Page 36 of Her Magnificent Mistake
A murderer?
Bull was sure of it because the Crown was sure of it. But surely the Crown’s only evidence was Hawk’s motive. Yes, he had the strongest motive, but…
But in the last few days during which she’d integrated herself into his daily routine, she’d seen no evidence of it. Nothing in the paperwork and records he’d given her free rein to organize, nothing to indicate he kept other records elsewhere if he couldn’t even manage these.
Rupert, though not particularly helpful, had reported young Allison’s words of praise and comfort. Her familiarity with her uncle was one of trust, and loyalty, with no concerns of murder or malice. She clearly thought Hawk could do no wrong, and while Marcia was glad his relationship with his niece had improved, even in the short time they’d been at Tostinham, it was frustrating to not have any good leads.
Gabby had heard nothing but good things from the more talkative servants. She said they sounded relieved to have the estate in the hands of the lad they remembered caring so deeplyfor the land. There was not even a hint of evil-doing…in fact, none of them even suspected foul play!
Hawk’s grandfather had died of old age. Or something more sinister?
The next baron had died from bad eels. Or poison?
Hisbrother had been a poor horseman, who had fallen while riding and succumbed to a head injury. Or had his saddle been tampered with?
And Hawk’s uncle, the most recent baron, had died in his sleep, likely due to his excesses. Or had he also been poisoned, something slow-acting, perhaps?
Marcia tried to breathe, tried not to think about her fingers entwined with a man who may have used those very hands for murder.
The most suspicious thing about the deaths was their proximity, coming right after one another in a mere fourteen-month span.
Bad luck? If so, it was Hawk’sgoodluck, to become master of the estate he so adored.
Marcia stared at their joined hands as she followed him along the stone-and-dirt trail.
Is he a murderer?
Could she write to Bull and tell himyes,she’d managed to get close to Hawk again, andno, she could find no evidence of him being guilty? Would that be enough? Could she forget that he was under suspicion like this?
And when this murder investigation was done…would she walk away just as he had done a decade ago?
“Here,” Hawk announced proudly, squeezing her hand and coming to a stop.
Marcia’s gaze jerked up…and her frantic thoughts juststopped. “Oh,” she breathed, jaw dropping open.
“Beautiful, eh?” he asked proudly.
She couldn’t even answer.
Beautiful?
No, Pook’s Glen was…breath-taking. Awe-inspiring. Magnificent? Marcia’s mind couldn’t seem to form the necessary thoughts.
Between two gorge walls, the burn tumbled merrily toward the peaceful glen where they’d left the horses. The rocks formed a series of waterfalls and pools where the stream dropped ten feet or so in stages. On either side, boulders and logs had been piled, trapped or perhaps placed there. Above, the tall firs and oaks cast the place in shadows, while in every direction the waxy leaves and big purple blooms of the rhododendron colored her vision.
And between her and the highest waterfall, a bridge spanned the burn. An impossibly delicate bridge, seemingly carved from the living stone, as if made by…
“Fairies,” she breathed, and Hawk burst into laughter.
When she dragged her gaze away from the sight in front of her, it was to see him beaming proudly.
“Aye, Grandda commissioned it to look like that.” Hawk pointed with his free hand, the long, scarred finger showing her what she had missed before. “See how the trail was built along the wall?They had to widen the canyon and tame the burn to build the path up like that.”
Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see the stonemasonry which had grown over with the same moss and ferns as the surrounding boulders. It looked slippery, and knowing Hawk’s tendencies to adventure… “Is it safe?”
“Completely!” he chuckled. “Come along. This is only the beginning.”
He tugged her hand, and Marcia realized she would’ve followed him anywhere.
