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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 (#ulink_c3afe53f-e51d-5484-8988-03cded35a430)
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.
