Before Ian could straighten again, Gabriel tackled him. The two men crashed into her dressing table, shattering the mirror. Sharp glass showered onto the wood floor. Her chair went over in the tangle of limbs and nearly cracked her across the skull. For God’s sake, they were going to kill each other.
Fiona staggered to her feet, her ears still ringing from Ian’s blow. “Stop it!” she shrieked.
The pistol flashed into view, caught between the two of them. She wanted to jump in, to dosomething,but if she struck at the wrong moment and the gun went off, it would be her fault. And if it hurt Gabriel—or worse—she couldn’t… It would be too much.
Gabriel twisted, ramming his shoulder up into Ian’s chin. The gamekeeper stumbled, and a hooked leg sent him to the floor on his arse. The Duke of Lattimer rolled to his feet to press the pistol against Ian’s temple.
“Gabriel, ye cannae!” she called out, putting both hands over her heart.
“I most definitely can,” he snapped back, his gaze fixed on Ian’s face. “For twelve years I did it almost daily. And for less cause.”
“Get on with it then, English,” Ian spat, blood running from his nose and dripping onto the wooden floor.
Hardly daring to breathe, Fiona stepped up to Gabriel’s left side, away from the weapon in case he might think she meant to take it from him. Instead, she put a hand carefully on his free arm. His muscles twitched even beneath her light touch. “He fired a shot to wake Niall and his family,” she said, keeping her voice low and quiet even if she couldn’t stop it shaking.
“After he set fire to their home.” Finally he sent her the briefest of glances, his expression cold and distant. “Why are you defending him?”
“If ye kill him, Dunncraigh will have everyone saying ye murdered one of yer own servants so ye’d have someone to blame fer yer misfortunes,” she went on. “Ye’ve won over most of the people here. Dunnae throw that away.”
Abruptly Gabriel lowered the pistol and took a step backward. “You heard the lady,” he growled. “At this moment your life is more useful to me than your death. I suggest you keep it that way.”
Ian climbed to his feet, wiping blood from his face. Fiona had known him for her entire life. She’d shared his bed on occasion. And he’d used her friendship and her trust to undermine everything she did. Moving around Gabriel, Fiona took a long step forward and slapped Ian hard across the face.
“I reckon ye have one path ahead of ye,” she stated. “It leads ye with us to Inverness, where ye’ll write oot everything ye’ve done to this place, and ye’ll write doon the name of the man who put ye up to it and why.”
“He’ll murder me, ye stup—”
She slapped him again. “And when ye’ve done that, the Duke of Lattimer will decline to press charges against ye.” At that Gabriel stirred, but he kept his mouth shut. “He will also give ye a thousand pounds, at which point ye’ll purchase passage on the first ship headed fer America.”
“Well, ye’ve thought this all oot,” Ian retorted. “But it relies on me cooperating with ye. What if I choose nae to be the traitor ye are?”
“You stopped being a part of clan Maxwell the moment you did the first thing to harm this place.” Gabriel gripped the pistol so hard his knuckles showed white, but he kept the weapon pointed at the ground. “If you think I’m speaking out of turn, then please don’t do as Fiona suggests. I’ll put you in a room with Niall Garreston and Brian Maxwell and every villager in Strouth whose well water you tried to spoil. We’ll see if they think you’re a bonny Maxwell lad or not.”
“With ye here, none of us are Maxwells any longer,” the gamekeeper returned, but his shoulder lowered and he seemed to get… smaller. “I’ll do as ye say. After this I’ll nae have a place in the Highlands any longer, anyway. I dunnae want one.” He glanced up at her. “Whatever I swear to on paper, ye’ll nae get the law to move against Dunncraigh, ye ken.”
“Aye,” she returned. “But everyone will know that he went against his own. And if someaught ill befalls MacKittrick after this, the blame and the fault and the shame of the deed goes to him.”
“That, my lass,” Gabriel said, his hard-eyed expression easing just a little, “is a very good idea.”
***
The ride back into the valley reminded Gabriel strongly of his first trip to Lattimer Castle six weeks earlier. Seasoned and cynical as he was supposed to be, he couldn’t resist repeated looks out the window even if it made him feel like a farm boy on his first visit to London.
Snow blanketed the ground, thick enough to keep its crisp white coloring, but thin enough to be broken by vast purple patches of late-blooming heather and thistle. The color of Loch Sìbhreach deepened from blue to onyx, with thin black ice rimming the near shore. In the still air and gray sky it looked like the landscape of a madman’s dream, exotic and enticing. His dream. But not only his.
“Is this usual?” he asked, returning his attention to the only vision more enchanting than an early snowfall in the Highlands.
“Nae,” Fiona said, not bothering to hide her amusement from him. “It’s barely September. The snow’s a month early, at least. It’ll nae last, but it does make a bonny sight.”
“Aye, it does,” he returned, taking her hand and tucking her closer against him. “Very bonny.” He kissed her, need and desire spinning against the odd sense of contentment that had drawn around him like a warm blanket.Him, content.
“Are ye truly pleased to be back here?” she asked, stroking her palm along the side of his face. “Inverness was very grand, compared to Lattimer. And much more civilized.”
With a grin pulling at him, he kissed her again. A hundred thousand kisses still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him, but they would be a damned fine beginning. “Do I strike you as being a civilized man?” he returned, releasing her fingers to open the buttons of her heavy crimson pelisse and then slipping a hand inside to cup one warm, soft breast.
“Nae,” she whispered back, kissing him more urgently. “Ye strike me as an insatiable man.”
Gabriel chuckled as he teased at her nipple with his thumb. “Three weeks in a house with less than a dozen servants was very like being alone with you,” he murmured, jumping as she stroked a hand over the growing bulge in his trousers.
