Chapter 15
Garrett angrily paced the drawing room, a crinkled piece of paper in his hand. He stopped near the window and pushed aside the curtain, holding the paper up to the fading light.
He read the terse message again, for probably the tenth time. It was written in Colonel Wolfe’s distinctive scrawl, punctuated by numerous ink blotches. The words seemed to jump off the page and burn into his brain.
Black Jack had struck again, this time just west of Inverness.
General Hawley was furious and threatened immediate action.
It was the seventh successful raid in two weeks, not counting the thirty cattle mysteriously stolen in Glen Tarff, a few miles south of Fort Augustus.
Seven blasted raids in two weeks, spread out all over the county…
“Damn Black Jack to hell!” Garrett cursed aloud, turning away from the window.
He balled up the paper and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
He hated to admit it, but this message was further proof that his peaceful mission was a dismal failure.
Despite everything he had done—endlessly searching the valley, interrogating villagers, and recently staking out roads at night—it appeared the elusive brigand was unstoppable.
He sat down heavily in the armchair, pounding his fist on the padded brocade. Time was slipping away from him. General Hawley would no doubt be there within days, maybe sooner from the scathing tone of the message.
Was his mission really going to end as he feared, in flaming cottages and the helpless screams of men, women, and children? Soon it would be nightfall. Would Black Jack ride again, while he and his men chased shadows across the valley?
A flash of forest-green skirt, bright tartan shawl, and tousled chestnut hair caught his attention. He moved once more to the window and watched as Madeleine walked toward the house. She gave no notice to the soldiers standing guard. Her eyes were straight ahead, her step brisk and determined.
So she’s finally returning from Farraline, he thought bitterly.
From visiting her people, and her lover.
While there were so many lives at stake she busied herself with God-only-knew-what, as if there was nothing amiss, no danger looming on the horizon.
Her lack of concern was incredible! Could it be she hadn’t believed him about Hawley after all?
Garrett frowned, at a total loss. He had looked for her earlier, determined to ask her one last time for her help, especially now that he had received this message.
He still could not bring himself to believe that she knew absolutely nothing about Black Jack, despite her claim of ignorance.
It just didn’t make sense, considering her respected position in the valley.
Glenis had told him merely that Madeleine had gone to the village and would say nothing more.
It seemed even the old woman had turned against him, avoiding him at every opportunity.
Madeleine had certainly evaded him ever since the night he had gone to her room and fairly forced himself on her, thinking she might feel as he did.
His jaw tightened, a wave of frustration possessing him.
Fool! Once again he had allowed his personal desires and misguided emotions to get in the way of his mission.
He should have pressed her further, as he had intended.
Instead he had been bewitched by her company, her smiles, and his own fantasies of how things might be between them when Black Jack was captured.
Garrett flinched as the front door slammed and Madeleine’s light footsteps sounded in the hall. He strode from the drawing room, almost bumping into her. She jumped back, startled, and clutched her basket tightly. It was plain to see that he had unnerved her.
“I was wondering when you might return from the village,” he said, gesturing for the guard to disappear. The man obeyed him quickly, ducking into the hall leading to the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. “We have to talk, Madeleine.”
Madeleine stared at him wide-eyed, aware of the nervous flutter in her stomach and the heat flooding her body. She had scarcely seen him since…
She forced the potent memory from her mind, not trusting herself to remain here with him any longer.
“I-I’m sorry, Garrett,” she said, conjuring a convincing half lie.
“I’m very tired. A kinswoman in Farraline is near childbirth.
I may be called back during the night to bring more of Glenis’s herb medicine.
Perhaps we can talk in the morning.” She brushed past him and moved toward the staircase.
Aye, she really was tired, she thought wearily.
That much was true. She’d spent much of the afternoon planning tonight’s raid with her kinsmen.
It would be their last one together, though they didn’t know it yet.
Now she needed nothing more than a long nap.
Midnight would come soon enough, and she had to be well rested and alert—
She started when Garrett suddenly grabbed her arm.
“No, Madeleine,” he said firmly, turning her about to face him. “This can’t wait until tomorrow.”
His gaze was so insistent she knew she would not escape him. “Very well,” she relented, her heart racing. Was he going to ask her about the other night? she wondered anxiously. Surely he wasn’t going to drill her about—
“Two weeks ago you claimed you knew nothing about Black Jack,” he began, confirming her suspicion. His grip tightened around her arm. “I’ve just received word that there have been seven raids since that day. I’ll ask you once more, Madeleine. Do you know anything at all about this brigand?”
Anger erupted within her at his rough treatment, mixed with a sense of desperation.
She couldn’t tell him yet! She had one last raid to complete, then there would be more than enough food in the cave to last the winter.
She would tell him in the morning, but not now.
She had planned everything so carefully.
By tomorrow night, Garrett would have his Black Jack.
“Ye’re hurting me!” she exclaimed hotly. She tried to wrench free, but he held her fast. “I told ye! I know nothing of yer brigand. Now let me go!”
Garrett sighed heavily as he reluctantly released her.
She did not wait to see if he had anything further to say but dashed up the stairs, feeling his eyes bore into her back.
Once she was in her room, she bolted the door against him.
She knew he was still thinking of her, wondering why she would not help him.
If he only knew how afraid she truly was.
Ye’ve put him off, lass, ‘tis all that matters, Madeleine assured herself shakily, setting down her basket and throwing off her shawl. She kicked off her brogues and lay down on the bed, hugging her arms to her chest.
How she wished at that moment that she was a little girl again, with no more worries than how she would elude Glenis’s stern and watchful eye, or which of her favorite ponies she should ride across the moor. Life had been so simple and carefree then.
“Ye canna escape yer troubles by wishing them away,” she whispered fiercely. “Ye’re a grown woman now, Maddie Fraser, and ye must face what life has brought to ye.”
She closed her eyes, willing her body to relax even while her thoughts continued to tumble and whirl.
She was astounded by how smoothly the raids had gone so far, despite Garrett’s placing extra patrols in Farraline and on some of the roads surrounding the village. The supply trains had also been more heavily guarded, but the element of surprise had not failed her and her kinsman yet.
With Glenis’s help she had even feigned a slight illness when she and her kinsmen had journeyed overnight to Glen Tarff to steal another herd of cattle. While she was gone, Glenis had virtually camped outside her door for two days, allowing no one in her room, not even Meg.
“‘Tis a woman’s ailment,” was all her faithful servant offered as explanation. It soon would pass, but until then, Madeleine needed complete rest and solitude. Thankfully, Garrett had been deceived.
Aye, that ruse had been risky, as had all her raids, but it was well worth it.
The cave at Beinn Dubhcharaidh was nearly stocked from floor to ceiling with barrels, crates, and sacks containing every manner of foodstuff, from salted beef to turnips.
If anything happened to her, she could be assured her people would have enough food to survive the winter.
If anything happened to her…
Madeleine shivered, suddenly ice-cold. She rose abruptly from her bed, her hand clutching her throat.
How could she possibly rest when she imagined the noose tightening around her neck with each passing moment? Dear God, where would she ever find the courage to face what was ahead?
She walked swiftly to the door despite the wooden feeling in her legs.
She would speak with Glenis. Glenis never lacked for words of wisdom and strength in trying times; it was her comfort that had seen Madeleine past her father’s death.
It would be hard for them to discuss what lay ahead, but it was better than suffering alone.
And it was time Glenis knew of her plans.
Madeleine hurried downstairs, grateful there was no sign of Garrett. She ignored the guard who had returned to his post and rushed into the kitchen.
She was disappointed to see that Glenis was not there. She checked her room, but it was empty. She was about to double back and search the rest of the house when she heard a soft knock on the kitchen door.
Her brow knit anxiously. It was dark out already. Who would be about at this supper hour? She thought of her kinsmen and hurried to the door.
She cracked it open, peering outside. She could barely make out an old woman’s stooped figure in the thin sliver of candlelight cast from the kitchen. A large fringed bonnet covered the woman’s bowed head, shadowing her features.