hurriedly, her mind in a total
quandary.

What should she do? Her first instinct was to try to
find Garrett, despite the urgent note. She didn't like the idea that he was
being led on some mysterious chase through Strathherrick, knowing his danger as
she did.

It was clear to her that his two missing soldiers had
unwittingly become part of this ruse, probably trussed up at this moment and hidden
where Garrett would never find them. For what purpose? So she might meet an old
friend at Aberchalder Burn? Who could it possibly be?

Madeleine suddenly thought of Lord Lovat. He was an old
friend, nearly eighty years old. Had he perhaps decided to remain in the
Highlands rather than take a ship to France? Since he was a hunted fugitive
with a price on his head, it would make sense he would not want to risk having
Garrett and his soldiers following her to their meeting place.

She felt a rush of excitement and quickly came to a
decision. What better person to help influence her kin than the chief of Clan
Fraser himself? Once Lord Lovat knew the truth behind everything Garrett had
done for his clansmen, and for her, surely he would persuade the Frasers of
Strathherrick to accept Garrett's presence among them.

Madeleine threw the tartan shawl around her shoulders
and ran to the door. Perhaps she could venture to hope that everything was
going to work out after all.

***

Madeleine shivered as she veered her restless mare onto
the leaf-strewn footpath that ran alongside Aberchalder Burn.

The fir trees were dense here, interspersed with Scots
pine and naked beech trees that choked out what little sun there was on this
cloudy autumn day. The air was chill and damp, indicating that there would be a
frost that night if it grew cold enough.

She drew her tartan shawl more tightly around her,
wishing she had worn something with more warmth, such as trousers and a heavy
jacket. Too bad she hadn't thought of it before she left. She still possessed a
set of black clothes, hidden deep in one of drawers in her old room. She simply
hadn't gotten rid of them yet.

Madeleine ducked her head, dodging a branch. The fork
in this swiftly running stream lay beyond the next thick clump of firs. She
listened carefully for any voices but heard nothing except trilling larks and
crossbills piercing the sound of rushing water.

As she followed the narrow path down a slight decline,
Madeleine trained her eyes on the fork clearly visible ahead. There was no one
standing there waiting for her, nor did she see any movement in the dense green
foliage surrounding her on all sides.

At last she drew up on the reins, bringing her horse to
a halt. She sat quietly in the saddle for a moment, looking around her again,
then cautiously dismounted.

She tensed as twigs and dried pine needles rustled and
snapped close behind her. She turned around slowly. Her eyes widened at the
sight of seven ragged Highlanders emerging from behind trees and thick hedges.
They were bearded and unkempt, rough-looking men she had never seen before. She
doubted they even belonged to Clan Fraser.

Surely Lord Lovat would have his own clansmen for an
escort, she thought fleetingly, feeling the slightest quiver of fear. Men he could
trust without question. Who were these—?

"Mistress Madeleine Fraser?" one of the men
asked gruffly, breaking into her anxious thoughts.

"Aye," she said, holding her ground. She
expected him to say more, perhaps explain their presence here, but instead he
looked away from her.

Madeleine followed his gaze, her breath catching in her
throat as another man stepped from the dense wood, a big man with dark hair and
deep-set hazel eyes that caught and held her own. She watched, paralyzed, as he
drew closer, not stopping until he loomed in front of her. His massive frame
blocked out all else.

"Maddie,"
he breathed, his voice rough, deep, and hauntingly familiar.

"Dougald,"
Madeleine whispered hoarsely, staring at his bearded face. "I canna believe
'tis ye. Some fugitive kinsmen told me ye were dead, that the redcoats had
hanged you at Inverness in the town square, not long after Culloden." Her
voice quavered and died away, her stricken expression registering her shock.

"Ye were
told wrong, love," Dougald said, taking a step closer. "I was taken
prisoner and held in a stinking Inverness gaol, but they dinna hang yer
Dougald. 'Twas another poor wretch they must have seen at the noose." He
gestured to the men who were watching them silently. "We escaped from that
gaol only two days past, six Camerons, one Macdonald, and I. We're on our way
to Glasgow, where we'll catch a ship to France."

"Ye're
sailing to France?" she said numbly, her mind barely registering his
words. " 'Tis where our Lord Lovat was bound, or so I believed 'til today.
The note from Angus said an old friend was waiting here. I thought perhaps
'twas Simon Fraser having changed his mind to stay in the Highlands."

Dougald's
expression was grim. "Lord Lovat was captured by the redcoats almost a
month ago, Maddie."

"No!"

"Aye, I
only heard it m'self the day before we broke from the gaol. They found him
hiding in a hollow tree trunk on an isle in the middle of Loch Morar." He
clenched his teeth, his tone dripping with bitterness. "Lord Lovat was
almost to the sea and they caught him, the bastards. He's in the Tower of
London, lass, awaiting trial for high treason."

"God save
him," Madeleine whispered, completely stunned. Lord Lovat was in the
infamous Tower! He would not be able to help her now. She would have to plead
for Garrett alone.

"I've come
to take ye away with me, Maddie, to take ye to France," Dougald said in a
rush, shattering her dark reverie. His tone grew harsh, his eyes burning into
hers. "Ye'll be glad to know ye'll not have to spend another night with
that English swine ye wed to save yer kin. Nor will ye have a lawful husband
when the sun rises in the morn. Ye'll be free to wed yer Dougald Fraser."

She gasped as
he reached out suddenly and enfolded her in his brawny arms, a huge hand
stroking her hair.

"I've more
good news for ye, love. Our bonnie prince escaped to France a few weeks ago,
and we're following him there. He'll soon make another bid for the throne of
Britain, and this time we'll prove the victors. Ye'll have yer lands restored,
Maddie, and I'll be the master of Farraline, just as yer father intended."

Madeleine could
scarcely breathe for the icy fear gripping her heart, a sense of foreboding
striking into the depths of her soul. At that moment she did not care about the
prince. She could only think of Garrett.

Dear God, what
were her kinsmen plotting to do with him? she wondered desperately. She had to
know before she could even begin to plan how to protect him.

She wrenched
away from Dougald, ignoring his startled look. "What do ye mean?" she
rasped in disbelief. "Stop talking to me as if I were a child! Ye speak as
if I'll be a widow by morning."

"So ye
will, my darlin' Maddie," Dougald said soothingly. " 'Tis all
arranged. Our kinsmen were having the devil of a time trying to decide how to
rid ye of the major 'til I came along unexpectedly. Back from the dead, ye
might say."

Madeleine
winced as he laughed hollowly, a dry echo of the hearty laugh he had once
possessed. It chilled her to the bone.

"Angus and
I spent last night devising our plan, so 'twill appear to be an accident,"
he continued, sobering. "We canna risk the redcoats venting their wrath on
Farraline once more. But we'll need yer help."

Madeleine tried
to speak steadily though she felt her world was crumbling around her.
"What plan, Dougald?" she asked, glimpsing the flare of intense
hatred in his eyes.

"Once the
redcoats have bedded down for the night, ye're to give us a signal. We'll creep
in and capture them, tie them up, then burn Mhor Manor down about their heads.
'Twill be a ceilidh fire like none other, Maddie! And the English authorities
will ne'er question what happened, since ye'll supposedly have perished, too.
'Twill seem an unfortunate accident, and there'll be nothing left to prove otherwise—"

"Ye would
burn them alive?" Madeleine cut him off, gaping at him in horror.

"Aye, and
gladly!" Dougald spat, his ruddy skin flushed with fury. "They did
the same to us at Culloden. Surely ye heard that story from the hunted clansmen
passing through Farraline. I was hiding in a ditch and heard the terrible
screams when the redcoats set the barn afire, with the wounded Highlanders
inside."

He paused, his
face twisting in torment at the awful memory, then continued, eyeing her
grimly. "If 'tis yer house ye're worried after, Maddie, I'll build ye a
far grander one when we return with our prince to claim Britain's throne for
the Stuarts. But dinna let me think ye're balking because ye might harbor some
bit of affection for these bastards, or yer English husband, I should
say."

Madeleine
backed away from him, terrified by the dark threat in his voice, terrified by
the change the ill-fated rebellion had wrought in him. The Dougald she had
known since childhood was gone, the same as if he had died. This cruel man was
a stranger to her, hardened by all the brutality he had witnessed, embittered
and hell-bent on revenge.

Only such a man
could have conceived this gruesome plan, and her kinsmen were influenced enough
by her false accusations and the thought of her unhappiness to go along with
it. She doubted Dougald would let her leave the glen if he knew where her true
feelings lay. She would be a fool if she made even the slightest mention of it.

She forced a
smile. "Of course I'll help ye with yer plan," she said, hoping her
trembling would not give her away. "I hate these redcoats as much as ye.
What signal shall I use?"

"When all
is quiet, wave an oil lamp in the kitchen window," Dougald replied,
studying her strangely. He moved toward her. His voice was eerily quiet.
"Ye're shaking so, Maddie? Why?"

"
'Tis—'tis such a shock to see ye again, Dougald," she said truthfully,
staring into his eyes. "I'm so happy, that's all. So glad that ye're
alive."

Madeleine
swallowed hard, hoping her last words had convinced him. She was grateful
Dougald had been spared the noose. She had cared for him, after all. But now
she felt more wretched than she ever had before.

She loved a man
she had once hated, and hated this man for threatening her newfound love. And
Dougald was the man her father had chosen for her . . .

No, dinna think
of it! she berated herself, stifling her twinge of guilt. If loving Garrett
made her a traitor, so be it. She would do anything to protect him, to protect
their love—

Madeleine started
as Dougald's hands easily circled her waist. She didn't dare protest as he
pulled her against his powerful chest.

" 'Twas
only my dreams of ye that kept me going during those long months in that filthy
gaol, Maddie Fraser," he said thickly. "I stayed alive for ye,
finally broke out of prison for ye. When I heard ye were married to a redcoat I
would have come for ye then and strangled him with my bare hands if Angus hadna
stopped me." His arms tightened around her, and he sank his fingers into
her hair, drawing her head back roughly. "This Major Garrett Marshall,
he's tasted yer charms before me, hasna he, Maddie?"