The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 18

S he was warm. Deliciously warm.

And comfortable. Swathed in soft fabrics. Her head cradled by a down pillow.

With a sigh, Sarah turned over and a flash of pain in her forehead made her wince. And then reality crashed through the haze of sleep. Her eyes flew open. She wasn’t alone.

Oh, my goodness... She was lying in Alexander’s arms in a strange bed.

His bed at Blackloch Castle.

A vague memory of Alex carrying her into this room emerged from the cloud of confusion in her mind. She’d been so very cold and her head ached because of her fall on Rannoch Moor.

She reached up to touch her forehead. Someone had bandaged the wound. And someone had dressed her in a man’s cambric nightshirt and put her to bed.

Alex?

The light in the room was muted and gray, as though snow fell outside, but there was enough for her to see Alex’s face. Sleep softened his harshly handsome features and she only just resisted the urge to trace her fingertips along the blade of his nose, his slashing eyebrows as dark as charcoal, his high cheekbones. To brush the tousled black wing of hair away from his eyelids. Once again, he reminded her of a fallen angel. Beautiful yet dangerous. It didn’t help that her body was pressed against his. His hot, hard, practically naked body. Aside from a silk robe that was splayed wide open, he wore nothing but linen smallclothes.

It made Sarah think of all manner of sinful things that a young, unwed woman most definitely shouldn’t. Like touching the wide planes of his chest with its intriguing scattering of dark hair. Or kissing the strong line of his neck where his pulse beat. The sharp line of his jaw, shadowed with dark stubble.

His mouth.

Her lips tingled at the memory of his kisses last night. On her own mouth. Her bared breast. When Malcolm had kissed her, it had never felt like that. So intense. So arousing.

So right.

Shocked at the waywardness of her thoughts, she silently berated herself. Stop it, Sarah. You should not be entertaining such wanton notions. It’s not as though you need to try and seduce Alex any longer. It’s not as though he wants to seduce you either. He’s had ample opportunity, but so far he has refused you.

What did he say last night? That what you offered wasn’t honest and true?

In a way, he’d been right. But it didn’t lessen the sting of his words.

So why was she in Alexander MacIvor’s bed? Whatever his reason, it must be a sound one.

A gilded clock upon the mantelpiece softly chimed the hour—four o’clock in the afternoon. Sarah carefully slid from the bed and held onto the bedpost for a moment. Her body felt sore and bruised in odd places but her light-headedness seemed to have abated, so she tiptoed across the Turkish rug in search of Alex’s dressing room. Once inside, she found the necessary stool behind a silk screen and because the room was chilly, she borrowed one of Alex’s banyans—a dark blue velvet robe. Wrapping it around herself, she hoped he wouldn’t mind. But then, wasn’t she already wearing one of his nightshirts?

Before she returned to the main chamber, she caught sight of herself in a full-length looking glass and winced at how dreadful she looked—pale with shadows beneath her eyes and the hair of a hag. Morbid curiosity compelled her to unwrap the linen from her head and she winced again—there was a fair-sized bump a few inches above her right eye, an ugly purple bruise, and an inch-long cut. The bleeding had stopped, so she left the bandage off as she ran her fingers through the worst snarls in her hair.

Unsure of what to do next—she could hardly venture outside of Alex’s room the way she was currently dressed, and the idea of summoning one of the servants felt equally awkward— Sarah crossed back to the bed. She supposed she could sit by the hearth, but the fire had died down and the room was growing colder by the minute. Besides, she knew how warm the bed was...

Throwing caution to the wind, she carefully climbed in, hoping not to wake Alex. But her plan failed. As soon as she slipped beneath the covers, he stirred.

“Sarah,” he murmured. The heart-melting softness of his smile, the caress of his eyes upon her face sent a ripple of warmth through her, all the way to her toes. “You’re awake.”

“Yes.”

He yawned and ran a hand down his face before easing himself up onto one elbow. “I’d wager you’re probably wondering why you’re in my bed.”

“The question 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... 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—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 demeanor, Sarah pushed herself up too. “When I found the book about Blackloch Castle in the solar at Eilean Dubh?—”

“Which book?”

“It was… 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 the castle and tower were both owned by the chief of Clan MacIvor, Baron Rannoch. When I confronted Isla about it?—”

“You spoke with Isla?”

“Yes. Oh, bother—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 he didn’t seem angry with her, just concerned, Sarah continued. “I showed Isla the book and she confirmed I was correct, that you’re really Alexander MacIvor and the Laird of Blackloch, Lord Rannoch. And that because I knew, she then told me...” She trailed off, dropping her gaze to the counterpane, suddenly embarrassed to admit the next part of the tale considering everything Alex had subsequently 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 true 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.”

“I didn’t want to believe Isla,” Sarah added, “but she insisted I had to go. And because you’d left in anger last night... Well, in any event, I didn’t want to squander the only real chance I might have to escape.”

“I completely understand, Sarah. Though I’m loath to admit it, 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 toward 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 now 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, had tried to do, 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. Unforgivable, 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 Alex’s 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,” she murmured.

“No, it’s not all right,” continued Alex. His words seem weighted with genuine remorse. “I’ve been an unthinking, ruthless bastard from the very start. 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’m truly sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. My thirst for revenge on Lord Tay made me blind. What I’ve done to you is unforgivable.”

“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 with reluctance. “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.”

“Well, I’m a man of my word.”

She caught his hand and smiled. “Yes, 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 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. Curling 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 sizable dram of whisky into a cut-glass tumbler. He downed it then poured another.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize 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.

Alex 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. 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 from his understandably 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 complicated 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 wingchair 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, but 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” Alex held her gaze. “But not for George. For James Stuart. I followed his son Charles, the Young Pretender into battle.”

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.”

It sounded even worse, said softly in her dulcet tones. 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’ve 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. 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 I trust implicitly—know who I really am. Know my past.”

Sarah inclined her head. “Then I am honored 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.”