A Hint of Rapture Read online

  However, Garrett was equally determined to thwart him. Only their family honor had compelled him to fulfill his military commitment, not fear of his brother. Next time the matter would be settled in a duel, and honor be damned. He would suffer no more of Gordon's vengeful schemes or any further disruption of his life.

  At least he was well over Celinda's slight by now, Garrett thought dryly. He wished he could say the same for his three-year commission.

  He still had another year of service remaining before he could be free of this wretched army. After what he had seen during the past few months under the duke of Cumberland, beginning with the massacre at Culloden in which he had refused to play any part, and followed by the ruthless persecution of the Highlanders, he had more than his fill of butchery!

  Colonel Wolfe's gravelly voice broke into Garrett's thoughts. "I know you're wondering what's afoot, Garrett, and I'll get right to the point. First I must apologize for betraying a confidence, but in this case I felt it necessary and justified."

  Garrett merely nodded and sat down, tossing his hat upon the table.

  "I received a dispatch less than an hour ago. Another of our supply wagons bound for the fort along General Wade's Road has been plundered, the third in two weeks," Colonel Wolfe continued. "Hawley's damn upset about it, especially since this load was carrying not only grain, but also some casks of wine he had ordered from London. The thought of this Black Jack fellow, a Jacobite sympathizer, swilling his vintage wine doesn't set well with him in the least."

  "Who is Black Jack?" Garrett asked, his interest piqued by the unusual nickname.

  Colonel Wolfe snorted derisively. "That's what the soldiers call the leader of the renegade band of thieves, because the scoundrel always appears in black clothing, with his face blackened to disguise his features. He hides well in the shadows while his men do the stealing, and he never says a word, although he always keeps two pistols cocked and ready. His men work swiftly, usually tying up the soldiers and throwing their weapons into Loch Ness or taking them along."

  "Loch Ness? Have most of the raids been along Wade's Road?"

  "Yes, those involving supply wagons. But ships docked along Inverness Firth have apparently also lost cargo to this thief, and cattle have been stolen up and down Glenmore as far south as Loch Lochy."

  Garrett's expression grew thoughtful. "Have any soldiers been killed during these raids?"

  "Surprisingly, no. A few men have been wounded, but nothing serious. It seems Black Jack's only interest is theft. As soon as he's stolen what he wants, he and his men disappear into the night."

  "An interesting story, colonel, but what has this to do with me?" Garrett asked.

  Colonel Wolfe leaned his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. "You and I are of like mind, Garrett. During the past three months we have seen a great deal of bloodshed, and much of it has been irrational, cruel, and against all sense of fair play. Culloden was proof of that, and now Cumberland's policy of harrying the glens . . ."

  His voice trailed off, and he shook his head gravely. "There has been enough slaughter of innocents. I simply cannot sit by and watch it begin anew. When Hawley got the dispatch this morning, his first impulse was to send my entire regiment to Strathherrick, beside Loch Ness, since all evidence points to that valley as Black Jack's main territory."

  "Where you would carry out his normal policy in matters concerning the Highlanders," Garrett said quietly. "Torture, maim, rape, burn, and then ask questions."

  "Right. Instead I took a chance and suggested a more peaceful method of capturing this outlaw. Amazingly Hawley agreed to hear me out, probably due to the recent outrage expressed by clans loyal to King George about the atrocities committed against the defeated Highlanders."

  "It certainly wouldn't do to have those powerful clans join their Jacobite cousins against the excessive ravages of the English," Garrett commented.

  "Indeed not. Now, it's my guess that Black Jack is carrying out these raids to provide food for that region," Colonel Wolfe rushed on. "Opened sacks of the king's grain were found in a cave near the loch, and villagers have been found with good supplies of salted meat in their cellars."

  "Not likely for an area that lost its cattle and crops to Cumberland's more aggressive troops."

  "Exactly. I told Hawley if a large force of armed soldiers descended upon Strathherrick, Black Jack and his men would take to the mountains and never come down from hiding. We already know how well these people guard their secrets, despite the threat of death. Prince Charles has managed to remain on the run for three months, eluding thousands of our troops. It would be the same for Black Jack."

  "So instead I'm supposed to take a third of my men and attempt to discover the whereabouts of the elusive Black Jack by living among the Highlanders of Strathherrick as an occupying yet peaceful force."

  Colonel Wolfe nodded. "With your insight into Highland ways, the task may be easier than you think." He smiled broadly. "If I were a younger man, I'd relish the assignment. Your prowess with the ladies is renowned, Garrett. You're as much of a gentleman to the doxies who follow our troops as to the elegant damsels we've met in the cities. You've charmed them all. Perhaps you may find a willing Highland lass or two to aid you in your quest. Who knows what secrets might be betrayed at the height of passion."

  Garrett laughed. He was not convinced that a pretty Highland wench would so willingly hop into bed with an English soldier, but the thought intrigued him nonetheless.

  "I would suggest you and your men billet in a village, or perhaps in one of the few manor houses still left standing," Colonel Wolfe said. "I've heard of a place that might be large enough for all of you. Hmmm, what was the name of that village?"

  He paused, rapping his knuckles absently on the table. "Ah, yes, now I remember. It's near Farraline, I believe. The owner may not take kindly to the inconvenience, but at least it's better than finding his home burned to the ground." He stood up. "Any more questions, captain?"

  "One," Garrett replied. "How long do I have to find this Black Jack and bring him to the king's justice?"

  Colonel Wolfe sobered, his features darkening.

  "Hawley is an impatient man, Garrett. If our plan proves unsuccessful, he'll carry out his threat."

  "Just as I thought," Garrett said, rising from his chair and following the colonel from the room.

  Chapter 2

  "Will ye be ridin' out again this ev'ning, Maddie?" Glenis asked as she smoothed a clean cloth over the rough-hewn kitchen table. She glanced up when she received no answer. Her eyes, brown as dried berries, anxiously studied her young mistress. Madeleine was seated on a low stool by the window, poring over a worn and yellowed map balanced atop her knees.

  Her brow creased in concentration, Madeleine traced her finger along the thin line of General Wade's Road, which stretched from Inverness to Fort Augustus. The road hugged Loch Ness for three-quarters of the way, then jutted out to the southeast around Beinn a Bhacaidh, a lesser mountain, and Loch Tarff. The narrow valley of Glen Doe lay just to the south of the tiny loch, and it was the site of tonight's raid.

  " 'Tis a risky plan," she whispered to herself, unaware of Glenis's scrutiny. There would doubtless be many soldiers so close to Fort Augustus, but that could not be helped.

  According to her sources, a large herd of cattle was grazing in Glen Doe, cattle which until a few weeks ago had belonged to some hapless Highland villages. Well, she would simply "rescue" a few tonight, during the wee hours of darkness. Her people would have fresh meat for their suppers within two days.

  A smile briefly touched Madeleine's lips, then faded as her thoughts turned once again to the impending raid. She looked up from the map and gazed out across the apple orchard, the sun's bright rays warm on her face. The damp morning fog had long since burned away, leaving the sky overhead a pristine blue. The clear, sunny afternoon boded well for the weather later that night.

  She and her five kinsmen would start out at dusk for the distant
valley. They would ride the sturdy, dun-colored horses native to the Highlands and keep to the mountains they knew so well, away from Wade's Road and any unwelcome encounters with redcoats. On the rugged slopes above Glen Doe they would tether the horses and descend into the valley like silent ghosts to gather together a dozen cattle and drive them back into the mountains.

  Moonlight would guide them along the footpaths of ancient drovers as they traveled as far as possible before daybreak, hiding in the forested brae beside the River Feohlin until nightfall. Then they would set out again. Once they reached Aberchalder Burn near Farraline, the cattle would be slaughtered and the meat distributed to the surrounding villages before dawn.

  "Maddie, hinny. Dinna ye hear me?" Glenis repeated. Again there was no reply. With an exasperated sigh the old woman walked to the window, stopping just behind the stool. She reached out and brushed an unruly chestnut lock away from Madeleine's temple. "Maddie?"

  Madeleine jumped up, the map sliding from her knees to the freshly swept floor. "Och, Glenis, ye startled me!" she exclaimed. "I dinna know ye were standing there."

  "I'm sorry, lass," Glenis said as Madeleine bent to pick up the precious parchment, folding it into a neat square. "But I feel as if I've been mutterin' to m'self in this kitchen like some mad hatter. Ye've not heard a word I've said to ye."

  Madeleine slipped the map a side pocket of her gown and gave her servant a hug. Glenis Simpson had been with the Frasers of Farraline so long she was like a grandmother to Maddie. Serving as housekeeper and midwife, she had been present at the birth of Madeleine's father as well as Maddie's own, nineteen years ago.

  Madeleine would never have lived to see her first day if not for Glenis, who had breathed air into her tiny lungs after she was born blue and silent, the cord wrapped around her neck. The determined Scotswoman didn't give up until the room echoed- with Madeleine's lusty cries, and her grateful parents swore they had witnessed a miracle from heaven.

  Now Glenis was frail, with stooped shoulders and gray hair like fine gauze. She had seen sixty-nine winters come and go. Yet she still ruled Mhor Manor with strict efficiency, the two remaining maidservants her obedient and respectful charges.

  Madeleine was the only person Glenis could not control. She had tried over the years to tame Maddie's impetuous spirit and transform her into a "proper" young lady, especially after her mother had died when Madeleine was six years old. But Madeleine had always displayed a streak of feisty independence that could not be subdued, and Glenis's efforts had been largely unsuccessful. Maddie was a grown woman now, mistress of a sizable estate, yet Glenis still looked upon her as the wild child who used to roam the heather-strewn moors and rocky mountain slopes.

  "What did ye ask me, Glenis dear?" Madeleine asked in a soothing tone, though she suspected she already knew the question. "Ye have my full attention. "

  Glenis grasped Madeleine's hands in her bony ones, her grip amazingly strong. " 'Tis worried I am, Maddie," she began, concern etching her wrinkled face. "Worried sick for ye!"

  "Glenis—" Madeleine tried to interrupt.

  "No, ye'll hear me out, lass," Glenis shushed her. "Ye've been about these raids almost ev'ry night now for two months, ever since those redcoats wrecked the house. Sometimes ye're gone for so long—two, three days and more—I canna sleep for the worry that plagues me."

  She squeezed Madeleine's hands tightly as if to emphasize her words, making her wince. " 'Tis a noble thing ye're doin', Maddie, but how long do ye think 'twill be before the English set about to find ye in earnest? What if ye're captured? Do ye think they'll be merciful with ye, like they were to yer da and his clansmen at Culloden?"

  "Yer fears are unfounded, Glenis. They'll not find me," Madeleine objected vehemently, her eyes flashing in defiance.

  English bastards! The mere mention of her father's brutal fate made her all the more certain what she was doing was right, despite the constant danger she and her kinsmen faced. The raids they had committed against the redcoats gave purpose to her life and were a means of fighting Tack against the savage injustice her people had suffered. She could do no less, whatever the consequences. Her conscience, and her pride, would never allow it.

  Glenis shook her gray head, unconvinced. "No, lass, if ye keep on, they'll surely find ye—"

  "Enough, Glenis!" Madeleine demanded, cutting her off and pulling her hands free. Tears smarted her eyes, but she forced them back. "I'll not listen to any more of yer talk. I canna believe ye would ask me to cease the one thing that gives our people hope and puts food in their bellies!"

  Madeleine leaned against the narrow window ledge and gazed beyond the orchard toward the village of Farraline, a cluster of small stone cottages nestled near Loch Mhor.

  "Ye have walked in the village, Glenis. 'Tis a place come back from the edge of despair," she said, her voice impassioned. " 'Tis the same in Gorthlick and Aberchalder, and the other villages. The bairns no longer cry out from hunger, but scramble and play, and their mothers have milk again in their breasts for the wee ones. The men who are left have new hope for their families, and we can fill the sacks of the fugitives who come to our doors in the night with enough food to last them many days in the mountains."

  Madeleine swallowed hard, remembering the half dozen fugitive clansmen who had sought a few hours' refuge in the manor house only last week. They had brought her news that Dougald Fraser, her betrothed, had been taken prisoner only days after Culloden. He had been hanged as a traitor in the town square at Inverness while the clansmen watched from a tavern attic where they were hiding. Now she had two for whom to grieve, her father and Dougald.

  Dougald Fraser had been big and strong, with a wide smile that dared to take on the world and hazel eyes that danced with a lust for life. Had she truly loved him, as a woman loves a man, or was her feeling merely the bond of friendship formed in childhood? Now she would never know.

  She had accepted that she and Dougald would marry one day because it was the wish of her father, who had seen in his young kinsman a fine match for his strong-minded daughter. She had never thought to question his decision, for he was the only person whose word she had always obeyed.

  Now she would never wed. She had sworn as much on the night she learned of Dougald's fate. The man who had earned her father's blessing was cold in his grave, and she would have no other. She would devote her life to her people, and when the time came to choose an heir for the estate she would find someone worthy to take her place from among her kinsmen.

  How ironic, Madeleine thought bitterly. If her father had survived Culloden and been tried for treason, his estate and title would have been forfeited to the Crown upon his execution. It was only because he had died on the battlefield that the family estate still belonged to her. She was permitted to keep her land because as mistress of Farraline and a mere woman, she was considered harmless, no threat to the government. If they only knew . . .

  "I said 'tis a noble thing ye do, Maddie," Glenis said, "and 'tis proud I am of ye." She bent her head and pressed her furrowed cheek against Madeleine's shoulder. "Yer da would be proud of ye, and yer dear mama. I'll not bother ye further with my fears, if only ye promise not to take any heedless chances." Her voice quivered and broke, while hot tears dampened Madeleine's sleeve. "If anything ever happened to ye, I'd have no one left."

  "Please dinna worry," Madeleine said gently. "Nothing will happen to me, ye'll see. And if it will make ye happy, I promise I winna raid any redcoats unless I'm sure 'twill go as planned. Fair enough?"

  Sniffling and nodding her head, Glenis fumbled in her apron pocket for a handkerchief.

  "Besides, Glenis dear, only the five clansmen who ride with me know what we do. And ye, of course."

  "I'll never betray ye, lass!" Glenis exclaimed fiercely, wiping away her tears. "I'll take yer secret to my grave—"

  "Shhh, Glenis," Madeleine calmed her. " 'Twas not my thought that ye'd betray me, and nor will the others. We're bound by a pledge of silence, sealed in blo
od. The people simply accept the food as God's blessing and ask no questions. They would never betray our cause. I believe that with all my heart."

  "Och, very well, lass," Glenis said, loudly blowing her nose several times. "Ye'll hear no more from me. But if ye dinna mind, I'll keep ye doubly in my prayers, just for good measure."

  Madeleine laughed, planting a kiss on Glenis's damp cheek. She glanced across the kitchen at the massive fireplace with its raised hearth, where a large black kettle hung above the peat fire. Steam rose from the bubbling contents, and a delicious aroma wafted through the room. "What's in the pot?" she asked, her stomach growling hungrily.

  "Cock-a-leekie stew," Glenis replied, her brown eyes twinkling again, her plucky spirit revived. "Yer favorite. I had a notion ye'd be ridin' out tonight, and I'll not have ye goin' on yer way without a good hot meal in yer belly. There's smoked herring, too, and fresh bannocks. I'll pack ye and yer men a hamper full for the journey. How long will ye be gone, lass?"

  "Two days."

  Glenis opened her mouth to protest, but she quickly shut it. "I hope ye'll have room for the apple pudding I baked ye," she said instead.

  Madeleine sat down at the kitchen table. "Aye, Glenis, if ye think my figure winna be the worse for it," she replied playfully.

  Glenis ladled a hearty portion of stew into a bowl and returned to the table. "Ye have nothing to fear on that score, lass. Ye're as sleek and slim as a colt." She set the bowl before Madeleine. "Now eat. I'll fetch ye some bannocks."

  Madeleine savored the chunks of chicken and leeks in a thick broth laced with herbs, the warm oatcakes spread with golden butter, and the strong tea. Under Glenis's approving eye she finished every morsel, including a slice of pudding topped with brandy sauce. She knew it would be several days before she'd enjoy such a meal again.

  But, God willing, if tonight's raid went as planned, she and the villagers would have a rich beef stew simmering in their kettles before the week was out.