The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 4

S omething was wrong... Very wrong…

Cold foreboding slid down Sarah’s spine as she forced her heavy eyelids apart. Her vision blurry, she blinked and squinted, trying to focus on her surroundings, but everything was cast in shadow, the edges of everything hazy. A dark memory hovered at the edge of her mind... Something terrible had happened…

There’d been a man...

A blond-haired woman in a red dress...

And Malcolm.

Oh, God. Malcolm.

The stab of her fiancé’s betrayal pierced Sarah’s heart anew and hot tears pricked her eyes. Dashing them away with the heel of her hand, she clumsily pushed herself upright. For a moment the room swam horribly and then panic flared as she took in her surroundings—she was in an unfamiliar tester bed…dressed only in her shift.

Dear Lord above! Whose bed? she thought as apprehension tightened her lungs. How long had she been asleep? Was she still at Kenmuir House? She certainly wasn’t in the guest room of Tay House. In fact, this room was far finer…

The glow from the fireplace revealed that the bedchamber was well appointed: swathes of plush golden velvet adorned the windows and the bed; an ornate walnut armoire and matching washstand stood against one wall; and her ball gown was spread neatly upon a nearby settee.

Sarah’s hand fluttered to her throat as her pulse bolted clean away. She had no recollection of undressing.

Who had dared to remove her clothes?

Then all at once the fog cleared—the man at the masquerade ball, Alexander Black, had forced her to drink something vile. Something that had made her lose consciousness. Laudanum perhaps.

Terror gripped Sarah’s insides and nausea roiled. I’ve been drugged and kidnapped. Stripped. With a shaking hand, she reached below the fine linen sheets and touched between her thighs, but mercifully, everything down there felt as it should. Although, as she moved her legs together, something tightened around her right ankle.

What on earth? Sarah threw off the covers and shrieked. She’d been tethered— tethered to the bedpost with a gold silk rope. Like a prisoner. An animal.

Pushing herself down the bed, she began to frantically tug at the knots at her ankle and at the bedpost, but they were tight and the silk was slippery. Tears of frustration blurred her vision as her trembling fingers failed to loosen her bonds even a fraction.

“Ah, ye’re awake, lassie.”

Sarah jumped and her gaze darted to the door. A stout, middle-aged woman dressed in a plain gray gown and white cap entered the room and placed a large china ewer on the washstand. She returned to the door and locked it with a key that hung from a large iron keyring tied at her waist. Was she the housekeeper?

A spark of hope leapt in Sarah’s heart. A woman could be reasoned with, surely . “Where is Mr. Black?” she said in the most authoritative tone she could muster. “I demand you untie me, help me dress, then take me to him. Or better yet, let me go. He cannot keep me here.”

The woman clucked her tongue as she crossed to the washstand again and rummaged in a drawer. “Aye, the master did warn me that ye may be a wee bit feisty.”

“I don’t much care what your master said about me,” returned Sarah firmly. “What he’s done... What he’s doing is wrong. If you release me, I will make sure you shan’t be prosecuted.” She lifted her chin. She wouldn’t plead or beg. If she acted like a victim, she suspected she wouldn’t get anywhere with this woman. “My fiancé ?—"

She broke off. Was Malcolm still her fiancé ? Did she want him to be?

Sarah swallowed past the tight ache in her throat and started again. “My fiancé , the Earl of Tay, is a most powerful man. He may even reward you for your assistance. In fact, I shall reward you myself. I have the means.”

The woman steadfastly ignored her. She turned her back and placed a white linen towel and a washcloth beside the ewer and a bowl. Then, without so much as a glance toward the bed, she crossed to the fireplace and poked at the coals before throwing another lump of wood into the fire.

Frustration as bright and angry as the embers in the grate stirred inside Sarah. “Why won’t you answer me?” she demanded. “I’ll scream my lungs out. Someone will hear me. Then you’ll-you’ll be sorry.”

The woman heaved a weary sigh and at last turned to face her. “Now, now, miss. I ken ye’ve had a verra nasty shock. But no harm will come to ye.”

“No harm will come to me?” snapped Sarah. “Your wicked scoundrel of a master forced me to drink laudanum and has locked me up”—she tugged on the silk rope—“nay, tied me up in a bed, against my will, for God knows what purpose. And considering I’m wearing naught but my shift, it’s quite obvious his intentions are nefarious!”

The woman crossed her arms over her ample chest and humphed. “Ye can scream all ye like, lassie. No one’ll hear ye. But you dinna have to worry. The master willna hurt ye, so long as ye go along with what he wants.”

“But what does he want?” Sarah’s voice broke as a sob clogged her throat. “I don’t understand any of this. I just want to go home. P-Please let me go.” To her mortification, tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Crying willna help either, lassie, and we are wastin’ time. The master says we will be leaving in a half hour.”

“Leaving?” Sarah narrowed her eyes, struggling to understand. If she had any hope of escaping, she needed to gather more information. “But where am I now? And where are we going?”

The servant huffed and poured steaming water into the bowl. “It’s no’ for me to say. It’s time to wash and get dressed.”

Was she even still in Edinburgh? Sarah couldn’t hear any of the usual noises she associated with the city at night. Nor did she have any idea how long she’d been unconscious. Her throat was dry and her head felt like it was stuffed with feathers. Her gaze traveled to the windows and icy fear shivered over her skin. The pale light of morning was beginning to seep in around the edges of the curtains. She’d clearly been asleep for hours and hours.

Was Malcolm looking for her? Had he even noticed she’d gone? If he hadn’t, Aunt Judith certainly would have. Yes, Aunt Judith would be looking for her. If she were in Edinburgh, her aunt would surely go to the Town Guard to enlist their help. They would find her. She had to believe that.

When the serving woman approached with the washcloth, a towel, and the bowl, Sarah ventured a question. “May I ask your name?” she asked in a mild tone. After all, one could catch more flies with honey rather than vinegar. And clearly vinegar wasn't working... “If you are to act as my lady’s maid, I should like to know what to call you. I’m Sarah Lambert, by the way.” Yes, if she could distract the woman and wrest the bowl from her, perhaps she could use it to knock her unconscious. She didn’t want to hurt the servant, but if this was her only chance to get away...

But the woman was wilier than Sarah had anticipated. She deposited the bowl on a small bureau well out of reach, soaked the washcloth, wrung it out with her red, work-roughened hands then passed it to Sarah. “My name is Aileen,” she said gruffly, “and I ken yer name, lass.”

“Oh...” Sarah took the cloth and wiped her face, neck, and hands before handing it back to Aileen. “Then maybe you’ve also heard how wealthy I am. I could pay you whatever sum you asked for if?—”

The woman grunted. “Money doesna matter to me. I dinna want yer coin, lassie. Ye canna bribe me.” She gave Sarah the towel then nodded at the floor. “If ye need the chamber pot, it’s beneath the bed. There’s enough length in the rope for ye to stand and use it. Then I shall help ye with yer gown.” Aileen picked up the basin but turned back, her expression grim. “But mind ye dinna try anythin’. I’m a braw woman and I’ll best ye in a struggle. And if ye think to try and brain me with the chamber pot, I’ll be forced to call the master, and he’ll make ye take the laudanum again. I dinna think ye’d want to be leaving here in only yer shift. It’s a wee bit cold outside.” As she headed for the door, she called over her shoulder. “I’ll give ye some privacy for a few minutes. But that’s all, mind ye. Dinna dillydally.”

Gah! Sarah poked her tongue at the door as it shut firmly. Of course, the odious woman locked it behind her. Aileen was far too canny for Sarah’s liking. As for her master, braining him with a chamber pot would be immensely satisfying.

But must needs when the call of nature was upon one… Sarah slid carefully to the floor and held onto the side of the bed for a moment. When her head stopped spinning—the effects of the laudanum hadn’t totally dissipated—she reached for the chamber pot. Made of heavy porcelain, it would make a decent weapon. But if she failed to knock Aileen out, the consequences did not bear thinking about. The last thing she wanted was Alexander Black arriving on the scene whilst she was in this state of undress. And she most certainly didn’t want to be drugged again.

True to her word, Aileen returned within a handful of minutes, locking the door behind her then pocketing the key in her skirts.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Sarah remarked as the serving woman approached the bed with a pile of garments in her arms. Was that a riding habit or traveling gown of claret-red wool? Sarah eyed the items with suspicion as Aileen laid them upon the bed. “Those are not mine. I wish to wear my own gown, stockings, and stays.”

The glowering servant crossed her arms. “Lassie, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Ye can get dressed in these”—she thrust her chin toward the bed—“or you can freeze yer bonnie wee arse off in yer shift. Whilst yer ball gown is verra fine, it isna fit for traveling. Nor yer boned stays. They are far too tight.”

Sarah pressed her lips together. Was everything to be so difficult? “Very well,” she gritted out from between clenched teeth. “But I don’t see how this is going to work whilst I’m tied up like...like someone’s dog.”

Aileen tutted as she held out jumps—soft stays—for Sarah to slip her arms through. “Weel, I shall untie ye when ye need to don yer stockings and skirts. But I’m trustin’ ye to behave yerself, now that ye ken what will happen if you do no’.”

As Sarah submitted to Aileen’s ministrations, her mind worked feverishly to come up with another escape plan. Once she was untied, perhaps she could flee the room and find a door leading outside. Aileen might be stronger than her but she surmised the older woman wasn’t as agile.

Once Sarah’s stays were laced, Aileen bade her to sit on the bed so she could untie the rope from her ankle. The servant’s large, strong fingers deftly loosened the tight knots and the silk noose slipped free.

When Aileen bent down to slide an ivory wool stocking over her foot, Sarah took the opportunity to strike. Now. Leaning back on her hands for purchase, she lifted her other foot and kicked at Aileen’s shoulder with all her might. The serving woman flew backward onto her rump with a grunt and Sarah dashed to the bedchamber door. Her heart hurtling against her ribs, she grasped the handle with shaking hands, but it wouldn’t budge.

Damn, damn, damn. In her desperation, she’d forgotten Aileen had locked it and still had the key.

Tears of frustration flooded Sarah’s eyes as she leaned her forehead against the unyielding wood paneling of the door. This cannot be happening. I must be in some sort of nightmare.

The unexpected sound of a key scraping in the lock made Sarah jump and back away from the door with faltering steps...and then the devil himself, Alexander Black, walked in, as bold as you please.

Oh, Lord help her…