The interior of the kirk was chill and dark save for the glimmer of several altar candles at the end of the aisle and the muted light filtering in through several arched windows of stained glass. The dank, stale air was overlaid with the faintest hint of incense as Sarah drew a ragged breath, trying to ignore the fact her ‘groom’ was holding a lethal weapon in the vicinity of her heart.
Malcolm called out, his voice echoing around the stone chamber, as he forced her to walk down the aisle, past the empty wooden pews and fluted stone columns.
In reply, a wooden door—perhaps leading to the vestry—scraped across the flagstone floor and a rotund, balding man of middle age in a black frockcoat with a high white clerical stock around his fleshy throat, emerged. He tipped his spectacles down his nose and peered at them.
‘Oh, my word. ’Tis you, Lord Tay,’ he said with a deferential bow. His gaze shifted to Sarah. ‘And who might this young lady be, my lord?’
‘My bride.’
‘Oh, Miss Lambert.’ The clergyman gave another solemn bow. ‘’Tis an absolute pleasure to meet you. My name is Reverend Lennox.’
Sarah bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Surely Malcolm wasn’t going to force her to wed him under duress. The folds of his greatcoat and the way they were standing—Malcolm had pulled her firmly against his side—obviously hid his dirk as the reverend continued to smile at them both as if nothing in the world was amiss. Dare she scream? Try to run? There had to be a way to get out of this nightmare.
She had to, not only for herself, but for Alex.
Perhaps guessing her train of thought, Malcolm’s grip on her arm grew tighter and the sharp press of the steel blade beneath her breast became more insistent. ‘Reverend, Miss Lambert and I wish to wed. At once.’
‘But my lord,’ protested the clergyman. His eyebrows shot up and his small hands flew to his chest. ‘All the banns have not been posted. You’re not due to wed until the seventh.’
‘I don’t care, Lennox.’
‘But—’
Malcolm’s brows crashed together. ‘Who helped pay for the repairs on the steeple, Reverend Lennox?’ he shouted, his voice vibrating like thunder off the stone columns and in the vaulted ceiling above them. ‘Whose family owns this land and established this very church?’
‘Why you. And your family, my lord,’ whispered Lennox. His face had turned as white as his collar.
‘Good. Now that we have that established, why don’t you go and get your prayer book and change into your robes and we’ll begin.’
‘Aye, milord. I’ll also need to summon the sexton, as a witness. He’s outside tending one of the new graves.’
Sarah found her voice. ‘Wait…’
Lennox turned back, a frown of concern creasing his brow. He peered at her. ‘Yes, my child?’
‘I… I…’ Malcolm’s brown eyes bore into her and he jammed the knife against her side with even greater force. ‘I need to use the necessary,’ she whispered. She’d say or do anything if it meant she could get away from Malcolm.
‘Oh.’ A bright red blush spread across the reverend’s face. ‘I can show you to the vest—’
‘I’ll take her,’ growled Malcolm, tugging her towards the open door.
‘My lord, I must protest. You are not wed yet.’
Malcolm paused on the threshold. He clenched his jaw so hard, Sarah swore she could hear his teeth crack. ‘Very well.’ He pressed his mouth against her ear as though bestowing a kiss and whispered, ‘Do not try to run, my love. I will be very, very angry if you do.’ He turned the dirk so the tip of the blade pierced the red wool of her riding habit. ‘You already have an ugly wound on your forehead and I’m not afraid to add to your collection of facial scars. I don’t mind marrying a bride who isn’t quite so pretty. Remember, the only thing I care about is the contents of your bank account.’
His threat was abundantly clear. He would think nothing of disfiguring her if she failed to comply.
Sarah nodded. ‘I won’t run,’ she whispered.
He released her and pushed the door closed but not all the way.
Damn. Sarah’s gaze darted frantically about the room, looking for a way out. Or a weapon. The vestry was relatively small and sparsely furnished: there was a desk, a pair of wooden chairs before it, a glass-fronted bookcase, a wooden screen with the reverend’s black cassock draped across it, a small window. And between two carved cabinets at the back of the room was what she’d been looking for—a door.
Sarah dashed over and rattled the handle but it was locked. Tears scalded her eyes.
‘What are you doing in there?’
Her voice tight with terror, Sarah called back, ‘I… I bumped a chair.’ Dear God, I hope he believes me.
She hadn’t much time. Any minute now Malcolm would demand that she come out or he would come in to get her. Breaking the window clearly wasn’t an option. She needed a weapon.
She rushed over to the desk. There was a letter opener but that would be a poor match against the wicked-looking dirk. And Malcolm would best her in a knife fight. No, she needed to use the element of surprise as a weapon as much as anything else.
Then she spied them—a pair of heavy brass candlesticks stood on the mantelshelf. Praying God and Reverend Lennox would forgive her for what she was about to do, she removed one of the candles and slipped the candlestick through the slit of her skirt into the deep embroidered pocket concealed beneath. The very end of it poked out a little but hopefully Malcolm wouldn’t notice.
‘Sarah!’ he barked, making her jump and the door opened wider.
‘I’m coming,’ she called then slipped behind the wooden screen.
A moment later, when Malcolm entered the room, she stepped out, pretending to smooth her skirts. The candlestick was a comforting weight against her leg.
‘You’re taking too long,’ he said, taking her arm in a firm grip. To Sarah’s relief, she noticed that he’d hidden his dirk. ‘The reverend and sexton are waiting.’
‘My apologies,’ she murmured.
He shot her a sharp glance as they emerged from the vestry but she was careful to keep her gaze focused on the floor and her expression demure.
‘Lord Tay. Miss Lambert, everything is ready,’ announced Reverend Lennox. He stood before the altar, the Scottish Book of Common Prayer in his hands.
‘What… what about your robes?’ Sarah asked as she and Malcolm took up their positions facing the clergyman. She’d do anything to delay what was about to happen. She also needed to find an opportunity to strike Malcolm.
Somehow, she needed to distract him.
‘I think we can dispense with all of the formalities on this particular occasion,’ replied the reverend with a strained smile. The sexton, a tall thin man who stood to the side of the altar, gave a single nod. Sarah supposed it was only natural that he too was unwilling to gainsay the powerful Earl of Tay.
Reverend Lennox began to speak but Sarah barely listened as her mind buzzed with various plans. When he asked if either of them knew of any impediment that would prevent them from being lawfully joined together in matrimony, she briefly contemplated then discarded the idea of stating she was already handfasted to Alex. With no way to prove her claim, Malcolm would probably just accuse her of lying. She also couldn’t see the reverend supporting her in the face of Malcolm’s blistering ire.
And then there was the very real and ever-present threat that Malcolm might physically injure her in some way. Disfigure her.
An icy tremor shivered through her as she recalled his earlier words: I don’t mind marrying a bride who isn’t quite so pretty. He might have put his dirk away but she had no doubt he would use it on her if she refused to wed him. Even now, his right hand rested on something at his hip—probably the hilt of the knife.
Sarah slid her left hand into her own pocket and wrapped her fingers about the cold brass candlestick. If she was going to use it, she’d best do so soon, before it was too late.
At that moment, Reverend Lennox asked Malcolm, ‘Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’
Sarah held her breath as Malcolm raised her hand to his lips and then murmured, ‘I will.’ The glint in his dark eyes terrified her. She didn’t believe him. It was all a lie.
Then Reverend Lennox’s gaze shifted to her and he proceeded to ask the same series of questions. ‘Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband,’ he began.
Sarah couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. How could she possibly say ‘I will’ and agree to be tied forever to such an abominable excuse for a man?
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed and he squeezed her right hand when it was time for her to respond. ‘Sarah,’ he prompted through gritted teeth.
She swallowed, the sound audible in the silence, a silence that pulsed with tension and palpable menace.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Malcolm snapped. He glowered at the reverend. ‘Her answer is yes, she will.’
‘My lord,’ spluttered Reverend Lennox. ‘You cannot answer for—’
‘Don’t try me, Lennox,’ growled Malcolm. ‘For everyone’s sake, I recommend you keep going. Skip to the blessing of the ring.’
The threat in Malcolm’s voice was clear and the reverend nodded. With a shaking hand, he held out his prayer book to receive the ring. ‘My lord…’
Malcolm reached into his greatcoat and pulled out a slender gold band. When Sarah gasped—she hadn’t expected him to be this prepared—he made a scoffing sound. ‘I’m not totally lacking in decorum, my dear,’ he said with a smirk. ‘And I want the world to know that you are mine.’
He placed the ring on the open pages of the prayer book but the reverend’s hands shook so much, the ring slipped to the floor with a faint metallic clatter.
‘Christ, man.’ Malcolm sniped. He bent low near Sarah’s skirts to retrieve the ring. ‘Clearly, if you want a thing done well—’
Oh, God. Now, Sarah.
She pulled her weapon from her pocket and as Malcolm began to straighten, swung with all her might. The heavy brass candlestick connected with the back of his head and with a grunt, he crumpled to the floor.
She dropped the candelabrum and jumped back, her hands flying to her face. Oh, dear Lord, forgive me. I’ve killed him. In a church.
But then Malcolm groaned and his eyelids fluttered.
Reverend Lennox grasped her arm. ‘Run, dear child,’ he urged. ‘Just run.’
Sarah didn’t need any further encouragement. Picking up her skirts, she turned and fled down the aisle, heading for the door.
It wasn’t until she was flying along the road on her mare at a full gallop, heading north again, that she dared a backwards glance. The village of Balloch was receding. And no one was in pursuit.
Yet. She had well over twenty miles of unfamiliar ground to cover on her own.
She prayed she would find the way.
As evening descended, it seemed heaven had decided to answer her prayers. In the distance, Fairy Hill appeared. The rising moon illuminated the snowy peak, guiding her back towards Loch Rannoch and the husband of her heart. Alex.
If only Malcolm would not follow. That would be a miracle indeed.
***
Blackloch Castle, Loch Rannoch
It was several hours past nightfall when Alex dismounted from his tired, sweating horse in the courtyard of Blackloch. The journey to Lochrose Castle and back had been long but well worth it as far as he was concerned. Within a few short weeks he would truly be a free man.
He threw the reins to one of the young grooms who appeared, and with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he headed for the Great Hall. Bandit also bounded out from the stables, tail wagging madly, but he only gave the collie a quick pat. He couldn’t wait to hold Sarah in his arms again.
However, as soon as he pushed through the double oak doors, he sensed something was wrong. For one thing, the flickering light of the wall sconces and the blazing fire in the large stone fireplace revealed a long dark smear—perhaps it was blood—on the threshold.
Then, when Dobson approached him from the shadows by the door, a grim expression on his face and a sword at his hip, panic flared.
‘What’s going on?’ Alex demanded. ‘Has someone been hurt?’
Dobson bowed. ‘I’m verra sorry, sir,’ then his gaze shifted to the back of the Hall and he added, ‘Isla had best explain.’
Isla? What the Devil was she doing here?
Sure enough, Isla was seated on a padded wooden bench beneath the display of mounted weapons on the wall at the back of the Hall. There was something white about her neck, a bandage. And there was something about the way she sat that made the hairs rise on the back of Alex’s neck. Her shoulders were hunched, and her gaze touched everywhere but him. She had the look of someone who was defeated… and guilty.
‘Where’s Miss Lambert?’ he asked, glancing between Dobson and Isla. There was a snap in his voice but he couldn’t help it.
The footman nodded his daughter’s way again. ‘Isla, stand up, lass, and answer the master.’
‘Tell me.’ Alex approached the girl as she rose on shaky legs. ‘What’s happened?’
‘’Tis all my fault,’ whispered Isla and a tear slipped down her cheek. ‘MacLagan is grievously injured and…’ She swallowed. ‘She’s gone.’
Alex grasped her by the upper arms. ‘What do you mean, Sarah’s gone? What happened to MacLagan?’
Isla’s hand shook as she brushed another tear from her cheek. ‘I saw Lord Tay pass through Aberfeldy. And I…’
‘You what?’ A muscle twitched furiously in Alex’s jaw with the effort not to shake the information out of the girl.
She swallowed again. ‘I went to him and told him Sarah was here. At Blackloch.’
‘You what?’
Isla’s tears flowed in earnest now. ‘I know what I did was verra wrong, sir, but you see, I love you and she’s a Sassenach. You deserve—’
Alex shook his head. ‘Don’t tell me Lord Tay took her. Please don’t say that, Isla.’
‘I’m sorry, but yes he did.’
Oh, dear God, no. My poor love.
He had to get her back.
He dropped his hands from Isla. He didn’t want to touch her anymore. ‘When? How?’ he barked, not caring how angry he sounded.
‘Early this afternoon,’ answered Dobson. ‘Aileen, Miss Lambert, and MacLagan were on their way back from Kinloch. Isla stopped by here first, found out where they were by questioning one of the young chambermaids who didn’t know any better, then she helped Tay waylay them in the Black Wood.’
Alex shot Isla a withering glare. The little turncoat. ‘Is Aileen all right?’
‘Aye, sir,’ answered Dobson. ‘Shaken but well enough, thank God. MacLagan took a nasty shot courtesy of Lord Tay—a graze to the temple—but he’ll live. Aileen’s tending to him. Tay also held a dirk to Isla’s throat, to coerce Miss Lambert into going with him.’
Sweet Jesus. The man was clearly unhinged. Terror twisted Alex’s guts but he couldn’t give into the fear. He needed to keep a clear head in order to rescue Sarah.
‘Isla, do you know where Lord Tay was going to take Miss Lambert?’
‘Back to Taymoor Castle, sir. I think he still wishes to wed her. Verra much.’
‘The problem is, Isla, I love her and want to marry her too. And you had no right to interfere.’ With that, Alex spun on his heel, heading for the courtyard and the stables again. If he rode like the wind, he’d be at Taymoor in a matter of a few hours, perhaps even before midnight, to free Sarah from that cur’s filthy clutches. She was smart and courageous and capable but even so, she must be petrified. And if the bastard had hurt her… He lengthened his stride.
‘Sir!’
Alex paused at the door. ‘What is it, Isla?’ he ground out.
‘I didna betray you. Lord Tay doesna ken who you are. I also made him swear not to hurt you.’
‘Then you are just as foolish as you are selfish, Isla. The man is not to be trusted.’
The sharp clatter of horse’s hooves echoed off Blackloch’s stone walls, claiming Alex’s attention, and he turned around, his heart pounding a ragged rhythm.
‘Sarah!’ Shock and joy reverberated through him at the sight of her.
She reined in her shaking mare and he rushed to her, sweeping her off the saddle into his arms. As she sagged against him, he hugged her with all his might.
He kissed her temple. ‘You got away. I just got back and Dobson told me everything.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured, her voice choked with tears and emotion. ‘I did.’
He drew back and framed her beautiful face with his hands. In the light emanating from the doorway, he could see she was pale and appeared physically unharmed; but with a mongrel like Tay, he couldn’t be certain. ‘I hate to ask, my love, but are you hurt?’
She offered a tremulous smile. ‘Only shaken and saddle-sore. I cannot say the same for Malcolm. I… I brained him with a brass candlestick and knocked him unconscious.’
Alex laughed. ‘My clever brave lass. I shouldn’t say it but I suppose all those times you thought about doing the same thing to me came in handy.’
‘I suppose so. Although the difference is I never had to with you.’
Alex bent his head and claimed her mouth in a brief ardent kiss. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he whispered. ‘But I thank God you are mine.’
Tears suddenly filled Sarah’s eyes. ‘You shouldn’t though. Thank God.’
‘What’s wrong, my love?’
‘I…’ Sarah swallowed and a look of anguish washed over her face. ‘In the heat of the moment, when I was arguing with Malcolm, I let slip that I knew all about the terrible things he’d done in the past. And of course he worked out straightaway who you really are. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve betrayed you—’
‘Shhhh.’ Alex pressed a finger to her lips. ‘It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘But you’re in danger. I’ve put you in danger.’
‘I’ve been in danger for years. It will be all right. Come.’ Alex threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her into the Great Hall.
Dobson gave them a deferential nod as they entered and he paused to issue instructions to increase security about the castle; the portcullis was to be lowered and he wanted a pair of armed guards posted at each entrance. Isla had disappeared from the Hall. Alex supposed she’d retired to her old room. But he didn’t want to think about her now.
He just needed to be with Sarah.
***
As soon as Alex took her hand, Sarah knew where they were headed—to his bedchamber. And she concurred with her whole heart. To have his hands on her, in her hair, cupping her breasts, to feel the warm rasp of his tongue plundering her mouth was exactly what she wanted too.
To feel loved and safe.
Cherished.
She’d given herself heart and soul to Alex—she’d give her life for Alex—and to feel that he needed her just as much as she needed him was intoxicating. Exhilarating.
The fact that Alex had immediately forgiven her for accidentally divulging his true identity to Malcolm spoke volumes about how he felt about her too. If she’d ever doubted Alex truly loved her, she didn’t now.
There was no holding back for either of them when the bedchamber door clicked shut. Impatient to touch his naked skin, Sarah tugged frantically at all the layers of Alex’s clothes, pushing off his navy blue coat and tearing at the buttons of his waistcoat before ripping his shirt from his buckskin breeches.
Alex was possessed by the same sense of desperation; after yanking off his own shirt, he jerked the jacket of her riding habit open, scattering buttons. Her lace jabot and silk shirt quickly joined the pile of garments on the floor before he turned her, backing her towards the bed. All the while he devoured her mouth, his hot passionate kisses so long and so deep, she was soon panting and quivering with need.
Pushing her down onto the bed, he deftly unlaced her stays before pulling her chemise down, exposing her breasts. He hovered above her on straightened arms, his gaze searing as it traced over her body, making her nipples tighten to hard, aching points.
She arched her back and gripped the tightly bunched muscles of his upper arms. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered. Desire had rendered her breathless and without shame.
‘I want to look at you.’ The dancing firelight threw Alex’s handsome features into sharp relief, highlighting his high cheekbones and strong jaw, his chiselled mouth. His gaze dipped to her breasts before returning to her face. ‘You are so beautiful.’
‘So are you.’ She splayed her hands against his hard pectoral muscles and revelled in the strong beat of his heart against her palm. ‘I don’t wish to spoil your perusal, but ’twouldn’t it be better if I had less clothes on? And you too, for that matter.’
He smiled his wolf’s smile. ‘Ah, you see, that’s my dilemma. I can’t decide whether I want to undress you to look my fill, slide my fingers underneath your skirts to see how wet you are for me, or use my mouth on you straightaway.’
‘Oh.’ Sarah bit her lip. Her lower belly ached with pulsing arousal at his wicked yet wholly welcome words. ‘That is a dilemma. You could always put yourself inside me so you can take your pleasure too. But I’m sure you’ll let me know your decision soon enough.’
‘Why don’t I show you?’ He bestowed a swift yet searching kiss on her mouth, gently kissed the tip of each breast then slid off the bed. In the next moment, her skirts had been pushed up and his hands were on her thighs, gently nudging them apart.
Sarah closed her eyes then gasped as Alex blew across the damp furrow of her sex before spreading her apart. She was soaked with desire and her whole body burned as she waited for him to pleasure her. Alex had turned her into a wanton. And she loved it.
When his tongue began to lave her intimate folds and the entrance to her sex, her fingers curled into the burgundy silk counterpane, and she writhed, circling her hips, spreading herself wider. What Alex was doing felt glorious but she needed more.
She reached past the voluminous folds of her wool skirts and petticoats to clutch his thick silky hair and he chuckled. ‘I know what you want,’ he said, his warm breath tickling her inner thigh. ‘But all in good time, my sweet.’
She lightly tugged on his hair again. ‘A good time would be right now, cruel man,’ she replied, her voice husky with need.
‘Cruel?’ He flicked her most sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue then went back to teasing her inner thigh with whisper-soft kisses.
She mewled in frustration and with another soft laugh he capitulated, sliding two fingers inside her; at the same time he lightly suckled her throbbing peak.
Oh, sweet heaven. Oh, yes…
A moan tumbled from her and at last Alex applied himself to the task of ravishing her sex with the unfettered abandon she craved. His long fingers rhythmically stroked inside her and he gorged on her tight, throbbing bud, licking and sucking. As an exquisite coil of tension began to spiral tighter and tighter, her blood raced. Her heart pounded. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. She writhed and thrashed and just when she thought she couldn’t bear a moment more of Alex’s sweet torture, pleasure took her. It rushed over and through her and she clung to Alex as the pulsating waves of bliss carried her away to paradise.
This is love. This is how things should be, she thought as she opened her eyes to find Alex staring down at her, his own gaze filled with burning adoration.
He’d released his manhood from his breeches, and with perfect precision, he positioned himself at her entrance. On one smooth glide, he seated himself fully inside her.
Her inner muscles rippled, welcoming the powerful, rigid length of him and he groaned.
‘Sweet Jesus, Sarah. You feel so good.’
She curled her hands around his granite-hard shoulders. ‘Love me, Alex.’
‘Always.’
***
Alex bent his head and tenderly claimed Sarah’s mouth, hoping his kiss would clearly demonstrate all of the love he felt for her, deep in his heart. She kissed him back, threading her fingers through his hair, pressing her naked breasts against his chest, stoking his need and setting every nerve alight until his entire body was ablaze with desire.
Sarah’s need must have been acute too; moaning into his mouth, she tilted her hips, rocking against him, and he was overwhelmed by the urge to move, to take his pleasure as she had invited him to earlier.
He set up a slow, steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her with long, sure strokes, holding her gaze, loving her with his eyes. Even when he increased the tempo, thrusting harder and faster, steadily driving them both towards release, she kept up with him. She gripped his shoulders, her rhythmic pants and moans pure music to his ears.
When the warm sleek satin of Sarah’s inner passage clenched around him and she cried out, he knew she’d found ecstasy again. His heart swelled and his own orgasm began to gather, the pressure building deep in his spine and his balls. He pumped harder, his cock thickening, his blood pounding until he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry he let go and blinding pleasure crashed through him. His body quaking, his chest heaving, he collapsed on top of Sarah, boneless with a satisfaction that bordered on profound.
Dear God, he was the most fortunate man alive to have Sarah. And to think she loved him back, that was the true miracle.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from his love. As much as he wanted to undress her slowly and make love to her again, they had to make plans for the morrow and the coming days. And they needed to sleep.
He called for hot water and supper, and once they were washed and their hunger sated—Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten—they snuggled together on the settee before the fire. Sarah, wearing his dark blue velvet banyan with a cup of chocolate in hand, looked utterly content as she leant against his chest. With a sigh—he didn’t want to dispel the peace surrounding them—he asked Sarah to go through the events of the afternoon and evening in greater detail so he could better assess the situation.
When she described how Tay had threatened to disfigure her, he tightened his grip on his tumbler of whisky so much, he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter in his hand. The fact that Sarah had been able to think so clearly and cleverly and then take decisive action to extricate herself from such a terrifying situation made his chest swell with admiration.
He kissed the top of her head when she’d finished her tale.
‘We will need to leave Blackloch in the morning and make ourselves scarce for a little while, just to be safe,’ he said.
‘I know I knocked Malcolm out, but I’m still worried about what he will do. He wants me back. And I’m sure he wants to punish you.’
‘I agree, we do need to be careful. But we are safe for tonight. And I have the support of the dragoon captain here. Malcolm cannot do much at the moment.’
Sarah put down her hot chocolate and frowned. ‘But the dragoon captain doesn’t know you’re Alexander MacIvor. What if Malcolm goes to him come morning and tells him who you really are?’
‘Ah, you see Captain Hamilton does know who I am, my love. And he doesn’t care.’
‘Is that part of your “arrangement” with him?’
‘More or less. As I mentioned, he’s very grateful that I’ve been working with him to end the lawlessness that had been plaguing Kinloch and the whole area. Tay would have to convince another dragoon commander much farther afield to come and arrest me. So for tonight, I trust we are not in any danger. I’ll send word to Captain Hamilton at first light, letting him know he may receive a visit from the irate Earl of Tay.’
Sarah smiled and rested her head against his shoulder again. ‘That is a relief to know.’ She curled her fingers around his; it was a simple gesture that spoke of how close they’d grown in such a short space of time. He put aside his whisky, intending to kiss her but she spoke again. ‘You haven’t told me how your visit to your friend went. You said he might be able to help you gain a pardon.’
Alex grimaced with guilt. ‘I’m sorry. In all the excitement of having you back here safe and sound, I have neglected to tell you the good news. I have the support of another earl, one who is highly connected, the Earl of Strathburn. I’ll be meeting with him and the Lord Advocate of Scotland in Edinburgh next week. All going well, I will be granted clemency.’
‘You will?’ Sarah turned in his arms. Her blue eyes were alight with hope, and her smile was the brightest he’d ever seen. ‘Why, that’s wonderful.’
‘Aye, it is,’ he murmured. ‘Very soon you will be Sarah MacIvor, Lady Rannoch. And on that day, when I see you walking down the aisle, I will be the happiest man alive.’