Heir To Glengyle

Baird looked pointedly at Cathie as he said, ‘Twenty-four, eh? Surely that’s an age when we should begin to grow up.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘However, I’ve noticed some who continue to be a pain in the neck until into their thirties.’

Amy sighed. ‘Really, you two—I can’t understand—’

Baird grinned at her. ‘I’ll get the car out. Perhaps Miss Campbell will be good enough to come to the garage entrance.’

Cathie felt guilty, and the moment Baird left the room she turned to apologise to Amy. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. I’ll try to keep myself under control. I told you he doesn’t like me, and you can also blame this awful red hair for my unruly tongue.’

Amy’s mouth tightened. ‘That auburn hair of his also has a good splash of red in it, but it’s no excuse. I’m sorry he’s like this, dear. I’ve never known him to be in such a cross mood.’

Elspeth said darkly, her broad Scottish accent seeming to be more pronounced, ‘I blame all that tramping through the heather he’s been doing. It has a weird effect on many people filled with Scottish blood. It stirs their roots and they begin to hear the skirl of the pipes out on the hillsides. They see men wearing the kilt, their plaids flung over their shoulders, come marching out of the mist.’

Amy snorted. ‘That’s only after they’ve been on the bottle for too long. But I’ll agree with you on one point—Baird’s roots have definitely been stirred up, and for that I blame his grandfather’s books.’

Cathie said, ‘I’d better not commit the sin of keeping him waiting. He’s mad enough with me as it is—’

She hastened outside to where Baird had backed the car from the garage. He opened the door for her and after muttering a brief thank-you she sat in silence until he had driven up the hill to the Crieff Hydro hotel.

‘I’ll not be long,’ she informed him coldly as the car stopped near the front entrance. ‘I’ll just collect my case and pay my account.’ She then left the car and hurried into the hotel.

A short time later when she reached the office situated in the wide and lengthy hall the woman behind the counter smiled affably. ‘It’s all settled, Miss Campbell,’ she said. ‘That gentleman over there has paid your account. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay—’

But Cathie scarcely heard her. Her cheeks pink with anger, she crossed the hall to glare at Baird who was examining one of the many paintings on the wall.

‘Did you pay my account?’ she demanded furiously.

‘Yes. What of it?’ He turned to look at her.

‘How dare you put me under an obligation?’

‘It was Amy’s request. Didn’t you hear her ask me to fix everything else?’ His tone had become bored.

Cathie’s jaw sagged slightly. ‘I didn’t realise she meant—’

‘You weren’t listening,’ he cut in acidly. ‘You were too busy thinking up bitchy remarks to fling at me.’

‘My oath—hark at who’s talking,’ she snapped indignantly.

‘Get in the car. I want to talk to you.’ He picked up her case and carried it through the wide entrance doors.

‘You mean you want to recount more Campbell atrocities?’ she panted, having to run to keep up with his long strides as he made his way towards the car.

‘Nothing of the sort,’ he retorted abruptly.

Slightly puzzled, she sat in silence while they made their way down the hill, then left the town to drive a short distance to where a factory made colourful paperweights. Baird parked the car, then led her into the showroom where she was allowed only a short viewing of the brilliantly coloured balls and shapes before being led back to the vehicle.

‘Amy will be pleased I’ve shown you this display,’ he remarked nonchalantly. ‘And it will account for the extra time we’ll be taking over the discussion I intend to have with you.’

Even more bewildered, she sat in the car staring straight ahead, waiting for him to begin.

He turned in his seat to face her, his brown eyes watching her intently for several moments before he said, ‘With regard to the hotel account—can you be gracious enough to accept it without fuss?’

‘But there’s no need—’

‘What has need to do with it? It is something Amy wanted to do because she wants you to be her guest. Is that too much for you to understand?’

‘I suppose not,’ she conceded reluctantly.

‘Nor is there any need for you to concern yourself about the expense. Financially, Amy is very comfortable. My grandfather saw to that fact by leaving her the interest from the Glengyle Estate. But you probably know that in any case.’

She felt he was watching her closely, so she ignored his last comment by saying, ‘I saw the name “Glengyle” over the door.’

‘He had numerous business interests, and when he died all his assets went into what became known as the Glengyle Estate. He liked the name because the famous—or infamous—Rob Roy MacGregor was born at Glengyle. You’ve heard of Rob Roy, I presume?’

‘Who hasn’t? But I’m amazed to hear you admit to the infamous aspect of him.’

‘We won’t go into that,’ he declared coldly.

‘I’ll bet we won’t,’ she snapped back at him. ‘Is this what you’ve brought me here to talk about?’

‘It is not. I want to talk about Amy. I want your help.’

Surprise caused her eyes to widen as she turned to stare at him. ‘Let’s get this straight. You’re asking a Campbell for help, Mr MacGregor?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

His mouth twisted. ‘If you’d rather not hear it we can go home at once.’

‘I didn’t say that. So—how can I help you?’ She was now thoroughly curious.

‘I’d like you to pull your weight in persuading Amy to come to New Zealand for our summer. It would enable her to avoid the Scottish winter, which can be very cold.’

‘Far too cold for one who suffers from arthritis,’ she said with a feeling of sympathy for her great-aunt.

‘I’m glad you can see at least that much daylight,’ he observed, his tone ironic.

‘Thank you—you say the nicest things,’ she retorted sharply. ‘I had no idea I appeared to be somewhat dumb. It must be because I’m a Campbell,’ she added in a chilly tone.

‘No doubt it is,’ he agreed gravely. ‘And there’s something else—we must stop this continual bickering, because it’s starting to upset Amy. Heaven alone knows how it began.’

A bitter laugh escaped her. ‘You dare to ask that?’ she demanded incredulously. ‘How very typical—’

‘I mean I don’t know what the hell got into me. I know I’ve been most unreasonable—and I regret it.’

Cathie recalled Elspeth’s and Amy’s words, but without admitting where her ideas had come from she said, ‘I can guess what got into you. You were beset by ghosts of the past. They rose up out of the pages of your grandfather’s books. They leered at you—stabbing at you with dirks and daggers, and maddening you because you’re unable to do anything about it. They stirred up bitter hatred.’

For the first time he looked at her with real interest as he said, ‘You surprise me. You have more understanding than I’d have thought possible, especially in a woman.’

‘Again, thank you. You’re too kind.’

‘Then it’s agreed? We can be friends?’ he asked lightly.

She thought about it for several moments, but at last she shook her head as she said, ‘I doubt it, Mr MacGregor—I doubt it very much indeed.’

‘You sound quite adamant about it. Why is it so impossible?’

‘Because I know that you would never trust a Campbell. However, we can at least allow Amy to imagine we’re friends,’ she said guardedly.

Baird’s expression hardened. ‘But in the meantime you’ll reject my offer of friendship. Thank you very much.’

She turned to regard him frankly. ‘I can’t believe that friendship is what you really have in mind. To me it sounds more like a truce.’

‘A truce can be a temporary affair. I said friendship, and I meant friendship,’ he said in a tone that had become abrupt.

‘It takes two to be friends,’ she pointed out. ‘Nor am I in the habit of tossing real friendship about quite so lightly.’

‘But at least you’ll show a semblance of friendship for Amy’s sake,’ he persisted.

‘Yes—for Amy’s sake.’

‘Thank you.’

‘There’s no need to thank me. Amy is part of my family.’

‘Then will you accept this as a peace offering?’ he asked, extracting from his pocket a square object wrapped in tissue paper.

She took it from him, then removed the wrapping to reveal an attractive paperweight filled with brilliant colours that glittered and glowed. She had caught her breath over it in the showroom, but it had been too expensive for her to buy.

He said, ‘I noticed you admire it, so I bought it for you.’

‘Thank you, that was very kind—but of course I can’t accept it,’ she said regretfully.

‘Why not, for heaven’s sake?’ he rasped.

‘Because I feel it’s a bribe to persuade me to do whatever you wish me to do. You can take it home, and I’m sure your wife, or your girlfriend, or whoever, will appreciate it.’ She then spread the paper carefully, rewrapped the paperweight and handed it back to him.

CHAPTER TWO

BAIRD took the square parcel from her and tossed it on to the back seat, where it landed with a slight thud. He then gritted from behind tight lips, ‘For your information, I am neither married nor engaged.’

‘But you must surely have a girlfriend,’ she pursued, suddenly feeling unaccountably interested in this question.

‘Well, it’s possible. What about yourself?’ he asked, sending a swift glance towards her ringless fingers. ‘Are you a free agent?’

‘Definitely—and I intend to remain that way,’ she declared in a firm voice. ‘At least until—’ She fell silent, annoyed with herself.

He sent her a quick glance. ‘Until what?’

‘Until I’ve achieved my goal—which is no concern of yours.’

‘Shady business, is it?’ He grinned. ‘Something which must be kept secret, or under wraps, as they say.’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, irritated by his suggestions. Then she gave a sigh of resignation as she admitted, ‘If you must know—I’m interested in antiques. Some day I hope to own my own shop.’

‘That’s your goal? Have you come to the UK on a buying spree?’

‘Heavens, no—I’m a long way from that happy state,’ she said, laughing at the mere thought of it.

Unexpectedly he said, ‘You should laugh more often. It lights up your face.’

She was startled by the remark, wondering if it was supposed to be a compliment. Or had he scratched about in his mind, searching for something nice to say—and all he’d been able to come up with was a hint that her previous expression had been anything but attractive? Not that she cared one iota for his opinion of her appearance, of course, and to prove this point she dragged her mind back to the subject of her great-aunt.

‘I presume the suggestion of a visit to New Zealand has been put to Amy?’ she queried.

‘Yes. But her response has been a complete lack of enthusiasm. That’s why I’m asking if you’ll use your powers of persuasion.’

‘What makes you imagine I have any?’

‘The fact that she was so delighted to see you.’

‘She’s probably like Gran, strong on family ties—which makes me wonder why she’d need to be persuaded to come to New Zealand.’

‘I think the main problem lies in the assistance she needs because of her arthritis. You probably don’t realise that she needs help in having her shower and in getting dressed. Here she has Elspeth to turn to during difficult moments, but in New Zealand she fears she would be a burden to somebody.’

‘Poor Amy,’ Cathie said softly, her voice full of sympathy.

He went on, ‘She also feels nervous about the length of the flight. Thirteen hours from Heathrow to Changi Airport at Singapore, where we’d have a night’s stopover, and then another ten hours or more to Auckland.’

‘It’s a long way to the other side of the world,’ Cathie sighed.

‘I’ve tried to convince her that the Singapore Airlines air hostesses will give her all the assistance she needs. They really are the most charming girls.’

‘Not only charming, but beautiful as well,’ Cathie agreed. ‘But that’s only on the main flight. What happens when she reaches New Zealand?’

‘We’ll catch the first available domestic flight to Palmerston North—’

Cathie cut in, ‘And that’s where my parents and Gran will meet her and take her to Levin where we live. Gran has a flat built on to our house.’

His jaw became set in a determined line. ‘On the contrary, she will stay with me until she gets over her jet-lag, and until my parents have come from Taupo to meet her. Don’t forget that my father is her stepson, and I’m unable to see the necessity to send him an extra thirty miles to Levin.’ He paused, then added, ‘Also, I’d like her to see my factory.’

Cathie’s brows rose as she sent him an inquiring glance. ‘Factory?’

‘It’s just one that Dad and I started years ago. When he retired he took Mother to live at Taupo where they spend most of their time fishing on the lake.’

She waited for more explanation about the factory, but it did not appear to be forthcoming. Then, as she had no intention of prying, she changed the subject by asking carefully, ‘There would be someone in your—living quarters—to care for Amy?’

‘I live alone in the house I took over when my parents went to Taupo—but there’s Lola next door. She works part-time, which enables her to keep an eye on my place.’

‘You mean, as a housekeeper?’

‘I suppose you could call it that,’ he replied nonchalantly. ‘At least, the place always looks clean and tidy, and I’m never short of a clean shirt.’

‘But if she has a part-time job her hours might not fit in—especially in the mornings,’ Cathie pointed out, visualising a comfortably built woman, possibly about her mother’s age.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said, as though that was all it would take to make Lola change her work schedule.

Cathie took an unobtrusive peep at the classical lines of his profile, which featured a strong jaw, a straight nose and a well-shaped forehead. This man knows what he wants and is determined to get it, she decided. He knows where he’s going and is sure to get there. Yet there’s a tender side to his nature. He’s concerned for Amy. He’s even concerned about the problems his long-dead ancestors had to face. Not that he can do anything about those people or events, but the knowledge frustrates him. Nevertheless it all adds up to the fact that he’s one who cares for other people.

His voice cut into her thoughts. ‘So you’ll do it?’

She was momentarily nonplussed. ‘Do it—? Do what—?’

His frown indicated impatience. ‘You’ll do your best to persuade Amy that the trip would not be the traumatic experience she imagines. Isn’t that what this conversation is about?’

‘Yes—I suppose so. When would you expect to leave?’

‘As soon as Elspeth can pack a couple of suitcases for her—and before she changes her mind about the entire project.’

‘It’s a pity Elspeth couldn’t go with her—’ Cathie began.

He cut in, ‘As I’ve already explained, it’s quite unnecessary. But apart from that fact Elspeth would not leave her husband. He works in Crieff, cares for the garden at Glengyle, and they’ll look after the place while Amy is away.’

‘So my added persuasion appears to be all you need.’

‘That’s right. Nothing more, nothing less.’

A sudden thought caused her to ask, ‘I presume you will have checked that Amy has a passport?’

‘Of course. Naturally it was the first question I asked. Fortunately she took a trip to Canada with Elspeth and it is still valid.’

‘So that apart from her own decision there shouldn’t be any obstacles in the way.’

His attitude was positive and sufficiently determined to forbid further argument on the subject, therefore she said, ‘Very well—I’ll do my best to convince Amy there’ll be little or no hassle on the flight.’

‘Thank you.’ He sounded relieved.

‘After that I presume you’d like me to get down the road, as we say at home?’

He frowned as though pondering the question. ‘Well—at least you’ll be able to become acquainted with each other in New Zealand, provided you’re successful in persuading her, of course.’

‘Am I right in assuming that you’ve really tried, but have got nowhere?’ she queried, wondering how much success she herself could expect.

‘Didn’t I tell you she’d used the difficulties of her arthritis as an excuse?’ He turned to regard her as a sudden thought appeared to strike him. ‘In any case, I presume you have a job you must return to?’

She sighed, realising she’d have to admit to being unemployed, and although she hated doing so she said, ‘At the moment I haven’t a job. I’ll look for one when I return.’ Then she hastened to explain, ‘Since I left school I’ve worked in an antique shop in Palmerston North.’

His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. ‘Don’t tell me—let me guess. You got the push for dropping something of great value.’

‘No, I did not.’ She flared at him angrily. ‘Why must you continually think the worst of me?’

His face became serious as he admitted, ‘I don’t know. It’s something you do to me.’ He turned to stare at her, his brown eyes roving over her face as though searching for the answer in her clear complexion. ‘So what happened?’ he demanded.

She sighed while recalling the disappointment of losing her job, then her expression became bleak as she said, ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to dig up a theory of your own?’

‘Unless you tell me I’ll definitely believe the worst.’

She turned to glare at him. ‘Mr MacGregor, there are times when I find you completely obnoxious.’ But as she looked at his handsome features she knew the statement to be a lie.

‘Is that so, Miss Campbell? Despite your hot words and flare of temper I’m still interested in learning how you lost your job.’

‘It was quite simple,’ she said, deciding that there was no point in being secretive because Amy would be sure to ask similar questions. ‘My employer was a middle-aged widow who decided to get married again. Her new husband is an antique dealer from Auckland, therefore she packed up her entire stock, closed the shop and moved north.’

‘But with no suggestion of taking you with her?’

‘No. Her new husband has a daughter who has taken my place, so it left me high and dry and without a job, but still with a strong desire to handle antiques.’ Her face brightened as she added, ‘In England I went into every antique shop I saw. They were fascinating.’

His gaze rested upon her mouth then moved to the column of her throat as he said, ‘I’m curious to know what there is about antiques that gives you so much pleasure.’

‘I don’t know—unless it’s a feeling for the past. When I hold an old plate or ornament I’m conscious of a strange longing to know about the person who made it, and the people who used it. What were they like? Where did they live?’ She fell silent for several moments before adding, ‘It’s different from your own feeling for the past, which seems to give you only pain.’

‘That’s because it involves people rather than objects,’ he said.

‘The people have passed away, whereas the objects are still here to be cherished,’ she pointed out.

His brow creased as though something puzzled him, and at last he said, ‘Strangely, at home I don’t give the past a second thought. Only since I’ve been here has it affected me.’

‘Are you trying to say you’re a different person at home?’ she asked, a small smile betraying her doubt.

‘Entirely different,’ he retorted abruptly.

‘I must say it’s difficult to believe,’ she said, then added with forced sweetness, ‘That’s the trouble with first impressions—they’re inclined to cling for ever more. I’m unlikely to get rid of—’ Her words dwindled away.

‘Your first impression of me?’ he cut in. ‘Well, I don’t suppose there’s any degree of importance attached to that fact,’ he added while turning the ignition key.

Nevertheless his jaw had become set as they left the paperweight factory’s parking area, and while Cathie expected the drive home to be taken in silence it proved to be otherwise. On the contrary, Baird chatted amicably, mainly, she suspected, to prove that he couldn’t care less what her lasting impression of himself would be.

When they reached Glengyle Amy regarded them anxiously, obviously trying to decide whether the atmosphere between them was still frigid, or whether a thaw had set in. ‘You took your time in collecting one suitcase,’ she observed.

Baird spoke nonchalantly. ‘We visited the paperweight factory.’ He then indicated the suitcase. ‘I presume this goes into the room next to mine?’

‘Yes.’ Amy turned to Cathie. ‘Baird will take you upstairs and show you where you’re to sleep, dear.’

He strode ahead of her, leading the way to a small but cosy room with a dormer window. But before she could gaze at the view stretching below it her attention was caught by a single solid brass bedstead, and the bow-fronted mahogany Scottish chest of drawers. On it sat a Victorian toilet mirror, while nearby was a rocking chair.

‘Like it?’ he asked, a smile hovering about his mobile lips.

‘I’ll love sleeping in that bed,’ she admitted, noticing that the blue and silver-grey bedspread matched the curtains hanging at the dormer window.

‘Just don’t get yourself settled into it for too long,’ he advised in clipped tones. ‘No doubt you’ll soon notice that this house is full of antiques, but unfortunately they can do nothing to help Amy’s arthritis. Do you understand?’

She nodded without speaking.

‘Therefore I’ll rely on you to do your best, and as soon as possible. That is also understood?’

His dictatorial manner riled her, and although she knew he was concerned on Amy’s behalf she swung round to face him, at the same time making no secret of her resentment. ‘Now you listen to me, Baird. You’ve had your turn at persuading Amy, but with little or no success. Now it’s my turn. However, I have no intention of rushing into the job. I’ll attack it as I see fit and when the opportunity presents itself.’

His name had slipped out accidentally, and she could only hope he hadn’t noticed it, or the warmth that had crept into her cheeks.

‘OK—but I’d like you to realise that I can’t dally round this place for much longer. I must get home to the factory, therefore I’ll leave it to you—Cathie.’

So he had noticed her slip. And again he’d mentioned the factory, but still she had no intention of showing her interest in it. Instead she said, ‘Do you mind if I hang up my dresses before I start?’

He took the hint and left her.

Later, when she went downstairs and was able to peep into various rooms, she realised that Baird had not exaggerated when he’d said the house contained numerous antiques. The furniture was either mahogany or walnut, although it was the porcelain that really caught her eye, and she was admiring beautiful vases of Royal Worcester when Amy’s voice spoke from behind her.

‘Ah, there you are, dear. Come and sit beside me. I want to know about my sister. Does she keep good health?’

‘Not really. She grumbles about getting older—’

‘We’re both doing that,’ Amy sighed while leading the way into the living room where Baird sat reading a newspaper. ‘We’re both now in our seventies.’

Baird lowered his newspaper. ‘Seventy-what, Amy?’ he queried.

‘Seventy mumble-mumble,’ she retorted sharply. ‘It’s a secret.’

‘It worries Gran,’ Cathie said, seizing the opportunity to drive this point home. ‘She’s afraid she’ll never see you again.’ She went on to describe her grandmother’s poor state of health, leaving no detail unmentioned.

Amy became thoroughly agitated. ‘Oh, dear—I had no idea she was quite so poorly.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘I must go and tell Elspeth about her.’ She dabbed at a tear.