Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,80

and as he opened them again, swallowed hard. “I hired those men to burn down your school.”

She dropped his hand as if it were aflame. “You?” she gasped, unable to believe what he was saying. “That can’t be. You supported my efforts, at least until recently.”

“I thought you’d give up…when the villagers… Big Jack MacKracken and the others… Should have known better. You’re so stubborn…I had no other choice. I had to stop you somehow,” he whispered, his eyes closing.

“Setting fire to my school was bad enough, but those men nearly killed Gordon!”

“I didn’t know…he wasn’t supposed to be there. But you were in danger, too. So much opposition…I was so afraid. I wanted to stop you, to save you, as I saved you from Sir Robert.”

She stared at him, aghast. “Those things you told me about Robbie…it was the truth, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, it was true. All of it. I could have kept it secret, let you marry him. But I want you to be safe. Safe and happy. Happy like your mother and me.”

She didn’t know what to think, or say. Her father loved her and wanted to keep her safe, but to burn down her school… To hire those men. To cause such fear and injury. “Oh, Papa, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“No time to convince you. You’re too stubborn, like me.” He grimaced and shifted, and stifled a low moan. “I’m dying, Moira.”

“No, you’re not,” she assured him, taking hold of his hand. “It’s only a graze.”

She heard a commotion at the entrance to the house. It had to be either the doctor or, please God, Gordon returning safe and sound. “When the doctor comes, he’ll tell you so. Rest, Papa, and keep still. I’ll be back in a moment,” she said as she hurried from the room.

It wasn’t Gordon. It was Dr. Campbell, his forehead furrowed with concern as he handed his hat and greatcoat to Walters, who was temporarily holding his black bag.

“Ah, my lady!” Dr. Campbell said when he saw her coming quickly toward him. “Where is your father?”

“In the drawing room. It appears the bullet only grazed his neck.”

To her surprise, that didn’t seem to make the doctor any less worried. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll examine him in the drawing room, then he should be taken upstairs. In his condition, any trauma to the body can be dangerous.”

Taken aback by his words, she laid her hand on his arm to detain him. “What do you mean, his condition?”

“He still hasn’t told you?”

Moira tried to be calm, but her heart was racing as if it wanted to escape her chest. “Told me what?”

That wasn’t all that baffled her. “He’s been to see you?”

The doctor regarded her with sympathy and pity, too. “Yes, although with obvious reluctance. Unfortunately, his condition is already too far advanced for me to be of any help, I regret to say. He has a progressive, painful growth in his abdomen for which there is no treatment. All I can do is try to make him comfortable. Despite my advice, he’s refused to accept laudanum, claiming he could manage on his own. I think we both know how he’s tried to do that, and I doubt with much success.”

“Is he…do you mean he’s really dying?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady. I confess I’m amazed that he’s been able to hide his illness from you this long.”

He had because she’d been too selfish, getting involved with Robbie and thinking about her school, and then too consumed with desire for Gordon McHeath to pay attention to the man who’d given her so much, and whom she’d repaid so poorly. All this time, she’d assumed his drinking to excess was weakness of character. Instead, her father was dying and he’d been drinking because he was sick and in pain.

“He always tries to protect me and I’ve been too busy with my own concerns,” she said, choking back a sob, her heart full of guilt and remorse and regret as her future altered yet again—in a way as different from happily learning the true depth of Gordon’s feelings as cake was from haggis.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ll examine him now. I think it would be best if you weren’t in the room. Your father will be less likely to make light of his symptoms,” the doctor said quietly.

Without waiting for her to reply, he left Moira alone in the hallway and went into the drawing room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dismayed, distraught, worried about her