Chapter 11 #2
“Mistress Fraser and her housekeeper, Glenis, have been caring for you from the start, captain,” Sergeant Fletcher revealed before she could reply. “They’ve been here night and day—along with myself, of course.”
“Is this true?” he asked quietly.
“Aye,” Madeleine said simply, trying to ignore the shivers racing along her spine. If only he would stop looking at her so!
“I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such fine treatment,” Garrett said with a thin smile. “I only wish I had done it sooner.”
Madeleine couldn’t tell if he was jesting or not, and she certainly wasn’t about to tell him the truth behind her presence in his room. She chose to ignore his statement and glanced over at the sergeant.
“Could ye kindly push that chair closer to the bed?”
Sergeant Fletcher nodded and quickly did as she asked. She sat down and cradled the bowl of broth in her hands.
“That’s enough talk for now, captain—”
“Please,” he cut her off, his expression sobering, his eyes serious. “Garrett. And I’d be honored if you would allow me to call you Madeleine.”
Madeleine stared at him and then shrugged. ‘Twas no harm in it, she decided. She would humor him, for now.
“Very well, Garrett. Glenis’s orders were for ye to eat this broth, but only a little at a time.” Ignoring his unsettling gaze, she concentrated on holding the spoon to his mouth and tilting it. He swallowed weakly and smiled again.
“That’s good. More, please…Madeleine.”
She almost laughed out loud in spite of herself. “I told ye, Glenis said slowly.”
His hunger was a good sign, she thought as she fed him more. She blushed anew when she spilled some broth on his upper chest, the liquid disappearing beneath his bedshirt.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said uncomfortably, setting down the bowl. “‘Twas so clumsy of me.” She undid the buttons and wiped his chest and tautly muscled abdomen with a linen napkin, not daring to look at his face. Her fingers shook as she refastened his shirt, and she fumbled with the last few buttons.
“It’s no matter, Madeleine,” Garrett said softly, bringing his hands up to cover her own. She started, meeting his eyes, and for an instant she was lost, aware of nothing but his touch and the heated expression in his gaze.
Sergeant Fletcher’s embarrassed cough finally broke the spell between them. Madeleine’s heart thundered as she slid her hands from beneath Garrett’s and reached for the cup of tea. “Glenis said ye’re to drink this down. It’s her special remedy.”
“What’s in it?” Garrett asked with a smile. He sniffed the dark, clouded liquid and eyed her skeptically.
“Never ye mind. Now drink. ‘Tis no longer hot, so it winna burn yer throat.”
He took a sip and grimaced. “I’d say there’s a bit of Scots whiskey in this tea.
” He wheezed, his eyes smarting. He took a longer draft.
“I’d swear to it.” He lifted the cup and gamely finished it off, presenting it to her with a small flourish.
“You must tell Glenis I enjoyed the broth and the tea very much. And I especially enjoyed your kind assistance, Madeleine.”
Flustered by the quiet intensity in his voice, Madeleine rose to her feet. “Ye must rest, Garrett. Could ye ease up a bit so I might fix yer pillows?”
Garrett leaned on one elbow as she plumped the pillows. Suddenly he winced in pain, his hand flying to the knot on his head. He touched it gingerly.
“That’s where the bloke hit you, captain, whoever he was,” Sergeant Fletcher said, looking at his commanding officer with concern. “We searched the entire area around the house, but there was no trace of him, not even footprints. It’s like he was swallowed up by the moor.”
Madeleine’s eyes widened. If the sergeant only knew how close he was to the truth. She bent over Garrett and tucked the tartan bedspread around his lean waist, very much aware that he was watching her. She felt a shiver and stepped away from the bed. “There now, Garrett. Ye can lie back.”
He did so, exhaling sharply, and it was clear to Madeleine that his small movement had taxed him greatly. He would no doubt remain bedridden for several days, which was fine with her. While Garrett was recuperating she could resume her raids without fear of his personal intervention.
Now that he was feeling better, her conscience was soothed.
Well, only somewhat, she admitted to herself.
Yet Glenis and Sergeant Fletcher would have to see to Garrett without her now.
She had to plan her raids. Just last night Ewen had sent word to her through Duncan, who had passed himself off as a blacksmith looking for work, asking when they would ride again.
She would no longer make her kinsmen wait.
She picked up the tray and turned to leave, but stopped when Garrett gently touched her arm.
“Would you sit here with me awhile, Madeleine?” he asked quietly, staring into her eyes. “Please. I’d appreciate your company. Fletcher will take the tray back to the kitchen, won’t you, sergeant?”
Before Madeleine could refuse, the sergeant walked over and took the tray from her.
“It will give me a chance to fetch some lunch for myself, if you don’t mind, Mistress Fraser,” he said.
He moved briskly to the door. “I’ll be back shortly.
” Then he was gone, leaving Madeleine standing awkwardly beside the bed.
“Please…sit down,” Garrett bade her.
Madeleine sighed softly, then sat, deciding there was no harm in lingering for a little while. She stared at her folded hands, not knowing quite what to say. She hadn’t expected this at all.
“Sergeant Fletcher told me I’ve been out for four days,” he said, breaking the silence. “I can hardly believe it. That must have been some bump on the head.”
Madeleine winced. She coughed slightly and raised her head.
“Aye, ye gave us quite a scare…” She faltered, her cheeks suddenly very warm.
“I mean yer men, they’ve been worried sick for ye, and Sergeant Fletcher—well, Glenis and I thought for sure he’d fall ill himself when ye became delirious.
He was so upset that we had to send him outside for fresh air. ”
He chuckled, and she smiled. His face looked so boyishly handsome when he laughed, so honest and open. If not for the fact that he was a redcoat, she might have liked this man.
Madeleine looked away, disturbed by her thoughts.
“I suppose I filled your ears with a lot of nonsense,” Garrett said, startling her. “I’ve seen people with fevers before. My father had one just before he died, as did my grandmother. It’s like listening to someone’s nightmare.”
She stared at him, wondering if he was well enough for her to ask him about Culloden.
She quickly decided against it when he grimaced and his hand strayed to his bruised forehead.
His memories were obviously painful, perhaps too painful to discuss right now.
In a few days she would ask him, when he was more fully recovered.
“Ye did mumble a bit,” Madeleine allowed. “Well, it was more swearing, really.”
“Swearing?”
“Aye. Ye dinna have kind words to say for Gordon, or Celinda.”
Garrett seemed stunned for a moment then laughed softly, but Madeleine sensed there was no humor in it.
“Gordon, the earl of Kemsley, is my older brother,” he replied, his tone edged with bitterness. “It’s because of him I’m in the military. He bought a commission for me as a token of his high esteem and affection,” he added sarcastically.
“Ye were forced?” Madeleine asked, confused.
Garrett smiled wryly. “In a way. I could have turned it down, but our family honor demanded I accept. I’ve one year left, then I’m a free man.”
Madeleine’s mind raced. So Garrett was an aristocrat. That explained his gentlemanly ways and refined speech. She knew the English army was a common refuge for younger sons of the nobility, who usually possessed no estate of their own.
Perhaps the earl had been thinking of Garrett’s welfare and provided him with a profession, at least for a few years. Yet it was clear Garrett resented what had happened to him. Had he been forced to leave a woman behind, a mistress, a betrothed? Celinda?
Garrett’s fingers lightly touched her arm, dispelling her thoughts but not the twinge of jealousy that pricked her.
“Now I believe I should thank Gordon,” he said, staring at her intently.
“This is the most pleasant assignment I’ve ever had, because I met you.
” Madeleine’s eyes stared into his, and her skin tingled from his featherlight touch.
Perplexed, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and drew her arm away.
“And who is Celinda?” she asked, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. As Garrett looked at her curiously, she had the strangest feeling he could sense how furiously her heart was pounding.
“Celinda is Gordon’s wife,” he replied. “We courted for a time, but she opted for my brother’s title.”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Madeleine stammered, surmising she had touched a raw nerve. No wonder he had cursed Celinda’s name. To be so slighted, and for his own brother! How terrible. Garrett must have truly loved Celinda to express such emotion in his delirium.
Discomforted by that thought, she rose from the chair. “Forgive me for prying, Garrett. Ye really should rest now.” She gasped as he caught her hand.
“Celinda was a youthful fancy, nothing more, Madeleine,” he said, stroking her trembling fingers with his thumb.
“Ye dinna have to explain—”
“There’s no one else,” he insisted, leaning up on his elbow.
Why was he telling her this? she wondered wildly, her pulse racing. She didn’t care, or did she?
“What of you, Maddie Fraser?” Garrett asked suddenly, causing her heart to skip a beat. “An enchanting woman like yourself—”
“Humph! Ah, excuse me, captain,” Sergeant Fletcher said loudly, clearing his throat as he pushed open the door. “I’ve brought you some more hot tea.”
Madeleine snatched her hand away as she felt her cheeks firing bright pink. She glanced from the grizzled soldier to Garrett. His eyes clearly showed his disappointment at the sudden interruption.