The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue)

by Amy Rose Bennett

  ‘It did cross my mind,’ she said, giving him a wry smile.

  His eyebrows drew together. ‘You were so cold. Aileen and I, we couldn’t rouse you or warm you up.’ He reached out and brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. ‘I was so worried about you, Sarah… And at the risk of incurring your wrath, I thought it might help if I held you close beneath the covers.’

  ‘Incurring my wrath hasn’t deterred you from doing anything else before.’

  His mouth kicked into a smile. ‘True.’

  ‘And what you did, it worked,’ she said softly. ‘So how could I be angry with you?’

  ‘I must say, I’m relieved.’ Alex’s gaze drifted to her forehead. ‘I see you’ve removed your bandage. How is your head?’

  ‘Sore, but it will heal.’ On an impulse, Sarah reached out and touched his face. ‘You saved me, Alexander MacIvor, Lord Rannoch. Thank you.’

  Confusion flickered across Alex’s face. ‘You know my real name.’

  ‘Yes. I thought you must know that already. Because you brought me here…’

  Alex sat up. Even through the silk of his robe she could see his back had stiffened and every muscle vibrated with tension. ‘No. No I didn’t know.’ He turned to look at her. His brow had plunged into a deep frown. ‘How did you learn it?’

  Concerned by the change in Alex’s demeanour, Sarah pushed herself up too. ‘When I found the book about Blackloch Castle in the solar at Eilean Dubh—’

  ‘Which book?’

  ‘Architectural Antiquities of Scotland.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘It was in the bookcase,’ explained Sarah. ‘Even though I’d been through all the titles before, I didn’t notice it until this morning.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Alex’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. However, he simply added, ‘Please go on.’

  ‘As I looked through it, I came across a small section on Blackloch Castle and Eilean Dubh. It mentioned it was owned by the chief of Clan MacIvor, Baron Rannoch. When I confronted Isla about it—’

  ‘You spoke with Isla?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t want to get her into trouble but…’

  Alex reached for her hand. ‘You have to tell me everything, exactly as it happened.’

  Relieved Alex didn’t seem angry with her, just concerned, Sarah continued. ‘I showed Isla the book and she confirmed I was correct, that you were the Laird of Blackloch, Lord Rannoch. And that because I knew…’ she trailed off, dropping her gaze to the counterpane, suddenly embarrassed to admit the next part of the tale considering everything Alex had done to save her.

  He squeezed her hand and gently prompted her. ‘What did she say?’

  Sarah drew a deep breath. ‘She said that because I knew who you were, I must leave Eilean Dubh straightaway. She intimated that you would be angry, and that… you might even dispose of me by drowning me in the loch. To protect your identity.’ Sarah blushed. Even to her own ears, what Isla had said now sounded ridiculous. How must it all sound to Alex?

  But it seemed Alex didn’t mind. He blew out a heavy sigh. ‘Oh God, Sarah,’ he said, his eyes soft with compassion. ‘I cannot blame you for thinking the worst of me.’

  ‘Of course, I didn’t want to believe her,’ she added, ‘but Isla was insistent that I had to go. And because you’d left in anger last night… Well anyway, I didn’t want to miss the only real chance I might have to escape.’

  ‘I completely understand, Sarah. I would have done the same thing. Tell me what happened next.’

  ‘Isla dug out your flask of laudanum from your bedchamber and put some in MacLagan’s ale. Then she unlocked the gate and helped me launch the rowboat. She told me it wasn’t safe for me to head east towards Blackloch Castle or the local village. Instead, she said I should head west for about four miles. That I would find a village on Rannoch Moor… but I don’t think there is one.’ Sarah caught and held Alex’s gaze. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Alex’s jaw tightened and something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. ‘Yes, you are. Rannoch Moor is completely deserted and treacherous country. You’d have to journey over fifty miles to reach any village to the west. Isla lied to you. About many things.’

  Oh. The knowledge of what Isla had done pressed on Sarah’s chest like a hard heavy weight and her voice, when it emerged, was little more than a whisper. ‘How she must hate me. I wish I knew why.’

  Alex’s expression was grim, his voice hard with anger. ‘You can rest assured I will be speaking with her. What she did was wrong. Very wrong. Unforgiveable, in fact.’

  ‘Yes…’ Knowing that Isla had deliberately tried to harm her was unsettling indeed. Despite the uneasy feeling skittering through her, Sarah attempted a smile. ‘I’m so glad you found me.’

  Alex brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek. The tenderness in his touch and eyes made her heart beat faster. Made heat ripple through her. ‘Yes. Thank God I did.’

  Heavens. Delicious anticipation coiled low inside Sarah’s belly as his gaze dropped to her mouth, but then he raised his eyes to hers again.

  ‘Sarah, when I set out for Eilean Dubh this morning, I wanted to see you,’ he said, a shadow crossing his face. ‘I wasn’t happy with the way things ended last night. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I shouldn’t have left.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘No, it’s not all right. I’ve been an unthinking, ruthless bastard from the very start. And last night, I all but called you a whore, and you are anything but that. You are the sweetest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I am truly sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. My thirst for revenge on Lord Tay has made me blind. What I’ve done to you is unforgiveable.’

  ‘I… I don’t know what to say.’ Of all the things that had happened today, Alex’s heartfelt apology was the most unexpected of all. Hope unfurled in Sarah’s heart. And another sweeter, warmer emotion, but before she had time to think on it, Alex was speaking again.

  ‘Sarah, I want you to know the whole truth about why I took you. God knows, you deserve it. Then and only then will you be able to choose what happens next.’

  Breathless with nerves and expectation, Sarah whispered, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m going to let you go, my sweet. Anything that happens between us after that is entirely up to you.’

  ***

  Alex released Sarah’s hand. ‘But before I begin my sorry tale, I think some sustenance is in order, don’t you?’

  Sarah blinked as though emerging from a dream. ‘Sorry. What did you say? I still can’t quite believe you just said you’d let me go.’

  ‘Well, I did and I mean it.’ Poor lass. Alex didn’t blame her for not quite believing her ears. He slid from the bed, pulled his banyan closed, and went to the door. After issuing directions to a footman lurking outside, he returned to Sarah. ‘I promised you hot chocolate on our way back to Blackloch and you haven’t had any yet.’

  Sarah’s eyes shone with warmth. ‘That’s very true.’

  ‘I’m a man of my word.’

  She caught his hand and smiled. ‘I’m beginning to see that.’

  Alex’s chest swelled. If he weren’t about to bare his soul to Sarah, he would be tempted to kiss her. Her thoughts must have run the same way as her gaze dipped to his mouth, but he knew if they started kissing he wouldn’t want to stop.

  No, there would be no more kisses until Sarah truly wanted him for all the right reasons. He wouldn’t take what she couldn’t freely give.

  Instead, he dropped a gentle buss on her forehead then retreated to the fireside and threw a few more logs into the grate. Sparks flew and the flames leapt high reminding him of that devastating day, almost eleven years ago when he’d watched Blackloch burn. When he’d watched his dreams and everything and everyone else he’d held dear turn to ashes.

  His fingers curled into his palm and he felt the ridge of the scar he’d made years before when he’d vowed bloody vengeance on Tay. Curlin
g his fist tighter, the band of the gold and onyx ring cut into his ring finger. He’d never shared his story with anyone. He’d never trusted anyone enough.

  Until now.

  Christ, he was going to need a drink or ten to get through this.

  With that in mind, he crossed the plush Turkish rug to an oak cabinet and with a shaking hand, poured a sizeable dram of whisky into a cut-glass tumbler. He downed it then poured another.

  Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realise Sarah had drawn close until he heard the creak of a floorboard and the soft rustle of fabric. Turning his head, he found she’d moved to one of the brocade-upholstered settees by the fireside. She’d curled her legs beneath her and his blue velvet robe covered everything except her ankle and one pale slender foot. The nightshirt she wore gaped at the neck and the creamy swell of one of her breasts taunted him.

  He gulped at his whisky again. Sweet Jesus she was temptation itself. He’d be hard pressed to string a coherent sentence together, let alone tell his story with her looking so utterly delectable. Despite his resolve not to seduce her, his desire was as acute as ever. And although it was entirely wrong of him, part of him wasn’t the least bit sorry for stealing Sarah away from Tay. ‘Can I get you something? A sherry perhaps?’ he asked in a voice that was far from smooth. ‘Or a blanket?’

  She shook her head. ‘No thank you. I’m quite warm enough. And I’m happy to wait for the hot chocolate.’

  At that moment, there was a knock at the bedroom door. To save Sarah further scrutiny by his curious staff, Alex put down his whisky glass and went to answer it. As he took the silver tray from the housemaid, Fiona, she bobbed a curtsy. ‘Will that be all, Mr Price?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  He felt the weight of Sarah’s curious stare even before he turned around.

  ‘Price? You’re also known as Alexander Price?’

  Alex returned to the fireside and placed the tray on a low, polished table in front of the settee and the wingback chairs. He raised his eyes to Sarah’s as he passed her a steaming cup of hot chocolate. ‘Yes.’

  ‘My goodness, you’re a complex man.’ She arched a brow. ‘So what should I call you? Lord Rannoch or Mr Price? Certainly not Mr Black. Although, I must say, it does suit you.’

  He took a seat in a brown leather wing chair and retrieved his whisky. ‘I like it when you call me Alex. But in the presence of everyone else, it’s probably best if you refer to me as Mr Price. For now.’

  ‘Mr Price it is.’ Sarah studied him over the rim of her cup as she took a delicate sip of her hot chocolate. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me why you do not wish to be addressed as Lord Rannoch?’

  ‘Aye, I am.’ Alex contemplated his whisky before swallowing another mouthful. His heart had begun to thud uncomfortably. His mouth was dry. It was not like him to be nervous but he couldn’t help but wonder how Sarah would react to everything he was about to tell her. Not only was he about to entrust her with his deepest secrets, he was also going to shock her. Nothing would be the same for either of them after this conversation.

  He drew a steadying breath and looked Sarah in the eye. ‘Did you know Lord Tay fought in the Rebellion? The Forty-five? For King George.’

  ‘Yes I did. Father told me he commanded one of the Campbell regiments.’ Sarah frowned at him. ‘Did you fight as well?’

  ‘Yes.’ He held her gaze. ‘But not for George. For the Pretender.’

  Comprehension lit Sarah’s eyes. ‘You’re a Jacobite,’ she whispered.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Heavens…’ Sarah put down her cup very carefully. ‘And now you are using a false name which means…’ Her frown deepened. ‘You haven’t been pardoned yet, have you? You’re a wanted man. Wanted for treason.’

  Alex tapped his nose. ‘You’re a canny lass.’

  ‘If you are still wanted, then how…?’ Sarah gestured around the room. ‘Blackloch Castle is your home and somehow you have managed to become the laird again. You’re a veritable phoenix. I cannot imagine how you’ve achieved such a thing.’

  ‘How I was able to reinvent myself is rather a long story. But I have. And now most of society, both in Scotland and farther afield, know me as Alexander Price, the new Laird of Blackloch. Only a handful of people—people whom I trust implicitly—know who I really am. Know about my past.’

  Sarah inclined her head. ‘Then I am honoured you are taking me into your confidence.’

  ‘I have debated with myself long and hard about sharing my history with you. And my history with Lord Tay—’ He broke off and took another sip of his whisky to fortify himself for his next disclosure. ‘Are you sure you don’t want something stronger to drink than hot chocolate, Sarah?’

  Her eyebrows drew together. ‘I don’t think I like the sound of that. But I’ll have a sherry if you think it will help.’

  ‘I do.’

  Alex poured a decent amount of Spanish sherry into a crystal glass, and after taking a sip, Sarah fastened him with a look that was both determined and grave. ‘What happened, Alex? Tell me everything. I’m dying to know.’

  ***

  Alex took a seat beside her on the settee. ‘The MacIvors of Rannoch and Campbells of Tay have long been rivals. Reiving each other’s cattle. The odd skirmish here and there over adjacent territory. My father and Malcolm’s, Angus, the former Earl of Tay, were involved in a legal dispute over a parcel of land about seventeen years ago. And I’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting Malcolm about a year before the Rebellion broke out. We played several rounds of faro at a club in Edinburgh and he was none too pleased when I trounced him; he threatened to call me out for cheating but I didn’t take the bait. I had better things to do than fight a coxcomb like him. He’d recently inherited his father’s title and was full of bluster and bravado. I suppose it was inevitable that we would be on opposite sides of the battlefield during the Rebellion.’

  ‘Did you fight against Malcolm?’ Sarah asked quietly.

  ‘No, I never met him on the battlefield. Although I wished to God I had. Then he wouldn’t have…’ Alex swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose

  The anguish in Alex’s voice sent a frisson of apprehension through Sarah. ‘Then he wouldn’t have what?’

  Alex raised his head and met her gaze. ‘Have you heard about the Battle of Culloden? On Drumossie Moor.’

  ‘Yes. Your side was defeated.’

  ‘We were slaughtered.’

  Sarah swallowed. ‘You were there?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘I can’t even begin to fathom what that must have been like.’ From what she’d heard, it was a miracle Alex had survived. The English, under the command of ‘Butcher’ Cumberland, had crushed the Jacobite army in the space of an hour.

  Alex wiped a hand down his face before continuing. ‘My father, Lachlan MacIvor, the sixth Baron Rannoch and our chief, led out the clan after Charles Edward Stuart raised the standard at Glenfinnan. Two hundred and ten men strong we were. We joined the Jacobite army on the eve of the Battle of Gladsmuir. By the time the Jacobite forces gathered to fight at Drumossie Moor, our contingent of Clan MacIvor men had been reduced to less than half that. And after Culloden, I was the only man from our clan left standing.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Alex. All those men… And your father was killed too?’

  ‘Aye. He was shot… And so was I. In the thigh.’ Alex rubbed his right leg and stared off into the fire. A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘I really don’t know how I managed to get away, but somehow I did… God, it was awful.’

  Sarah wanted to reach out and touch him, to offer comfort, but he seemed so tense and withdrawn, she wasn’t sure how he would respond. Instead, she waited, sipping her sherry, trying to ignore the knots in her belly and the odd flutter of her heart.

  Eventually, Alex continued. ‘As I mentioned, I didn’t meet Malcolm Campbell on the battlefield, but I knew the Campbells of Tay were present at Culloden. At any rate, after I escaped the horrors of Drumossie Moor, I
made my way back here to Blackloch. You see, my mother, my younger sister, and my affianced were here. I thought they might need me. With most of the clansmen gone, they’d been left to fend for themselves.’

  ‘You were engaged?’

  ‘Aye.’ Alex’s mouth curved into a bittersweet smile. ‘To a sweet lass named Maggie Stewart. She came to live at Blackloch when she was sixteen, and I was eighteen. She was pretty and lively and I was thoroughly enchanted by her. Her father, Lord Comyn, was a distant cousin on my father’s side. When Lord Comyn passed away, she became my father’s ward. I proposed to her right before we left to join the Jacobite army. If I hadn’t gone…’ He shook his head.

  ‘You weren’t to know what would happen. And how could you not support your father?’

  ‘Aye. You speak sense but it doesn’t ease the guilt.’ He sighed and rubbed his thigh again as though it still pained him. ‘My leg injury slowed me down so it took me well over a week to ride the ninety miles from Culloden to Blackloch. There were times when I’d had to lie low to avoid being captured by patrolling dragoons, or make a detour through remote countryside. And there were times when I could barely sit in the saddle. To be honest, most of that period is a nightmarish blur. But somehow, I made it back home. Only when I got here, it was to discover that Lord Tay and his men, en route to Taymoor Castle, had arrived first.’

  Oh, no. Oh, dear God no.

  Alex’s eyes met hers. ‘Sarah, I don’t know if you’ve heard much about the reprisals disloyal clans suffered after Culloden, but Cumberland encouraged his men and those clans loyal to King George, to give no quarter to any Jacobite, or to any folk that had supported the cause. The abuses were widespread. The acts committed, reprehensible… barbaric. And I’m afraid Lord Tay was more than happy to lend a hand.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Sarah’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  ‘Aileen has told me that she was with my mother when Lord Tay and his men arrived to subdue the “traitorous and troublesome MacIvors” once and for all. She’d been settling a dispute between two clanswomen in the Great Hall. Apparently my ten-year-old sister, Anne, was with Maggie, in the garden behind the castle, picking roses. My mother believed she could reason with Lord Tay—after all, she was Lady Rannoch, a baroness.’