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, we shall be wed.’
Sarah had to blink away tears again, 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.’
Epilogue
Eilean Dubh, Loch Rannoch
5 June 1757
Sarah slid the last of the yellow roses into the cut-crystal vase on the satinwood table in the solar, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. She’d paid a visit to Blackloch’s rose garden early this morning and had filled a basket with dew-sprinkled blooms.
Crossing to the open mullion window on the southern side of the tower, she glanced over to the far shore where the boat still lay on the shingle. Dobson had rowed her out here with Bandit several hours ago and Alex had promised he would follow as soon he could, once he’d finished with pressing estate business in the village; the Laird of Blackloch had a meeting with the factor of the Robertson estate and the dragoon captain about further plans for Kinloch.
To Sarah’s delight, it hadn’t taken much convincing on her part to persuade her husband they needed time completely alone this afternoon. Only yesterday, they’d bid farewell a castle full of guests, including Aunt Judith and her sweet new husband, Mr Henry Weston, Charles Swindon, and Lord Lochrose and his pregnant wife, the lovely Lady Lochrose. As much as Sarah enjoyed having such entertaining company, having her husband all to herself was one of her favourite things, especially on a gorgeous summer’s day like today.
With a sigh—she was impatient for Alex to arrive—she sat in the window seat and toyed with the sapphire and pearl brooch pinned to the ivory stomacher of her pale blue silk gown. Of course, she could play the spinet or finish embroidering the last of the floral cushions she’d begun all those months ago when she’d first come to Eilean Dubh.
Strange how it seemed like it was only yesterday but also a lifetime ago.
The feeling of restlessness persisted and Sarah fell to contemplating the glorious view. At this time of year, Schiehallion was bare of snow but still majestically beautiful.
The peak brought to mind so many different memories—some lovely and some troublesome; like the day she’d worked out Alex’s true identity and Isla had tricked her into getting lost on Rannoch Moor. And then there was the night she’d used Fairy Hill as a beacon to guide her back to Alex after Malcolm had kidnapped her.
For several weeks after he’d died, Sarah had been worried someone would suspect Alex had something to do with Malcolm’s demise—after all, he’d sent several ransom notes signed ‘Janus’ to Malcolm. Even though Alex had assured her Malcolm would never be found—and no one would be able to identify him as Janus—it wasn’t until Captain Hamilton had reported the Earl of Tay’s horse had been discovered wandering just outside of Balloch, and that it was commonly believed he’d met with foul play at the hands of common footpads or a band of reivers, did Sarah begin to relax. In recent weeks, rumours had also been heard in Edinburgh, and as far afield in London, that the Earl of Tay had in been in dire financial straits with debt collectors hounding him.
When Sarah had been asked by curious gossipmongers in Edinburgh if she knew anything about Lord Tay’s whereabouts, she’d just shrug and say they’d parted ways the night of the Kenmuir’s Ball in February and she hadn’t seen him since.
It was telling indeed that no one seemed particularly bothered by his disappearance. Not even his sister, Lady Glenleven.
Whilst they’d sojourned in Edinburgh at the beginning of March, Sarah had also learned that Damaris had become engaged to Lord Arbelour, the older gentleman she’d been flirting with over faro at the Kenmuir’s Saint Valentine’s Ball. By all popular accounts, Damaris was content with the match—a fact Aunt Judith had confirmed when she related the story of her last visit to Tay House when she’d been searching, not only for Sarah, but her missing parure.
As to what Damaris made of Malcolm’s mysterious disappearance, Sarah had no idea, but she certainly hadn’t made a fuss about it. Perhaps she believed the theory that her brother had been murdered outside of Balloch by a person or persons unknown. According to Aunt Judith, the countess had never been terribly fond of her brutish brother. Although Sarah had never really felt any fondness for Damaris, she certainly wished her well.
Sarah touched her gold wedding band and smiled to herself. It was certainly the season for love and marriage. Shortly after she’d reunited with Aunt Judith in Edinburgh, she’d learned the inquiry agent her erstwhile guardian, Mr Swindon, had hired had begun to court her aunt with a view to marrying her. Thrilled that Aunt Judith had found love at long last, Sarah had gifted her Linden Hall just before she married the affable Mr Weston in Newcastle in April… with the proviso she and Alex could visit whenever they wanted to—a condition her aunt had readily agreed to.
Isla had also found contentment at last with MacLagan. Sarah smiled as she recalled the footman’s devotion to Isla during her convalescence, and in no time at all it seemed the maid had begun to harbour a tendre for the young man too. The pair had been married at the kirk in Kinloch last month and Alex had set them up with a cottage in the village. MacLagan was also due to open a cobbler’s shop in the next few weeks.
And then, of course, there’d been her own wedding day—one of the most joyous days of Sarah’s life. With the Earl of Strathburn acting as a sponsor, the Lord Advocate had been persuaded to grant Alex temporary clemency pending a hearing in the British Parliament, which had the power to grant him an unequivocal pardon.
So it was on a fair morning at the end of March that Sarah had at last wed the love of her life, Alexander MacIvor—not Price or Black—in Edinburgh’s ornate Saint Giles Cathedral. Sarah had worn a pale blue dress and her mother’s sapphire and pearl necklace, brooch, and earrings. And whilst she was sad her father had not been alive to bear witness to her happiness, she was grateful her aunt and newfound friends, Robert and Jessie Grant, Lord and Lady Lochrose, and Robert’s father, Lord Strathburn, had all been able to attend the nuptials.
The excited barks of Bandit in the walled garden below alerted Sarah to the fact her handsome husband must have arrived at last. She’d been so lost in her musings, she hadn’t noticed the rowboat was missing from the far shore.
After a minute or two, she heard Alex calling her name.
‘I’m up here, in the solar,’ she called back, and within the space of a few heartbeats, he’d bounded up the stairs to join her.
They might have been married for two months, but Sarah’s pulse never failed to quicken at the sight of him. Especially when he grinned at her like he was grinning now.
Alex swept her up into his arms and spun her around before capturing her face in his hands and kissing her. ‘What are you doing all the way up here, my fair Lady Rannoch?’ he asked, his grey eyes twinkling with both affection and amusement.
‘It’s such a glorious day, I wanted to enjoy the view.’
‘The only time I enjoy the view is when I’m looking at you.’
She laughed. ‘There must be something wrong with your eyes then.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, slowly and deliberately raking his gaze over her. ‘My eyesight is perfect.’
She swatted his arm playfully. ‘Well, when you’ve had your fill, there’s a wonderful luncheon waiting downstairs for us. Tartlets with smoked salmon and cress, and strawberries with clotted cream. And a lovely apple cider.’
Alex lashed her c
lose again and his mouth lifted into the wolfish grin she loved so much. ‘I’d much rather have my fill of you, but…’ His expression altered; a slight furrow appeared between his dark brows. ‘I have something I want to show you first.’
‘Heavens, it sounds serious.’
‘In a way, it is.’
Sarah’s heart began to beat a fast tattoo as Alex reached into the pocket of his hunter green riding coat and withdrew a folded piece of parchment with a cracked, red wax seal.
‘This arrived during the morning,’ he said gravely as he handed it to her, ‘after you’d left.’
‘What is it?’ she asked in a voice breathless with nerves. Her fingers trembled as she opened the missive.
‘Read it and see.’ Alex’s mouth twitched with a smile and his grey eyes had begun to dance.
Dear Lord Rannoch,
Pursuant to our meeting at my offices on the seventh day of March, in the year of our Lord, 1757, I recently petitioned Parliament…
‘It’s from the Lord Advocate,’ she breathed.
‘Yes.’ Alex was smiling widely now. ‘Read on.’
… you have been granted a full pardon and your late father’s titles and lands have been fully restored to you as the rightful heir forthwith…
Sarah squealed and dropped the letter as she threw her arms around Alex. ‘You’re pardoned! I cannot believe it.’
Alex picked her up and swung her around again until she was giddy with joy and laughter.
When he put her down, he lifted her chin with gentle fingers and bestowed the sweetest kiss she’d ever received, his lips tasting hers with tender reverence. As one kiss was followed by another, then another, Sarah’s toes curled in her silk shoes and she grasped Alex’s firm biceps so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.
When they drew apart, he was smiling at her. ‘I never thought I could be this happy,’ he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheek.
Sarah bit her lip and warmth flooded her face as she contemplated how her husband would react to what she was about to say. ‘Well, my darling Alex, I have some news that I hope you will like just as much…’
***
Alex’s breath caught in his chest as anticipation coiled tight inside him. Cradling her chin, he trapped his beautiful wife’s gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes bright with excitement. And love. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Sarah?’
Her lovely mouth lifted into a shy smile. ‘I’m with child,’ she whispered. ‘You’re going to be a father, Lord Rannoch.’
Elation flared and Alex gave a whoop of joy. ‘Oh, my God, Sarah,’ he cried and he pulled her close before giving her a fierce kiss of adoration. ‘That’s… that’s wonderful.’
‘I know.’ Tears spilled from her eyes. ‘I’ve suspected for several weeks now, but I wanted to be sure before I told you.’
‘Do you know how much I love you?’ he asked. ‘Because I don’t think you do.’
‘Why don’t you show me?’ she whispered. Her elegant hands slid beneath the lapels of his coat and the rapid beat of his heart sent burning desire straight to his groin in response to her invitation.
‘My dearest heart, I intend to.’
He framed Sarah’s face with his hands as though she were the most precious flower in the world and lavished her mouth with a deep and languorous kiss; their lips tasted, their tongues caressed, their breathing melded as they drank of each other, savoured each other.
Loved each other.
Impatient to touch and taste Sarah’s satiny skin, Alex lifted her curling blonde tresses and devoured her fragrant neck. Gripping his shoulders, she sank against him. ‘Undress me,’ she whispered.
‘You read my thoughts exactly.’ As he continued to lick and kiss her delicate ear, jaw, and neck, his fingers swiftly loosened the fastenings at her bodice, and then he gently slid her gown off her shoulders. It pooled on the rug at her feet, and her petticoats quickly joined the pile.
Sarah pushed his coat down his arms. ‘I think you should undress too,’ she murmured huskily.
Alex smiled. ‘Whatever you want, my lady. I’m yours to command.’
‘I certainly like the sound of that.’ She looked up at him through her eyelashes. ‘Take off your waistcoat and shirt.’
His cock swelling, Alex complied with his wife’s request. How he loved the way she ran her adoring gaze over him. Traced her fingertips over his shoulders and across his pectoral muscles. Kissed his neck. Caressed his ribs and pressed her hand against his straining erection.
She was effortlessly stoking the flames of his arousal to blazing proportions.
He needed her naked. Now.
His fingers clumsy with impatience, he tugged at the laces of her stays and pulled off her shift until all she had on was her white silk stockings fastened with garters of pale blue ribbon and her ivory silk pumps.
She never failed to take his breath away. And every day he thanked God she was his, this beautiful woman who would be the mother of his child. Their child.
He cupped her breasts and tenderly worshipped each rosy point with his lips and tongue, all the while kicking himself for not noticing they were a little fuller and heavier. Or that Sarah’s slender waist was a little thicker and her smooth belly a little rounder. ‘I want you like this, with your shoes and stockings on,’ he murmured, his voice hoarse with lust. ‘On the window seat.’
She bit her lip as an endearing blush suffused her cheeks. ‘Very well.’
She led him to the window seat by the north-facing window with its breathtaking view of loch, braes, and sky. But nothing was as breath-stealing as the vision of his practically naked wife. A slight breeze made the gauzy white curtains flutter around her like a veil and her pink nipples tightened. And Alex licked his lips.
God, how he wanted to taste her.
But Sarah had other things in mind. She pushed him onto the seat and undid the buttons fastening the fall of his buff breeches. When his cock sprang out, thick and ready for her, she ran her hand up, then down, his throbbing shaft and he groaned. ‘At this rate, I’ll come off in seconds, you wicked woman.’
Her answering smile was purely coquettish. And utterly adorable. ‘Oh, wicked is what I intend to be, my lord. Lie down.’
Alex wasn’t about to argue with her. He leaned back on his elbows and his wonderfully wicked wife straddled him. Reaching down, one of her hands circled his shaft and she unerringly guided him to her hot, slick entrance.
A deep growl of appreciation rumbled through him as she slowly lowered her body until he was completely engulfed by her wet, satin-sleek passage. Taking his weight on one arm, he reached out and caressed the exquisitely sensitive nub at the top of her sex with the tip of one finger, exactly the way she liked it, circling and flicking her, coaxing her along the path to ultimate pleasure.
Grasping his wrist to keep his hand in place, she trembled and moaned and her luscious breasts rose and fell with each breath she took. Her blue eyes were heavy-lidded and hazy with desire. Dear God, although remaining still while buried inside her was pure torture, he wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven.
Torn between his desire to take his time touching and tasting all of Sarah’s lush curves and secret places, and the overwhelming need to thrust his hips, he gripped her waist. ‘Take your pleasure, Sarah,’ he urged through gritted teeth, ‘and I will follow.’
She smiled a siren’s smile and undulated her hips, rocking and circling, teasing him, until he thought he might go mad. ‘Please,’ he gasped. ‘I cannot bear it. Ride me hard and well, my love.’
‘With pleasure,’ she whispered. Leaning forward, taking her weight on her hands, she kissed him, her tongue slipping inside his mouth and tangling with his. Her silken curls brushed his face and her hard-as-pearl nipples skimmed over his chest, making him groan.
Then, thank God she raised her hips, sliding upwards until only the head of his member remained inside her before she sank downwards, clasping him intimately again. Ripp
ling around him. The exquisite friction, her tight inner embrace, every sensation was sublime. She repeated the action and this time he joined her, thrusting upwards.
Dear God, he was primed to come, his climax drawing steadily and inexorably closer as Sarah began to plunge up and down, over and over again. The soft wet sounds of their coupling, and their gasps and pants of pleasure, filled the warm summer air. Paradise beckoned, and he wanted Sarah with him when he arrived. Gripping her tighter still, he locked his gaze with hers and pumped wildly, stroking in and out of her, matching her frantic pace until at last she gave an exultant cry. Her eyes closed, her brow furrowed, and he held still to watch pleasure claim her, wash through her. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and enough to send him flying skyward as well.
He thrust once, twice, and then he climaxed, hard. His back arched and he threw his head back, calling Sarah’s name as ecstasy ripped through him, carried him away to a place beyond the clouds, into the sun, into heaven itself.
When he opened his eyes, his body still humming with bliss, it was to find Sarah looking down at him, a smile of pure contentment curving her kiss-bruised lips. ‘I love you, Alexander MacIvor,’ she whispered, her blue eyes brighter than the sky above Loch Rannoch. ‘And I thank God that you love me too. ’
He smiled back and cradled her flushed cheek with gentle a hand. Kissed her fingertips when they brushed over his lips. ‘I love you too, Sarah, with my whole heart. For so long I had nothing but darkness in my life, but now I have the gift of you.’ His hand slid between them and caressed her belly. ‘And our child. And I have never felt so overjoyed. With you by my side, I will be living in the sunlight forevermore.’
Her answering smile made his heart sing and he drew her down for a tender kiss, his Lady Rannoch. It was a kiss meant to show her everything he felt deep down in his soul but couldn’t quite put into words; a kiss of possession, a kiss of adoration, but most of all, love.
And God willing, he would kiss her, just like this every day, until the end of his days.
The Laird Of Blackloch (Highland Rogue) Page 28
