Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,70

notion so completely repulsive after what they’d already done together. She’d been as wild and wanton as any man could wish, letting him—

She raised her hand and pointed out the window to the garden below, her finger shaking. “It’s that dog! That big black dog and it’s on the terrace! Ring for the servants!” she cried as she hurriedly tugged on her robe and ran for the door. “You’ll have to say you saw it. My room doesn’t overlook the terrace.”

Then she was gone.

Wincing and holding his side, he climbed out of bed and went to the bellpull and gave it several tugs. Then he went the window as quickly as he could. Standing behind the drapery because he was still naked, he surveyed the terrace and the garden. He couldn’t see…

Yes! There it was, just disappearing through a yew hedge, the same huge ogre of a dog. He ran a swift gaze over the terrace, gardens and lawn, but as far as he could see, the dog had been alone.

He started to dress, until he heard the sound of footsteps rushing up the servants’ stairs. Wearing only his trousers, he went to the door and saw Moira coming out of her bedroom as two footmen and her maid arrived from the servants’ stairs.

A confused expression on her wide-awake face, Moira hadn’t dressed, but had her bedrobe on and belted over her nightgown. “What’s happened?”

“I saw the same dog I saw the night of the fire,” he said to the closest footman. His jacket wasn’t completely buttoned, and the flustered Walters was still tying his cravat.

“I shall alert the gamekeeper,” Walters announced, turning back toward the stairs.

“And the grooms and gardeners,” Moira ordered. “That dog may have a master and they must search for him, too.”

As Gordon turned to go back into the room and finish dressing, Moira called out to him.

“You aren’t going to help search, are you, Mr. McHeath?” she asked with obvious concern.

“No. I shall wait here, with you.”

Chapter Nineteen

A short time later, dressed and shaved and having had a brief breakfast of toast and kippers, with a cup of tea to wash it down, Gordon sat beside Moira in the drawing room trying not to recline or otherwise indicate that his side was aching. She was already tense and anxious enough, and he didn’t want her to blame herself for any pain he was feeling after their activities last night. He was fairly certain he hadn’t done any serious damage, but he was hurting enough that it would surely be wiser to stay here than to chase after the dog.

“Why was that dog at the house?” she wondered aloud, her posture as straight and upright as if she had a spear down her dress. “Were they trying to break into the house, do you think?”

“It’s no secret that the earl is rich,” Gordon replied, “although Walters says there’s no indication that anyone tried to get in the doors.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that an experienced and skilled thief would have a set of picks that would make any lock no hindrance. “It could be that the vandals fled Dunbrachie and left the dog to fend for itself. It would tie them to the attack, after all.”

He hoped that was the case, but he could think of at least one other reason besides theft that those men might try to get inside the manor, one that had nothing to do with robbery and everything to do with Moira, who was now lacing and unlacing her fingers in her lap. How he wished he’d been able to capture them and turn them over to the authorities the night they set fire to the school! If only he’d been more careful or heard that man coming up behind him before it was too late.

Not wanting to lie to her, afraid to say anything more that might worsen her dread, unable to touch her in case the servants saw, and not well enough to join the search himself, all he could do was sit where he was, offering the solace of his company, and hope that was enough.

As the morning wore on, she rose and started to pace. “I suppose we should send for the constable,” she remarked at midmorning.

He should have thought of that instead of dwelling on what he couldn’t do. “Absolutely. We should let him know the dog’s been seen, at least.”

She turned toward him. She looked so sad and vulnerable, he wanted to hug her,