Free Night of the Highland Dragon by Isabel Cooper Page B

some men, animals will do when there aren’t people to hand. Or when people are too risky.”
    He’d found that out twelve years ago in a small fishing village in Dover. It wasn’t common knowledge, and it certainly wasn’t the sort of subject one brought up in front of a lady. While he didn’t expect vapors from Lady MacAlasdair, he had expected surprise and was himself shocked to see recognition instead.
    â€œWhy do you think I’d agree?” she asked.
    â€œBecause you’re here. If you really thought it was wildlife, you’d have let your gamekeeper handle it.” He looked around them at the dull grass and the trees. The farmhouse was a good quarter mile away. Nobody was nearer than that, and yet Lady MacAlasdair faced him warily but without fear.
    What did she know that he didn’t?
    What did she have that she didn’t think he did?
    Reluctantly, he released his grip on the chain, but he kept the hand on his revolver. “Come to that, why are you here? Isn’t there a constable?”
    â€œIn Belholm,” she said. “We’ve generally no need here. And these are my folk. If there’s trouble, I know of it.”
    This time, William kept his admiration to himself. Compliments, even sincere ones, would not help the situation just now. “You were here earlier then?”
    She nodded.
    â€œI didn’t see the sheep. What happened to it?”
    â€œThere was a wound in her throat,” Lady MacAlasdair said. “She would have bled to death. Her eyes were gone. Her chest and stomach were opened. Savagely. Whatever killed her ate her heart too.”
    â€œA dog wouldn’t do that,” said William, “and you know it.”
    â€œIt could have killed her. The wound to her throat would have done it. And then it might have taken fright, and other beasts could have done the rest.”
    â€œGone for the heart specifically? Do you know of anything that would?”
    â€œNo. But I don’t know everything in the world, nor do you. We’ve no witnesses.”
    â€œTrue. Has anyone’s dog run off? Been acting oddly?”
    Slowly, she shook her head. “That’s not the sort of business I’d hear about, though. Besides, the forest’s large. I’d lay odds there are no wolves in it, but having a dog go mad in one of the other villages and run off here? Aye, that could happen.”
    â€œCould,” William repeated.
    â€œCould. Many things could happen.”
    â€œIt’s an unpleasant possibility. I understand that you don’t want to consider it—”
    â€œI am considering it,” said Lady MacAlasdair. “And I don’t think you do understand.”
    Of all the times that accusation had landed on William, this was the calmest. Oh, she was angry. He could see it in her tight jaw and hear it rippling under her voice. That voice was even, though. She was stating a fact. That the fact happened to displease her was secondary.
    She folded her arms under her breasts and fixed him with a level, very knowing gaze. “Let’s for the moment,” she said, “assume we’re both innocent here, aye? We can get back to checking each other’s hands for blood afterwards. For now—something else killed this ewe and Stewart’s cow. Something or someone.”
    â€œAll right,” said William.
    â€œIf I say it was a man,” said Lady MacAlasdair, “it’s likely someone will die within a fortnight. A month, at most.”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    He half expected the answer to be occult. Given his mission, given the rumors he’d heard about Loch Arach and the lady, William expected her to talk about a demon or a curse.
    â€œBecause stock is a man’s living out here, and nobody has very much of it,” she said instead. “That ewe could be half a year’s profits for Finlay. If the killer was human, killing the sheep is a vicious thing to have