The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue)

by Amy Rose Bennett

  ‘Sarah…’ He wanted to say something to make her feel better but didn’t know what.

  She brushed another tear from her cheek as she turned to look at him, a question in her sad blue eyes.

  And then the words fell from his lips before he could stop them. ‘If you were mine, you’d never have cause to doubt me.’

  ***

  Sarah stared at Black, searching the turbulent grey of his eyes. For a moment, confusion clouded her mind. He looked so sincere. If she weren’t his prisoner, she might be tempted to believe him. ‘I don’t understand you,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘At all. Why would you say such a thing?’ She dare not think that Black might actually have a flesh and blood heart rather than one made of obsidian. She would be a fool indeed to entertain such an outlandish idea about her captor.

  Yet he’d saved her from those men…

  He looked away and picked up his whisky. Took a sip then poured himself another dram, all the time avoiding her gaze as if he regretted what he’d just said. ‘I simply meant you deserve a man better than Lord Tay.’

  ‘Really? That’s rich coming from someone like you,’ Sarah scoffed. ‘I deserve better than this too,’ she gestured about the room, ‘yet here I am.’

  ‘Sarah, I understand you are angry—’

  ‘I’m more than angry. I’m livid,’ she retorted. ‘And stop using my Christian name. I’ve never given you permission to use it.’

  Black’s mouth flattened as he rose to his feet. ‘Very well, Miss Lambert,’ he said with a mocking bow. ‘The hour grows late so I think it’s time for both of us to get some sleep. We have another long journey ahead of us tomorrow.’

  He tossed his coat onto the back of the chair then crossed to the pallet bed.

  ‘Wait. Wh-what are you doing?’ Sarah’s heart pounded with panic as Black began to work at the buttons of his black waistcoat.

  He cocked an eyebrow and dropped the garment on the end of the bed. ‘Getting ready for bed.’

  ‘But… but what about Aileen? You staying here with me… It’s not appropriate.’

  ‘Miss Lambert, we’ve already spent countless hours alone in each other’s company,’ he said as he tugged off one boot and stocking, revealing a muscular calf and a long, rather elegant foot. ‘So I hardly think it is a breach of etiquette when the inn is all but empty.’ The other boot and stocking followed. ‘And I rather thought you would prefer it if I didn’t tie you to the bed again.’ He loosened his cravat and quirked an eyebrow again. ‘If that’s all right with you.’

  Sarah tried not to stare at Black’s naked lower legs and the triangle of bare throat and chest revealed by the open neck of his shirt as she contemplated what he’d just said. Of course she didn’t want to be tied up. And she also didn’t want Black to leave. Despite everything he’d done, tonight she would feel a little safer with him in the room. What had happened in the stables had shaken her. Badly.

  She nodded. ‘Very well. You may stay.’

  ‘I’m glad you agree,’ he said with a wry smile. He crossed to the door, locked it, then with a waggle of his eyebrows, slipped the key into the pocket of his breeches. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…’ He shrugged as though she had given him no choice.

  ‘Perhaps you should stash the poker away too,’ said Sarah dryly as she rose from her chair. ‘On second thoughts…’ she took a step towards the hearth and slid it from its wrought-iron stand, ‘perhaps I should take it instead. It’s not that I don’t trust you… Oh, wait a moment.’ She shot him a narrow look over her shoulder. ‘I don’t.’

  Black prowled across the room and she would have retreated except she had nowhere to go. His fingers gently curled over hers so he was holding the poker as well. ‘I don’t think so, Miss Lambert,’ he said, his voice a low, seductive purr. His gaze trapped hers. ‘You won’t need to arm yourself against me. I meant what I said before. I would never force myself upon you.’

  Sarah swallowed. Black’s hand was large and hot and a strange flickering warmth spread from her fingers, all the way up her arm and through her body, setting her nerves alight and tightening her nipples. Whilst her heart and mind railed against Black, it seemed her traitorous body had other ideas. She was acutely aware that she wore only a night-rail and Black was only half dressed as well. And they were quite alone.

  Whilst she was inclined to believe his assertion, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to seduce her. He was a handsome devil and charm was one of the many weapons in his arsenal. Indeed, right at this very moment, his smouldering grey gaze was fixed intently on her mouth and to her dismay she suddenly wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by someone other than Malcolm. Black smelled wonderful—both clean and masculine, like whisky and rainwater and citron. Her breath quickened and she had to resist the insane urge to press herself against his lean, muscular body. If she closed her eyes, would he lower his mouth to hers? Would he be gentle or would he kiss her roughly? How would he taste?

  Sarah, stop it. You are clearly mad. He’s kidnapped you. You should hate him, not be in his thrall.

  She drew a shaky breath and pulled her hand away, breaking the bizarre spell he’d cast over her. ‘I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t believe you, Mr Black,’ she said in a voice that was far too breathless for her liking. Her heart racing, she stalked over to the tester bed. As she climbed in, Black snuffed out the candles on the mantel with a pinch.

  ‘Good night, Miss Lambert,’ he said softly. ‘I hope you sleep well.’ He lay down on the pallet bed and pulled the quilt over his long body before turning towards the fire.

  Sarah didn’t know what to say so she simply lay down as well. In the uncertain light of the fire, she noticed the poker was still in the hearth stand. Interesting. Black was a cocky devil to be sure. He obviously didn’t think she had the courage to strike him whilst he slept. And if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t certain she could do it either.

  She briefly considered then discarded the idea of making a second escape bid. She could always try to sneak out of the room where Aileen now slept—she was sure the interconnecting door wasn’t locked. But that would mean she’d have to get dressed again, without waking Black. Even now, fatigue weighted her eyelids and her bruised body ached. She didn’t think she’d be able to stay awake until he was sound asleep. As much as she longed for freedom, she knew she couldn’t possibly manage another attempt tonight.

  She’d also have to brave the stables again and she couldn’t bear the thought of catching sight of the ostler and stablehand, even if Black had tied them up… She shivered and pulled the quilt and blankets up to her chin.

  No, she would sleep and regain her strength. There would be another chance, another day. And next time, she would not fail.

  Chapter 6

  Tay House, Edinburgh

  17 February 1757

  My Dearest Malcolm,

  I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my sudden desertion, but as the day of our nuptials draws ever closer, I have become plagued with self-doubt and I wonder if I can truly be the wife you deserve. You are in your element here in Edinburgh, whilst I… I must confess that I feel like a fish out of water; it became especially clear to me during the Saint Valentine’s ball at Kenmuir House that I am but a society novice. I have so much to learn and the weight of my inadequacy is almost too much to bear. Indeed, I am in such a state of disquiet, I have decided that I must remove myself from your world. But only for a little while.

  Whatever you do, do not blame yourself, my dearest heart. You have been nothing but kindness and patience itself throughout our engagement. And when I no longer feel at sixes and sevens, I promise I shall return to your side. If you will still have me.

  Your undeserving but ever constant affianced,

  Sarah

  P.S. Please tell Aunt Judith not to worry. I will be back before she’s even had time to miss me.

  ‘You say you only received this letter early this morning, L
ord Tay?’ Judith Lambert stared at the note her niece had supposedly penned, a deep frown creasing her forehead. Her cheeks were paler than the ivory lace edging her cap and her hand trembled as she put the parchment on the tapestry-covered cushion beside her.

  ‘Yes,’ lied Malcolm. ‘The night footman believes it was pushed under the door some time during the night.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why would Sarah dash off like this? It’s most perplexing and entirely out of character.’ Judith removed her spectacles and her worried gaze shifted to his face. ‘She’s never mentioned feeling this way before. If she were having second thoughts about becoming your countess, Lord Tay, I’m sure she would have spoken to me. Leaving like this… so abruptly, with no indication as to where she has gone…’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t help but feel something is very wrong.’

  Malcolm clasped his hands tightly behind his back, fighting the urge to slap Sarah’s aunt across the face. Silly old bat. But at least she believed her niece had written the note even if she hadn’t expected her to behave in such a way.

  Swallowing his ire and summoning a suitably concerned expression, he crossed the drawing room rug and took the letter from her. Damaris’s forgery seemed to have worked thus far, however, he didn’t want Judith to examine the handwriting for too long. ‘I don’t quite understand it myself, Miss Lambert. I thought Sarah’s eagerness to wed matched my own. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I feel somewhat hurt by her need to spend time alone rather than confide in me. I’m sure I could ease her fears. But I trust that she will come to her senses and return in due course. She must know how much I adore her.’

  ‘Yes. Well…’ Judith pursed her lips as if she doubted the veracity of his declaration. Perhaps the old bird was cannier than he’d thought. He’d have to play the part of devoted fiancé with more alacrity if that were the case.

  She rose from her seat by the fire and crossed to the window. She was as slight as a sparrow in her gown of plain black silk and Malcolm didn’t think it would take much effort to wring her scrawny neck. His fingers twitched. If she became too nosy, he might be tempted to do just that.

  Oblivious to his dark thoughts, Judith pushed back the faded velvet curtain and examined the grey, rainy day. ‘I wonder where she is. It really does puzzle me that she didn’t mention her destination. And she hasn’t taken any of her things. Or our carriage.’

  ‘The note only arrived during the night so perhaps she is close by. And we both know she has the means to look after herself.’

  ‘Yes, she does. If we were still in Newcastle, I’d be inclined to believe she was staying with friends. But she knows no one here aside from you and your sister… You know, I’m actually beginning to wonder if something terrible happened at the ball.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t know. Perhaps someone insulted her or her background. Her father was “in trade” after all.’

  ‘I should hate to think so. But yes, perhaps you are right. You did say she was a little distracted and not quite herself that night.’

  Judith sighed and turned back to face him. ‘Yes…’

  ‘The most important thing, at this stage, is to ensure there is not a breath of scandal about this. I’m sure Sarah would hate to be the main topic of the town gossipmongers.’

  ‘I’m sure you and Lady Glenleven would loathe that too, my lord,’ remarked Judith dryly.

  ‘Yes. And quite rightly so. I will do my utmost to protect Sarah’s reputation.’

  Judith lifted her chin. ‘As will I.’

  ‘So we are in agreeance?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ Malcolm adopted another expression of deep concern. ‘One thing I am sure of, Miss Lambert, is that I want Sarah for my wife. I will wait for her and always stand by her, come what may.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Judith turned back to the window. ‘You know, I’m tempted to take the coach back to Linden Hall. Sarah loves that house. I suspect she has been pining for it these last few weeks.’

  Malcolm frowned. No doubt Judith would also travel to Newcastle and speak with Edwin Lambert’s former solicitor and Sarah’s erstwhile guardian, Charles Swindon, about all of this. And if the man’s suspicions were aroused, and he alerted Sarah’s London-based bank, Drummonds, that she was missing, it would make it even harder for him to secure some of Sarah’s funds to pay the ransom.

  But then again, if Judith were out of the way, he would have greater freedom. He wouldn’t have to take care whenever he spoke to Damaris or be careful of his movements. If he could work out who Janus was, he could retrieve Sarah. Which meant he wouldn’t have to pay the ransom at all.

  In the meantime, his man-of-business would be able to sell off more of Tay House’s assets—the marble busts from the entry hall and the mahogany longcase clock in the library perhaps.

  ‘By all means, return to Northumbria, my dear Miss Lambert,’ he said. ‘And if Sarah is there, I will be much relieved to hear it.’

  ‘I shall leave at once then.’ Judith retrieved her spectacles from the table. ‘Please make my farewells to Lady Glenleven. I do not wish to disturb her.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Damaris was generally a late riser. However, unbeknownst to Judith, his sister had spent the night at Lord Arbelour’s residence. With any luck, it wouldn’t be long before the old goat was showering her with jewels.

  ‘Goodbye then, my lord. If Sarah is at Linden Hall or staying with friends in Newcastle, I shall send word to you straightaway.’

  Malcolm inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’ Another thought struck him as Judith opened the door. He really didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. ‘Miss Lambert,’ he called.

  ‘Yes, my lord?’

  ‘I think it would be wise to leave Sarah’s things here. Just in case she returns before you do. She did say she would only be gone a little while.’

  Judith bobbed a curtsy. ‘Yes, of course. A most sensible idea.’

  As the door shut, Lord Tay smiled to himself. The situation wasn’t as dire as he’d thought. Sarah had a lovely sapphire and pearl parure that had once belonged to her mother; he’d secured it in a hidden compartment in his private study to ‘keep it safe’ when she’d first arrived at Tay House. It would definitely fetch a pretty penny. And as soon as Judith was gone, he’d search the chit’s room and sell anything else of value he could lay his hands on. Perhaps there were some spare blank bank notes in her personal papers. Damaris could easily forge Sarah’s signature again.

  He might even be able afford the expense of hiring an inquiry agent.

  Yes, when Damaris returned, they’d celebrate with champagne. And after that, he might just pay a visit to his favourite brothel. And one of the gaming hells along the Cowgate.

  Anticipation thrumming through his veins, Malcolm called for Drysdale. He’d have him powder his best peruke and brush down one of his brocade frockcoats. Perhaps the one in teal blue.

  Yes, penury and Janus be damned. All was not lost yet.

  ***

  Somewhere in Perthshire…

  The rain gave way to sleet then thick snow as Black’s carriage continued its journey along the road leading into the wild, desolate depths of Scotland. The hot bricks at Sarah’s feet had grown cold long ago and she’d given up trying to discern the features of the passing landscape. Whatever slid by, mountains and moorland, or forest and river, it was all obscured by a swirling white cloud. Even though spring was only a month away, it seemed this part of the world was still firmly in the icy clutches of winter.

  Some time during the afternoon—Sarah suspected they had been on the road for at least five hours, if not more, since they’d left the Stag’s Head—the carriage halted at a cluster of small whitewashed dwellings beside a stone bridge that spanned a black rushing river; a hamlet in the middle of nowhere.

  Black helped her down from the carriage, and with his hand firmly on her arm, escorted her toward a low stone building that appeared to
be a stable. Sarah had already decided it would be useless to try and run when there were only snow-shrouded braes as far as the eye could see. A freezing wind tore at her riding habit of royal-blue wool and a thick black cloak with a hood—she still had no idea how Black had managed to procure so many clothes that appeared to have been made just for her, but right now, she welcomed the warmth.

  A stableboy stepped out as they approached and Black greeted the lad in a tongue Sarah didn’t understand. Was it Gaelic? The youth responded, his words an incomprehensible string, and Black nodded.

  The mystery of Alexander Black deepened. Not only did he speak with a Scots accent but he knew Gaelic as well. But his name was far from Scottish—Sarah had always suspected it was a false name and the more she learned about the man, the more she was convinced he was hiding who he truly was.

  Black issued a few more instructions to the boy and after he disappeared, he turned back to Sarah. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to continue our journey on horseback. I know you are probably sore after last night, but I take it you can ride?’

  Sarah tried to keep her expression neutral. ‘Yes.’ If she could break away from Black—

  As if reading her thoughts, Black leaned close and murmured in her ear, ‘I know your mind is still working feverishly to hatch an escape plan, Miss Lambert. But I am not a fool. Your horse will be tethered to mine. And Aileen and Dobson will follow behind. And this hamlet’—Black gestured to the buildings behind them—‘well, the inhabitants are in my employ and barely speak a word of English. So fair warning, you’ll not find much support here if you decide to kick up a fuss.’

  Damn and blast. Why could he read her so easily? Sarah couldn’t suppress her scowl and Black’s mouth twitched with a smile. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear we only have a few more hours to travel before we reach our destination.’

  ‘Which is?’ Sarah asked with false sweetness.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ Black’s gaze moved to the stables. The stableboy and another young man were leading out four well-groomed mounts.