The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 23

Lochrose Castle, near Grantown, the Highlands

February 25, 1757

A lex’s gut was a ball of tight knots as he waited in the elegantly appointed library of Lochrose Castle. It had been well over a year since he’d last seen his friend, Robert Grant, Viscount Lochrose, in Kingston, Jamaica. Although, at that particular time, he’d gone by the name of Robert Burnley.

Alex trusted he would receive a warm reception. But would Robert’s welcoming attitude change when he asked him for a favor, one that might very well place him at risk? Would he be willing to put his name and reputation on the line for another Jacobite-on-the-run?

Of course, it couldn’t hurt to ask...

At least that’s what Alex tried to tell himself as he paced back and forth across the richly patterned Turkish rug in front of a magnificent mahogany desk. The longcase clock in the corner marked the hour, noon, and he was horribly aware of how filthy he was. Since he’d left Blackloch yesterday morning, he’d ridden all day and half the night, only stopping to change horses and grab the occasional meal. His boots were mud-caked, his buckskin breeches and cambric shirt stank of horse and sweat, and he desperately needed a shave.

But then he reminded himself that he was doing this for Sarah. Sarah and the children they would have.

Every other care paled into insignificance.

He’d just twitched back the plush velvet curtains to study the sweeping vista of picturesque loch and wooded braes through one of the tall, mullion-paned windows, when the polished oak doors swung open.

“Alex!” Robert Grant strode into the room, a wide grin curving his mouth. He grasped Alex in a warm hug, slapping him on the back before releasing him to study his face. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Indeed it has.” Despite his qualms, Alex found himself grinning too. “You look well. Actually, damn well. Living the life of a landed nobleman who’s happily wed clearly agrees with you.”

“Aye, it certainly does.” Robert crossed to a carved mahogany sideboard and held up a crystal decanter. “Care to share a wee dram for old times’ sake?”

“You need to ask?”

Armed with tumblers of whisky redolent of peat smoke and honey, Alex and Robert took seats before the crackling fire.

Ever perceptive and forthright, Robert got straight to the point. “So, what brings you to Lochrose? Something tells me this isn’t just a social call.”

Alex took a fortifying sip of his whisky then grimaced. “Aye. You’re not wrong at all.”

His friend reclined in his brown leather wingchair and sipped his own whisky, waiting for Alex to elaborate.

“It’s...” Alex sat forward, rolling his tumbler between his hands as he contemplated how best to broach the sensitive subject on his mind. “Oh, hell. I’ve met a woman. The most amazing, beautiful, and delightfully sweet woman. And I want to make her my wife.”

“Well, that’s superb news, Alex.” Robert leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations are in order, then.”

Alex sighed. “Not quite.”

“You mean, you haven’t proposed to her yet?”

“Aye, I have—and you could have knocked me over with a feather when she accepted. Only...”

Robert’s dark blue eyes narrowed. “Only you wish she could take your name, MacIvor.”

“Exactly.”

Alex’s friend inclined his head. “I understand completely. So?—”

“Robert, I’ve just come back from the village, and ye’ll never guess which crofter’s wife had her wee babe last night...”

Alex stood up as the most breathtaking redheaded lass he’d ever laid eyes upon entered the room. Dressed in a burgundy wool riding habit, her red-gold curls spilled over her shoulders as she pulled off then tossed a jaunty hat, decorated with pheasant quills, onto a nearby chair. “Och, I’m so verra sorry for interrupting, Robert,” she said as soon as her gaze fell on the interloper in her home. Her honey-brown eyes darted back to her husband. “If I’d known ye had company, I would have knocked.”

“It’s quite all right, Jessie. Alex and I are old friends.” Robert, who’d risen from his chair as well, turned to him. “Alex, may I introduce my lovely wife to you? Jessie, Lady Lochrose.”

“My lady.” Alex stepped forward and bowed over her gloved hand.

“And Jessie, this is Alexander MacIvor, Baron Rannoch,” continued Robert. “Although outside of this room, it’s probably best if you refer to him as Mr. Alexander Price.”

Alex smiled at Lady Lochrose. “Or you may call me Alex. That’s what my friends do.”

Jessie smiled at him. “Alex. Of course.”

Robert touched his wife’s arm claiming her attention. “Alex and I…we have some past history in common, if you take my meaning. And we are both in similar lines of business in the New World.”

Understanding flashed in Jessie’s clear brown eyes. “Ah, I see.”

“Alex is also getting married. To...” Robert cocked a dark eyebrow at him.

“Miss Sarah Lambert,” finished Alex.

“Och, that’s wonderful,” said Jessie with a dazzling smile. “Congratulations! I hope I shall have the opportunity to meet Miss Lambert one day.”

Alex tilted his head. “Thank you, my lady. And I think that it is entirely likely. May I offer my sincere congratulations to you and Robert as well? I can see how happy you both are.”

“Thank you. We are indeed.” Jessie’s cheeks became suffused with color as she cast a soft look her husband’s way. “Verra much.”

Robert caught Jessie’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I haven’t spoken to Father yet but I’m sure he will lend his unreserved support in assisting Alex to secure a pardon.”

Jessie beamed. “I’m sure he will too.”

Tension slowly melted away from Alex’s shoulders. Robert had once been estranged from his father, the Earl of Strathburn, but clearly that was no longer the case. To see his friend so damn content and secure gave Alex hope that maybe such a fate was within his reach too. After all, the issuing of royal pardons for Jacobites was not unheard of. Aside from Robert attaining one, Ranald the Younger of Clan Ranald who’d been living in exile in France after the Rebellion had also been allowed to return to Scotland three years ago.

Yes, there was definitely hope.

Robert and Jessie kindly invited Alex to stay the night at Lochrose rather than rushing off to Blackloch straightaway. When he politely but regretfully declined, his heart already longing to be back in Sarah’s arms, there was much consternation. However, in the end, they reached a compromise, and Alex agreed to stay for luncheon. The charming Lord Strathburn joined them too. Although physically frail, he was both jovial and sharp-witted and by the end of their repast, he’d pledged to Alex that he would do everything in his power to secure an unreserved royal pardon for him. Fortuitously, in a fortnight’s time, the earl was due in Edinburgh to meet with his solicitor and the Lord Advocate, the King’s representative in Scotland. And now, at Lord Strathburn’s urging, Alex would join him for the latter meeting too.

When it came time for Alex to quit Lochrose Castle—he was reluctant to leave Sarah alone at Blackloch for too long—he did so with a considerably lighter spirit.

By God’s grace, within the space of a month he would be known as Alexander MacIvor again, and the title of Baron Rannoch would no longer be attainted. Then there would be nothing in the world to stop him from marrying Sarah.