Highland Heiress (23 page)

“Yes, but…but…” Her father felt for the sofa and sat heavily. He glanced up at Gordon, then turned his stern gaze back to Moira. “Have you somehow forgotten that this man was helping Robert McStuart to sue you?”

“Was,”
Gordon emphasized. “I'm no longer his solicitor, or his friend.”

If her father hadn't been so sick, Moira would have pointed out that the earl had done worse by hiring men to burn down her school, but since he was ill, and because she was sure Gordon could argue his own case without her help, she stayed silent.

“You're only a solicitor. You're not even a barrister.”

“That's true,” Gordon replied evenly. “However, I make a very good living and am well respected in my profession. And I promise you, my lord, that your daughter's welfare and happiness will always be my first consideration.”

“As well as our children's,” Moira added.

Her father continued to scowl, but she saw cause for hope in his eyes. “Children will keep you at home, at least,” he muttered, giving her a sidelong glance before he eyed Gordon speculatively. “I don't suppose you can make her give up these notions about education for the poor.”

“I don't intend to try. Indeed, my lord, I intend to help her in any way I can.”

“Huh.”

“My lord, I appreciate that your objections stem from a natural urge to protect your child,” Gordon said in what Moira could only assume was his courtroom timbre, “yet
I must point out that she is legally an adult. You cannot forbid her marriage nor her charitable endeavors.”

His voice and expression softened. “Besides, my lord, you must realize you've raised a woman as determined and clever as yourself.”

Moira doubted there could have been anything better Gordon could have said to mollify her father.

“You'll have to live in Edinburgh, I suppose,” the earl grumbled.

“No, Papa, I still want my first school to be here,” Moira said.

“I understand there is a lack of legal representation in Dunbrachie and the surrounding area,” Gordon said quickly before her father realized she'd said her
first
school, “whereas solicitors are rather thick on the ground in Edinburgh. So we plan to live in Dunbrachie, provided I can find a suitable house.”

Finally her father's shoulders relaxed, and he even smiled. “In that case, I have no objections,” he allowed, “but what is this about finding a house when there is this huge place? It would be a waste of money to buy another. It will be yours one day anyway, Moira. You both might as well live here.”

He then shook a finger at Gordon and declared, “Keep a tight rein on her, my lad, or she'll run roughshod all over you! She's just like her mother—a head full of ideas and plans and schemes.” He lowered his hand and his expression grew tender as he regarded his daughter. “But if you love her half as much as I loved her dear mother, you'll be a very happy fellow.”

“Oh, Papa!” Moira cried as she threw her arms around him and smiled through her tears.

 

Some weeks later, Moira looked up and smiled when she saw her husband standing on the threshold of the drawing room in the manor house of the earl of Dunbrachie.

Her smile faded when she saw his weary, worried expression.

Setting aside the garment she was sewing, she hurried to kiss Gordon lightly on the lips. “Did Mr. MacIntosh prove to be even more stubborn about the contract than you feared?”

The cantankerous Mr. MacIntosh and his complicated business affairs had been consuming much of Gordon's time and effort in his new practice.

“No,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You had another client who wanted to talk about your victory over the Titan of Inverness?”

“No,” he replied with a bit of a smile. “I suppose I shouldn't complain if that sends clients to my door, but it does get a little tiresome.”

She thought of something that might erase that grim expression from his face.

“Dr. Campbell said my father's doing much better than expected,” she said as she led him to the sofa and drew him down beside her. “Keeping him away from drink and having Mrs. McAlvey's help has been very beneficial. Dr. Campbell thinks that if things continue this way, my father may live for at least another
eight months—certainly long enough to see his first grandchild.”

“I'm glad he's…” Gordon paused and his visage became a stunned blank for a moment. Then his eyes lit up with a joy that lifted her happiness to new heights, too.

“Grandchild!” he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet as if she'd poked him with the fire tongs—and he liked it. “Moira! Are you…are we…a baby?”

“Yes, we're having a baby,” she laughingly confirmed.

He pulled her up and into his arms before kissing her face, all over. “Oh, Moira!” he gasped between kisses. “This is wonderful! I couldn't be happier. Or feel more blessed.”

For several minutes, they embraced and kissed and held each other. Moira clung to him tightly, loving him, loving the life they shared after all they'd been through.

So when Gordon eventually pulled away, she was taken aback to see that he looked even more gravely serious. “I'm so happy, I nearly forgot. I've had news about Robbie.”

No wonder he had looked so serious! “Is he…dead?”

“No, he's alive.”

“Alive?” she gasped, relieved and yet not quite willing to believe it. “Where is he? Has he been caught? Is he in prison?”

Her husband took her hand. “Sit down, Moira,
please, and I'll explain,” he said, and she obeyed, barely realizing where she was sitting.

He sat beside her and pulled an envelope from his jacket. “I received this letter this afternoon. It's from Robbie himself. He's somewhere in America. He's sorry for everything that happened, and regrets causing us any pain or heartache.”

“I'm glad he's not dead,” Moira replied with heartfelt relief and sincerity. “But his coat…or was that someone else's?”

“No, it was his. He was going to drown himself, but at the last moment, the tide turned and he took it as a sign that he, too, could turn the tide of his life—and he has.

“He enclosed a document giving me power of attorney over his entire estate. He's instructed me to sell all his property and the mill to pay off his debts. If there's any money left after that, I am to give it to you to use in the building of a school. He wants nothing for himself.”

“Nothing? But how will he live?”

Gordon drew the letter out of his jacket pocket, opened it and read:

As Gordon silently folded the letter, Moira put her hand on his arm. “I'm glad he's alive, Gordon, and I think we can be hopeful that he'll be all right. Perhaps,” she added softly, “he'll find a good woman to love and have a family, too.”

“I'd like to think so,” Gordon said, tucking the letter back in his jacket. “After all, if it weren't for Robbie, I'd never have been traveling along that road and found a beautiful young woman taking refuge in a tree.”

“I'm thankful, too,” Moira said as she looked into his eyes shining with love. “If he hadn't invited you here, I would never have met the love of my life. I love you so much, Gordon McHeath!”

“As I love you, my lady,” he replied, as he bent his head to kiss her.