Free A Hint of Rapture by Miriam Minger

English
soldier. It had been like a terrible nightmare.
    She remembered a struggle to free herself and the sound
of his deep and steady voice, but not his words. Nor could she recall her own
words, only her feelings of anger as he seemed to stalk her, drawing closer and
closer. She had had the strangest sensation she had seen him somewhere before .
. .
    Then she had been in his arms again, fighting and
cursing, the breath knocked from her body as he had thrown her over his
shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was lying in her bed, Glenis
spoonfeeding her that bitter tea. She had fallen asleep, only to wake a short
while ago to find Glenis nodding off in the rocking chair by the window.
    Madeleine pushed away from the wall and walked to the
top of the staircase. She looked down into the main hallway. Her eyes narrowed
as a young soldier entered through the front door, his arms full of bedding.
    Indignation seized her. The scene reminded her of the
last time redcoats had violated her home. She had been powerless to do anything
on that occasion. This time she was not. She practically flew down the stairs
and gave the soldier a good shove. He fell back, grunting in surprise, blankets
and linen sheets tumbling to the floor.
    "What do ye think ye're doing?" she cried,
throwing herself between him and the hall leading to the adjoining right wing.
"Get out of my house, ye freckled weasel! Now! And take yer bedclothes
with ye!"
    The startled soldier mumbled something unintelligible,
his face a bright shade of red that nearly matched his uniform. He began to
step backward, keeping one eye on her while he glanced over his shoulder for
the door.
    "Stop right where you are, soldier," a deep
voice commanded him from directly behind Madeleine.
    The young man froze. "Yes, sir," he said
miserably.
    Madeleine spun around to meet this new adversary, a
stinging retort on her lips. It died when she came face to face with the
handsome, blond officer who loomed in the archway, the powerful breadth of his
shoulders blocking out everything behind him. His eyes, a compelling shade of
gray flecked with green, studied her quizzically.
    It was he. The man who had accosted her, she thought
angrily. A familiar sensation gripped her. She could swear she had seen him
before today, but where?
    Suddenly her memory cleared, like sunlight piercing
through a mist. Her last raid! He had been the commanding officer, forced to
strip with his men . . . She felt a blush scorch her skin, and she bowed her
head so he wouldn't see her discomfort. Her mind raced.
    Easy, lass. Stay calm, she assured herself. She and her
kinsmen had nothing to fear. They had been well disguised during that raid.
'Twas only a strange coincidence, nothing more.
    "That's hardly a way to treat your new guests,
Mistress Fraser," the officer began, interrupting her thoughts.
"Allow me to introduce—"
    "There's no need for introductions,"
Madeleine snapped, quickly recovering herself. She looked him full in the face.
"I know who ye are, Captain Marshall."
    "Garrett."
    "Whatever. Glenis has told me all about ye."
    "Ah, then. I hope it was complimentary."
    Garrett smiled as his gaze wandered over her. He took
in every aspect of her comely appearance, from her glossy curls to the trim fit
of her lavender gown. Its buttoned bodice, demurely edged with lace, revealed a
full swell of creamy bosom. She was definitely not a maidservant, he thought
appreciatively. How could he have so misjudged her?
    He was also pleased to observe that she looked none the
worse for her accident. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy rose color, her
eyes were lively and sparkling. He took a step toward her. "How are you
feeling?"
    "What are ye and yer sorry lot of soldiers doing
in my house?" she demanded, disregarding his soft-spoken question. His
frank appraisal was unsettling, and she shivered, acutely aware of his striking
good looks. She placed her hands on her hips and eyed him belligerently,
forcing her mind from