She thanked Isla for her help then drifted back to the main chamber. Aileen was busily rolling out pastry on the table and there looked like there was nothing for her to do except sit in the window seat and gaze out upon the view of loch, forested braes, and snow cloaked mountains for hours on end. The vista was stunning but dear Lord, she would surely die of boredom.
Rather than sit, she began to make a slow circuit of the room, examining the contents of the dresser, the candelabra on the mantelpiece, the enormous tapestry depicting a hunting scene—and that’s when she noticed the drawn-back velvet curtain to the left of one of the window embrasures; it swayed slightly, as though caught in a draft.
Curiosity piqued, she twitched the curtain back. A narrow set of stairs spiralled upwards into shadow.
‘The old solar is up there, miss,’ Aileen informed her matter-of-factly. ‘The master says ye are welcome to go up there if ye like. There’s books an’ other things to keep you occupied.’
‘Oh. That’s…’ Considerate? Wonderful? Another method Black is employing to ensure my compliance? Sarah swallowed back her bitter retort and made herself smile as she said, ‘That’s useful to know.’ She had, after all, been seeking some sort of diversion. Pacing around the kitchen-cum-dining room would wear thin very quickly. Picking up her voluminous skirts, she ventured up the worn stone stairs. When she reached the top, she paused to catch her breath, and then gasped.
The room was lovely. As in the main chamber, mullion windows in each wall afforded breathtaking views of the countryside in every direction. The upholstery, thick rugs, and damask curtains were all in shades of cream, ivory, primrose yellow, and gold with touches of spring green. It was like being inside a bright, sunlit flower.
A glass-fronted bookcase in golden beechwood held an array of leather-bound volumes and in one corner of the room stood an exquisite spinet. In quiet awe, Sarah ran her fingers along the gleaming parquetry lid that featured an intricate pattern of leaves, fruit, and flowers. She was not a brilliant musician by any means—at least that’s what her music tutor had told her countless times—but that wouldn’t stop her playing. Or singing.
An escritoire of honey-hued oak contained all manner of writing tools—swan quills, fine parchment, a crystal and brass inkwell—and inside a cherrywood box by one of the window seats she found everything she would need for sewing: dozens of skeins of jewel-coloured embroidery thread, an array of needles and a silver thimble, a small pair of ornate embroidery scissors, an embroidery frame, and numerous squares of soft ivory linen.
As she sorted through the silken skeins, an idea for a project sprang into her mind. When Isla joined her an hour later, she’d already made a good start.
‘Oh, you are verra clever, Miss Lambert,’ Isla exclaimed as she examined Sarah’s design. ‘Is that an iris petal? Or a crocus?’
‘An iris,’ Sarah replied with a smile, pleased at Isla’s reaction. ‘I’m going to embroider several cushions for the window seats. All of them will have flowers like snowdrops, daffodils, crocuses, and irises. Indeed, the snowdrops you put in my bedroom gave me the idea.’
A pink blush of pleasure bloomed across Isla’s cheeks. ‘May I help you, miss?’
‘Yes, of course. Perhaps you could wind some of the thread onto bobbins for me so it doesn’t get tangled.’
Isla sat beside her in the window seat and dug out the embroidery scissors from the sewing box. ‘’Tis a braw morning, miss,’ she said as she unravelled a decent length of bright purple thread and snipped it. ‘I was going to ask if you wanted the fire lit but it is quite warm here in the sun.’
‘Yes it is indeed.’ Sarah let her gaze wander to the loch. ‘And the view is beautiful. Have you always lived here? By the loch?’
‘Aye. Always.’
Isla’s smile faded but Sarah decided to risk another question in the hope of finding out something useful. ‘And your family has always been in service to Mr Black?’
Isla shook her head. ‘I ken wha’ you are tryin’ to do, Miss Lambert. But I willna tell you anythin’ of import. The master and my mother both said you would try to wheedle information oot of me.’
Sarah sighed. So much for being artful. She decided to try another tack. ‘I do not want to get you into any sort of trouble, Isla. But it is very difficult being in a situation like this—to be so far away from those I care about and who care about me. Did you know I was… I mean I am to be married in three weeks?’
Isla’s mouth tightened with displeasure. ‘Aye. To the Earl of Tay.’
‘Yes.’ What on earth had the girl heard about her affianced to make her pull such a face? It was beginning to look like she wouldn’t be able to count on Isla for any kind of sympathy or assistance after all. ‘Do you know him?’
‘No.’ Isla’s gaze remained fixed on the purple thread she was winding neatly around a small bone bobbin.
‘But you have heard of him,’ Sarah persisted. ‘And judging by your expression, you don’t seem to think much of him…’
‘Aye. I’ve heard of him. An’ that’s all I’ll say aboot the matter. I fear I have already said too much.’ Isla put down the bobbin. ‘If you’ll excuse me, miss, I will light the fire. The sun seems to have gone behind a cloud.’
Indeed it had. An ominous bank of dark clouds had begun to pile up behind the mountains on the other side of the loch. Wind ruffled the surface of the water and the trees below the tower shivered.
When Isla took her leave—she claimed her mother needed her—Sarah put aside her embroidery frame and curled up on the window seat. She suddenly felt too weary, too dispirited, and too troubled to focus on such fine needlework anymore. She watched the clouds draw closer and it wasn’t long before snow swirled about Eilean Dubh, turning the world to a miserable pewter-grey.
What did you do, Malcolm? I’m trapped here because of you.
It had to have been a terrible act considering how negatively Isla had reacted at the mere mention of his name. Unless the girl was only judging him based on information Black had told her. Although logic dictated it must be dreadful because why else would Black resort to such extreme measures to exact revenge?
The more Sarah thought about it, the more it made sense to her that Malcolm had indeed done something that must be beyond the pale. But what?
As she watched the whirling snow, she examined everything she knew about Malcolm because it seemed she didn’t know much at all. She and her father had met him through mutual acquaintances at a private dinner party in London in June the year before—and she’d been smitten at once by the earl’s charming manner and handsome looks. And of course, his title. It wasn’t every day a peer of the realm paid court to the daughter of a mere shipbuilder. Naturally, her father and Aunt Judith had been initially suspicious of the earl’s interest—they’d been concerned Malcolm might be a fortune hunter—but when her father had made discreet inquiries about the earl’s circumstances through their mutual friends, all accounts indicated that Lord Tay was not only well off with a vast estate in Perthshire, but well regarded by society. Her father had also been impressed to hear Malcolm had been lauded for his service to King and country during the Forty-five Rebellion at the age of only three-and-twenty. So of course, when Lord Tay had offered for her hand a month later, Sarah had readily accepted with her father’s blessing.
But now… now she had to wonder if Malcolm had been hiding something—something dark and horrible. She recalled how moody he’d been over the last few weeks. She’d put it down to his impatience to wed because she’d been in mourning for her father and their marriage had been delayed by an extra five months. But he hadn’t waited for her. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way at Kenmuir House.
Which begged the question: what else was he capable of?
Sarah shivered, but it wasn’t because of the cold permeating the now gloomy solar. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that she was discovering her affianced was not who she thought he was.
The only person w
ho could answer her questions about Malcolm—and grant her freedom—was Alexander Black. Charming him, and somehow coaxing the truth from him, had become more important than ever.
***
Alex pushed open the door into the welcoming warmth of Eilean Dubh’s kitchen and was unexpectedly greeted by not one, but two heavenly things: the mouth-watering smell of pastry baking and the ethereal sound of an angel’s voice intermingling with the sweet tinkling notes of a spinet.
And then his collie dog, Bandit, rushed in; he shook the snow from his shaggy coat, eliciting a string of muttered curses from Aileen, and the magical spell was broken.
Alex removed his tricorn and greatcoat and stamped the snow off his boots. ‘My apologies, Aileen. I know you and Isla are about to leave but I wouldn’t worry about a wee bit of melted snow on the floor.’
‘Aye, sir. If ye say so.’ Aileen gestured at the scrubbed oak table where Isla was laying out plates, silverware, and wine glasses for two. ‘There’s a beef pie fer you and Miss High-and-mighty on the hearthstone. An’ a dish of neeps and carrots. The bread and butter is on the table an’ I took the liberty of decanting some of the wine from the cask by the dresser.’
‘Excellent. May I venture to ask how the day has gone?’ Alex tilted his head meaningfully towards the stairs leading to the solar before pouring himself a glass of claret.
Aileen’s brow furrowed. ‘As well as can be expected, sir.’ She shot a scowl Isla’s way and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. ‘Although this one needs to watch her tongue. She nearly mentioned the castle an’ almost called you by yer title.’
A bright red blush stained Isla’s cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry, sir. I didna mean to. I have been verra careful around Miss Lambert ever since.’
‘That’s good to hear, Isla. Miss Lambert is certainly a canny young lady so you must always be on your guard.’
Isla threw him a shy smile as she dipped into a curtsy. ‘Aye, sir. I will be, sir.’
‘Good. MacLagan is waiting to row you back to shore. I shall see you both on the morrow, weather permitting.’ The snowfall had grown heavier throughout the day and a storm seemed likely.
Once the door closed after Aileen and Isla, Alex stood by the fire drinking in its warmth as he sipped his wine. Sarah had begun to play a melancholy tune that reminded him of the old Scots ballad O Waly Waly. Her lovely voice floated down the stairs as she sang.
‘The seas are deep and I cannot wade them,
Neither have I wings to fly,
I wish I had some little boat,
To carry over my love and I.’
His mouth curved into a smile. Sarah’s song choice was not only apt but ironic, given her circumstances. He took another sip of his wine then ruffled Bandit’s scruffy black and tan mane. ‘Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll introduce you to Miss Lambert, my lad?’
Bandit stood and cocked his head.
‘And just a word of warning, you must be on your best, gentlemanly behaviour. Miss Lambert is a fine lady, so no jumping under any circumstances.’
Bandit’s tongue darted out so Alex added with a mock frown, ‘And no sniffing her person, or licking either.’
Bandit whined but stayed at heel as Alex climbed the stairs to the solar. On entering the room, Sarah immediately ceased singing and lifted her fingers from the spinet’s keys.
‘Oh, you’re back,’ she said with a soft smile that was wholly unexpected. A smile that suffused Alex’s blood with more warmth than the fire or his discarded claret could. Her gaze settled on Bandit. ‘And you’ve brought a handsome friend, I see.’
‘Aye,’ he replied, ruffling the collie’s fur. ‘This is Bandit. But do not stop singing or playing on our account. We were enjoying your performance immensely.’ And the splendid view. Sarah in a blue and ivory silk gown featuring a rounded, low-cut neckline was something to behold.
‘Oh… thank you.’ The flickering candlelight from the gilded candelabra atop the spinet revealed a wash of bright colour flooding Sarah’s cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was his compliment or the appreciative look he’d raked over her that put her to the blush. But either way, he was encouraged that his plan to woo her might just work. As Alex flipped out his coat-tails and took a seat on a silk-upholstered chair by the fire, she took up the ballad where she’d left off.
‘I set my back against an oak,
I thought it was a trusty tree.
But first it bent, and then it broke,
And so did my false love to me—’
Sarah’s voice cracked on the last word and her fingers stumbled over the keys. ‘Heavens.’ She blinked rapidly as though clearing tears from her vision. ‘Perhaps I should have chosen another song.’
Alex sat forward. ‘Perhaps. But it was lovely all the same. Might I suggest we repair to the kitchen for dinner? Aileen has baked a wonderful beef pie for us and it smells divine.’
Sarah rose from her seat at the spinet and Alex’s gaze was drawn to the sway of her skirts about her hips as she crossed the floor towards him. ‘I think that is a very good idea. My appetite has quite returned.’
‘I must admit, I’m particularly famished myself.’ But not for food. It was such a very long time since he’d deliberately set out to win a woman’s affection. Since Maggie, all of his liaisons over the years had been impersonal affairs with experienced women—widows and bored wives seeking sexual gratification, or paid courtesans. Courting a virginal young lady was not de rigueur for him and he reminded himself to flirt with care.
Nevertheless, the rogue within him couldn’t resist teasing Sarah as he offered her his arm to escort her to the stairs; when he dipped his gaze to her mouth, her breath caught and he was rewarded with the sight of her luscious breasts swelling above the bodice of her gown.
Considering his thoughts were rapidly running towards lustful, Alex decided it would be prudent to return to playing the part of the perfect gentleman for a little while; after all, he didn’t want to scare Sarah off.
However, as he pulled out her chair for her at the dining table he was more than a little surprised when she gifted him with a decidedly coquettish glance from beneath her eyelashes before taking her seat. She was certainly more at ease tonight. Indeed, her defiance and anger seemed to have melted away like the snow on Rannoch Moor beneath a warm spring sun. He didn’t want to be suspicious of her more amiable attitude; however, he couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted the change.
Pushing aside his apprehension—he really shouldn’t complain about Sarah’s genial, bordering on flirtatious, manner—he played servant and plated the pie and vegetables, and poured both of them glasses of claret. Bandit, who’d followed them downstairs, flopped on the floor in front of the hearth. He knew better than to beg for food; Alex would feed him the rest of the pie, later.
As Sarah ate, Alex’s gaze fell to her bandaged wrists below the cascading white lace at her sleeves. ‘How are your injuries?’ he asked.
‘Improving.’ She put down her fork, her expression suddenly apprehensive and a little shy as she added, ‘I… It may sound odd but I want to thank you, Mr Black. I had not expected to be treated so well during my… confinement. The solar and all of the lovely things you have provided to keep me entertained, my bedchamber, the care Aileen and Isla have shown me… I am most grateful to you. If you were another sort of man…’ She inhaled deeply as though gathering her nerve. ‘Well, for a kidnapper, you are being very civilised about everything. If I am to be deprived of my liberty, I’d much rather be here than locked up in a freezing dank dungeon.’
To say Alex was astonished at Sarah’s pronouncement would have been an understatement. ‘I… Thank you. I am aware how hard this must be for you. And I want you to know that I appreciate your exceptional courage and your graciousness in such trying conditions. As I’ve said before, I truly believe Lord Tay doesn’t deserve you.’
A shadow of sadness crossed Sarah’s face. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you might be right, Mr Black.’ She p
icked up her claret and took a delicate sip before her blue eyes returned to his face. ‘I have wondered… It bothers me that you seem to know so much more about Malcolm than I. And I can’t help but dwell on the fact you won’t tell me what it is he did to you. It must be terrible. Unspeakable.’
Alex frowned. Although this was exactly the topic he’d wanted to discuss with Sarah, he needed to tread carefully. ‘There is much you do not know but it is difficult for me to talk about, Sarah. Suffice it to say, Lord Tay is not… He is not an honourable man.’
Sarah fiddled with the bandage about her cut finger. ‘It is abundantly clear to me that you do not need Malcolm’s money, Mr Black. Or mine. And Malcolm is wealthy too, so demanding a ransom for my safe return will surely be nothing more than an inconvenience to him rather than a punishment. If he still wishes to marry me, of course. I’m all but ruined now. I doubt Malcolm, or anyone else for that matter, would want to marry me after this.’
‘Sarah, he’d be mad not to want to marry you.’ Dare he ask her his next question? How she responded was critical. He caught Sarah’s gaze and when she smiled softly, he decided to dive in. ‘The real question is, do you want to marry him?’
She shook her head. Her pretty mouth turned down and the expression in her eyes grew haunted. ‘I really don’t know any more… I’m so confused. Whichever way I look at any of this—my situation, how I feel about Malcolm, what is to become of me—my thoughts seem to keep going round and round and tripping over themselves. I just…’ She sighed heavily. ‘I just wish I knew more. About him. Then I could make a fully informed decision.’
The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue) Page 12