The Laird of Blackloch (Highland Rogue #2)

Chapter 31

Blackloch Castle, Loch Rannoch

March 1, 1757

T he sun was high in a brilliant blue sky when Alex escorted Sarah along the gritted path toward the sundial at the center of Blackloch’s formal rose garden. Even though patches of slushy snow covered the frosty ground and the rose bushes were bare, early daffodils, purple crocuses, and delicate white snowdrops brightened the neatly laid-out parterres.

Farther ahead, through the stand of ancient oaks already wearing touches of spring green, Sarah caught a glimpse of Loch Rannoch, its waters glinting with diamonds of sunlight. On such a wonderful clear morning, it was difficult for her to believe this place had been the scene of such terrible tragedy nearly eleven years ago.

They paused near the sundial where Bandit was sniffing about the sandstone pedestal, and Sarah’s vision misted quite unexpectedly. Pulling a lace-trimmed linen kerchief from the pocket secreted in the skirts of her peacock-blue riding habit, she tried but failed to surreptitiously dab at her eyes.

Alex brushed her damp cheek with the back of his fingers. “Don’t cry, dear heart,” he murmured, his expression so grave and tender, it made Sarah’s tears well all the more. “This needs to be done. It’s time.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah attempted a smile but all she managed was a weak tremble of her lips. Her heart ached for this man whom she loved, for all he’d lost and endured.

His wide mouth lifted into a soft half-smile. “Aye. It is.”

He knelt down, and at the foot of one of the rose bushes, he dug a narrow but deep hole in the half-frozen dirt with a small trowel that he’d taken from the pocket of his black redingote. Then he slipped his onyx and gold ring from his finger and gently pushed it into the ground before covering it with dirt again. A blackbird, hidden in the boughs of a nearby oak, sang sweetly.

Alex straightened and threaded his fingers through Sarah's. “I’ll always miss my family,” he murmured, “but I feel like they’re at peace now.” Raising her hand to his lips, he captured her gaze. The light in his gray eyes was solemn yet soft. “And I’m at peace. Because of you.”

Sarah, her heart swelling with love, leaned forward and gently brushed her lips against his. “Shall we pick some flowers and lay them on your family’s graves before we go?” she asked. Alex had told her there was a small, rarely used chapel and a family plot on the other side of the oak copse.

He shook his head. “No. This is enough, for now.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’d best be on our way to Edinburgh. As soon as I can openly tell the world I’m Alexander MacIvor, Blackloch will officially have a laird again, and we shall be wed.”

Once more, Sarah had to blink away tears, but this time, they were of joy. “I can hardly wait for that day.”

Alex drew her into the warm circle of his strong arms and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were bright with tears as well. “Me too, my love,” he whispered. “Me too.”