Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,83
come back to Dunbrachie to give evidence. He says that man we thought you killed wasn’t killed at the school at all, so there’s no chance you did it. He’d been dragged a ways, you see.”
“How can you tell?” Moira asked, pleased that Gordon needn’t testify, but surprised by the constable’s explanation, too.
“The mud on his clothes, and it was matted in his hair. Too much of it, the coroner says. Never occurred to me to take that into account, I’m sorry to say, but then, by the time I usually see a body, the family’s washed it.”
Mr. McCrutcheon put his hands on his knees and hoisted himself to his feet. “Yes, it seems like the three of ’em managed to do each other in. Pity more bad ’uns don’t do the same, but then what are prisons for, eh?
“I’ll be off now then,” he continued when they didn’t reply. “I’d say it was a pleasure, Mr. McHeath, but that doesn’t seem quite right under the circumstances.”
“I can say it was a pleasure to meet you, though,” Gordon said, rising to shake his hand. “You’ll let us know if you hear anything more about Sir Robert?”
“Aye, sir, aye,” he affirmed. “Well, good day. And here’s hoping the next time we meet, it’s under more sociable conditions.”
Gordon nodded, then turned back into the room, where Moira stood looking out the windows at the garden. The day was gray and gloomy, but she was like a ray of sunlight against the windowpanes.
“Do you believe Robbie’s dead?” she asked when he came up behind her and wrapped his arms about her.
“Without any other evidence, it’s difficult to say what happened. I’d like to think he simply went to the shore to think, removed his jacket and forgot it when he left, but when I recall how he was the last time I saw him—” Gordon shook his head “—it’s difficult to be optimistic.”
“I’m so sorry I ever agreed to marry him,” Moira said with a heavy sigh. “How much pain and trouble for all of us could have been averted if I’d known my own heart better and not let my pride and vanity sway me!”
“We’re all liable to pay heed to our pride and vanity,” Gordon said softly. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been so thrilled when Robbie paid attention to me when I was young. I would have seen his flaws and realized I should avoid him. If I had known my own heart better, I would have realized that what I felt for a certain young woman in Edinburgh wasn’t love, or even desire. It was just boyish admiration.”
He pulled Moira back against him. “Now that I know what love is, I know I was a fool to think that what I felt for Catriona was even close.”
Moira turned in his arms, so that they were face-to-face. “I’ve been thinking, Gordon, and I’ve decided to tell my father about us today. There have been too many secrets already.”
Gordon studied her determined features. “Are you quite sure?”
“Quite. Besides, I’d like him to be at our wedding. And I think it should be…soon.”
“Today would suit me admirably,” Gordon sincerely replied, “but if I must wait a few more days, so be it.”
She gave him a wistful smile. “I would rather it be today, too, but you must have some time to return to Edinburgh and see your clients.”
“I also have to prepare for the move to Dunbrachie. And I should inform my friends they’re going to be receiving wedding invitations.”
“I hope your friends like me.”
“Well,” he said slowly as he sat on the sofa and drew her down onto his lap, “I confess I haven’t given much thought to any socializing we may be doing. I’ve been thinking about being alone with my wife.”
“I’ve thought about being alone with my husband, too,” she confessed as she wound her arms around his neck.
His lips quickly found hers, and they shared a kiss.
“Good God!”
Moira sprang up from the sofa and turned to see her father standing indignantly on the threshold.
“Papa!” she cried, hurrying toward him, surprised and upset, but not because she’d been caught kissing Gordon. “What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said—”
“Bother the doctor!” he interrupted. “I know when I’m well enough to get out of bed—and it’s a damn good thing I did, too, when this is what I find!” He pointed at Gordon, who had also gotten to his feet. “Get out of my house, you…you rogue!”
Moira