The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 17

S he was in deep trouble.

Sarah had been traversing the bleak moor for well over an hour, perhaps longer, when she came to that heart-sinking realization. Soaked to the bone, shivering with cold, she stood on a small hillock with her arms wrapped around herself, uncertain which way to go.

To her right was a rushing stream, the one Isla had mentioned surely. The water boiled violently between sharp granite rocks. Less than ten yards to her left was nothing but a vast peat bog, which she’d only discovered by accident when her boot had sunk below the spongy ground into a pool of sucking, freezing mud. Born and raised in Northumberland, she knew enough about bogs to realize how perilous they could be, so heading south was clearly out.

Before her was nothing but a great stretch of snow-crusted sedge grass, and in the far distance lay another nameless range of mountains, their peaks obscured by a heavy gray shroud of low-lying cloud. The village Isla had spoken of was nowhere in sight.

Had she taken a wrong turn? Sarah very much doubted it. She’d done exactly as Isla had instructed. At the end of the loch, she’d headed westward in the straightest line she could manage across the rugged ground. The going was slow but she estimated she must have traveled at least three miles by now. Yet nothing indicated the presence of another living soul, let alone a village, anywhere close by. Not even a crofter’s cottage. Not even a deer or a bird wheeling on high.

The place was…deserted.

A chill that had nothing to do with the weather snaked its way down Sarah’s spine. Had…had Isla deliberately sent her out here in the hope she would get lost? But why would she do that?

She recalled the girl’s sullen, judgmental attitude over the last few days, how the young maid always blushed and smiled and stammered in her master’s presence. Yes, Isla was clearly smitten with Alexander MacIvor, but would the maid really try to put her, Sarah, in harm’s way out of mere spite and jealousy?

Mulling over the reasons why Isla may or may not have given her ill advice wasn’t going to help Sarah get out of this situation. And the weather was rapidly deteriorating. The ice-cold rain, which had been falling steadily since she’d set out, had turned to sleet, and Sarah could no longer feel her feet or her fingers. Every breath she exhaled emerged as a frozen white puff of mist. She needed to make a decision about what she would do—whether to keep going forward, or turn back toward Loch Rannoch. Isla had mentioned another village, Kinloch. If she turned back now, she’d hopefully reach it before dark.

But she might also encounter Alexander ... Fear knotted Sarah’s belly at the thought. He’d taken great pains to convince her that he meant her no harm. And she’d begun to trust him. But what if she’d been wrong? Isla had been adamant he’d been planning to get rid of her. She didn’t know who to believe or what to do.

One thing was clear: she couldn’t continue standing here in the middle of the moor in the sleeting rain. She’d freeze to death, especially if she didn’t reach any kind of shelter before nightfall.

Perhaps if she crossed the stream, the ground on the other side would be firmer. It was nigh impossible to tell without investigating. Telling herself she’d be fine—although the waters were turbulent, the stream was shallow—Sarah carefully picked her way along the rocky edge of the bank until she reached a narrower section. The opposite side was only a few feet away and there was a high, flattish rock in the middle she could use as a stepping-stone.

Picking up her skirts, she drew in a steadying breath and stepped forward. The rock was slick and for a heart-stopping moment she teetered on the edge before regaining her balance. To reach the other bank, she would have to jump. Not wanting to risk falling again, she tossed her sodden basket over and it rolled onto its side, the contents scattering between the rocks and the tussocks of sedge grass beyond. She cursed aloud but at least everything hadn’t fallen into the water.

Bending her knees slightly, Sarah counted to three then launched forward, aiming for a flat patch of snowy grass—but as she landed her right foot slipped and with a startled cry she toppled toward the rocks?—

Alex wiped the rain from his eyes and halted his horse on the fringes of a peat bog. Bandit, sopping wet and looking for all the world like a giant half-drowned rat, trotted back toward him and barked.

“Please don’t tell me she went in that direction, lad.” They’d been steadily making their way west across the moor for an hour in an almost dead straight line and with each passing minute, Alex’s dread had grown. He knew this countryside as well as the lines and scars on his own hand. If Sarah had strayed into any one of the innumerable bogs or deep crevices of rushing water hidden by the snow... Dear God in heaven, it didn’t bear thinking about.

Alex squinted at the barren, frozen wasteland ahead, scanning the near distance, middle ground, then the horizon for any flash of color that wasn’t dun brown, gray or white, for any flicker of movement. But he saw nothing and no one. At least he had several more hours of decent light left. Though, as time marched on, the less likely it would be that he would find Sarah before something terrible happened.

Please God, keep her safe.

Bandit snuffled the wet sedge grass a few feet away then barked again.

“All right, lad. I trust you.”

Head down and tail up, Bandit started off again, skirting the edge of the bog, heading slightly north-west toward a rocky burn. Alex urged his horse forward, following the dog but at a slower pace, picking the way carefully. He was determined not to miss anything, nor did he want his horse to end up in the bog.

Bandit had gone less than a hundred yards when he stopped at the edge of the burn; tail wagging madly, he barked frantically. And then Alex’s heart lurched. Behind an outcrop of rocks on the opposite bank, he glimpsed a patch of bright blue. A streak of dark gold.

Sarah.

Oh, no. Dear Lord, no.

Alex slid from his horse and bolted to the burn. His Sarah lay face down and motionless in a crumpled heap of sodden black and blue wool. An upturned basket lay beside her.

His gut clenching in fear, he leapt to the other side and dropped to his knees. With gentle hands he turned Sarah over and didn’t know whether to curse or thank the heavens. She was alive but unconscious; a fair-sized bump and angry red cut marred her forehead, near her temple. The blood had already started to clot. Just as concerning was how cold she was; her face was deathly pale, almost as white as the snow, and her lips and eyelids were blue.

He needed to rouse her and get her warm and dry as fast as possible.

“Sarah. Sarah, lass,” Alex called squeezing one of her gloved hands. He gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Please wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered and a soft moan escaped from between her bloodless lips. “Black?” Her voice emerged as a mere thread of sound.

“Aye,” he smiled. Black would do . “I’m here.”

“Wh-What happened?” Before he could respond, Sarah’s eyes flew open and she stiffened and pushed a hand against his chest as though warding him off. “P-Please. Don’t hurt me.”

Alex frowned. “Hurt you? Why would I hurt you?”

“Isla said... She t-told me you’d be angry... That I sh-should run...b-because I f-found out…” She grimaced and touched her forehead. “I slipped and fell.”

“Yes, you did. And I don’t care what Isla told you, I would never hurt you, Sarah. You have no idea how relieved I am that I found you. Can you sit up?”

Sarah’s eyes grew bright with tears and her bottom lip trembled. “You’ve come to take me b-back to Eilean Dubh, haven’t you?”

“Not quite but somewhere safe.” With an arm around her shoulders, Alex helped Sarah to a sitting position. Then he removed her wet cloak and replaced it with his thicker greatcoat which was still relatively dry inside. Sarah’s teeth were chattering and her body quaked with violent shivers.

He was about to ask her if she thought she’d be able to stand when she pulled away from him. “I’m—I’m going to be sick.”

Poor lass. As she cast up the meager contents of her stomach, Alex held back her tangled wet hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually.

“Och, don’t be sorry. You’ve taken a fair knock on the head. It’s to be expected.” Alex helped Sarah to her feet then he carefully slipped into the burn. Even though it was fast flowing, it was shallow and if he was careful, he wouldn’t lose his footing. He beckoned to Sarah. “Come here, lass.”

“Wh-What are you doing?” Sarah eyed him doubtfully.

“I’m going to carry you across. Jumping clearly isn’t an option.”

“I d-don’t know.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “You’re really going to argue with me now, Sarah Lambert? I’m standing in a freezing cold burn that’s almost up to my knees.”

She began to scowl but then winced. “My head hurts t-too much to b-be cross with you.”

“Well, that’s a consolation of sorts. Come now.” He reached out his arms. “I promise I won’t drop you.”

Holding onto a nearby boulder for support, Sarah took a small step toward the edge of the bank. Heeding his instructions, she then sat down to make it easier for him to scoop her into his arms; he didn’t think she’d appreciate being tipped upside-down over his shoulder, not with a head injury at any rate.

When they were both safely on the other side, Sarah’s gaze locked with his. “Thank you f-for helping me,” she said softly. “You seem to have a gift for getting me out of d-dire scrapes.”

Alex smiled. “How could I not? Although I should say Bandit’s the real hero. He found you faster than I could have done alone.”

The collie had been dancing around their legs, begging for attention, and Sarah bent down to lavish him with a warm hug about the neck.

Lucky wee bastard, thought Alex enviously. When Sarah stood upright again, she clutched Alex’s shoulder.

Alarm spiked through him. “Are you all right, lass?”

Sarah put a hand to her head. “J-Just a little d-dizzy...that’s all.”

“Hmmm. I think it’s best if we share my horse. I don’t want you falling off.” Not waiting for her to respond, Alex lifted her onto the saddle then climbed up behind her. Lashing an arm around her waist to keep her steady, he kicked his horse into a trot. “We’ll be back before you know it, Sarah.”

She turned her head slightly, her wet curls brushing his cheek. “Back where?”

“I’m going to take you home.” Enough was enough. Alex didn’t want any more secrets between them. “My real home. Blackloch Castle.”

She was safe. And it was Alexander who’d saved her.

Again.

The relief enveloping Sarah warmed her heart even if the rest of her was half frozen. With Alex’s strong arms around her, she at last truly believed she could trust him. He could have left her to die out on Rannoch Moor, but he hadn’t. Indeed, in setting out on a search for her, he’d risked his own life.

It made her wonder if he actually was developing some sort of tender regard for her. Perhaps more than she’d ever anticipated.

It also made her wonder what Isla’s true agenda was... It was abundantly clear that the young woman had deliberately sent her into the middle of a dangerous wilderness on a wild goose chase. There was no village on Rannoch Moor, Sarah was sure of it.

So many questions and confused thoughts tumbled around in her mind, it made Sarah’s head ache all the more. Alex had obviously returned to Eilean Dubh around noon, just as Isla had told her he would. Thank God that he had, otherwise he wouldn’t have discovered she’d escaped.

Alex would have seen that MacLagan had been drugged. But what about Isla? She supposed the maid had confessed to her master that she’d run off, but had Isla mentioned her direction was Rannoch Moor? That hardly seemed likely, if Isla bore her ill will.

Thank God Bandit had been able to find her.

A frisson of fear passed through Sarah at the thought of what her fate would have been if Alex hadn’t returned to Eilean Dubh when he had. If he’d had second thoughts and changed his mind. If he hadn’t searched for her...

Alex must have noticed her shivering again as he tightened his hold about her and murmured against her ear, “Hold on, lass. It won’t be long before you’re tucked up in bed with a hot chocolate.”

Too exhausted to speak, Sarah nodded and leaned back against his wide chest. Isla must have also told him she’d discovered his real identity. Why else would he take her to his home, Blackloch Castle, rather than back to Eilean Dubh? It obviously didn’t matter to him that she knew the truth. Instead of being perturbed, he only seemed to be concerned about her comfort and safety.

If she could ever discount the fact he’d kidnapped her, she might be tempted to fall in love with him...

The sleet turned to snow, and as the world turned darker and grayer, Sarah eventually gave up trying to sort out everything in her mind. By the time they reached the main gates to Blackloch Castle, she was shivering uncontrollably and her head throbbed. It took all of her concentration just to stay alert and upright. Thank God Alex held her securely on his mount.

She was barely aware of the castle’s well-manicured grounds as Alex steered his horse down a winding oak-lined gravel drive. When they emerged from the trees onto a forecourt, Sarah’s breath caught at the sight of Blackloch. It was massive. And beautiful. Through the swirling snow, she caught a brief glimpse of gray brickwork covered in ivy, towering turrets, and crenelated walls. Before she could blink, they were passing through an arched barbican passage into a large courtyard.

Alex gave a shout for assistance as he reined in his horse, and almost immediately a gaggle of servants emerged from various directions—stablehands, a pair of liveried footmen, several maids.

And Aileen.

The woman gave her a brusque nod but Sarah didn’t have time to acknowledge her greeting, such as it was, because Alex dismounted and carefully lifted her down from the horse. As soon as Sarah’s feet touched the ground, a great wave of dizziness assailed her. Dark spots danced before her eyes and her knees buckled.

In a flash, Alex swept her up into his arms. “You need to stop giving me frights like this, lass,” he admonished as he carried her across the flagged courtyard toward a wide-open door. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Sarah closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Alex’s shoulder. Even though his tone was light, she detected an underlying current of tension in his voice. “S-S-Sorry,” she whispered, her teeth chattering so much she could hardly speak.

To her surprise, she felt the brush of Alex’s lips on her temple. “Don’t be. Just be well, that’s all I ask of you.”

I’ll try. With each passing moment, fatigue pulled Sarah toward sleep. Even forming words seemed an effort. She had a brief impression of Alex carrying her up a wide set of stairs then into a vast bedchamber with heavy oak furniture and dark red curtains. Then darkness claimed her.

Christ. Sarah had lapsed into unconsciousness. Except for the angry red gash on her temple, her face was as white as the fine linen sheets on his tester bed.

Fighting a rising wave of panic, Alex called for Aileen who’d been hovering near the doorway of his bedchamber with two of the housemaids. “We need to get Miss Lambert undressed.”

He placed Sarah gently on the bed and began tugging off her muddy leather boots.

“Sir,” protested Aileen, rushing forward. “Ye canna be doing this. ‘Tis not proper.”

“I don’t give a fig about what’s proper, woman.” Alex gently rolled Sarah over and eased his sopping wet greatcoat off her. “Not when Miss Lambert’s life hangs in the balance.”

Aileen planted her hands on her hips. “Fiona, Moira, and I will manage. In fact, we will work faster if ye will just step oot of the way. A man isna much help in a sickroom. Besides, ye need to get warm and dry yerself.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that. Reluctantly he stepped away and the women descended like a flock of mother hens. “I want warming pans in that bed,” he called over his shoulder, heading for the adjoining dressing room. “She’ll need dry towels—and you can dress Miss Lambert in one of my nightshirts for now.”

A short time later, Alex—attired in a quilted silk banyan—returned to find Sarah had been tucked up in his bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. The housemaid, Fiona, had just pushed a warming pan beneath the burgundy silk counterpane and sheets, and Aileen was wringing out a washcloth in a basin of water on the bedside table.

“The lass’s heid needs attending to,” she murmured, gently dabbing around Sarah’s wound; it had started to bleed again but whilst the cut was about an inch long, it was shallow. A purple bruise had begun to flower around the area.

“I’ll do that.”

Aileen scowled as he took the cloth from her, but she didn’t argue with him. “If ye dinna mind my asking, sir, what happened?”

Alex lowered his voice so the other maids wouldn’t hear. Only his most trusted servants at Blackloch—Aileen, Isla, MacLagan, and Dobson—knew who Sarah was and the situation on Eilean Dubh. “Sarah escaped but took a wrong turn and ended up lost on Rannoch Moor.”

“What? Is Isla all right? And MacLagan?”

“They are both fine, but send Dobson out to get them. The rowboat is on the Blackloch side. And get Isla to bring some of Miss Lambert’s clothes.” He didn’t want to go into details right now. “I need some linen bandages. And something hot to drink. Coffee for me. Perhaps hot chocolate for the lass.” If she wakes up. Sarah hadn’t stirred at all since she’d fainted in his arms. And now her breathing was unnaturally shallow and rapid. He didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

“Aye, sir.” Aileen touched his arm in an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. “She will recover, milord,” she whispered.

“I hope you are right, Aileen.”

Fiona and Moira soon finished their fussing and disappeared, and after Aileen delivered the bandages and drinks he’d requested, the door closed and he was left alone with Sarah.

With great care, Alex wound a linen bandage around her head before he collapsed into a bedside wingchair. As he quietly sipped his coffee, he watched Sarah; her pallor and the blueness around her lips persisted even though she was tucked up tightly. She’d stopped shivering but that didn’t ease his fear. In fact, she seemed too still.

Putting down his cup, he reached out and touched her cheek. Dear God, she was cold.

This wasn’t good. Somehow, he had to do something else to warm her up.

But what? Short of moving her closer to the fire, which was already roaring, he couldn’t think of a single thing.

Unless...

Praying silently to Sarah for forgiveness for what he was about to do, Alex crossed to the other side of the bed and slipped beneath the covers. His silk banyan was cool to the touch so he opened it and very carefully drew Sarah into his arms until her back was against his bare torso with his leg draped over hers.

Pressing his face into her tangled, damp hair, he whispered another prayer, this time to heaven. If anything happened to her... His throat constricted and he closed his eyes and hugged Sarah tighter.

Because for the very first time in such a long time, his heart remembered and welcomed the bittersweet pain that came with being in love. And that something—that someone —was more important to him now than revenge.