Page 106 of Death at a Highland Wedding

McCreadie shakes his head. “Archie grumbled about that, saying any guests who needed overnight accommodations would be forced to stay an hour’s ride away. We will need to check the stables, in case he took a horse. If so, we might be able to catch him.”

Müller didn’t take a horse. He must have set out on foot. No one has seen him since this afternoon. McCreadie offers to head out for the town with that inn, which also has a train station. But it’s not as if he’d find Müller trudging along the road. He’ll have holed up for the night.

“We will leave first thing in the morning,” McCreadie says. “Duncan and I will travel to apprehend him, and you and Isla will remain here awaiting Lenore’s return. That will also allow you to speak to the maid.” He pauses, as if realizing he just gave me an order. “Is that satisfactory?”

I smile. “It is.”

I’ve had so many unsettled nights that when I get to bed, my brain is too exhausted to even mull over the implications of everything we’ve discovered. Gray and McCreadie will need to leave at dawn, and I’ll be the sole investigator for most of the day. I need my rest, and so I get it.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when my hand brushes something under my pillow, and somewhere deep in my sleeping brain, a voice whispers that I’ve forgotten something.

I jerk awake.

Gray said he put a note beneath my pillow. I reach under and pull out the folded sheet.

Then I stop, seeing what looks like a long letter.

I asked Gray to drop the marriage-of-convenience idea. I also asked him not to apologize. It’s almost certain this letter breaks one of those two requests, which will only leave me steaming and unable to sleep.

But I also won’t sleep if I’m tossing and turning, wondering what he wrote.

I take it to the window and unfold it, braced for a full letter and relaxing when I see it’s only two lines.

Mallory,

Meet me at the lake bench at midnight. We must speak.

Duncan

Goddamn it. He really isn’t letting this drop, is he?

I want to pitch the letter in the trash. Which, of course, I can’t do for fear a maid will find it and misunderstand, especially with the use of our first names. Also if I don’t go meet him, I won’t sleep. I’ll be too busy imagining everything he could say and how much it’ll piss me off.

As I think about it, I realize he may not even be there. He wrote this before McCreadie made plans for them to leave at dawn. Gray probably forgot all about the note—and forgot to tell me to skip it.

I check my pocket watch on the bedside table. It’s almost midnight. I’ll be late even if he is there.

Well, at least that’ll mean I won’t be hanging around outside waiting for him. I’ll quickly get to the lake, confirm he’s not there, and come back. Then, tomorrow, when he returns, I’ll see what he wanted.

As I’m dressing, the wildcat kitten stirs. I bend to pet it and then I slip out.

THIRTY-FIVE

Gray isn’t at the lake. I can see that as soon as I’m on top of the hill. I still pause there, squinting down. Then I check my pocket watch. Twenty past midnight.

Okay, either he forgot all about it or he presumed I’d know our meet-up was canceled, in light of his early-morning trip.

I’m not sure whether to be relieved or frustrated. I don’t want to talk about the marriage thing again, but I also don’t know for certain that’s what he’d wanted to discuss.

What else could it be?

What else did I want it to be?

Damn it, I need to stop this.

I turn on my heel and stalk back toward the house as I fume at myself. I know full well what I was hoping for, as much as it shames me to admit it.

I was hoping for the same damn thing I’d been hoping for when I told Gray I wouldn’t marry someone who didn’t love me.