Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,30

and glared at Gordon. “I never thought you’d turn coward on me.”

Gordon’s ire rose and whatever respect he’d retained for Robbie vanished. “I’m not afraid to fight. I don’t want to fight today, whether you’ve made a wager—”

An idea came to him, a way to make Robbie give up the suit, and since Robbie so obviously liked to gamble, surely it would appeal to him. “I’ll fight on one condition, Robbie. If I win, you agree to…”

He hesitated. He wanted to say that if he won, Robbie had to drop the suit completely, except that Robbie would probably never agree to that. So instead, he went for an option Robbie would likely at least be willing to consider. “If I win, you agree to settle the suit with Lady Moira for one thousand pounds and we find another way to get you out of the rest of your debts, or at least make them manageable.”

Robbie frowned as he leaned his weight on one leg. “Why should I agree to that?”

Gordon didn’t want to risk losing this chance, so he came up with a reason a man like Robbie could appreciate. “Because this way, the suit will be settled easier and quicker, and you’ll have some money sooner. That amount should enable you to keep your most pressing creditors at bay for a little while, at least.”

“And less work for you, too, eh, Gordo?” Robbie noted with a smirk.

A few days ago, Gordon would have said he could never hate Robbie McStuart, but standing in the yard of the tavern in Dunbrachie, seeing that smirk after learning what his friend had done and what he was capable of, the last vestige of respect, affection and admiration he had for Sir Robert McStuart dwindled away.

“What if you fight and lose?” Robbie asked.

“I’ll pay the wager.”

“And the suit? You won’t try to make me settle for less than five thousand?”

“I won’t try to make you do anything, because I won’t be representing you in that anymore, regardless of the outcome of the fight.”

Robbie stared at him incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me, Robbie. If you want to continue your suit against Lady Moira, you’ll have to find another solicitor. I’ll leave you the documents I’ve drafted.”

He’d also leave a sealed letter for the new solicitor suggesting that Lady Moira might be willing to offer a settlement for a lesser amount, leaving it to the new solicitor to negotiate the exact terms. “I’m going back to Edinburgh as soon as possible.”

“By God, you really mean it!” Robbie cried incredulously.

“Yes, Robbie, I really do. I think that lawsuit is a mistake.”

Instead of being angry, Robbie threw back his head and laughed, as if everything was all right between them, although it never would be again. “Good God, Gordo! I knew you had a bit of the Calvinist in you, but I had no idea it ran so deep. Sweet Jesus, you almost make me ashamed of myself.”

Almost, but not truly ashamed, as he ought to be. As any truly honorable gentleman would be.

“There’s no need to go rushing back to Edinburgh, old friend, because you’re going to win the fight, and when you do, I’ll settle for a thousand pounds and as long as you’ll help me deal with those creditors, all will be well with the world.”

Gordon marvelled at the ease with which Robbie dismissed opposition. He had always been carefree in their youth, but Gordon had assumed it was because he was rich and titled. Now that ability took on a more selfish quality. It was as if Robbie simply assumed and accepted as his right that his troubles would always be solved somehow, by someone else.

Thank God, Lady Moira had broken their engagement. Marriage to a man like Robbie would be a misery.

“Come on, Gordo, no more time to waste. They’ll have the ring set up by now. We’ll have to find you some thing else to wear, though. I wouldn’t want you to ruin your clothes.”

As if his clothes were all he should be worried about.

After Moira left the lane, she wanted nothing more than to get to her carriage and back home as quickly as possible. She hurried along the street past the shops and houses, head down, eyes on the uneven pavement, not wanting to stop, or be stopped by anyone, making every effort not to glance over her shoulder to see if McHeath had followed her out of the lane. Or where he was at all.

How could she have been