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Heir To Glengyle
Miriam Macgregor
First Impressions…Lasting ImpressionsFrom the moment he'd opened the door to her at Glengyle, Baird MacGregor had caused the oddest reactions in Cathie. First antagonism, then frustration, then confusion. But always, behind all their arguing and taunting, was passion.Cathie had come to the ancient Scottish home looking for her great-aunt Amy, but she hadn't been prepared for her aunt's step-grandson, Baird. She agreed to help him accompany Amy back to New Zealand, but she had to question her own motives. Was it simply out of family obligation or was she doing this to be closer to Baird?
Heir to Glengyle
Miriam MacGregor
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#u2273162b-1372-5176-8eb7-7a6a8ed33a64)
Title Page (#ufd94c19c-d1f8-5878-aecf-58be351e6f13)
CHAPTER ONE (#u3361c3f0-a40a-53a5-af0a-8e288754db65)
CHAPTER TWO (#uea8cc3c4-b4b3-5074-8b38-e3edf4b23830)
CHAPTER THREE (#u628952c7-1577-5878-a884-11e31b223019)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_fbb3c853-b6cb-570a-9490-5be8bf8bf3e2)
CATHIE CAMPBELL inhaled a breath of clear Scottish air as she stood on the balcony of the impressive Crieff Hydro hotel. Below her lay a section of its extensive gardens, and beyond them the town of Crieff, built on the River Earn in Perthshire, and gateway to the Highlands, clung to its steep hillside streets.
Gazing at the distant scene, she made an effort to etch it into her memory, because her period in Scotland would be limited; within a few days she would be on the other side of the world, at home in New Zealand.
It was her mother’s last letter that had sent Cathie to Crieff, pleading with her to make a duty call. ‘Before you come home, please do try to visit Aunt Amy,’ Mavis Campbell had written. ‘She is my mother’s sister, and therefore your great-aunt. She’ll be terribly hurt if she hears you’ve reached Edinburgh and haven’t made the effort to go the extra distance to Crieff, which is only about fifty miles away, more or less.
‘I know you’ve never met her,’ the letter had continued, ‘but Gran is sure to tell her you’re in Scotland, and it’s a matter of family contact. You know how Gran goes on about family.’
Indeed, Cathie knew how Gran went on about family. It was an obsession with her. ‘The family is a unit,’ she was in the habit of expounding. ‘Members should be able to rely upon each other in times of need. There should be family loyalty to give the unit strength. It’s a matter of united we stand, divided we fall.’
Cathie smiled whimsically. Unfortunately there were too few families that could qualify for Gran’s standard of perfection. And then she thought of the last lines in her mother’s letter. ‘If you are running short of funds, dear, just give us a phone call and your father will arrange for money to be sent. We’ve missed you and will be glad to see you home in New Zealand.’
The offer of financial assistance was in keeping with Gran’s philosophy, but in this case it was unnecessary. Cathie had saved for her holiday in the United Kingdom, and she had not spent lavishly despite the numerous items she had longed to purchase. Nor would she have stayed for even one night at the costly Crieff Hydro had it not been for its close proximity to the street in which Great-Aunt Amy MacGregor lived, and the fact that she could walk there.
It was early afternoon when she set off to visit her elderly relative, and as she walked down the hill she tried to recall what she’d been told about her grandmother’s sister. But only vague snippets of conversation filtered back into her mind, reminding her that Amy was the widow of Peter MacGregor, who had been a businessman with fingers in numerous pies.
Amy had nursed his first wife until that woman’s death, and now she lived very comfortably on the income provided by what was known as the Glengyle Estate. What would happen to the estate after Amy’s death Cathie was unable to remember, but in the meantime she understood it provided sufficient money for Amy to employ a companion-help to assist in overcoming her soul-destroying condition of arthritis.
It did not take long for Cathie to reach her destination, and for a short time she stood on the opposite side of the street while examining the white two-storeyed house. Solidly constructed, and with chimneys rising from the two end gabled walls, its oblong design was relieved by dormer windows and a garage built on to one end. Hanging baskets filled with pink petunias and trailing blue lobelia removed any austerity from the front façde, while the small garden offered a colourful display of impatiens, or Busy Lizzies, as her grandmother called them.
She crossed the road and went towards the front door which had a single word above it. ‘Glengyle.’ And even as she raised her hand to press the bell she was gripped by the oddest premonition that she would find more than her great-aunt in this house. But of course you will, stupid—she has a companion, she reminded herself.
However, she was not prepared for the sight of the man who opened the door, and for several moments she stood staring at him while becoming aware that he was one of the most handsome men she had even seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had dark auburn hair which betrayed a touch of bronze where the afternoon sun fell across his brow. His brown eyes regarded her with interest while he waited for her to speak.
At last she found her tongue. ‘Does Mrs Amy MacGregor live here?’
‘Yes. May I tell her who is calling?’ His deep voice with its resonant ring was without trace of a Scottish accent.
‘Would you please tell her it’s Cathie Campbell from New Zealand?’
‘Campbell?’ The man frowned as a complete change of expression swept over his features. His jaw tightened and a cold light crept into his eyes. ‘Campbell?’ he repeated, as though the name belonged to an enemy.
‘I—I think she’ll know who I am,’ Cathie faltered, feeling slightly nonplussed by the intangible aura of antagonism that seemed to emerge from him.
His eyes took in details of her slim form, then moved from the curled ends of her wavy shoulder-length red hair to the tendrils framing her face. His gaze held her steady hazel eyes for several moments before he muttered in a cool tone, ‘Excuse me—I’ll see if she’s receiving visitors today.’
‘She’ll receive me—’ Cathie began, then found herself left standing at the door. ‘Especially after coming all this way,’ she mumbled audibly to herself, feeling vaguely irritated by this man’s offhand manner. Who was he? she wondered.
While waiting, she peeped into the hall, noticing that the floor was well carpeted, and that the walls were panelled. A large oil painting of the Scottish Highlands hung on one side of the hall, and an antlered stag’s head gazed sightlessly from the opposite wall. The solid hallstand and chair appeared to be of an earlier period, causing her to wonder if they were valuable antiques.
And then a woman came into the hall, her appearance giving Cathie a shock because of the strong likeness to her grandmother—except that on closer observation this person appeared to be slightly older and more frail. Also, her movements were slower, and she walked with the aid of a walking stick—but when she spoke her voice could have belonged to Gran.
‘Cathie—is it really you—one of my own people from so far away? Why Baird left you standing on the step I’ll never know.’
Fascinated, Cathie looked at the short wavy grey hair and at the bright blue eyes. Then she entered the hall and kissed her great-aunt.
She was then led to a living room where the sun filtered through windows to fall upon the two occupants of the room. One was a comfortably built middle-aged woman who Amy introduced as her companion, Elspeth Johnstone. The other was the Greek god who had opened the door to her, and who now sat at a table with several books spread before him. He stood up as they entered.
When introducing him Amy said, ‘This is my late husband’s grandson, Baird MacGregor. You should find plenty to talk about because he also comes from New Zealand.’ Then to Baird she explained, ‘Cathie is my sister’s grandchild.’
The man’s handsome face remained unsmiling. ‘You’ve been over here for so long, Amy—I’ve never thought of you as being a person with relatives of your own in New Zealand.’
Amy sighed. ‘I’ve only my sister and her daughter—and Cathie, whom I’m meeting for the first time, although of course I’ve heard about her in letters. My sister and I write to each other every fortnight. We keep in touch because we’ve so little in the way of real family.’
Cathie suppressed a smile. Family. Dear heaven—she had only to close her eyes and this was Gran speaking from across the miles.
Baird’s voice held a cool note as he spoke to Amy. ‘I’d have thought my parents and I could have been looked upon as family. My father was Grandfather’s only child, if you care to remember.’
A thought flitted through Cathie’s mind. His father—of course that was where the Glengyle Estate would go.
‘Yes, naturally I look upon you as family,’ Amy hastened to assure him. ‘But there isn’t the blood tie of a sister, and I never hear from any of you. There’s little or no contact. Besides, I’ve often wondered if there isn’t—’ The words faded as she fell silent.
‘If there isn’t—what, Amy?’ Baird regarded her intently.
Amy hesitated, then drew a deep breath as she said, ‘Well—if you want me to be frank, dear, “resentment” was the word I was about to use.’
He frowned. ‘Resentment? What are you talking about?’
Amy drew another deep breath, almost as if the discussion was beginning to cause her distress, her voice shaking slightly as she said, ‘You know exactly what I mean. If your grandfather hadn’t married me, the estate would have been wound up and paid out years ago—instead of which I have sat in the way.’ Then she sighed as she added, ‘That’s why I think your parents haven’t written to me.’
‘Then please understand that I’m here to rectify the omission,’ he told her gravely.
‘Thank you, dear. I was so pleased when you phoned from Bradford.’
Elspeth now spoke to Baird, her soft voice holding a strong Scottish accent. ‘If you’ll pardon my saying so, you appear to have been making much closer contact with the past than with the present.’
Baird sent her a level glance. ‘Are you hinting that I’ve been unsociable? You must appreciate that this has been my first real opportunity to examine my grandfather’s books.’ He then turned bleak eyes upon Cathie. ‘I’ve been absorbing details about the Campbell clan.’
Amy said hastily, ‘Baird is in the UK to examine machinery—’
But without allowing her to give further explanation Baird cut in, his voice holding a faintly sardonic ring, ‘So—your sister’s daughter married a Campbell?’
‘That’s right—and a fine fellow he is, or so I’m told.’
‘Really?’ Baird’s voice rang with something that sounded like incredulity.
Nor was the tone of it lost on Cathie, and, vaguely puzzled, she turned to regard Baird with eyes that were full of questions. Suppressed anger was niggling at this man, she realised, while the suspicion that it concerned herself left her feeling even more puzzled. She shot glances at her great-aunt and at Elspeth, and the fact that neither seemed anxious to meet her eyes only added to her bewilderment.
Perhaps it was the tense atmosphere that brought Elspeth to her feet. ‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ she said hastily. ‘Amy always has tea in the afternoon. Could we have a wee bit of space on the table, Baird?’
Amy was quick to agree with her, and she now spoke firmly. ‘Yes, dear—it’s time you put those books away. You’ve been delving into them from the moment you arrived, and I don’t believe they’re doing you the slightest atom of good. In fact I’ve a strong suspicion they’re putting you into a very depressed state of mind.’
‘They’re making him live in the bad old days when the clans were at each other’s throats like wild dogs,’ Elspeth threw over her shoulder from the doorway.
Baird began to stack the books into a pile. ‘I’ll admit Scottish history is depressing,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I want to know about it. After all, it’s part of my heritage.’
‘Yes—yes, of course,’ Amy agreed.
He went on, ‘I’m thankful my grandfather’s books are here so that I can learn about the different clans. I trust you’ll take care of them, Amy.’
She became indignant. ‘Of course I’ll take care of them,’ she retorted sharply. ‘What are you afraid I’ll do? Sell them—?’
‘No, I don’t think you’d do that. It’s just that books go astray very easily, especially if they’re lent,’ he reminded her blandly.
‘Then be assured that I have no intentions of lending a single item that belongs to the Glengyle Estate.’ Her tone was still sharp.
Baird ignored her obviously ruffled feelings as he continued, ‘The clans appear to have been like large families who stuck together.’
‘The clans had to stick together, considering they spent most of their time fighting with their neighbouring clans, or with clans against whom they held a grudge,’ Amy pointed out drily. ‘In most cases they were as bad as each other, their sins lying six on one side and half a dozen on the other. But those events took place so long ago that, personally, I consider them better forgotten.’
‘I doubt I’ll forget some of the incidents recorded in these books,’ Baird gritted as he carried an armful towards the door. ‘Some of those villains stand out like black beacons,’ he added while flicking a glance towards Cathie.
She felt shaken. ‘I don’t think he likes me,’ she whispered to Amy when Baird had disappeared.
‘Nonsense, my dear. You’ve only just met. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be abrupt with you.’
Cathie shook her head. ‘I can feel his antagonism.’
Amy kept her voice low. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. It’s just, as I said, he’s been positively steeping himself in the MacGregor clan history and parts of it have made him really angry. Just before you arrived, Elspeth and I feared he was working himself into a fine old rage while reading about the way in which the MacGregors had lost so many of their lands to the Campbells. There were the Glenorchy and the Glenlyon lands—’ She paused, her voice falling away as realisation dawned while staring at Cathie.
‘Yes, go on,’ Cathie prompted. ‘I’m beginning to understand.’
Amy swallowed but went on bravely, ‘Worst of all, there was the Glencoe massacre, which concerned the MacDonald clan.’
‘The—the massacre?’ Cathie licked dry lips, feeling suddenly apprehensive about what she was going to hear. Even in far-away New Zealand schoolchildren were told of the Glencoe massacre.
‘You see—Baird’s grandmother was a MacDonald,’ Amy said as though that explained everything. ‘And even his mother belonged to the clan—which means that Baird has a fair splash of MacDonald blood in his veins.’
Baird’s voice spoke from behind them. ‘Allow me to tell her about the affair, Amy. It would give me great pleasure to acquaint Miss Campbell with the facts of Glencoe.’
Cathie quailed beneath the harshness of his tone and the cold glitter in his eyes, but she said nothing.
Baird settled himself in a chair, and at that moment Elspeth came in with a trayload of afternoon tea. She placed it on the table and began to fill the cups.
Amy attempted to use it as an excuse to deter Baird. ‘Ah, tea,’ she said happily. ‘Shall we keep the story until later, Baird? You can’t talk with your mouth full of Elspeth’s delicious shortbread and oatcakes.’
But Baird was not to be diverted. ‘There’s no time like the present,’ he informed Amy smugly.
‘In any case, Cathie probably knows the story,’ Amy said in a resigned manner.
Baird’s mouth twisted into a mirthless grin. ‘I doubt that the family dine out on it,’ he said.
‘So why don’t you get it off your chest?’ Cathie put the query in a scathing tone, instinct warning that it was a story she had no wish to hear.
‘Right—I’ll do just that,’ he declared with barely concealed relish. ‘It happened in the February of 1692—’
‘Good grief—and you’re still simmering over it?’ Cathie cut in.
He ignored the interruption. ‘At that time, William of Orange sat on the English throne. He decreed that by a certain date an oath of allegiance must be sworn by all the Highland chiefs.’
‘Aye—those chiefs were a troublesome lot,’ Elspeth put in. ‘Especially the ones who wanted their own King James on the throne. Another piece of shortbread, Baird?’ she offered, passing the plate. ‘It acts well as a sweetener to the thoughts.’
Baird sent her a bleak glance. ‘Does it indeed? I’m afraid it would take more than an entire batch of shortbread to sweeten my thoughts at the moment, Elspeth.’ He drew a hissing breath then continued, ‘Old Ian MacDonald set off from Glencoe, which is a valley surrounded by mountainous hills in northern Argyll, but snowstorms and blizzards—plus the treachery of deliberately sending him to the wrong place—made him arrive three days after the appointed first of January.’
‘Poor old man,’ Amy said in a voice that was full of sympathy.
Baird went on, ‘Nearly a month later about a hundred and twenty-eight soldiers arrived at Glencoe. They billeted themselves on the MacDonalds, living on friendly terms with them for about twelve days and, needless to say, eating them out of house and home. Then, in the early hours of February the fourteenth, in the midst of a snowstorm, they arose and dragged the MacDonalds from their beds, murdering all who were unable to escape. Many who did escape died of starvation and exposure out in the snowstorm, but a few got away to tell the tale.’
The story made Cathie feel sick. She began to tremble, her hand shaking so badly that it was necessary to put her cup of tea down before the contents slopped into the saucer. She also knew that Baird watched her with a glint in his eyes, making her suspect that worse was to come. Nor was she mistaken.
