Red Velvet House, The Cowgate, Edinburgh
22 February 1757
‘Good sir, what can we do fer you this fine evening?’ simpered Mrs MacLean, the Red Velvet’s middle-aged madam. Her brightly rouged cheeks were as plump as apples as she beamed a gap-toothed grin at Malcolm.
Malcolm eyed the garish reception room—its faux-gilt candelabra and smoky wall sconces, the blood-red velvet settees and the lopsided chandelier overhead—and the equally garish woman before him, with distaste. Her tightly cinched corset did nothing to enhance her doughy figure; indeed, her ample breasts spilling from her puce silk bodice reminded him of deflated choux pastries. Dragging his gaze from her sagging cleavage, he looked down his nose at her. ‘I want to engage one of your tarts. A certain Miss Nell.’
‘Och. You have verra good taste, sir.’ Mrs MacLean winked at him. ‘She has the best titties in this whole establishment.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Malcolm withdrew his pocket watch and consulted the time. ‘I want her for an hour. And I want your best private room.’
‘Aye. Of course.’ The madam’s gaze travelled over his brocade and velvet frockcoat and black satin breeches. She was clearly assessing how much he’d be willing to pay. ‘Fer you, that will be a guinea.’
Malcolm snorted. ‘I don’t care how good her tits are, I won’t pay more than two crowns.’ The girl probably was worth a guinea but he didn’t want to waste what coin he had left. MacNab, the inquiry agent, had already spent far too much hunting down the buxom Nell.
‘Hmmm.’ Mrs MacLean tapped a finger beside the tiny heart-shaped patch beside her rouged lips. ‘I’ll let you have her fer three an’ I’ll throw in a decanter of my verra best brandywine.’
‘Forget about the brandywine.’ It was probably watered-down horse piss. ‘But I agree on the price.’
‘Excellent.’ The madam held out a chubby-fingered hand for the money. ‘If you just take a seat and wait here a few more minutes, sir,’ she added as she tucked the coins into her bodice, ‘I shall make sure Miss Nell is ready to receive you.’
Flipping out his coat-tails, Malcolm took a seat on a settee and twirled the end of his silver-topped cane on an oriental rug that had seen better days. A few minutes turned into a quarter of an hour. With nothing better to do than take a pinch of snuff, and watch a few other men skulk in before bring escorted away by other scantily clad whores, Malcolm was seething by the time Mrs MacLean returned.
‘About bloody time,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I don’t have all night, you know.’ Not when he wasn’t absolutely certain that the ‘Nell’ of Red Velvet House was the woman he was looking for. He was running out of time to raise the ransom and he needed to know who Janus was.
The madam frowned and planted her fisted hands on her ample hips. ‘Now, now, sir. I ken ye are a fine gent but we’ll have none of that sort of language. Or I might need to rethink our arrangement.’
Malcolm took a menacing step forward. His fingers itched to unsheathe the sword concealed within his walking cane and prick the madam in the jowls. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’
She didn’t budge an inch, just cocked a painted brow at him. ‘Nae, I dinna ken who ye are. Do ye really want me to?’
Malcolm eyed her narrowly. The woman did have a valid point. He didn’t really want anyone at this brothel to know he was the Earl of Tay. Aside from that, there was a rather burly guard in the nearby entry hall; even though he had a weapon, he couldn’t afford to make a fuss. Avoiding any kind of scandal was still uppermost in his mind. ‘Very well,’ he conceded. He adjusted his lace cuffs. ‘Just take me to her.’
‘Aye, sir. This way if you please.’
The woman ushered Malcolm through to a dimly lit hallway that smelt oddly of rising damp, burnt toast, and a heavy musk-like scent, before leading him up a narrow flight of stairs. The sounds of enthusiastic fucking—rhythmic grunts, moans, and the occasional squeal of laughter—filled the air and he felt his prick begin to harden.
At the end of the corridor, the madam pushed open a wooden door with a tarnished brass handle. ‘Here you go, sir. I’ll be back in an hour.’
Malcolm brushed past her, impatience turning to sharp anticipation as he entered the chamber. The wine velvet curtains were drawn but there was enough light from the fire and several branches of candles to reveal an overly ornate bed, the headboard decorated with paintings of fat cupids frolicking in a rose bower… and hallelujah, the woman he’d been searching for.
Nell, attired in an almost transparent rose-coloured peignoir, was reclining upon a pink and red striped chaise longue, but as soon as she laid eyes on him, she leapt to her feet.
‘Och… milord…’ she said, her hand fluttering to her slender throat. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
‘Aye, fancy that.’ He advanced towards her, unsheathing his rapier before pushing the point between her bountiful breasts. Through the peignoir he watched her nipples harden and his cock swelled, tenting his breeches.
Nell’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Wh-what can I do fer you, milord? I dinna mind things to get a wee bit rough but no’ like this.’
Malcolm traced the tip of the rapier up to Nell’s throat. ‘I want to know who hired you to distract me at Kenmuir House. And don’t even think about lying. Or your pretty throat is as good as slit.’
Nell swallowed, but to her credit, she held his gaze. ‘Och, is tha’ all ye wish to ken? It ’twas a verra handsome black-haired gentleman by the name of Mr Alexander Price. And verra generous he was too. Hired me fer the whole night.’
Price. Price was Janus. He had to be.
But why the fuck had Price kidnapped Sarah?
It didn’t make sense. Unless the dog wasn’t as rich as everyone thought…
‘Did he tell you why he hired you?’
Nell frowned. ‘All he asked me to do was keep you entertained for an hour or so. I was to take you to a private parlour he’d picked out and make sure the curtains were left open. I assumed he wanted to watch us. Some men like that, ye ken. To watch.’
Bastard. The fucking bastard. He must have taken Sarah out to the terrace, then whilst she was reeling from what she’d seen, he’d somehow spirited her away. Probably through the nearby garden gate to the lane beyond. MacNab, during his discreet inquiries at Kenmuir House, had discovered the gate’s lock had been broken.
As Malcolm had puzzled over Nell’s revelation, she’d slid off her peignoir and now stood before him stark naked. Her puckered raspberry nipples had his mouth watering and the sight of her bare mons made his balls throb.
She must have noticed the flare of lust in his gaze as she arched a brow and twirled a flaxen curl around one of her fingers. ‘You seem displeased, milord. If you wish to punish me fer being a verra bad girl at the ball, perhaps I could suggest a spanking…’
Malcolm lowered his rapier and resheathed it. ‘Right after you use your mouth on me,’ he said, unbuttoning his breeches. As much as he’d like to throttle Nell, he may as well get his money’s worth while he was here. And the idea of spanking that lovely round of arse of hers until it was as red as her nipples was certainly appealing.
Nell grinned and sank to her knees. ‘Och, aye. With pleasure, milord.’
***
Tay House, Edinburgh
23 February 1757
Janus’s—or Alexander Price’s—next letter of demand arrived on the doorstep of Tay House some time before dawn the following morning.
As the only remaining Boulle clock in the entire house struck seven, Drysdale shuffled into his room with the letter and Malcolm, still abed, snatched it up and tore it open with alacrity rather than trepidation. The note contained brief instructions about where he should deposit the ten thousand pounds in order to reclaim Sarah, on the first of March.
The location was an isolated spot, a cairn at the foot of the mountain Schiehallion—the Maiden’s Pap—on the south-eastern side, not far from a stretch of dense woodland. Of course, Malcolm knew the area well; after all, it was only ten miles from Taymoor Castle. And interestingly enough, on the other side of the mountain was Price’s land—the old MacIvor estate that the Crown had seized following the Rebellion. It made perfect sense and only confirmed Price must be Janus.
Malcolm cast the letter onto the rumpled bedclothes and for once, he smiled rather than cursed at his ancient butler. ‘I want coffee, my good man. And brush down my greatcoat. After I’ve dressed, pack my trunk. I also want the carriage brought round by nine. Send one of the footmen to engage a couple of hacks from the Whitehorse Inn. I’m returning to Taymoor Castle.’
‘Aye, milord.’
Malcolm rubbed the bristles on his chin. ‘Is Lady Glenleven in?’ He hadn’t seen Damaris since early yesterday afternoon and wanted to share the good news.
Drysdale shifted his weight from side to side as he studied the bedroom floor. ‘Nae, milord. I dinna think she is…’
Malcolm snorted. She was probably still at Arbelour House, screwing more jewels out of the old earl. He threw back the covers and reached for the chamber pot in the bedside table. ‘If she arrives whilst I’m getting ready, tell her to come and speak with me. At once.’
‘Of course, milord.’
Malcolm picked up Janus’s ransom note again as he relieved himself.
Fuck you, Price. His mouth curled into a smile. He couldn’t wait to confront the prick and have him thrown in gaol. To watch him swing at the end of a hangman’s noose. But even better than that, he’d have Sarah back.
Ruined or not, he was going to make her his wife.
***
Blackloch Castle, Perthshire
23 February 1757
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
‘Yes, Isla. I did.’ Alex swept the young serving woman with an assessing look as she stood before his oak desk. The early morning sunlight filtering through the library window revealed that her red hair was dishevelled beneath her lace cap, and her face was pale and pinched. Lines of tension bracketed her mouth.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the Persian rug beneath her feet and her hands twisted her apron as she waited for him to say something else. Alex rubbed his chin, anger warring with heartfelt regret. He didn’t like seeing the lass so cowed. He’d known her since she was a wee babe. Indeed, Aileen had given birth to her at Blackloch and after Isla had left the wet nurse’s cottage in Kinloch, she’d spent her childhood at the castle whilst Aileen had served as Blackloch’s housekeeper and Dobson filled the role of first footman.
After Alex had purchased Blackloch five years ago, Isla had also served him faithfully and well in the capacity of a maidservant. But he just couldn’t condone what she’d done to Sarah.
There must be consequences. But he was willing to let the lass have her say first.
‘When Miss Lambert discovered the book about Eilean Dubh and Blackloch Castle—I’m also suspicious as to how such a title ended up in the solar, mind you—why didn’t you tell me about it, Isla? Instead of taking it upon yourself to get rid of the threat you thought Miss Lambert posed? You gave her wrong directions, didn’t you? So she’d meet with an accident on the moor perhaps?’
‘I…’ Isla shuffled her feet and her face became as flushed as the ruby-red curtains behind her. ‘I didna do such a terrible thing, milord. I do no’ remember much after Miss Lambert took her breakfast. I had a cup of small beer and then—’
Alex slammed his hands flat on the desk and the maid jumped. ‘Don’t you dare lie to me, Isla. It was you who fished out the laudanum and laced the small beer both you and MacLagan drank. We both know it was in a locked casket in my bedchamber at Eilean Dubh. Your mother and I were the only ones with a key. And Aileen tells me that her key has gone missing.’ Alex’s eyes flitted to the iron key ring at her waist. ‘But something tells me I won’t have to look far to find it.’
At last Isla raised her gaze to his. Her green eyes were glazed with tears. ‘I was only trying to help, milord. You’ve taken such pains to hide who ye really are. And with Miss Lambert being a Sassenach and all, I thought you would be happy if she just disappear—’
‘Disappeared?’ Alex snorted. ‘You mean died. And you were wrong, Isla. Very wrong about how I feel about Miss Lambert.’ Alex rounded the desk and leaned on the edge closest to Isla. He crossed his arms and drew a deep breath in an attempt to tamp down his anger and disappointment. ‘Miss Lambert has become very dear to me. In fact, I have asked her to be my wife. And she’s consented.’
A flicker of strong emotion—pain, or was it resentment—flashed in Isla’s eyes before she dropped her gaze again. ‘Then may I offer my sincere congratulations to you both, milord?’ she whispered.
Alex sighed. ‘The problem is, Isla, I don’t think you are being sincere.’
The maid didn’t contradict him. She just continued to stare at the floor, her fingers crushing her apron.
‘Miss Lambert will soon be the new mistress of Blackloch. And I cannot see how I can possibly keep you on here when you bear her such ill will.’
‘Milord.’ Isla clasped her hands together and dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her face. ‘Please dinna send me away. This is my home. I ken wha’ I did was no’ right, but I did it to protect you. Truly I did. I will serve yer new lady faithfully. I swear—’
Alex held up a hand. ‘Enough, Isla. And please, get up. Begging will do you no good.’
The maid bit her lip and did as he’d asked. ‘What… what will become of me?’ she whispered.
Alex had already given the matter some thought. Isla might not like his plan but it was the fairest solution he could come up with. ‘I’m sending you to one of the inns I own, the Boar’s Head in Aberfeldy, to take up a chambermaid’s position. It is only thirty miles from here so not too far from your parents. I want you to pack what you can take with you on horseback. Your mother can pack a trunk for you and I will send it to the Boar’s Head later on. Your father will escort you. You will leave within the hour.’
Isla’s face crumpled and tears slipped from her eyes again. ‘I canna believe you are sending me away straightaway, milord.’
‘It’s for the best, Isla. I shall give you some money for the journey too.’
Isla dabbed at her tears with the corner of her abused apron. ‘Aye, milord’, she said with a sniff. ‘Thank you.’
‘Very good. It’s sad to part on such terms but I’m glad that you understand.’
Isla nodded. ‘Would you please tell Miss Lambert that I’m verra sorry, milord?’
‘I will.’ Alex pushed away from the desk and ushered the maid to the door. Sadness tugged at his heart as he watched her trudge along the gallery towards the servants’ stairs. He knew deep down that Isla had been harbouring a secret tendre for him for at least the last year or so. He’d never done anything to encourage it and he’d hoped her feelings would abate with time. Clearly, they hadn’t.
Yes, as much as it pained Isla, it was best that she left Blackloch for good.
***
An hour later, as directed, Isla and her father, Dobson, spurred their horses down Blackloch’s drive, heading towards Loch Rannoch and eventually the road that would lead them south-east to Aberfeldy.
‘She’s in love with you, you know.’
‘I know.’ As Alex watched Isla disappear from view, he wrapped his arms around Sarah and rested his chin on her shoulder. Her curls tickled his cheek and he turned his head to breathe in her delicious scent. After Isla had quit the library, he’d taken Sarah on a tour of the castle and they’d eventually ended up on the battlements so he could show her the magnificent view.
‘I’m sorry it had to end this way.’ Sadness laced Sarah’s tone. ‘Isla seemed like such a sweet girl at first.’
‘She used to be. Despite everything, I wish her well.’
‘I do too.’
Alex shook his head. ‘You are an amazing woman. Not many could forgive such perfidy.’
Beneath her wool cloak, Sarah shrugged a slender shoulder. ‘I have you. And you love me. That’s all that matters.’ She turned in his arms, pushing her hands beneath his black wool redingote and gifted him with a sweet kiss on the mouth. ‘So, Lord Rannoch,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘tell me more about your kingdom.’
Alex groaned. ‘I’d rather show you my bedchamber again.’
She smiled and withdrew her hands. ‘Later.’
‘Very well,’ he sighed, and after threading his fingers through Sarah’s, he led her carefully across the ramparts to the east-facing parapet; there were still blocks of stone, a few discarded tools, and small piles of rubble lying about that the masons hadn’t yet removed so they needed to pick their way.
He drew her into his arms again and pointed out the distinctive sharp peak towards the eastern edge of the loch. ‘Can you see Schiehallion? It’s Gaelic for Fairy Hill of the Caledonians.’
It was a cold but relatively calm day. High clouds drifted across a pale, ice-blue sky and only a gentle breeze ruffled their hair and the snow-white fichu and lace sleeves of Sarah’s rose-pink gown.
‘Or some call it the Maiden’s Pap,’ he added in whisper-soft voice. ‘It’s rather an apt name, don’t you think?’ Sarah’s quiet huff of embarrassed laughter had him grinning.
‘Yes. I can see it,’ she answered lightly. ‘But I think I shall refer to it as Fairy Hill. There’s something simply romantical about the sound of it.’
‘Romantical? You mean fanciful?’
She playfully swatted at his hand. ‘What’s wrong with romance?’
‘Nothing at all, my sweet.’ As Sarah gazed out upon the vista he loved so well—the still, mirror-like lake, the wooded braes, and the snow-capped mountains—he gently nuzzled Sarah’s neck.
At length she observed, ‘The village of Kinloch mustn’t be far from it. Isla told me there is a dragoon barracks there.’
‘Aye.’
Sarah turned her head and threw him a curious look. ‘You don’t seem nervous at all that the King’s men are virtually on your doorstep. Considering you are a wanted man, my lord, I’m curious as to why that should be the case.’
‘One thing I’ve learned over the past ten years, my sweet Sarah, is there isn’t much money cannot buy.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Except love, that is.’
Sarah’s cheeks pinked, matching the hue of her gown perfectly. ‘I agree. Nevertheless, I’m dying to know how you have achieved all that you have. You had nothing at all after Culloden yet you’ve created yourself anew. Not only have you reclaimed your land and castle, you’ve rebuilt Blackloch. It’s nothing short of miraculous.’
‘Aye, it is indeed.’ He’d shown Sarah every wing and turret of Blackloch, including the east wing; repairs to the ornate brickwork and parapets had not yet been completed and some of the scaffolding still stood at the rear.
He should feel proud of all he’d accomplished but deep down, he didn’t. Not when he’d all but stolen a casket of Jacobite gold. Not when he’d been consumed by the dark desire for vengeance for ten long years and counting. A dark desire that had ended up hurting Sarah. Every time he looked at her and saw her smiling back at him with love, every time she kissed him, he almost had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Surely he didn’t deserve such bliss.
Ever perceptive, Sarah touched his arm. ‘What’s wrong, Alex? You look so grim.’
He sighed. ‘I’m afraid you will see me differently when I tell you how my change of fortune came about.’
She smiled and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘Surely not.’
‘We shall see.’ He leaned back against the parapet and drew Sarah into the shelter of his arms. ‘After my shoulder and wounded leg had been patched up by Aileen, and after my poor mother, Anne, and Maggie had been laid to rest along with all the other servants, I left Blackloch. I thought never to return. Even though Tay must have thought I’d been killed when he shot me, I knew that if word got out I was still alive, more marauding clansmen loyal to King George or patrolling dragoons would be sure to capture or kill me. And I didn’t want anyone else from Clan MacIvor to suffer if they were caught harbouring a fugitive.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Nowhere and everywhere. For weeks on end I lived hand to mouth in the remotest parts of the Highlands I could find; places where dragoons would not even think to venture. I was lucky to still have my horse but with my leg such a mess, it was hard to sit in the saddle for long periods. I tended to sleep during the day and travel at night too. Thank God it wasn’t the dead of winter for I would surely have perished.’
‘Then, late one day when I’d risen from sleep and was about to go in search of food, I stumbled across something that can only be described as amazing. I’d been camping out in a cave above Loch Arkaig—it’s about seventy miles north-west of here, well past the other side of Rannoch Moor, heading towards the sea. Clan Cameron land. They were also supporters of the Pretender. Anyway, whilst I was foraging in the woods above the loch, I heard voices. Cameron men. They were in the process of burying seven large wooden caskets lower down the slope.’
Sarah’s blue eyes gleamed with interest. ‘And what did the caskets contain?’
‘Gold. Jacobite gold. Thousands upon thousands of Louis d’or. Gold for the Pretender to support the cause. To pay for troops, weapons, and supplies. I learned later the two French frigates that delivered the stash, the Mars and Bellona, arrived too late. The Jacobite force had already been crushed at Culloden so they simply unloaded the money and left. Apparently the Chief of Clan Cameron had been charged with keeping the treasure safe.’
‘Oh, my God,’ breathed Sarah. ‘That’s incredible.’
‘It is indeed.’
‘I gather you managed to claim some.’
‘Yes.’ Alex recounted how he’d recovered one of the caskets and had stashed the gold in a cave, high above Loch Arkaig.
Sarah cast him a dubious look. ‘Only one casket?’
Alex almost smiled. ‘Aye, it might be hard to believe, but it seems I’m not a greedy man. And it was more than enough. In a blink of an eye, I’d gone from being completely lost and desperate, with nothing to live for, to being a very rich man.’ Alex, by force of habit, rubbed his left palm as memories of that long ago dawn when relief, anger, and bitterness had all assailed him. ‘And that’s when I vowed to punish the Earl of Tay for everything he’d done. To avenge those he’d hurt and killed. No matter how long it took me.’
Sarah took his hand and traced along the faint line of his scar. A furrow appeared between her brows. ‘I’ve noticed you do that sometimes. Rub your palm as if it still pains you.’ She raised her gaze to his. ‘Did you make a blood vow?’
‘Aye. I did.’
Her gaze hardened as it met his. ‘I would have done the same.’
‘It’s a dark place to be, Sarah. Hating someone this much for so long.’ He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. ‘But now I have you, some of that darkness is receding. You’ve brought joy and hope back into my life.’
Sarah’s eyes glowed. ‘It warms my heart to hear you say that, Alex.’
He slanted his head to kiss her but she pressed a finger to his lips. ‘You haven’t finished telling me about your rise from the ashes.’
Minx. ‘Ah, yes. I suppose you’re right,’ he conceded. Talking wasn’t what was on his mind right now, but then he did have the rest of the day and night, indeed forever, to make love to Sarah. To show her how much she meant to him. Sliding his hands to her waist, he gently turned her around so they were both facing the battlements again and the view beyond. ‘I also dreamt of reclaiming Blackloch and my title and heritage. Of supporting my clan. I knew they’d be suffering too. And they were. Without the leadership of my father, with many of the clansmen killed, the families that were left fell victim to the predations of other leaderless clans—the Robertsons and the Menzies, the bastards, and Tay’s men on and off. Aileen, Dobson, and Isla took refuge with some of Aileen’s kin to the east in Kinross—her sister’s family had not participated in the Rebellion so at least they had a safe haven until I returned a few years later. I would have sent them money but I didn’t know where they were for some time.’
‘I’m interested to learn how you became Alexander Price?’
‘As I said before, money can buy you almost anything. Including a new name. With my pockets full of gold, I was able to secure forged papers from a magistrate in Fort William who was rumoured to be a Jacobite sympathiser. From there, I secured passage on a merchant ship and embarked on a journey to the New World—the Caribbean and the Americas.’
‘Why so far away?’
‘I wanted to establish myself as a businessman. To make the money I had work for me. I invested in a merchant vessel. Then several more. And I purchased land and established a logging company. About that time, I returned to Scotland and took up residence in Glasgow to establish my trading enterprise at home. I was known as Mr Price—a man with English paternity but a lowlander Scot for a mother. I had also learned to soften my Scots burr so that no one would suspect I was a Highlander born and bred.’
Sarah turned her head and cast him a wry smile. ‘You are quite the chameleon.’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Whilst I didn’t intend to mix in the same circles as the Earl of Tay, I needed to be careful all the same.’
‘So when did you reclaim your estate and Blackloch?’
‘The estate was forfeit and had gone to rack and ruin. But eventually—five years ago, to be exact—the forfeited estate’s commission put it up for sale. And one Alexander Price, owner of the Price Logging Company and the Price Mercantile Company in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Liverpool, purchased it.’
‘My word, Alex,’ Sarah whispered. ‘That’s incredible.’
‘I think so too.’ He laid a gentle kiss on the edge of Sarah’s temple, taking care not to brush her wounded forehead, then continued. ‘As I mentioned, gangs of clansmen had wrought havoc in the area. And that couldn’t continue. A dragoon barracks had been established at Kinloch at the eastern end of the loch and whilst the soldiers had done their best to stop the outlaws—mainly men from Clan Robertson—from conducting raids on the innocent folk of Clan MacIvor still left in the area, more needed to be done. And that’s when I also saw my first opportunity to get back at the Earl of Tay.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I paid the dragoon captain in charge of the barracks to turn a blind eye to certain “activities”. Which essentially meant I employed a number of the remaining bands of outlaws to conduct raids on the Earl of Tay’s lands instead. To reive as much cattle from that bastard as they possibly could. I knew Tay was already in financial trouble. I’d had men spying on him for some time. It was reported he liked to drink and had lost considerable sums at the gaming tables. He’d already sold off some of his unentailed land to me. Of course, he had no idea that his neighbour, Price, was really his old nemesis, Alexander MacIvor.’
‘Oh, my goodness.’
Alex couldn’t see Sarah’s face but she’d shivered beneath his hands. ‘I’ve shocked you,’ he said. How could he not?
‘A little. But I understand your need to be ruthless. To give Malcolm no quarter. I agree that ruination is no less than he deserves.’
Alex exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. ‘You astound me, Sarah.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes. To think you could love a beast of a man like me—’
She spun around and pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Stop right there, Alexander MacIvor. Despite what you think, you are a good man. You deserve to be happy and to be loved. Never doubt that. And never doubt me.’
He smiled and kissed her fingertips. ‘With you here, Sarah, Blackloch is beginning to feel like home again.’ All the ghosts and horrors that had tormented him for so long were starting to recede.
‘And I feel like I’ve come home too.’ She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. It was a look that he loved. A look that heated his blood and made his pulse quicken. ‘You said before that you wanted to show me your bedchamber again.’
‘Aye, but I have a better idea. I want to make some new memories, right here.’
‘Here? On the ramparts?’
Beneath the folds of her cloak, Alex skimmed his hands up Sarah’s slender torso and gently cupped her breasts. Even through the silk brocade of her gown, and her undergarments, he could feel the impudent jut of her nipples against his palms. ‘Yes. And later on, on my desk in the library. And then there’s the Turkish hearthrug in the drawing room. And the window seat in the morning room…’
Sarah splayed her hands against his chest as though she meant to push him away. Although, if anything she seemed to lean closer. ‘Stop, you wicked man,’ she murmured, her voice husky with barely suppressed merriment and desire. ‘You’re making me blush.’
‘I want to do more than make you blush, my love. I want to make you scream.’
***
Oh my.
Sarah bit her lip as a deliciously dark thrill shot through her. ‘Now that sounds entirely wicked,’ she whispered.
‘It is,’ Alex said with a grin. ‘But in a good way.’
‘Wicked yet good? That doesn’t make sense.’
Alex cocked a dark brow. ‘Says the woman who remarked yesterday that our lovemaking was both wicked and wonderful?’
‘Oh, yes. I did say that, didn’t I?’
‘You most certainly did.’ Alex dropped to his knees and splayed his hands across her hips. ‘Lift your skirts, my love.’
‘I beg your pardon. What?’ Sarah clutched the silk brocade of her skirts, intrigued but uncertain. Surely he didn’t really want her to do something so wanton. It was the morning, after all. And they were out in the open air. ‘What are you doing down there anyway? You’ll get all wet and dirty.’ There was snow and construction grit everywhere. And Alex was wearing fine breeches and hose.
He looked up at her through his dark lashes. The glint in his eyes was purely sinful and his smile was the most rakish she’d ever seen. ‘Oh, I intend to get very dirty,’ he murmured in a voice gravelled with lust. ‘And so will you. In fact, we are going to be so dirty and wicked together, you’re going to come off like you never have before. So please, my sweet Sarah, lift your skirts.’
‘Goodness. All right…’ Her heart racing, Sarah conceded. Closing her eyes, she pulled up her chemise, voluminous petticoats, and skirt. Cool air drifted over her skin and she shivered.
‘Lovely.’ Alex ran his fingers through her curls then blew across the wet seam of her sex, making her shiver again, but this time, with nervous anticipation.
She dared to crack an eyelid. She couldn’t see Alex’s face anymore but she could feel his warm breath against her most intimate parts. ‘Wh-what if someone sees us?”
‘Then they are going to be green with envy.’ His fingertips grazed over her upper thigh. ‘Put your leg up on this block of stone, my love.’
Her face burning, Sarah complied. Suddenly, without warning, Alex slipped his fingers through her dew-slick folds, parting them.
‘What on earth are you doing down there?’ she gasped.
‘I’m savouring the view. Your pretty pink quim is the most delectable thing I’ve ever seen. And if you consent, I want to savour how you taste…’
Alex shifted and peered up at her, waiting for her response. All the while one of his wicked fingertips pleasured her most sensitive spot, circling and rubbing with light, teasing, thoroughly maddening strokes.
‘I…’ Sarah swallowed. She’d never imagined a man would want to do such a strange thing. But Alex’s searing gaze was enough to convince her he really did. She also couldn’t deny there was a curious, wanton part of her that wanted to experience whatever sensual delights the man she loved was offering. ‘Very well…’
Leaning back against the parapet for support, Sarah closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Alex’s decadent caresses. His tongue, warm and wet, pushed into the furrow of her sex then lazily licked a path along each lip to the bud where her pleasure was centred. Swirled around and around and flickered against her, setting her aflame.
Her knees trembling, Sarah moaned and lifted her skirts higher. Opened her legs wider. Pushed her hips forward. One of Alex’s hands gripped her naked thigh above her silk stocking, holding her steady, whilst he slid one finger, then two inside her, rhythmically thrusting them in and out, creating delicious friction, the perfect counterpoint to what he was doing to her with his wickedly lapping tongue.
She couldn’t believe she was letting him do this, encouraging him to do this, something so totally abandoned and wild. Yet she couldn’t deny she loved every little thing he did with his fingers, and tongue, and now his lips. He’d captured her nub and was suckling her without mercy, pumping his fingers faster and faster, relentlessly driving her closer and closer towards the peak of pleasure.
Panting, oblivious to anything but the sublime sensations building inside her, Sarah brazenly ground herself against Alex. His tongue rapidly flicked her painfully tight bud and then with a cry of joy, she fell headlong into ecstasy. Her knees gave way and as she crumpled, Alex caught her against him.
Through the haze of her blissful delirium, she felt the rumble of a chuckle deep in Alex’s chest. Right before he captured her mouth in a fervent kiss.
‘I told you I’d make you scream, didn’t I?’ he said when he released her mouth.
Sarah clutched the lapels of his coat. ‘Be that as it may, you are looking entirely too smug for my liking,’ she said, trying to look severe but failing miserably. Her cheeks were awash with a hot flush and she couldn’t suppress her own satisfied smile.
Alex’s smile lit his eyes. ‘The woman I love more than anything is glowing with pleasure. How could I not be self-satisfied?’
Sarah’s heart, indeed, her whole body sang with the knowledge Alex was so happy. Nevertheless, she said, ‘Just you wait until we retire to your bedchamber. I intend to make you scream as well.’
Alex kissed her again, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. ‘I cannot wait, dear heart,’ he said, and judging by the fire in his eyes and the press of his arousal through her skirts, Sarah believed him.
***
Much later, as Sarah lay spent and deliciously naked in his bed, Alex gazed with tenderness at her lovely face. She’d fallen asleep after their enthusiastic bout of bed sport. And whilst he hadn’t screamed, he’d certainly groaned with gusto, on at least two occasions.
He was so physically replete, the urge to drift into slumber too was strong but his mind was atumble with plans for the future—a bright future with Sarah. A future he’d never thought he would have—one that involved happiness, and laughter, and children. Lots of children…
But he wanted their children—his and Sarah’s—to be able to bear his name, MacIvor, without fear or shame. He wanted the son he might have with Sarah to be able to inherit his title, Baron Rannoch.
He didn’t want that bastard, Tay, to have the potential to hurt him or those he loved, ever again. Which meant he was going to have clear his name sooner rather than later.
Sarah stirred in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered and she blinked sleepily at him. Her beautiful blue eyes, all hazy with satisfaction and love, sought his.
Alex kissed her. ‘I’m going to have to go away tomorrow, my lovely. But only for two or three days.’
A small crease appeared between her brows. ‘Oh… Is this to do with Malcolm?’
‘Yes and no. I mentioned I know someone who may be able to help me secure a royal pardon. And I want to sort the matter out now. When we marry, I want you to be Sarah MacIvor, Lady Rannoch. The woman I love deserves nothing less.’
Sarah stroked his face and he turned his head to kiss her palm. It seemed in such a short space of time, he’d become addicted to kissing her.
‘I understand,’ she said simply. ‘You must do what you have to.’ Her mouth lifted into a soft smile. ‘I shall miss you. Hurry back.’
‘I will. You’ll be safe here.’
‘I know.’
After they made love again, this time with exquisite languor, Alex at last found himself drifting asleep, a smile on his lips. For once in his life, he counted himself blessed.