It would be so easy to sit here in the quiet office, Fiona in his arms, and Gabriel swore an oath to himself that one day he would be able to do so. For now, though, the need to resolve Lattimer’s substantial troubles outweighed his yearning for a moment or two of peace. “Let’s look at this logically,” he said slowly, gathering his thoughts back together.
“There’s nae anything logical aboot anyone willing to harm his own people.”
“You’d be surprised what little it takes sometimes,” he returned. “But let’s begin with facts rather than motives. How many men would it take to maneuver a large, healthy heifer into a well?”
“I reckon she had to be dead first, or everyone would’ve heard the commotion. Poison, likely, since the only wounds on her were from hitting the walls on the way doon.”
Gabriel nodded. “The dead weight of a cow, heaved over three feet of well wall. Eight full-grown men? Nine?”
“I’d agree with that.”
“And knocking down the cliff face, making off with half the flock of sheep, and getting them away before the shepherds could get over the landslide to find them?”
“Aboot the same, I’d say. Between eight and ten.” She shifted a little, twining her fingers with his, a simple intimacy he found fascinating. “The irrigation gates would’ve taken fewer than that,” she went on, “since it didnae all happen at once. And one man could’ve set fire to the mill.”
“Not considering any matters of suspicion, who could go about at night in numbers eight or ten strong without being noticed?”
Fiona scowled, clearly not happy with the line of thought. He didn’t expect her to be, though. It wasn’t pleasant, especially for her, but it was necessary. And after last night, figuring out who was doing Dunncraigh’s dirty work had become more urgent than ever.
“We’ve had extra men oot watching fer thievery at night since the sheep began going missing. They’re nae noticed, but the thievery came before we sent them aboot.”
“Who else might be out of doors at night?”
“The shepherds, though they generally have the dogs watching at night, with only one or two men up and aboot. Ian and his gamekeepers go oot at night when we have vermin aboot. Some of the drovers, when they’re bringing cattle through the property on the way to market.” She paused. “The drovers come from all over the Highlands, from a dozen or more different clans.”
That sounded interesting. “Are there always drovers in the area?”
“Nae. They come when someone has a herd or a flock to drive to market. Ye can find them anytime except fer deep winter, but unless ye send fer them fer yer own animals, ye can only guess when and where they’ll make an appearance. It could be some of them, Gabriel. They’ve nae loyalty to clan Maxwell. It’d be a small matter fer the duke or my uncle to pay them to create some mayhem here.”
Hm. It made sense that Fiona would want to blame the nomadic and ever-changing group of drovers. If she knew any of them personally it wasn’t well, and they weren’t people with whom she shared a past or kinsmen to whom she’d devoted so much time and effort. “Did any of the estate’s misfortunes happen over the winter?”
“A few. Some of them might have been accidental, after all.” She stood, leaving his front feeling cold. “I can fetch Ian Maxwell. If there’s a herd and drovers nearby, he would know it.”
From the pattern of disaster beginning to take shape, it made more sense for the culprits to be local, but Gabriel didn’t feel ready to dismiss her idea simply because it was convenient for her. “That sounds like a good beginning.” Slowly he pushed to his feet, his muscles protesting at being asked to do more work already. “I feel the need for a hot bath and a change of clothes. You’re welcome to join me for the former.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Ye say such romantic things. But I need to send fer Ian and look in on the Garretsons and see to—”
“Stop,” he protested, chuckling. “I’ll join you after I’ve cleaned up. I know I still smell like smoke.” Taking one of her hands, he pulled her in for a kiss. “And you smell like heather.”
“Smoky heather now, ye heathen,” she returned, kissing him back before she walked to the door. “I may join ye yet, if the water’s still warm when I finish.”
“I’ll still be warm,” he noted, as she headed down the hallway. “And naked.”
Staying with her would mean a lifetime of joint baths missed because she had people after whom she needed to look. And it would also mean a lifetime of nights where he went to sleep with his arms around the same lass, and mornings where her smile was the first thing he saw. For a man who’d meant to spend his life as a soldier, just the idea was both foreign and intoxicating. To have actually found the woman who made him want to have a life beyond daily fights to the death… He couldn’t even put it into words.
Hoping at least some of the buckets had made it back to the house, he requested a bath be brought up to his chambers and then went upstairs to find some clean clothes. After that, he had traitors to discover, a mill to rebuild, and a lass who needed proposing to and marrying. And knowing Fiona, it would be in that order.
Chapter Seventeen
Rolling her tired shoulders, wishing she’d had more to offer the Garretsons than some encouraging words and biscuits, Fiona paused outside Gabriel’s closed bedchamber door. Yes, she’d cleaned the soot off herself with a bowl of scented water and a cloth, but whatever he’d said, she doubted she smelled like heather. The idea of a hot bath sounded heavenly. A hot bath with Gabriel Forrester sounded even better than that.
She put her hand on the master bedchamber’s door handle. At that same moment Tilly emerged from a neighboring room, linens in her arms, and Fiona quickly turned and made for her own bedchamber. “Blast it,” she muttered under her breath. People were suspicious of her and Gabriel, she knew, but she didn’t feel quite ready to confirm anything yet. Not until she knew what it all meant.
Shutting her door behind her, she turned around—and stopped in her tracks. “Ian? What the devil are ye doing in here? Oot with ye.”
The gamekeeper turned from looking out one of the narrow windows that faced the loch. “I rode by the mill this morning. The family got oot?”
“Aye. Nae a one was hurt.”
