The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue)

by Amy Rose Bennett

  The maid didn’t contradict him. She just continued to stare at the floor, her fingers crushing her apron.

  ‘Miss Lambert will soon be the new mistress of Blackloch. And I cannot see how I can possibly keep you on here when you bear her such ill will.’

  ‘Milord.’ Isla clasped her hands together and dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her face. ‘Please dinna send me away. This is my home. I ken wha’ I did was no’ right, but I did it to protect you. Truly I did. I will serve yer new lady faithfully. I swear—’

  Alex held up a hand. ‘Enough, Isla. And please, get up. Begging will do you no good.’

  The maid bit her lip and did as he’d asked. ‘What… what will become of me?’ she whispered.

  Alex had already given the matter some thought. Isla might not like his plan but it was the fairest solution he could come up with. ‘I’m sending you to one of the inns I own, the Boar’s Head in Aberfeldy, to take up a chambermaid’s position. It is only thirty miles from here so not too far from your parents. I want you to pack what you can take with you on horseback. Your mother can pack a trunk for you and I will send it to the Boar’s Head later on. Your father will escort you. You will leave within the hour.’

  Isla’s face crumpled and tears slipped from her eyes again. ‘I canna believe you are sending me away straightaway, milord.’

  ‘It’s for the best, Isla. I shall give you some money for the journey too.’

  Isla dabbed at her tears with the corner of her abused apron. ‘Aye, milord’, she said with a sniff. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Very good. It’s sad to part on such terms but I’m glad that you understand.’

  Isla nodded. ‘Would you please tell Miss Lambert that I’m verra sorry, milord?’

  ‘I will.’ Alex pushed away from the desk and ushered the maid to the door. Sadness tugged at his heart as he watched her trudge along the gallery towards the servants’ stairs. He knew deep down that Isla had been harbouring a secret tendre for him for at least the last year or so. He’d never done anything to encourage it and he’d hoped her feelings would abate with time. Clearly, they hadn’t.

  Yes, as much as it pained Isla, it was best that she left Blackloch for good.

  ***

  An hour later, as directed, Isla and her father, Dobson, spurred their horses down Blackloch’s drive, heading towards Loch Rannoch and eventually the road that would lead them south-east to Aberfeldy.

  ‘She’s in love with you, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ As Alex watched Isla disappear from view, he wrapped his arms around Sarah and rested his chin on her shoulder. Her curls tickled his cheek and he turned his head to breathe in her delicious scent. After Isla had quit the library, he’d taken Sarah on a tour of the castle and they’d eventually ended up on the battlements so he could show her the magnificent view.

  ‘I’m sorry it had to end this way.’ Sadness laced Sarah’s tone. ‘Isla seemed like such a sweet girl at first.’

  ‘She used to be. Despite everything, I wish her well.’

  ‘I do too.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘You are an amazing woman. Not many could forgive such perfidy.’

  Beneath her wool cloak, Sarah shrugged a slender shoulder. ‘I have you. And you love me. That’s all that matters.’ She turned in his arms, pushing her hands beneath his black wool redingote and gifted him with a sweet kiss on the mouth. ‘So, Lord Rannoch,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘tell me more about your kingdom.’

  Alex groaned. ‘I’d rather show you my bedchamber again.’

  She smiled and withdrew her hands. ‘Later.’

  ‘Very well,’ he sighed, and after threading his fingers through Sarah’s, he led her carefully across the ramparts to the east-facing parapet; there were still blocks of stone, a few discarded tools, and small piles of rubble lying about that the masons hadn’t yet removed so they needed to pick their way.

  He drew her into his arms again and pointed out the distinctive sharp peak towards the eastern edge of the loch. ‘Can you see Schiehallion? It’s Gaelic for Fairy Hill of the Caledonians.’

  It was a cold but relatively calm day. High clouds drifted across a pale, ice-blue sky and only a gentle breeze ruffled their hair and the snow-white fichu and lace sleeves of Sarah’s rose-pink gown.

  ‘Or some call it the Maiden’s Pap,’ he added in whisper-soft voice. ‘It’s rather an apt name, don’t you think?’ Sarah’s quiet huff of embarrassed laughter had him grinning.

  ‘Yes. I can see it,’ she answered lightly. ‘But I think I shall refer to it as Fairy Hill. There’s something simply romantical about the sound of it.’

  ‘Romantical? You mean fanciful?’

  She playfully swatted at his hand. ‘What’s wrong with romance?’

  ‘Nothing at all, my sweet.’ As Sarah gazed out upon the vista he loved so well—the still, mirror-like lake, the wooded braes, and the snow-capped mountains—he gently nuzzled Sarah’s neck.

  At length she observed, ‘The village of Kinloch mustn’t be far from it. Isla told me there is a dragoon barracks there.’

  ‘Aye.’

  Sarah turned her head and threw him a curious look. ‘You don’t seem nervous at all that the King’s men are virtually on your doorstep. Considering you are a wanted man, my lord, I’m curious as to why that should be the case.’

  ‘One thing I’ve learned over the past ten years, my sweet Sarah, is there isn’t much money cannot buy.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Except love, that is.’

  Sarah’s cheeks pinked, matching the hue of her gown perfectly. ‘I agree. Nevertheless, I’m dying to know how you have achieved all that you have. You had nothing at all after Culloden yet you’ve created yourself anew. Not only have you reclaimed your land and castle, you’ve rebuilt Blackloch. It’s nothing short of miraculous.’

  ‘Aye, it is indeed.’ He’d shown Sarah every wing and turret of Blackloch, including the east wing; repairs to the ornate brickwork and parapets had not yet been completed and some of the scaffolding still stood at the rear.

  He should feel proud of all he’d accomplished but deep down, he didn’t. Not when he’d all but stolen a casket of Jacobite gold. Not when he’d been consumed by the dark desire for vengeance for ten long years and counting. A dark desire that had ended up hurting Sarah. Every time he looked at her and saw her smiling back at him with love, every time she kissed him, he almost had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Surely he didn’t deserve such bliss.

  Ever perceptive, Sarah touched his arm. ‘What’s wrong, Alex? You look so grim.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m afraid you will see me differently when I tell you how my change of fortune came about.’

  She smiled and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘Surely not.’

  ‘We shall see.’ He leaned back against the parapet and drew Sarah into the shelter of his arms. ‘After my shoulder and wounded leg had been patched up by Aileen, and after my poor mother, Anne, and Maggie had been laid to rest along with all the other servants, I left Blackloch. I thought never to return. Even though Tay must have thought I’d been killed when he shot me, I knew that if word got out I was still alive, more marauding clansmen loyal to King George or patrolling dragoons would be sure to capture or kill me. And I didn’t want anyone else from Clan MacIvor to suffer if they were caught harbouring a fugitive.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Nowhere and everywhere. For weeks on end I lived hand to mouth in the remotest parts of the Highlands I could find; places where dragoons would not even think to venture. I was lucky to still have my horse but with my leg such a mess, it was hard to sit in the saddle for long periods. I tended to sleep during the day and travel at night too. Thank God it wasn’t the dead of winter for I would surely have perished.’

  ‘Then, late one day when I’d risen from sleep and was about to go in search of food, I stumbled across something that can only be described as amazing. I’d been camping out in a cave above Loch Ar
kaig—it’s about seventy miles north-west of here, well past the other side of Rannoch Moor, heading towards the sea. Clan Cameron land. They were also supporters of the Pretender. Anyway, whilst I was foraging in the woods above the loch, I heard voices. Cameron men. They were in the process of burying seven large wooden caskets lower down the slope.’

  Sarah’s blue eyes gleamed with interest. ‘And what did the caskets contain?’

  ‘Gold. Jacobite gold. Thousands upon thousands of Louis d’or. Gold for the Pretender to support the cause. To pay for troops, weapons, and supplies. I learned later the two French frigates that delivered the stash, the Mars and Bellona, arrived too late. The Jacobite force had already been crushed at Culloden so they simply unloaded the money and left. Apparently the Chief of Clan Cameron had been charged with keeping the treasure safe.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ breathed Sarah. ‘That’s incredible.’

  ‘It is indeed.’

  ‘I gather you managed to claim some.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alex recounted how he’d recovered one of the caskets and had stashed the gold in a cave, high above Loch Arkaig.

  Sarah cast him a dubious look. ‘Only one casket?’

  Alex almost smiled. ‘Aye, it might be hard to believe, but it seems I’m not a greedy man. And it was more than enough. In a blink of an eye, I’d gone from being completely lost and desperate, with nothing to live for, to being a very rich man.’ Alex, by force of habit, rubbed his left palm as memories of that long ago dawn when relief, anger, and bitterness had all assailed him. ‘And that’s when I vowed to punish the Earl of Tay for everything he’d done. To avenge those he’d hurt and killed. No matter how long it took me.’

  Sarah took his hand and traced along the faint line of his scar. A furrow appeared between her brows. ‘I’ve noticed you do that sometimes. Rub your palm as if it still pains you.’ She raised her gaze to his. ‘Did you make a blood vow?’

  ‘Aye. I did.’

  Her gaze hardened as it met his. ‘I would have done the same.’

  ‘It’s a dark place to be, Sarah. Hating someone this much for so long.’ He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. ‘But now I have you, some of that darkness is receding. You’ve brought joy and hope back into my life.’

  Sarah’s eyes glowed. ‘It warms my heart to hear you say that, Alex.’

  He slanted his head to kiss her but she pressed a finger to his lips. ‘You haven’t finished telling me about your rise from the ashes.’

  Minx. ‘Ah, yes. I suppose you’re right,’ he conceded. Talking wasn’t what was on his mind right now, but then he did have the rest of the day and night, indeed forever, to make love to Sarah. To show her how much she meant to him. Sliding his hands to her waist, he gently turned her around so they were both facing the battlements again and the view beyond. ‘I also dreamt of reclaiming Blackloch and my title and heritage. Of supporting my clan. I knew they’d be suffering too. And they were. Without the leadership of my father, with many of the clansmen killed, the families that were left fell victim to the predations of other leaderless clans—the Robertsons and the Menzies, the bastards, and Tay’s men on and off. Aileen, Dobson, and Isla took refuge with some of Aileen’s kin to the east in Kinross—her sister’s family had not participated in the Rebellion so at least they had a safe haven until I returned a few years later. I would have sent them money but I didn’t know where they were for some time.’

  ‘I’m interested to learn how you became Alexander Price?’

  ‘As I said before, money can buy you almost anything. Including a new name. With my pockets full of gold, I was able to secure forged papers from a magistrate in Fort William who was rumoured to be a Jacobite sympathiser. From there, I secured passage on a merchant ship and embarked on a journey to the New World—the Caribbean and the Americas.’

  ‘Why so far away?’

  ‘I wanted to establish myself as a businessman. To make the money I had work for me. I invested in a merchant vessel. Then several more. And I purchased land and established a logging company. About that time, I returned to Scotland and took up residence in Glasgow to establish my trading enterprise at home. I was known as Mr Price—a man with English paternity but a lowlander Scot for a mother. I had also learned to soften my Scots burr so that no one would suspect I was a Highlander born and bred.’

  Sarah turned her head and cast him a wry smile. ‘You are quite the chameleon.’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Whilst I didn’t intend to mix in the same circles as the Earl of Tay, I needed to be careful all the same.’

  ‘So when did you reclaim your estate and Blackloch?’

  ‘The estate was forfeit and had gone to rack and ruin. But eventually—five years ago, to be exact—the forfeited estate’s commission put it up for sale. And one Alexander Price, owner of the Price Logging Company and the Price Mercantile Company in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Liverpool, purchased it.’

  ‘My word, Alex,’ Sarah whispered. ‘That’s incredible.’

  ‘I think so too.’ He laid a gentle kiss on the edge of Sarah’s temple, taking care not to brush her wounded forehead, then continued. ‘As I mentioned, gangs of clansmen had wrought havoc in the area. And that couldn’t continue. A dragoon barracks had been established at Kinloch at the eastern end of the loch and whilst the soldiers had done their best to stop the outlaws—mainly men from Clan Robertson—from conducting raids on the innocent folk of Clan MacIvor still left in the area, more needed to be done. And that’s when I also saw my first opportunity to get back at the Earl of Tay.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I paid the dragoon captain in charge of the barracks to turn a blind eye to certain “activities”. Which essentially meant I employed a number of the remaining bands of outlaws to conduct raids on the Earl of Tay’s lands instead. To reive as much cattle from that bastard as they possibly could. I knew Tay was already in financial trouble. I’d had men spying on him for some time. It was reported he liked to drink and had lost considerable sums at the gaming tables. He’d already sold off some of his unentailed land to me. Of course, he had no idea that his neighbour, Price, was really his old nemesis, Alexander MacIvor.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness.’

  Alex couldn’t see Sarah’s face but she’d shivered beneath his hands. ‘I’ve shocked you,’ he said. How could he not?

  ‘A little. But I understand your need to be ruthless. To give Malcolm no quarter. I agree that ruination is no less than he deserves.’

  Alex exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. ‘You astound me, Sarah.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Yes. To think you could love a beast of a man like me—’

  She spun around and pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Stop right there, Alexander MacIvor. Despite what you think, you are a good man. You deserve to be happy and to be loved. Never doubt that. And never doubt me.’

  He smiled and kissed her fingertips. ‘With you here, Sarah, Blackloch is beginning to feel like home again.’ All the ghosts and horrors that had tormented him for so long were starting to recede.

  ‘And I feel like I’ve come home too.’ She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. It was a look that he loved. A look that heated his blood and made his pulse quicken. ‘You said before that you wanted to show me your bedchamber again.’

  ‘Aye, but I have a better idea. I want to make some new memories, right here.’

  ‘Here? On the ramparts?’

  Beneath the folds of her cloak, Alex skimmed his hands up Sarah’s slender torso and gently cupped her breasts. Even through the silk brocade of her gown, and her undergarments, he could feel the impudent jut of her nipples against his palms. ‘Yes. And later on, on my desk in the library. And then there’s the Turkish hearthrug in the drawing room. And the window seat in the morning room…’

  Sarah splayed her hands against his chest as though she meant to push him away. Although, if anything she seemed to lean closer. ‘Stop, you wicked man,’ she murmured, her voice husky
with barely suppressed merriment and desire. ‘You’re making me blush.’

  ‘I want to do more than make you blush, my love. I want to make you scream.’

  ***

  Oh my.

  Sarah bit her lip as a deliciously dark thrill shot through her. ‘Now that sounds entirely wicked,’ she whispered.

  ‘It is,’ Alex said with a grin. ‘But in a good way.’

  ‘Wicked yet good? That doesn’t make sense.’

  Alex cocked a dark brow. ‘Says the woman who remarked yesterday that our lovemaking was both wicked and wonderful?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I did say that, didn’t I?’

  ‘You most certainly did.’ Alex dropped to his knees and splayed his hands across her hips. ‘Lift your skirts, my love.’

  ‘I beg your pardon. What?’ Sarah clutched the silk brocade of her skirts, intrigued but uncertain. Surely he didn’t really want her to do something so wanton. It was the morning, after all. And they were out in the open air. ‘What are you doing down there anyway? You’ll get all wet and dirty.’ There was snow and construction grit everywhere. And Alex was wearing fine breeches and hose.

  He looked up at her through his dark lashes. The glint in his eyes was purely sinful and his smile was the most rakish she’d ever seen. ‘Oh, I intend to get very dirty,’ he murmured in a voice gravelled with lust. ‘And so will you. In fact, we are going to be so dirty and wicked together, you’re going to come off like you never have before. So please, my sweet Sarah, lift your skirts.’

  ‘Goodness. All right…’ Her heart racing, Sarah conceded. Closing her eyes, she pulled up her chemise, voluminous petticoats, and skirt. Cool air drifted over her skin and she shivered.

  ‘Lovely.’ Alex ran his fingers through her curls then blew across the wet seam of her sex, making her shiver again, but this time, with nervous anticipation.

  She dared to crack an eyelid. She couldn’t see Alex’s face anymore but she could feel his warm breath against her most intimate parts. ‘Wh-what if someone sees us?”

  ‘Then they are going to be green with envy.’ His fingertips grazed over her upper thigh. ‘Put your leg up on this block of stone, my love.’