Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,47

the school was the best way to stop the arrogant Lady Bountiful from taking over the education of their children.”

He came a few steps closer. “What, you don’t think you’re arrogant? What else is it when you presume to tell other people what’s good for them?”

That wasn’t what she was doing at all! Besides… “Education is always beneficial!”

“Not when it’s forced down people’s throats,” Robbie retorted.

“I haven’t forced anybody to do anything!”

“No,” he scornfully replied, “you’ve just made them feel like ignorant peasants.”

Good heavens, was that possible? Could she have done that? That had never been her intention.

“Yet you presumed to call me arrogant and selfish when you broke our engagement,” he went on. “What are you but the same, although you cloak it in the mantle of good works?” He came closer, forcing her to step back. “You think you’re so much better than me—aye and everybody else. You think you have all the answers, know how everybody ought to live. Well, you don’t! You don’t know anything, you presumptuous, naive witch! Now take me to Gordon. He’s coming home with me.”

His harsh, unfair, cruel words only served to invigorate her, not intimidate her. “No. The doctor says he can’t be moved.”

“Is that so—or do you think keeping him here will stop the lawsuit? I assure you, it won’t. I’ll sue you with or without Gordon McHeath.”

She had never truly hated Robert McStuart until this moment. It wasn’t what he called her, or the anger and hatred in his voice and face. It was his accusation that she would use such base tactics to win the lawsuit, an accusation made seemingly without a particle of genuine concern for his friend’s welfare. “Get out of this house, Robbie,” she said, her voice low, but firm in its purpose. “Get out and never come back.”

“You can’t—”

“I have several footmen I can summon,” she said, heading for the mantel, and the bellpull.

Robbie muttered a curse, turned on his heel and left.

He heard voices.

Hushed, whispering voices. That nurse’s was the loudest. And there was a man. Gordon didn’t recognize his voice at all.

Wasn’t that Lady Moira speaking?

It was her voice—that soft, dulcet, beautiful voice—that had summoned him back from a deep well of pain before. He’d opened his eyes and discovered her looking down on him with…great affection.

He opened his eyes. Yes, she was there, at the foot of the bed, standing beside a middle-aged man dressed in black with a very grim expression. He was also balding and had very bushy gray eyebrows. Behind them, looking like a warden standing guard over two prisoners and with her arms folded over her ample bosom, was Mrs. McAlvey.

“He’s awake,” she announced.

Yes, he was—his aching side and head proved that, for he’d felt no pain in his dreams.

He’d been dreaming about Catriona at first, and his folly. Then Moira had been with him, bold and brave and kissing him.

“We didn’t mean to disturb you, Mr. McHeath,” Lady Moira said, “but if you’re able, Mr. McCrutcheon, the constable, has some questions for you.”

Of course. He should have been expecting a representative of the law to arrive.

“I’ll try,” Gordon said. He started to sit up, until the pain in his side put an end to that. “I suppose you want descriptions of the men who attacked me.”

“For a start,” the constable confirmed.

“There were three.” Gordon described them as best as he could remember, including their accents. “And there was a dog. A big black dog.”

Lady Moira started, and he nodded. “Yes, the same dog. Lady Moira and I had an earlier encounter with the beast,” he explained to the constable. “I saw the dog last night, then some light through the trees. I wanted to find out who owned the dog, so I went after it toward the light, as carefully and quietly as I could in case it was a band of vagabonds or other unsavoury sorts. I heard one of the men order the other to start the fire. Before I could summon help, I was struck from behind. The other men joined the attack, the red-haired one stabbed me and I thought they’d kill me unless I played dead, so that’s what I did. They dragged me to the ditch and left me. I tried to get up but I couldn’t.”

“You were too badly hurt,” Lady Moira said softly.

“And a good thing you didn’t, too, or you’d be dead for sure,” Mrs. McAlvey declared. “If they hadn’t done for you, the bleeding would have.”

“I