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.