The Laird Of Blackloch by Amy Rose Bennett

Author:Amy Rose Bennett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-03-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Eilean Dubh

22 February 1757

The creak of her bedroom door pulled Sarah from sleep. Rolling over, she opened her eyes, blinked, and watched Isla creep into the room; Bandit greeted her with a thump of his tail on the hearthrug but the maid ignored him as she stirred up the coals and threw a few logs into the grate.

Sarah pushed herself up against the fat, feather-down pillows and pushed her tangled hair from her eyes. Judging by how cold and dark the room was, she guessed it was either early, or the weather was inclement, or both. When Isla pulled back the curtains, weak grey light filtered in through the diamond panes. The morning appeared to be perfectly matched to her gloomy mood.

‘Is Black here?’ she asked in a voice hoarse with sleep and too much weeping. She didn’t expect him to be. After their disastrous tryst, she’d heard him slam the door when he left.

Isla approached the tester bed. ‘Nae, miss. He spent the night at Black—I mean, he isna here.’ Her gaze wandered over Sarah and her brow knitted. ‘Are ye all right, miss? Can I get ye anything?’

Sarah tugged up her sagging, crumpled shift; she hadn’t bothered to change into a night-rail last night. ‘Just some hot water and a robe to begin with. And then maybe a little breakfast.’

‘Aye, miss.’

When Sarah slipped from the bed and crossed to the washstand, she caught sight of her face in the looking glass and grimaced. No wonder Isla had looked concerned; her eyes were puffy with exhaustion and tears, her cheeks as pale as milk. Thankfully, Isla helped her with her toilette without further comment and it wasn’t long before Sarah was ensconced before the blazing fire in her room with a plate of freshly buttered toast and a cup of tea.

As she fed the crusts of her toast to Bandit, Isla emerged from behind the silk screen with a bundle of clothes—her ruined red velvet gown and to her horror, Black’s dark blue frockcoat.

A furious blush scalded Sarah’s cheeks. She’d completely forgotten that Black had discarded it last night. What must Isla think?

Clearly the worst, judging by the girl’s severe expression. Her mouth had flattened into a disapproving line and the look she shot Sarah was nothing short of accusatory as she crossed the chamber.

‘Isla—’

‘’Tis none of my business, miss.’ Isla disappeared into the kitchen and Sarah let out a shaky sigh. It seemed the rest of her day was going to be filled with uncomfortable, drawn-out silences and censorious glances.

‘At least I have you, Bandit,’ she murmured, caressing the unruly mane around the dog’s neck. ‘Perhaps you can help me come up with another way to escape.’

Letting out a soft snuffle, the collie subsided onto the hearthrug and Sarah twisted the ribbon ties of her velvet robe as she stared into the leaping flames of the fire. Her plan to make Black care for her had failed, dismally. Not only had he worked out what she’d been up to, he’d all but called her a whore.

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