She immediately began to wriggle and push at his chest. ‘Put me down. I can manage.’
‘I don’t think so. I need you alive and well, Miss Lambert.’
‘For what?’ Sarah’s blue eyes were bright with anger, the colour high in her cheeks. ‘I still don’t understand what is going on. Why are you abducting me? You say you don’t want my money.’ Her cheeks grew beet red as she added, ‘And I won’t become your whore.’
God, if she knew what he ultimately had in mind for her, she’d be terrified; but instead he simply said, ‘As lovely as you are, I don’t want you for that reason either.’ They’d gained the main hall and Alex followed Aileen towards the servants’ entrance at the rear of the townhouse.
‘Then why—?’ Sarah’s dark blonde eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. ‘Has this got something to do with Lord Tay and the blonde woman at the ball? The one he was with…’ Her voice cracked and she swallowed. ‘Was she someone you cared for? Are you stealing me away because of what Malcolm did? Because if you are—’
‘It’s complicated. And yes, this is about Lord Tay. But not the other woman. Or you.’
Sarah’s pretty pink mouth flattened into a disapproving line. ‘That’s hardly fair.’
‘I know.’
‘Surely there’s some other way.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘If we could just talk—’
‘Trust me, it won’t make any difference.’ They’d reached the servants’ entrance. Aileen stood by the door with a footman; both waited for his directions.
‘My carriage is outside, Miss Lambert. I’m going to put you down.’ He set her on her feet, facing Aileen, then he surreptitiously drew a silk rope from the pocket of his coat. ‘And I hope you’ll accept my apology in advance.’
***
Before Sarah could draw breath to question the reason for Black’s apology, he was deftly lashing her wrists together behind her back and Aileen was pushing a silk gag into her mouth.
Unbridled anger and panic coursing through her veins, Sarah attempted to scream as she struggled and writhed, but her efforts to escape were to no avail. Black had tied her in such a way that each movement seemed to pull the bonds tighter and her cries were nothing more than muffled moans. Tears stung her eyes as she slumped to the ground, refusing to walk, but Black simply picked her up and unceremoniously slung her over his shoulder so that she was upside-down, her derrière in the air.
Even though she kicked and twisted, it made no difference whatsoever—Black held her easily as though she weighed nothing more than a child. Within moments, the door had been unbolted and Black was carrying her outside into a cobbled close—at least Sarah thought it was a close, considering her view of the world was topsy-turvy. And then she was deposited onto a leather bench inside a carriage. She caught a brief glimpse of grey bricks and whirling snowflakes before the door slammed shut against the frigid morning air and any hope she had of freedom.
She glared at Black as he sat down beside her; his long, powerful legs were canted across the space between her and the door and she knew if she tried to launch herself towards it, it would be no effort at all for him to restrain her.
‘I will remove the gag and untie you as soon as we leave the city,’ he said gruffly, before lifting the black velvet curtain covering the window to peer outside. Was that a note of remorse in his voice?
The carriage rolled off and Sarah closed her eyes as the tears she’d been trying to keep at bay slid down her cheeks. It seemed she was still in Edinburgh. Not that it mattered. For the moment, she was trapped with no obvious way out. And after last night, she clearly couldn’t count on Malcolm to mount any sort of search and rescue attempt.
But somehow, some way, she would get out of this mess. She was smart and she was capable. And Alexander Black, for all his power and ruthless machinations, must have a chink in his armour. She would find it, and when the time was right, she would exploit his weakness and escape.
She had to.
***
Tay House, Edinburgh
15 February 1757
‘Milord, my apologies fer disturbing you…’
Malcolm groaned and prised open his eyelids. ‘Fuck, Drysdale. What is it?’ He straightened in his wingchair and cracked his neck. His head pounded and his mouth felt as dry and dusty as the ash-strewn grate. Why, in the Devil’s name, had he drunk so much last night? He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep by the fire. It was moments like these that he really wished he hadn’t dismissed his valet. ‘What time is it?’
The wizened butler hovered by the heavy oak bedchamber door, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Seven of the clock, milord. Again I apologise but—’
‘Seven o’clock? You useless cock. Why are you waking me at such a godforsaken—?’ Malcolm froze. Shit, Sarah. Sarah’s gone. He swallowed and rubbed his face with a shaking hand as reality dashed over him like a bucket of cold water. Sarah hadn’t returned to Tay House and he hadn’t a clue where she’d gone. All of his discreet inquiries and a search of the streets between here and Kenmuir House had proved fruitless. He cast a narrow-eyed look at Drysdale, not daring to hope he had any news. ‘Well, out with it, man. Is this about Miss Lambert?’
The elderly butler hobbled toward the fireside and proffered a folded piece of cream coloured parchment upon a tarnished silver tray. ‘A message was delivered verra early this morning, milord. And you said tha’ if there should be any word aboot Miss Lambert…’ The butler swallowed audibly. ‘Weel, MacThomas, the night footman, says tha’ someone pushed this letter under the front door some time before dawn. And whilst we dinna know if it is aboot yer affianced—’
‘Christ, just give it to me.’ Malcolm snatched the parchment from Drysdale and cracked the plain red wax seal.
Tay,
Your pretty little heiress is now in my possession. To ensure her safe return, a substantial sum is required. Further directions shall be delivered at my convenience in the coming days. But harbour no illusions, if you do not provide what I ask for, when I ask for it, Miss Lambert will be no more.
Janus.
‘Fuck!’ Malcolm stared at the paper in his hand. How could this be? Surely this had to be some sort of mad prank or sick joke.
But of course, he knew it wasn’t.
Someone had kidnapped Sarah. How in the Devil’s name was he to pay the ransom? He couldn’t even afford to pay his bloody servants properly.
Malcolm sent Drysdale for coffee then tossed the paper onto a nearby table where his silver snuffbox and an almost empty bottle of brandy sat. The kidnapper—this Janus, whoever he was—hadn’t stated how much money he wanted exactly. ‘Substantial’ could mean anything depending on who was making the demand; it could be one hundred pounds, a thousand, or ten thousand. Even the King’s bloody Crown Jewels.
He picked up the brandy and sloshed what remained into a sticky glass before taking a sizeable swig. The problem was, he had virtually nothing left to give. Of course, marrying Sarah would’ve been the solution to all his woes; she was worth an absolute fortune. But now the stupid bitch had allowed herself to be kidnapped by some prick calling himself Janus.
Who the bloody hell was he? Malcolm ran a hand through his hair, racking his brains for some kind of answer. Who did he know who was both short of funds and desperate enough to carry out such a brazen attack?
He grimaced. No one except himself.
One thing was certain, he had to get his hands on more money, and discreetly. It was a predicament like no other. He couldn’t afford to lose Sarah, but he also he couldn’t afford to let it be known that she had been kidnapped. The resultant scandal would kill him. If society learned the mighty Earl of Tay was in dire financial straits, and he couldn’t pay the ransom, he’d be well and truly fucked for all time. He’d wouldn’t have a hope in Hades of finding another gullible heiress.
He supposed he could always approach Sarah’s former legal guardian and executor of the la
te Edwin Lambert’s will, Charles Swindon, as a last-ditch plan. Sarah had only recently come of age so perhaps Swindon still had access to her fortune… It meant he would have to travel to Newcastle—another expense if he were to stay at an inn rather than sleeping in his carriage at the side of the road. There was also no guarantee the journey would be worth it.
He’d only met Charles Swindon on a few occasions and he’d come across as a stuffy tight-arse.
Malcolm downed the last of the brandy then took a pinch of snuff. Perhaps all was not lost. The wait for the next lot of instructions would be excruciating, but in the meantime, he could approach a friend or two to see if he could acquire some extra funds. And of course, Damaris would probably be willing to fuck a few more noblemen in exchange for jewels, which he could then pawn. They’d done it before.
He’d best stay away from the gaming tables…
One way or another, he would get Sarah back and her fortune would be his. Anything else was unthinkable.
Chapter 4
To Sarah’s immense relief, Black removed her gag and bonds as soon as the carriage began to bowl along the open road.
‘Thank—’ Sarah bit her lip, swallowing back the words as she rubbed her wrists and rolled her stiff shoulders. Why, in God’s name, was she thanking her captor? He was a brute. A blackguard. He’d ripped her away from her aunt and her life. And it didn’t matter one little bit that her life was in tatters right now. She was being denied her liberty and the right to sort through and reorder the remaining pieces. She wanted to confront Malcolm about his betrayal and then decide what to do next.
She wanted to go home to Linden Hall.
Black had acknowledged he was being unfair but it was worse than that. What he was doing was undeserved and unjust. Especially since he’d hinted her kidnapping had ostensibly nothing to do with her per se.
But considering she was the one being held captive, it most certainly did.
Angry tears scalded her eyes but she blinked them away and swallowed hard. She wouldn’t cry again; at least, not in front of Black.
‘Miss Lambert, I know this is difficult for you, but I will do my utmost to make this situation as painless as possible,’ said Black carefully. After he’d released her, he’d moved to the opposite bench seat. His long muscular legs, encased in form-fitting buckskin breeches and top boots, stretched out before him as he lounged negligently back against the squabs. Regarding her through half-closed eyes, he reminded her of the lions she’d once seen prowling around the Royal Menagerie at the Tower of London. His pose might be casual but Sarah sensed the leashed power within him. She had no doubt he’d stop her if she made any move to try and escape.
‘How considerate of you,’ she replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. Taking a chance that Black wouldn’t complain, she drew back one of the curtains to study the countryside. ‘I’m still trying to work out what this situation actually is. I don’t even know how long you intend to keep me. Or where you are taking me.’ She didn’t recognise the road or the snow-dusted landscape beyond, so perhaps they were heading westwards rather than south towards England.
‘Somewhere safe.’
Sarah shot him a withering look. ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.’
Black inclined his head. ‘Fair enough. But I hope you’ll soon see I’m a man of my word.’
‘Yes, it’s already very clear to me how noble you are.’ Sarah turned her head away again and tried to focus on the passing scenery instead of Black. His steady scrutiny was making her blush so she added, ‘And by the way, has no one ever taught you it’s rude to stare?’
‘I like the view.’
Before Sarah could rebuke him again, he opened a compartment beneath his seat and withdrew a wicker basket.
She swallowed. ‘What’s in there?’
Black opened the lid and looked at her over the top of it. ‘There’s no need to be nervous. It’s just food and drink for the journey. I imagine it’s been some time since you last had a meal.’
Oh. Sarah swallowed again. Her mouth was incredibly dry and she’d been trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach since she’d woken up. ‘Yes, it has been a while.’
‘I promise you that everything is safe,’ Black said, turning the basket towards her. ‘Choose anything you like.’
Sarah leaned forward and peered into the napkin-lined basket. Aside from a bottle of what appeared to be wine or cider, there were several small pies, some bread rolls, a hunk of cheese, and a few pieces of fruit—apples and pears. Her mouth watered. She selected a pear then sat back in the corner.
Black raised a quizzical brow as if questioning her choice, then took out a pie. ‘I’m glad you didn’t try to knock me out with the bottle,’ he said, before biting into the golden flaky pastry with relish.
‘The thought did cross my mind,’ admitted Sarah, and when Black smiled, she dropped her gaze to examine the pear. The fruit looked completely ordinary—the pale golden skin was unblemished. And it appeared Black had chosen his pie without hesitation. She risked another glance at him and he was still chewing with gusto. Surely he wouldn’t be doing so if everything was tainted with laudanum.
Taking a deep breath, she bit into the flesh and closed her eyes as the sweet juices hit her tongue. Had a pear ever tasted so good?
When she looked up again, it was to discover Black was still watching her. His grey eyes were alight with amusement as he handed her a napkin. ‘You may need this, Miss Lambert.’
Oh, my goodness, she did. To her dismay, sticky pear juices had run down her chin and she quickly dabbed them away. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, before wiping her fingers and then wrapping the pear core in the linen.
‘Would you like some cider as well?’
‘Yes please.’
Black uncorked the bottle and offered it to her. ‘I’m afraid there aren’t any glasses,’ he said with an apologetic smile.
Sarah shook her head. ‘You first, Mr Black.’
He shrugged and took a good swig from the bottle before passing it to her. His long fingers brushed hers, and to her consternation she blushed again. The idea of putting her lips where his had been only moments before felt too odd, too intimate, but what else could she do? She was well and truly parched. Thankfully, Black began to rummage around the basket again, so while he was distracted—whether by accident or design—she took the opportunity to take a few long sips of the cider before handing the bottle back.
When Black had polished off another pie, she ventured another question, ‘So, how is this,’ she gestured around the carriage, ‘all going to work?’
He frowned as he brushed a pastry crumb from the snowy cuff of his shirtsleeve. ‘In what sense?’
She nodded toward the basket. ‘We clearly have quite a way to travel. How… what if I need…?’ How could she possibly talk to this man about the call of nature? Her face burned with embarrassment.
Black seemed to recognise the reason for her discomfort as he said matter-of-factly, ‘Aileen has accompanied us. She’s sitting atop with the coachman. She will continue to assist you when necessary.’
Sarah’s mouth twisted. ‘And I’m sure she’ll try to stop me escaping. This travelling ensemble is red for a reason, isn’t it? And it’s not because red is your favourite colour.’ She’d stand out like a hunted fox in the snow if she tried to run.
Black’s eyes drifted lazily over her before returning to her eyes. ‘I stand by my assertion that you look well in it.’
Why did it feel like Alexander Black was always trying to flirt with her? Ignoring the fact her pulse was racing and her face was probably as red as her gown, Sarah squared her shoulders and firmed her resolve; she was determined not to let the scoundrel’s charm affect her. He was a rogue with a black heart. He’d drugged and kidnapped her. Tied her up and gagged her. And she still had no clue as to what his intentions were. Or what would become of her. Even though she didn’t seem to be in any immediate physical dange
r, Black was a stranger and she had no idea what he might be capable of. It was beyond frustrating. And terrifying. Like fumbling about on a precipice in the dark.
If she couldn’t get away from him, she needed to talk her way out of this situation. And she couldn’t do that until she’d worked out Black’s motivation for kidnapping her. ‘I don’t understand you,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘You said you don’t want my money. And that you need me alive and well…’ She trailed off as another thought struck her. ‘You’re going to demand a ransom, aren’t you? That Malcolm must pay.’
Black didn’t answer. However, a muscle twitched in his lean jaw.
Why? Black says he doesn’t need money. This doesn’t make any sense. Unless… Sarah’s brow knitted as she turned over all the possibilities, examined them, then rearranged them again. But maybe it does make sense if Black wants to hurt Malcolm.
Sarah met Black’s gaze; the expression in his grey eyes had grown steadily cooler as she’d questioned him and she knew she was getting closer to discovering the truth. A cold wave of foreboding washed over her. ‘This is about revenge, isn’t it? What terrible thing has Malcolm done to you, Mr Black? Tell me.’
***
If you only knew…
Alex pushed the dark memories that haunted him to the back of his mind as he fought to keep a neutral expression. ‘I don’t wish to discuss it.’
Sarah’s blue eyes sparked with determined fire. ‘Well, I do. I offered you money—’
‘And I already told you I know how wealthy you are.’
‘Then you know very well that I can pay you handsomely.’
‘It doesn’t matter one jot what you say, or what you offer. I don’t want or need anything from you, Miss Lambert.’
She raised a finely arched brow. ‘But of course you do. You’re using me to punish Malcolm. I’ll ask you again, what did he do—’
‘Enough! I do not wish to talk about it any more.’ Stubborn chit. Black crossed his arms and turned his gaze to the window. Sarah Lambert was clever and he knew she was trying to negotiate her way out of this situation. But there was nothing she could say that would move him. He’d charted his course and he wouldn’t deviate from it until the Earl of Tay was utterly destroyed.
The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue) Page 5