The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 15

Eilean Dubh

February 21, 1757

A lthough the sky was a deep brilliant blue, it was icy-cold in the walled garden of Eilean Dubh. As Sarah wandered aimlessly along the gritted path, the late afternoon sun turned the marchpane-like snow cresting the top of the western facing wall and the gnarled bare branches of an ancient oak to a blinding white.

“Look out, miss!”

Sarah ducked to the side and for the first time in days, smiled as Bandit bounded past her in pursuit of a snowball pitched by MacLagan, the young footman who was technically one of her guards. Apparently before Black had departed the area on ‘business’ three days ago, he’d decreed that she could take walks in the walled garden around the tower as long as she was accompanied by a male guard like MacLagan, and either Aileen or Isla. Today, Isla was with Sarah, trailing behind her by several yards; Aileen was reportedly unwell with the ague.

And of course, there was Sarah’s newfound friend, Bandit.

The collie, his brown eyes dancing and long black muzzle covered in snow, came racing back heading straight for MacLagan, and Sarah was obliged to make another sidestep. Black had left Bandit behind with her and Sarah appreciated the dog’s simple yet cheerful company. She was especially grateful at night as she sat by the fire in the solar or her room, endeavoring to read or sew. She didn’t feel so alone, not when he pressed his comforting weight up against her legs or pushed his elegant head onto her lap, demanding an ear rub.

For the most part, it really did seem Bandit was her only genuine companion. She wasn’t sure why, but Isla had become as taciturn as her mother since Black’s departure. And she could hardly talk to MacLagan or Dobson, not when they took turns to dutifully guard the entrance to the tower both day and night, effectively destroying any hope she harbored of escape.

Escape. It still seemed like an impossible feat and as the days marched on, Sarah’s uneasiness grew. On her fourth circuit of the garden, she paused at the locked wrought-iron gate, and her longing gaze traveled where she couldn’t, through the short stretch of woodland where snowdrops and purple crocuses nodded, down to the dark loch beyond. She couldn’t even see the shore from here, but to the east, a sharp, snow-blanketed peak jutted above the trees into the cold blue sky.

She was trapped in the middle of a beautiful but desolate landscape. With no way out.

Gripping the bars of the gate with glove-clad fingers, Sarah leaned her forehead against the unyielding iron and failed to quell a wave of rising frustration and perversely, humiliation. Her plan to charm Black had gone completely awry. How could she possibly succeed if he wasn’t even here? Indeed, she hadn’t seen him since the night he’d rejected her hesitant offer of a kiss.

Of course, it was nonsensical to feel slighted, but she did. When Black had deposited Aileen’s ointment in front of her then all but fled the tower like the hounds of hell, rather than Bandit, were at his heels, a dark, weighty blanket of disappointment had settled over her and had not shifted. Especially when she learned the next morning that Black had gone.

She’d tried to convince herself that she felt this way simply because her plan had been thwarted. Though deep down inside, she knew her feminine pride had been crushed. Even more bizarre was the startling and altogether unsettling realization that she…missed him.

Yes, she missed her captor. The smoky rasp of his voice, his storm-cloud eyes, their verbal sparring. She missed how he made her feel when he smiled at her. Even more telling was the fact that she didn’t miss Malcolm. Not one little bit.

God in heaven, I am not in my right mind.

Black had been gone three days, and she had no idea when he would return. Or if he would return.

And it was now less than two weeks until the ransom was due...

With a heavy sigh, Sarah pushed away from the gate and resumed her walk. Isla continued to shadow her like a dark cloud, but the girl’s sullen mood was the least of Sarah’s concerns right now. As she’d told herself a thousand times, there was no point dwelling on things she could not control. It made perfect sense in the cold light of day, but not so much when she lay alone in a wide, unfamiliar bed, unable to sleep, listening to the wind hurtle about the tower and rattle her bedchamber’s windowpanes.

She hadn’t gone far before Bandit flashed past again, a blur of tan, black, and white.

When he trotted back, he headed straight for her, tail wagging, pink tongue lolling, and a look of expectation in his bright eyes.

“It looks like the furry rascal wants you to throw a snowball, Miss Lambert,” called MacLagan.

“Yes, I think you might be right.” Sarah bent down, scooped up a ball of snow, then turned on her heel and hurled it as hard as she could in the direction from whence she’d come.

And it hit Black square in the face as he pushed through the gate.

“Oh, my God. I am so sorry,” cried Sarah, her gloved hands flying to her mouth.

Black shook his head and brushed the snow from his face and the wing of raven black hair that flopped over his brow. “I probably deserved that, Miss Lambert,” he said, a faint smile playing about his lips as he approached her. “At least it wasn’t a heavy, blunt object.”

“I suppose so.” Sarah’s cheeks grew so hot, her face probably matched the scarlet gown she wore beneath her black wool cloak. Then she frowned. “How did you get here, by the way? It’s clear you didn’t swim. Unless you really are Lucifer, like I’ve always suspected, and you’re hiding your devil’s wings beneath your greatcoat…”

Black laughed, eyes dancing wickedly. “No, Miss Lambert, I didn’t fly over. I paddled over in a coracle that I barely fit into.”

Isla, her cheeks awash with bright color too, released a girlish giggle as she bobbed a curtsy. “Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you.” A joyously prancing Bandit claimed Black’s attention but when he’d finished ruffling the dog’s coat, his gaze returned to Sarah. “I trust he’s been keeping you company, Miss Lambert?”

“Yes. Yes he has.” Even though Sarah tried to suppress any reaction to the unexpected interest in Black’s eyes, warmth bloomed inside her and flooded through her chest. “He’s a delightful companion. Thank you for leaving him here.”

Black inclined his head and smiled. “You’re most welcome. Shall we go in? Before it gets dark?”

He offered Sarah his arm and as she took it, she was taken aback when Isla threw her a hard glare. She wouldn’t be surprised if the girl thought she had become Black’s mistress. It was an obvious conclusion to draw, given Black had already spent two nights at Eilean Dubh alone with her. Her lavish gowns, just like the one she wore now, were cut low at the neckline and Isla knew very well what the armoire contained.

Sarah almost laughed. Isla wouldn’t be so disapproving if she’d seen how Black had run a mile at the mere suggestion of a kiss the other evening. But now he was back, would he dismiss the servants and stay the whole night again at Eilean Dubh?

Black’s thoughts appeared to be running in a similar direction, for when they arrived back at the tower’s ruined courtyard, he paused to bid MacLagan and Isla farewell with instructions to return on the morrow. “Take the rowboat. I’ll take the coracle back in the morning.”

As the two servants took their leave, a flurry of nerves assailed Sarah. Tonight she would indeed have the opportunity to try and charm Black again. Despite her wounded pride, despite all her reservations, she must be brave and try to flirt with him. To tempt him.

To make him care.

She mustn’t listen to the voice inside her head whispering her plan was flawed. That he might reject her again, or worse, he could take the bait she offered, use her, then discard her without a second thought. Just like Malcolm had so easily discarded her.

But Black does care a little, Sarah. You know he does, she reminded herself as he led her across the courtyard toward the stairs. Why would he leave Bandit here to keep her company if he didn’t care about her wellbeing? Why would he bother to make her hot chocolate to comfort her after a bad dream? Why else would he have just placed his hand at her back to steady her as she climbed the stairs to Eilean Dubh’s kitchen? Why would his eyes glow with warm appreciation as she removed her cloak, revealing the red velvet gown beneath?

Suddenly feeling breathless with nervous anticipation, Sarah moved away from Black who was in the process of removing his own coat. The sight of his tall, muscular physique attired in black boots, tight buff riding breeches, and a form-fitting frockcoat of midnight blue velvet, vividly reminded her that the man she sought to bewitch could just as easily bewitch her.

“Isla has made cock-a-leekie soup for supper,” she remarked to dispel the enchantment he was effortlessly casting over her. Picking up a ladle, she concentrated on stirring the fragrant contents of a large cast-iron pot that hung over the fire. “She mentioned it was one of your favorite dishes.”

“It is.” Black poured himself a tankard of small beer from the cask standing on the oak dresser. “May I offer you something to drink, Miss Lambert? I believe I have some elderberry wine somewhere, or claret, if beer is not to your liking.”

“Elderberry wine would be lovely, thank you.” And perhaps it will lend me some much-needed courage so I can do what I need to do—play the unfamiliar role of a coquette.

Sarah took her wine glass from Black with a murmured thanks and made a show of taking a seat by the window. Spreading her velvet skirts about her, she nonchalantly tossed her loose curls over one shoulder so they caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed like guinea gold. After she took a sip of her wine, she ran her tongue along her lower lip then inhaled deeply so her breasts rose and strained against the tight bodice of her gown.

Black joined her in the window seat and, judging by the heat in his eyes, her preening had achieved the desired effect. His gaze locked with hers over the rim of his tankard as he drank, and despite her outward display of boldness, Sarah found herself blushing again. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Did he know what she was up to?

Not able to hold his gaze, Sarah turned to examine the view outside. Above the distant mountains, the sky was awash with glorious shades of crimson, orange, and gold. “I know you cannot reveal too much about Eilean Dubh, or where we are for that matter, but I would be interested to learn more about this place. It is clearly very old, much older than my home, Linden Hall. Do you know much of the tower’s history?”

Amusement danced in Black’s eyes. “A little.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “And would you care to share any of it?”

Black rubbed his chin in apparent contemplation and Sarah’s attention was drawn to the shadow of dark stubble on his sharply cut jaw. “Not really.”

“Then what are we to talk about, Mr. Black?”

“Why do you feel the need to talk?”

“Well, it’s what civilized people do.”

Black’s gray eyes grew imperceptibly darker. “Perhaps I’m not that civilized.”

Sarah swallowed. At long last she’d roused the predator in Black, though she wasn’t sure if she was happy about it or terrified. “Is that a warning?” she asked in a voice that was noticeably husky.

“Perhaps, Miss Lambert.” Black’s gaze dipped to her mouth before he took another sip of his beer.

Knowing full well she was treading along a dangerous path, Sarah toyed with the black satin ribbon adorning the neckline of her gown. “Well, what do you propose we do instead of talk, Mr. Black?”

When Black put down his tankard and leaned closer, his eyes alight with avid male hunger, Sarah’s breath caught. Oh, heavens above. What have I started?

However, the man merely bared his even white teeth in a wolfish grin and in a low voice murmured, “Eat,” before heading for the dresser to gather bowls and silverware.

Breathing a sigh of relief—she clearly needed more elderberry wine to bolster her wavering bravado—Sarah followed Black’s lead. Perhaps after she’d eaten, and after imbibing a little more liquid courage, she would at last be brave enough to do what needed to be done. These half-hearted measures at seduction were not going to get her very far.

Nerves harnessed and resolve restored, she surreptitiously downed the contents of her glass—Black was still busy at the dresser—then moved to the fireside to stir the soup again. Bandit, who’d been lying in his customary spot by the hearth, got up and wagged his tail, a hopeful look in his brown eyes, but Black shooed him to the side with a gentle nudge and a muttered curse of, “Begone, dog. You shall have your fill later.”

Sarah began to ladle the soup into the bowl Black handed her. “He’s quite well behaved for such a large dog,” she said in Bandit’s defense.

Black grunted. “Aye, I suppose so.” He drew closer, his arm brushing her shoulder. “May I help you with that, Miss Lambert?”

“No. I think I can manage,” she replied as she tried to focus on what she was doing rather than Black’s distracting presence. Truth to tell, the hastily drunk wine seemed to be going to her head a little too. With care, she passed the brimming bowl to Black. “I don’t mind playing servant.”

He took it with a smile and a polite “thank you,” and when he retreated to the table, she filled another bowl for herself. Turning around, she took a step forward, only to find herself tripping over something— Bandit.

The dog yelped, Sarah stumbled, and her entire bowl of hot soup slopped down the front of her velvet dress before crashing onto the floor.

“Bandit!” Black thundered, chasing the dog away from the mess of spilled soup and smashed porcelain. In the next instant he was at Sarah’s side, gripping her by the elbows. “Lass, are you all right? Are you burned?”

Burned? Only by your touch…

But Sarah wasn’t brave enough to say that. “I’m fine,” she managed then grimaced at the sight of her ruined gown. “Aside from being hideously embarrassed and covered in soup, that is.” Oh, Lord. How could she possibly try to seduce Black now?

“You still look delicious to me, Miss Lambert,” Black said with a gentle smile. “But I expect you would like to change.”

“Yes.” Face aflame with mortification, Sarah beat a hasty retreat to her bedchamber. This evening was turning out to be another monumental disaster. Somehow she had to salvage things. With shaking hands and tears prickling in her eyes, she opened the chest containing all the gowns Black had bought for her and pulled out one of embroidered apricot silk. It would do.

She retreated behind the silk Chinoiserie screen but in the fading light, she struggled with all the clasps and fiddly ribbons and ties of the ruined red velvet gown. The satin brocade stays beneath were soiled too. Damn and blast. If only Isla or Aileen were here.

Then Sarah froze, her heart beating hard and fast as inspiration struck. Isla and Aileen were not here.

But Black was…

Dare she ask him to help?

Still cursing Bandit to Hades for trying to break Sarah’s neck, Alex picked up the broken pieces of porcelain and dumped them in an empty bucket by the hearth. Velvet darkness was rapidly cloaking the tower so he began to light the candles and restoke the fire, all the while attempting to ignore the fact Sarah was undressing in the next room.

The saucy minx. She’d been deliberately flirting with him earlier, he was certain of it. Since he’d left Eilean Dubh, he’d spent a great deal of time re-examining the last evening he’d spent here. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d been convinced Sarah had attempted to play the part of a seductress, even if she wasn’t entirely comfortable in the role.

The only conclusion he could draw was that the lass was trying to court his favor, just as he’d determined that he must try to court hers. It would be amusing, but for the fact it reminded him how desperate Sarah had become: that she’d do anything to escape.

And that was a sobering thought indeed.

For the past three days and nights he’d stayed at Blackloch Castle. Aside from arranging delivery of the final ransom note to Tay House in Edinburgh, he’d busied himself with estate matters and had checked with the mason in the village of Kinloch on the final plans for the almost complete reconstruction of the castle’s east wing. He’d only returned this afternoon because he believed that he’d be able to keep a tight rein on his lust for the wily lass, whatever provocation she threw at him.

But God help him, right now, he didn’t know if he could. He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted any other woman before. Living in such close confines was proving to be pure torture.

“Excuse me…Mr. Black?”

Alex swore beneath his breath before calling back, “Aye? What is it, Miss Lambert?”

“Would you mind bringing me a candle? It’s terribly dark in here and I’m having a spot of trouble with... Well, never mind. If you could just bring a candle, I would be most grateful.”

Hell. Alex closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of anything but a half-naked Sarah Lambert. He thought about the spilled soup that Bandit was in the process of cleaning up. He thought about all the ledgers he needed to go through with his factor and all the tenant issues he must deal with. He thought of the expression on Tay’s face when he opened the next ransom note…

Promising himself he wouldn’t flirt with Sarah anymore, nor try to sneak a peek at her in a state of dishabille—and heaven help him, he wanted to, badly—Alex picked up one of the wrought-iron candelabras and headed for the bedchamber. As he entered, he exhaled a ragged sigh of relief when he discovered she was behind the silk screen.

“Thank you,” she called. “Now if you could just— Oh, for goodness sake...”

The silk screen rocked and Alex grimaced. Sarah was clearly struggling with her gown. He’d undressed enough women to know how damned complicated the process could be. “I’ll leave the candelabra right here on the bedside table,” he said, trying to ignore another mumbled curse from Sarah and the twitch in his breeches. Before he could stop himself he added, “If you need anything else?—”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Damn. Why had he opened his mouth? You know exactly why, Alexander MacIvor. You’ve seen her before in nothing but her shift and stays and it’s a sight worth beholding again. “I’d be happy to light more candles or?—”

Sarah’s face, framed by disheveled blond curls, poked around the side of the screen. “I cannot undo my stays, Mr. Black. The laces are at the back and Isla tied them too tightly. I need your help.” She disappeared again.

“Very well.” Alexander blew out a breath and rolled his shoulders. He could do this. Provide the assistance Sarah needed without pawing her like some savage beast.

He crossed the short distance to the screen and stepped behind it—then knitted his fingers together behind his head to stop himself hauling Sarah into his arms.

Sweet Jesus and all his saints.

Sarah had divested herself of everything except for her white silk stockings, thin linen shift, and the stubborn stays. Her back to him, she pulled her tumbling curls to one side and cast him a glance over one slender shoulder. “If you could help loosen the knot, I’d be most grateful, Mr. Black.”

“Alex,” he corrected, dropping his arms and stepping closer. “If I’m going to help you undress, Sarah, I think we can dispense with formalities, don’t you?”

She turned her head away. “Yes. I suppose you are right,” she said softly.

Alex released a shaky sigh. Right, MacIvor. Get this over with before your cockstand gets any bigger. His pulse galloping, he raised his hands and focused his attention on the tightly tied laces between Sarah’s delicate shoulder blades. When his fumbling fingers accidently brushed her smooth-as-cream skin, she sucked in a startled breath. Despite her brazen request, it seemed she was as skittish as he was.

“Easy, lass,” he murmured as he plucked at the stubborn knot.

Sarah’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m not your horse, Mr. Black.”

“Alex,” he reminded her. “And you’re right, you’re not.” You’re a gorgeous goddess and I wish you were mine…

Christ where had that mad thought come from?

The knot gave at last, and Alex began to loosen the laces down the length of Sarah’s back.

“I’m still not even sure that actually is your name,” murmured Sarah. Her soft breathy voice felt like an intimate caress across Alex’s skin.

“What?” he asked, his tone gruffer than he meant it to be. “Which, Alex or Black?” He was so disconcerted, he wasn’t sure what he was saying. He sure as hell couldn’t control his voice. Not when Sarah shrugged off her stays and tossed the garment onto the floor. Not when her shift slid off her shoulder and she looked back at him again from beneath her lashes.

“Both names,” she whispered huskily. “You have so many secrets.”

“Aye.” He was about to step away, but Sarah suddenly turned and pressed herself against him. Beneath his coat, her palms slid restlessly along the satin of his waistcoat.

“Sarah,” he cautioned, but it seemed his own body wasn’t inclined to heed the warning either. His hands clasped her upper arms but instead of setting her away, he gathered her closer. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the impudent jut of her nipples, as hard as pearls, through all the layers of his clothes. His nostrils flared as he drew in her intoxicating scent—something floral like roses and her own feminine essence. With every beat of his heart, wild lust pounded straight to his groin. “You and I... We shouldn’t...”

Sarah’s tongue darted out to moisten her soft lips and her blue eyes, dark with longing, locked with his. “Yes, we should.”

“Aye.” With a groan, Alex gave into temptation. Sarah Lambert had awoken the wolf inside him, and he intended to feast. He tilted Sarah’s small chin up then ruthlessly plundered her sweet willing mouth with reckless abandon. Tasting. Caressing. Devouring.

When her tongue dueled with his, fire licked through his veins. When her fingers speared into his clubbed hair, pulling it free from its leather tie, he shrugged out of his frockcoat. It seemed the shy maid he’d first encountered in the library at Kenmuir House had gone and a woman who knew what she wanted, who wanted him , had taken her place.

Like a starving man presented with a banquet, he couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her. The feel of her pliant, slender body beneath his questing hands. Her soft moans and whimpers.

Mindless with passion, Alex pushed her against the rough stone wall at her back and ground his hips against hers. Burying his face in her neck, he lavished her with hot, hungry kisses. When she ripped his shirt from his breeches and splayed her hand against his naked torso, he growled his appreciation.

Her shift slipped even farther down her arm, and with nothing more than a gentle pull, he exposed one of her high, proud breasts.

Dear God, she was delectable . He drew back to take in the glorious sight of Sarah, dazed with desire. Panting, chest heaving, her pale rose-pink nipple puckered beneath his gaze. He had to taste her there.

Cradling the tender weight of her breast with one hand, he lowered his head and laved the tight bud. She arched into him, her fingers twisting in his hair. “Alex.”

Christ, his name on her tongue was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

Sarah suddenly lifted her leg, wrapping it around one of his, and while Alex continued to lavish attention upon her breast, he also took the opportunity to slide his hand beneath her rucked- up shift, his fingers seeking the hot, wet sleekness between her thighs.

She gasped.

He froze. What, in God’s name, am I doing? This is wrong... So wrong.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before. But keep going.” Sarah pressed her hand against his throbbing cock. “I know you want me,” she breathed in a husky whisper that did nothing to quell the fire raging within him. “Take me.”

“Aye, I want you.” Alex reluctantly lifted his head and searched her face. “But the question is, Sarah Lambert, do you truly want me? Want this?” He pushed himself into her hand. “Because this stops right here, right now, if this isn’t honest and true.”

“Yes.” A shadow flickered in her eyes, belying her declaration. “I do want this.”

Alex dropped his hands and clenched his fists. The truth was, he did want this woman, so very desperately. But not this way. Something akin to suspicion twisted inside him like a viper. “Why are you really doing this, Sarah?” he gritted out. “Tell me.”

Her brow furrowed. “I told you. I wa?—”

“I don’t believe you.” Alex levered himself away from her.

With a small cry, Sarah snatched up his hand and placed it over her naked breast. “What do you feel, Alexander Black?” she demanded hotly. “These past few days, all the hours you’ve been away, I’ve thought of no one but you . My heart is racing. For you . I do not care for Malcolm, and I do not wish to wed him. You must believe me. It’s you I want to be with.”

With a tremendous effort, Alex removed his hand from her breast and gently tugged her shift back into place. Bitter self-recrimination burned like acid in his gut. “The problem is, you have no real choice in the matter, Sarah. I sense desperation within you. God knows, I’ve driven you to it. You…you don’t have to prostitute yourself in exchange for your safety or your freedom. Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You cannot deny it.”

Sarah’s eyes flashed with bright blue fire and tears. When she spoke, her voice quivered with anger. “God damn you, Alexander Black. How dare you? Get out.”

Alex gave one short sharp nod and strode from the room, closing the door behind him. She was angry with him, but it was no less than he deserved. If she had taken a fireiron to him right now, he’d have welcomed the blow.

What an arrogant, selfish, stupid bastard I am. How could she ever possibly care for me?

Heading straight for the dresser, he snagged a bottle of whisky, pulled out the cork with his teeth and took a large swig. A heart-rending sob crashed into the silence.

Bloody hell. Sarah was crying.

But it was better this way. She pretended she wanted him, but she didn’t really. How could she? He was holding her prisoner, for God’s sake. Seducing and deflowering her under duress was no better than raping her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything was a mess. Alex gulped down another mouthful of whisky, welcoming the hot sting at the back his throat. He’d promised himself he would not be like Tay. A cold-blooded, murderous animal who took whatever he wanted. A brute who fucked and destroyed lives with impunity.

But you’re destroying Sarah’s life, MacIvor. What the hell are you going to do now?

Alex put down the whisky and wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. One thing was clear: he needed to calm down because right at this moment, he felt as though he was being ravaged by a fever. His heart hammered, his cock throbbed, and in his head spun a tempest, a whirling storm of too many contradictory thoughts and emotions—a potent mixture of impotent rage, and utter despair, and rampaging desire. Worst of all was the clawing guilt, ripping him apart. He’d made Sarah feel so desperate and worthless, she’d been prepared to pay any price. But he wouldn’t let her.

Another sob reached his ears and right at that moment, Alex hated himself. He couldn’t stay here tonight. He had to get away. Even though night had fully descended, he’d take the coracle and then walk the mile back to Blackloch in the freezing darkness.

With savage movements, Alex yanked on his gloves and threw on his greatcoat, and after snatching up the whisky bottle again, he slammed out the door, not bothering to lock it. Sarah would be safe enough. He’d leave Bandit with her, and Isla and MacLagan would be back just after sunrise.

And only when he felt sane again would he return to say he was so very sorry.