Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,78

if he went there.

Finally, Gordon heard what sounded like a wounded deer thrashing its way through the underbrush. Or, judging by the curses, a drunken, frightened, desperate man trying to flee.

“Robbie, stop!” he called out with what breath he could muster as he leaned against a tree, the bark rough beneath his palms. His side hurt like hell with every rasping gulp of air and his equally pain-racked legs might give out at any moment. In spite of that, he wasn’t going to give up. Despite what he’d said today, he had to find Robbie and save him from himself.

As he might have been able to save him years ago, if only he’d kept in touch. If only he hadn’t been so busy with his practice. If only he’d realized sooner how troubled Robbie was, and where his drinking and gambling and wenching might eventually lead him.

He pushed off from the tree to take up the chase again, now following what appeared to be a narrow path. More than once he nearly tripped over an exposed root. The third time that happened, he stopped and leaned forward, hands on his knees, the pain nearly overwhelming.

The only thing he could hear was his own labored breathing. He couldn’t hear birds, or rustling leaves, either from wind or somebody running away. It was as if Robbie had vanished, or flown away.

Then he caught sight of a small, rough stone building with a peaked wooden roof nearly hidden by the foliage. It looked like a gamekeeper’s outbuilding, used for storing traps and other items useful for his job, or an abandoned barn.

He began a slow trot toward it, trying to be as quiet as he could. There were no windows, no chimney, and the roof had fallen away at the back, but there was a door.

An open door.

Wary and cautious, Gordon walked slowly toward it, keeping to the right of the entrance as he peered through the opening.

Robbie stood inside the ruined building, his back to the door, his arms limp at his sides, swaying as he stared at a large pile of what looked like clothes on the ground beneath the edge of a loft built under the roof. There were pieces of wood, too, like a broken chair. Or ladder.

Except that it wasn’t clothes, Gordon realized as he, too, stared.

It was two men. The bodies of two men that Gordon immediately recognized—the men who attacked him. The men who set fire to Moira’s school.

Blood pooled near the head of the man with bright red hair and beard wearing rough, patched clothes, his left arm twisted at an odd angle, legs splayed, the other arm beneath him. The other man, older, smaller, lay on his side, curled up in a ball, eyes closed, as if he’d fallen asleep.

Had Robbie somehow…?

No. The blood on their clothes had dried, so these bodies had been here for some time.

Thank God for that—and thank God they could never hurt or frighten Moira, or anybody else, again.

With a choking sob, Robbie took a step back, turned and saw Gordon.

At once his expression changed, from fear and dismay to angry desperation. “I won’t let you take me!” he cried, inching backward so that he stepped into the pool of blood. “I didn’t do this!”

His demeanor changed again, to that of a pathetic, frightened child. “I didn’t mean to kill Moira’s father! The pistol just went off! It was an accident, Gordo! I won’t go to prison! I won’t! You can’t make me!”

“The earl was breathing when I left him,” Gordon replied, trying to keep his voice low and soothing, so that Robbie would calm down. “You must come with me. If it was an accident—”

“It was! It was, Gordon, I swear on my life. I would never hurt Moira’s father, not like that. I mean, a lawsuit is one thing…I’d never…not murder. You have to believe me.”

“I do. Now come away, Robbie, out of here.”

“I found them like this, Gordo. They were already dead.”

“I can see that by the dried blood.” He decided he might never get a better chance to find out if Robbie was involved with them. “Do you know these men? Have you ever seen them before?”

“God, no! Never! Who are they? Do you—?”

A low groan escaped his throat and he stared at Gordon, wide-eyed. “They’re the men who tried to kill you, aren’t they?”

Robbie fell to his knees and held up his clasped hands as if begging for his life. “I had nothing to