Daniel had been a lonely, neglected boy. No one could say that Gavina was neglected in any way--
Cameron had been making sure of that. She'd wandered off, he told himself. She'd gone exploring and gotten lost.
In the dark, in the cold, with the snow coming down . . .
Cameron walked faster and faster, the other men with lanterns falling behind him. Only Daniel kept up.
"They say they already looked in the stables," Daniel said. "Where else does she like to go?"
"Everywhere," Cameron said darkly. "She likes the gardens. Ainsley's not fool enough to let her go out there at night."
"I'm thinking stepmama did not exactly let her go anywhere."
Cameron growled to himself and kept walking. Gavina wasn't used to Kilmorgan--she'd been here only a couple of times since her birth, and last year at this time she'd been a tiny thing in a cradle.
This year, she'd been fascinated by Hart's big house, by the nursery she shared with her cousins, by the decorations her mother and aunts were strewing about the house, by the back halls and stairs that the servants traversed. She also liked the big, formal gardens with their maze-like paths and gigantic fountains. The fountains weren't playing now, but she'd liked the one of Apollo's chariot and horses.
Gavina liked anything to do with horses and wasn't afraid of the beasts at all.
Damn it. If she'd decided to climb up on the horses at the fountain . . .
Cameron broke into a run, Daniel behind him. They reached the Apollo fountain in the middle of the garden within a minute, Cameron's heart hammering.
All was quiet. Cameron and Daniel flashed their lanterns, light gleaming on the icy marble of the horses, on the empty water spigots that spouted from beneath the chariot. Apollo the sun god stood upright, never minding the snow dusting his head and shoulders.
"She's not here," Cameron said with some relief. No little body lying on the ground after she'd toppled from the slippery horses or the chariot. "Why the devil doesn't Hart destroy this monstrosity of a fountain anyway?"
"Because it's by Bernini, brought over from Rome, and a masterwork of seventeenth-century engineering?"
"Shut it, boy. Where else?"
"Rest of the gardens? Stables?"
"Stables," Cameron said. "We'll check them again."
"She's a Mackenzie all right." Daniel said it lightly, but Cameron heard the worry in his tone.
They made their way back to the other men. The dogs had come to help too, except Ben, who'd walked slowly to the bottom of the terrace and sat down. He was old, and didn't like the cold.
The other dogs swarmed, tails moving, excited at the hunt. If any of them could be relied upon to track Gavina, Cameron would turn them loose. But the dogs were family pets because they weren't good at what they'd been bred for--retrieving birds or hunting, or even ratting in the case of Fergus. Hart refused to destroy an animal simply because it wasn't useful, so they became companions to the family.
Cameron strode for the stables, a vast line of buildings that housed Hart's horses and Cam's special racers, the tack rooms, the carriage houses, and the grooms' quarters. Searching every corner of the place would be as difficult as tackling the house.
Cameron, though, went through them, every stall, the grooms helping with the search. The little girl wasn't in the haylofts, or hidden in one of the carriages, or behind saddle trees in a tack room.
Cameron strode back into the yard, sucking cold air into his lungs. He could barely find breath, and it was so cold. Gavina couldn't have been wrapped up warmly; she might freeze to death before they found her.
God, no. Please. No.
What had he said only yesterday morning, walking home from the bleak churchyard? Too many bloody funerals in this family already.
Cameron had stood at a graveside on another cold winter day to bury his first wife after she'd taken her own life. He'd watched his mother go, his father, Hart's wife and little boy.
Not Gavina. Not her. If she died, it would break Ainsley. Ainsley would dissolve into grief, and Cameron wouldn't be able to help her.
Damn it, I can't lose them.
He found himself bent double, hands on knees, his lungs not working. A warm hand gripped his shoulder.
"Dad. Ye all right?"
Daniel. Daniel was his constant, the one person who'd made Cameron's life bearable all these years.
Air poured back into him, and Cameron slowly stood up. Daniel's eyes, as golden as Cameron's, held fear.
"I'm all right, son. Just scared out of my mind."
"We'll find her. We will."
Cameron shook his head. "It's too bloody cold. There won't be time. She's so tiny."
The world was spinning around, but Daniel was there, his hand on Cameron's shoulder. Cameron would have to go into the house and tell Ainsley, have to watch the light go out of her eyes.
He couldn't do it. "We have to find her."
"Aye." Daniel's grip tightened. "We will."
Ruby, the hound who'd taken up residence with Ian and Beth, galloped by, followed by Ian himself, holding a lantern high.
"Where is Achilles?" Ian called to them.
Achilles was a setter, or at least, a partial one. He had jet black fur except for one white hind foot, which gave him his name. Cameron realized that he'd seen only four of the five dogs--Ruby, Fergus, and McNab running about, Ben waiting near the terrace--but he hadn't paid much attention.
"I don't know," Cameron snapped. "I'm more interested in finding my daughter."
Ian came to a halt and looked straight at Cameron--he'd become better at meeting his brothers' eyes in the last few years, even though he sometimes still found it difficult. At the moment, his gaze held Cameron's.
"We need to look for Achilles."
"Damn it, Ian . . ."
"No, wait," Daniel said. "I think Uncle Ian's got it. I haven't seen Achilles since we arrived home, and Gavina likes him. What's more, he likes her." Daniel's eyes sparkled with excitement, the lantern making his face sharp.
Cameron's breath came faster as he raised his lantern and flashed it around the stable yard. Achilles did follow Gavina with devotion, and the little girl might have felt safe going outside with him. Gavina might not be able to answer their calls, but Achilles would.
"Sorry, Ian," Cameron said. He found himself saying that to Ian quite a bit. "I didn't understand."
Ian gave him a faint nod but didn't answer. His look told Cameron that he knew his older brother was an idiot, but he'd learned to put up with it.
"Hart!" Cameron moved to catch up with the bulk of the duke and explain.
Soon men were bellowing into the night, Achilles! Where are you, lad? The other dogs, recognizing the name, started barking in earnest.
The trouble was, they now were making so damn much noise that Cameron couldn't hear a blasted thing. He broke away from the main group, Daniel close behind him.
Cameron went out into the dark, away from the teeming stable yard. The musty scent of horses came to him on the wind, the cold of the night stealing his breath.
The wind cut out on the leeward side of the stables, the relative warmth a waft of relief. Faint and faraway, Cameron heard the loud arf arf of the one dog that wasn't there.
He stopped, and Daniel almost ran into him, lantern swinging. They both froze, listening.
It came again, the frantic barking of a dog trying with all its might to get their attention.
Cameron walked swiftly toward the sound, down the length of the back of the stables, its long stone wall rising high beside him.
"There!" Daniel said, pointing.
At the end of the wall, boards had been nailed over a hole to protect the crumbling foundation. From behind it was the unmistakable barking of Achilles--starting low and ending high, in almost a squeak. The more excited Achilles became, the squeakier he sounded.
The high-pitched barking escalated, accompanied by the noise of paws scrabbling on wood. Cameron and Daniel dropped to t
heir knees, lanterns clanking on the ground, both men reaching at the same time for the gray pieces of board. Two pairs of gloved hands, one huge, the other thinner and more wiry, yanked wood away from the hole.
Achilles' snuffling nose came into view, his body squirming as his tail wagged deep inside the hole.
Daniel got his hands around the dog and started pulling him out. Cameron didn't let himself think about the fact that Achilles might have become stuck down here by himself, nothing to do with Gavina.
Daniel fell back, his arms full of the dark-furred Achilles. Achilles, panting in happiness, licked Daniel's face, then went right back into the hole.
* * * * *
Chapter Five
"Damn you, dog!" Daniel shouted and grabbed for him again.
Achilles filled the hole for a brief instant, then he squeezed on inside, his hindquarters writhing with his wagging tail.
Cameron's lantern fell on a confusion of objects behind the dog, some small and squirming, little peeping noises issuing from the dark. Cameron saw the wide reflective eyes of a cat, and beyond that, a flash of pink.
Somewhere in the back of his whirling thoughts, Cameron remembered Angelo, his groom, friend, and valet, telling him that cats always instinctively sought the warmest places to sleep. If you seek warmth, find a cat.
Cameron yanked loose another board and started to put his head inside the hole. Daniel seized him by the shoulder.
"Let me, Dad. You'll get stuck."
Cameron, the largest Mackenzie, had to concede. He moved out of the way but stayed on his hands and knees while Daniel got himself on his stomach and slithered inside.
Cam heard a low miaow then Daniel's voice as he spoke to dog and cat. Daniel inched his way back, his kilt catching on the icy stones and exposing his thighs, but he didn't release the bundle he carried with him.
In a new pink dress her Aunt Eleanor had given her, topped with the tiniest rabbit fur coat Cameron had ever seen, Gavina was just opening her gray eyes, her face flushed with sleep. Achilles scrambled out behind her and ran to greet the other dogs coming up with the rest of the men, led by Ian and Hart.
Daniel sat back, lifted Gavina to his lap, and blew out his breath. "She's lovely warm. Probably stayed warmer than any of us tonight."
Gavina blinked sleepy eyes at her stepbrother and father, then lifted her arms. "Dabby," she said.
"I'm here, sweetie." Cameron scooped up Gavina with his giant hands and cradled her against his chest, brushing the top of her head with his shaking lips. Her body was indeed warm, her breath milk sweet as turned her face up to kiss his cheek.
"She was talking to me," Daniel said beside him. "She said Danny."
Cameron shook his head. "No, she said Daddy. "
Father and son shared a stubborn look. Gavina pulled away from Cameron and reached for Daniel, her little hands opening and closing. Cameron relinquished her, and Daniel swung her up over his head, making her laugh.
"Who's the sweetest little sister a lad ever had, eh?" Daniel said. "What were you doing out here, worrying us all to death?"
"Kitties." Gavina pointed back under the stables. The mother cat and kittens, perfectly happy where they were, looked out at the sudden influx of Scottish men and dogs with mild curiosity.
Cameron heaved himself to his feet, taking Gavina from Daniel and holding her close. His heart wouldn't stop hammering.
Daniel leaned the boards back over the hole, and Achilles danced in tight circles around first Cameron then Daniel. He ran to the other dogs, paused to touch noses with Ruby, and leapt back to Cameron again.
Hart lifted his lantern, the relief on his face undisguised. "You've got her, then."
"She's all right," Cameron said, barely able to form the words. "She's all right."
Ian was next to Hart, looking over Cameron, Gavina, Daniel, and the now-covered hole. Achilles ran to Ian, circling his legs.
Ian bent down and stroked the black fur. "Good dog," he said.
*** *** *** "You've found her?" Isabella leaned over the stair railings, Beth beside her, as the men and dogs swarmed back into the front hall.
Cameron held up a bundle of pink and fur, and Gavina squealed with laughter. Isabella clutched the railing, relief making her knees weak. Beth let out a shaky breath. "Thank God," she whispered.
Ainsley came out of the opposite wing, lifting her skirts as she flew down the stairs toward her husband and child. She was weeping as Cameron caught her up, crushing Gavina and Ainsley into a hug.
Daniel put his arm around his father, leaning his forehead on Cameron's shoulder. Isabella's eyes stung as she watched the family pull into itself, the four of them comforting and rejoicing together.
Mac came down the stairs, two at a time, reaching Beth and Isabella. He hadn't taken the time to change out of his painting things, which was fine with Isabella. He looped one arm around Beth and the other around Isabella, kissing his wife's cheek.
"All is well, then," he said.
"Yes, thank heavens." Isabella leaned into Mac's embrace, loving that she could now be with him in relief. "Poor Ainsley. We should give her some tea, perhaps with whiskey."
"Splendid idea," Beth said, though her gaze was all for Ian, coming in with the rest of the dogs behind Hart.
"No, ye ladies can leave her alone to Cam and her babe," Mac said. "Danny will take care of them."
Hart, below, directed the housekeeper Mrs. Desmond to take everyone who'd searched to the dining room where they could enjoy whiskey and a light repast. Ever the generous host, Hart ushered them down the corridor himself. He looked impatient, though, wanting to return to Eleanor.
Ian didn't follow the others, but came straight upstairs to Beth. Not looking at Mac, Ian brushed his brother out of the way and caught Beth in an embrace.
"What happened?" Isabella asked him. "Where did you find her?"
Ian directed his answer to Beth. "Under the stables. With a cat. Achilles kept her safe."
"Thank God for our misbehaving and useless dogs," Mac said. "How on earth did she get under the stables?"
"That, I'm sure will be the question," Isabella said.
Below them, Cameron and Ainsley held each other, Gavina between them. Daniel rested his hands on their shoulders, speaking in a low voice.
"We should leave them to it," Beth said. "I for one, have the greatest desire to check again on my children."
"Indeed," Isabella said.
The two men didn't argue. The four mounted the stairs to the nursery, to find Nanny Westlock, already informed of Gavina's return, making sure the girl's bed was ready. Miss Westlock pressed a firm finger to her lips when the two couples came inside, indicating the sleeping children.
Isabella pulled a blanket a little straighter over Aimee, then smiled down at the dark red heads of Eileen and Robert, snug in their cots. Mac leaned down and pressed a kiss to all three children in turn, then led Isabella out.
Ian wouldn't leave, to Nanny Westlock's distress, and Mac laughed softly as he and Isabella went back to their wing of the house.
"Trust Ian to stand guard." Mac stopped on a shadowy landing and closed a comforting arm around Isabella. He smelled of paint and turpentine, and the heady scent of himself. Isabella sank into his warmth, her body shuddering in reaction. She'd shared Ainsley's fear, knowing what she'd feel if one of her own babies went missing.
Mac ran his finger under her chin, leaning down to kiss her. He tasted of spice and oolong tea, sweat and worry. But his stillness calmed her, as only Mac could.
Their lips met, and met again. Far away, the sounds of the household had turned joyous, laughter and raucous voices replacing the bowstring tension.
Mac's warmth flowed through his kiss, down through Isabella's body, loosening every limb. Isabella needed him, the reassurance that he was here and solid, protecting her and her children from harm.
Mac skimmed his fingertips over her cheek. "Let's seek someplace a bit more comfortable, eh, lass?"
Isabe
lla smiled, loving his low voice and the promise in it. He put his arm around her waist, hand cupping, and led her on to their wing of the house.
Relief made Isabella giddy, wild need for Mac warming her blood. Instead of turning in at their bedchamber, a decorous married woman ought, Isabella broke loose from Mac's hold and ran on up another flight of stairs to his studio.
In the early days of their marriage--and again when they'd first been reunited--they'd made love in Mac's studio, shamelessly naked on the couch, or on drop cloths on the floor. Young, innocent Isabella had learned to be wicked and wanton with the decadent Mac Mackenzie, and she wanted that wickedness tonight.
Mac vaulted past her, boots thumping, and put himself between Isabella and the studio door. "Where are you going?"
Isabella touched a paint splotch on his cheek. "I thought we could reminisce. You know, about old times."
Mac started to smile. He loved reliving their first days together, when he'd stolen her from her debut ball at her father's house, eloped with her that very night, and had her in his bed before dawn.
He deliberately erased the grin and pressed his back to the studio door. "Our bedchamber's warmer, my love."
"Your studio will be plenty warm, if Bellamy has had his way." Mac used to grow too absorbed in painting to feed the fire, but Isabella had put in place instructions for Bellamy to check it and stoke it if necessary.
"Bellamy will have gone to bed by now," Mac said. "Or joined in the repast. I imagine he's exhausted."
Isabella's eyes narrowed. He was speaking a bit too glibly. "Mac, why don't you want me to go inside?"
"Because I think the bedroom will be more comfortable, love, that's all. We'll want to sleep after, cuddle under warm blankets. Not be stiff and cold in the studio." He leaned his arm on the doorframe, blocking it.
"You are a bad liar, Mac Mackenzie."
Isabella darted under his arm, going for the doorknob and the key in the doorplate. Mac had his hands on her arms, whirling her around and pinning her to the wall next to the door before she saw him start to move.
He leaned to her, copper-colored eyes dark in the shadows. "A liar, am I? Thought I was a rogue."
Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift (highland pleasures) Page 4
