Alex kissed her hand again for good measure—if he hadn’t embarked on the course he was currently on, he might have considered the marchioness’s invitation—then quit the room and Kenmuir House. As his carriage clattered along the Royal Mile, he toyed with his onyx ring and mentally steeled himself for the long night and journey ahead.
***
Something was wrong… very wrong.
Cold foreboding slid down Sarah’s spine as she forced her heavy eyelids open. Her vision blurry, she blinked and squinted, trying to focus on her surroundings, but everything was cast in shadow, the edges of everything hazy. A dark memory hovered at the edge of her mind… Something terrible had happened. There’d been a man… a blonde-haired woman in a red dress… and Malcolm.
Oh, God. Malcolm.
The stab of his betrayal pierced Sarah’s heart anew and hot tears pricked her eyes. Dashing them away with the heel of her hand, she pushed herself upright. For a moment the room swam horribly and then panic flared as she took in her surroundings—she was in an unfamiliar tester bed dressed only in her shift.
Whose bed? How long had she been asleep? Was she still at Kenmuir House? She wasn’t in the guest room of Tay House. The glow from the fireplace revealed that the bedchamber was well appointed: swathes of plush golden velvet adorned the windows and the bed; an ornate walnut armoire and matching washstand stood against one wall; and her ball gown was spread upon a nearby settee. Sarah’s brow knitted. She had no recollection of undressing. Who had removed her clothes?
Then all at once the fog cleared—the man, Alexander Black, had forced her to drink something vile. Something that had made her lose consciousness. Laudanum perhaps.
Terror gripped her insides and nausea roiled. I’ve been drugged and kidnapped. Stripped. With a shaking hand, Sarah reached below the fine linen sheets and touched between her thighs but everything down there felt as it should. As she moved her legs, she noticed there was something wrapped around her right ankle.
What on earth? She threw off the covers and shrieked. She’d been tethered to the bedpost with a gold silk rope. Like a prisoner. An animal. Pushing herself down the bed, she began to frantically tug at the knots at her ankle and at the bedpost. But they were tight and the silk was slippery. Tears of frustration blurred her vision as her trembling fingers failed to loosen her bonds even a fraction.
‘Ah, yer awake, lassie.’
Sarah jumped and her gaze darted to the door. A stout, middle-aged woman dressed in a plain grey gown and white cap entered the room and placed a large china ewer on the washstand by the fire. She then returned to the door and locked it with a key that hung from a large iron key ring tied at her waist. Was she the housekeeper?
A spark of hope leapt in Sarah’s heart. A woman could be reasoned with, surely. ‘Where is Mr Black?’ she said in the most authoritative tone she could muster. ‘I demand you untie me, help me dress, then take me to him. Or better yet, let me go. He cannot keep me here.’
The woman clucked her tongue as she crossed to the washstand again and rummaged in a drawer. ‘The master did warn me tha’ ye may be a wee bit feisty.’
‘I don’t much care what your master said about me. What he’s done… What he’s doing is wrong. If you release me, I will make sure you shan’t be prosecuted.’ Sarah lifted her chin. She wouldn’t plead or beg. If she acted like a victim, she suspected she wouldn’t get anywhere with this woman. ‘My affianced…’
Was Malcolm still her fiancé? Did she want him to be? Sarah swallowed past the tight ache in her throat and started again, ‘The Earl of Tay is a most powerful man. He may even reward you for your assistance. In fact, I shall reward you myself. I have the means.’
The woman steadfastly ignored her; she turned her back and placed a white linen towel and a washcloth beside the ewer and a bowl. Then, without so much as a glance towards the bed, she crossed to the fireplace and poked at the coal before throwing another lump of wood into the fire.
Frustration as bright and angry as the embers in the grate stirred inside Sarah. ‘Why won’t you answer me? I’ll scream. Very loudly. Someone will hear me. Then you’ll be sorry.’
The woman heaved a weary sigh and at last turned to face her. ‘Now, now, miss. I ken you’ve had a verra nasty shock. But no harm will come to ye.’
‘No harm will come to me? Your wicked scoundrel of a master forced me to drink laudanum, and has locked me,’ Sarah tugged on the silk rope, ‘nay, tied me up in a bed, against my will, for God knows what purpose. And considering I’m wearing naught but my shift, it’s quite obvious his intentions are nefarious.’
The woman crossed her arms over her ample chest and humphed. ‘Ye can scream all ye like, lassie. No one will hear ye. But you dinna have to worry. The master willna hurt ye as long as you go along with wha’ he wants.’
‘But what does he want?’ Sarah’s voice broke as a sob clogged her throat. ‘I don’t understand any of this. I just want to go home. Please let me go.’ To her mortification, tears began to run down her cheeks.
‘Crying willna help, lassie. And we are wasting time. The master says we will be leaving in a half hour.’
‘Leaving? Where am I now? And where are we going?’
The servant huffed and poured steaming water into the bowl. ‘It’s no’ fer me to say. It’s time to wash and get dressed.’
Was she actually still in Edinburgh? Sarah couldn’t hear any of the usual noises that she associated with the city at night. Nor did she have any idea how long she’d been unconscious. Her throat was dry and her head felt like it was stuffed with feathers. Her gaze travelled to the windows and icy fear shivered over her skin; the pale light of morning was beginning to seep in around the edges of the curtains. She’d clearly been asleep for hours and hours.
Was Malcolm looking for her? Had he even noticed she’d gone? If he hadn’t, Aunt Judith certainly would have. Yes, Aunt Judith would be looking for her. If she were in Edinburgh, her aunt would surely go to the Town Guard to enlist their help. They would find her.
When the serving woman approached with the washcloth, a towel, and the bowl, Sarah ventured a question. ‘May I ask your name? If you are to act as my lady’s maid, I should like to know what to call you. I’m Sarah Lambert, by the way.’ If she could distract the woman and wrest the bowl from her, perhaps she could use it to knock her unconscious. She didn’t want to hurt her, but if this was her only chance to get away…
But the serving woman was cannier than Sarah had anticipated. She deposited the bowl on a small bureau well out of reach, soaked the washcloth, wrung it out with her red, work-roughened hands then passed it to Sarah. ‘My name is Aileen.’ she said gruffly, ‘and I ken yer name, lass.’
‘Oh…’ Sarah took the cloth and wiped her face, neck, and hands before handing it back to Aileen. ‘Then you may have also heard how wealthy I am. I could pay you whatever sum you asked for if—’
The woman grunted. ‘Money doesna matter to me. I dinna want yer coin, lassie. Ye canna bribe me.’ She gave Sarah the towel then nodded at the floor. ‘If you need the chamber pot, it’s beneath the bed. There’s enough length in the rope fer you to be able to stand and use it. Then I shall help you with yer gown.’
She picked up the basin but then turned back, her expression grim. ‘But mind ye dinna try anything. I’m a braw woman and I’ll best you in a struggle. And if ye think to try and brain me with the chamber pot, I’ll be forced to call the master. He’ll make ye take the laudanum again. And I dinna think you would want to be leaving here in only yer shift. It’s a wee bit cold outside.’
Sarah slid carefully to the floor and held onto the side of the bed for a moment. When her head stopped spinning—the effects of the laudanum hadn’t totally dissipated—she reached for the chamber pot. Made of heavy porcelain, it would make a decent weapon. But if she failed to knock Aileen out, the consequences did not bear thinking about. The last thing she wanted was Alexander Black arriving on the scene whilst she was in this state
of undress. And she certainly didn’t want to be drugged again.
‘You still haven’t told me where we’re going,’ she remarked a few minutes later, when Aileen approached her with a pile of garments that included a riding habit of claret-red wool. She eyed the items with suspicion as the serving woman laid them upon the bed. ‘Those are not mine. I wish to wear my own gown, stockings, and stays.’
Aileen crossed her arms. ‘Lassie, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can get dressed in these,’ she thrust her chin towards the bed, ‘or you can freeze yer bonnie wee arse off in yer shift. Whilst yer ball gown is verra fine, it isna fit fer travelling. Or yer boned stays; they are far too tight. You willna be able to breathe.’
Sarah pressed her lips together. ‘Very well,’ she gritted out. ‘But I don’t see how this is going to work whilst I’m tied up like… like someone’s dog.’
Aileen tutted as she held out soft stays for Sarah to slip her arms through. ‘Weel, I shall untie you when we get to tha’ part. But I’m trusting you to behave yerself now tha’ you know what will happen if you do no’.’
As Sarah submitted to Aileen’s ministrations, her mind worked feverishly to come up with another escape plan. Once she was untied, perhaps she could flee the room and find a door leading outside. Aileen might be stronger than her but she didn’t think she’d be as agile.
Once Sarah’s stays were laced, Aileen bade her to sit on the bed so she could untie the rope from her ankle. The servant’s large, strong fingers deftly loosened the tight knots and the silk noose slipped free.
When Aileen bent down to slide an ivory wool stocking over her foot, Sarah took the opportunity to strike. Leaning back on her hands for purchase, she lifted her other foot and kicked at Aileen’s shoulder with all her might. The serving woman flew backwards onto her rump with a grunt and Sarah dashed to the bedroom door. Her heart hurtling against her ribs, she grasped the handle but it wouldn’t budge.
Damn, damn, damn. In her desperation, she’d forgotten Aileen had locked it and still had the key.
Tears of frustration flooded her eyes as she leaned her forehead against the door. This cannot be happening. I must be in some sort of nightmare.
The sound of a key scraping in the lock made her jump and back away from the door… and in stepped Alexander Black, as bold as you please. He’d changed out of his evening finery into plainer garb and even though he was even more handsome without his mask, to Sarah he was detestable, from the top of his raven locks to the tips of his shiny black boots.
When he smiled in greeting, pure rage washed through her, lending her a bravado she hadn’t known she possessed. ‘You! You despicable rogue,’ she cried, poking at his hard-as-a-rock chest through the ruffles of his cambric jabot. ‘How dare you drug me and hold me prisoner? I knew you were up to no good as soon as I laid eyes on you but I never imagined you’d… you’d go to these lengths. What are you about?’ Bristling with indignation, chest heaving, she planted her hands on her hips. ‘Actually, I do not want to know. Just let me leave.’
Black pushed the door closed, then leaned back against it with his arms crossed. His shoulders seemed to take up the whole doorway. ‘Like that, Miss Lambert?’ he asked, cocking a black winged brow. Amusement danced in his dark grey eyes.
Sarah felt a furious blush spread over her entire face. She might be dressed in only a thin shift and stays but she wasn’t backing down. ‘Of course not. I’m not some doxy even though you are treating me like one. Worse, actually. Incapacitating a woman and then tying her up is appalling.’
Black’s attention slid past her and his expression softened. ‘Are you all right, Aileen?’ he asked.
‘Aye, sir. I’m verra sorry about this. She caught me off guard. You were right. She is a wee bit feisty. And cunning.’
‘Stop talking about me like I am not here,’ fumed Sarah. ‘I want my clothes and I want to go back to Tay House.’
Black’s gaze narrowed in judgement as he looked down the strong blade of his nose at her. ‘You really want to go back there?’
Sarah raised her chin. ‘My aunt and my possessions are there. Besides, it’s none of your business what I do.’
He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, his flint-like gaze locking with hers. ‘I’m afraid it is my business, my dear Miss Lambert. You are not going back to Tay House. You are going to get dressed in the garments I have provided and you are coming with me.’
‘No.’ Sarah resisted the urge to step away from him. She wouldn’t be bullied and abused. ‘I won’t.’ Oh dear, now I’ve done it.
The expression in Black’s eyes grew colder and a muscle twitched in his lean jaw. He reached into the pocket of his navy wool frockcoat. ‘I didn’t want to make you take this again,’ he said, withdrawing his silver pocket flask. ‘But if we have reached an impasse…’ He shrugged.
‘No.’ Sarah stepped backed. ‘I won’t drink it. You cannot make me.’
‘I can and I will. But really, we can avoid all of this unpleasantness if you would just do as I ask and get dressed.’
Sarah scowled at him. It seemed she had no choice but to comply. She could hardly resist him and Aileen. And part of her really did want to put some clothes on. Facing down Black was difficult to do in a state of dishabille. She’d never felt so naked and vulnerable in her entire life.
Nevertheless, the stubborn side of her insisted she make a last ditch effort at trying to extricate herself from this intolerable situation. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she demanded. ‘Are you a fortune hunter trying to compromise me? To extort money from me? Or socially ruin me to force me into marrying you? Because if you are, I can offer you—’
Black snorted. ‘I know exactly how much you’re worth, but I don’t want or need your money, my dear. Although,’ he reached forward and wound one of her dishevelled locks around his finger, ‘now that I’ve seen you in next to nothing,’ his gaze dropped pointedly to the low, scooped neckline of her shift, ‘ruining you does seem rather appealing.’
Her pulse racing faster than a startled hare, Sarah batted his hand away. ‘Don’t jest so.’
‘What makes you think I’m jesting?’ Black’s gaze was intense. ‘You are a very beautiful woman, Sarah.’
Oh no, she’d woken the predator. Sarah swallowed. Surely he wouldn’t really take her by force. But what if he tried to? She wouldn’t be able to stop him. She’d been tethered to the bed before and he could easily tie her up again. Cold dread trickled down her spine as visions of Black taking her just like Malcolm had taken the blonde woman at the ball filled her head.
A loud ‘ahem’ came from somewhere close behind her and Sarah let go of the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. ‘Let me help you with yer gown, lassie. Here are the petticoats.’
‘You’re despicable,’ she shot at Black, before turning to Aileen.
‘You said that before.’
‘When Lord Tay finds me—’ Her throat convulsed. Why did she keep forgetting that Malcolm was not the man she thought he’d been? ‘Never mind,’ she murmured in a voice that was noticeably husky. Closing her eyes, she let Aileen fuss over all the tapes and hooks and ribbons, and when she was suitably attired in the claret-red riding coat and matching skirts with her hair brushed and tied at the nape with a bow, she slid her cream satin pumps on then turned back to Black. ‘Are you happy now?’ she asked with an arch of her brow. She was surprised the clothes fit so well. It was as if they had been tailored to fit—it was another bizarre occurrence she’d rather not dwell on at this point.
Black had moved to the fireplace whilst she had dressed, but at her words, he lifted his gaze from the dancing flames. His face was in shadow, his expression inscrutable as he ignored her question and said, ‘You look well, Miss Lambert.’ He approached and offered his arm as a gentleman would. ‘It’s time to go.’
Sarah glared at him, bunching her fists in her woollen skirts to stop herself slapping his arrogant, deceitful, too handsome face. ‘I cannot bel
ieve you are acting so when there is nothing remotely civilised about this entire situation.’ She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. ‘By rights I should be screaming and hammering at the windows, entreating someone to rescue me from whatever this is. But I rather suspect you would try to subdue me in whatever reprehensible manner you saw fit.’
Black’s mouth twisted into a mirthless smile. ‘You are correct. Don’t try me, Miss Lambert.’
***
Alex unlocked the door and ushered Aileen through, followed by a seething Sarah Lambert. She swept past him, claret-red skirts swaying around her slender hips, her blue eyes darting fire. He didn’t blame her in the least for feeling both outraged and terrified, and a better man would let her go. Indeed, a better man wouldn’t have abducted her in the first place. But needs must when the Devil drives and Miss Lambert was a pawn he had to play in order to best Malcolm Campbell. And even though the game was only just beginning, he was determined to win.
Lifting her skirts with one hand, Sarah held onto the carved mahogany railing with the other as she began to descend the stairs to the lower floor. Alexander followed close behind. He wasn’t at all certain that she wouldn’t try to make a break for it; not that it would do her any good. There was a loyal footman standing guard at every door.
They’d just gained the landing before the descent to the main hall when Sarah tripped on the edge of the Turkish runner. She let out a terrified squeal as she stumbled and pitched forward towards the stairs, and Alex only just caught her in the nick of time.
‘Careful, lass,’ he murmured as he pulled her backwards and she sagged against him. He could feel the frantic rise and fall of her chest, the pounding of her heart, and a small part of him almost regretted what he was putting her through. ‘Trying to break your neck to escape me seems a trifle drastic.’
Aileen, who was several steps below them, turned back. ‘Perhaps it is the laudanum, sir.’
Sarah put a shaking hand to her head. ‘I do feel a little dizzy.’
‘Well that won’t do.’ Alex swept Sarah up into his arms and began to descend the stairs again.
The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue) Page 4
